#I’d like to think I’m somewhere closer to

[afewfantasies]

Lucky Strike 🎯 🎱 - Visions - VI

COMPLETE MASTERLIST

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Pairing: Benny Cross (Bikeriders) X Reader

Summary: The reader extends her stay and Benny confronts her with how he's been feeling. They share their visions of forever before being confronted with unwanted visitors. There are fluffy moments and lots of physical touch.

Word count: 3.4K

He could feel himself getting angry standing at your side. He didn’t think it was possible but hearing you call another man sweet things took him there easily. It was gnawing at him again. How little he had to offer a woman like the one you’d become. The little engagement ring riddled in diamonds was something he could never give you. The wind blows and he tries controlling his temper only to hear the phone slam into the receiver and a few coins falling out. Turning to face him your eyes are all lit up as you chew your bubble gum. 

“We have two more weeks!” You giggle, taking his hands and hopping up and down with excitement. “Think that’s enough time to teach me to ride a Harley?” You ask as Benny’s energy settles.

“Why do you need to learn how to ride a Harley now?” Benny asks, wrapping his arms around you as he turns you to the parking lot.

“Well, my hobbies are much less thrilling” you pop your gum.

Benny smiles, eager to know more. “What are they?”

“My mother’s hobbies, shopping, reading, painting. Silence is the underlying theme.” You jest.

“I’m sure she won’t like you on a bike, your fiancé either” Benny adds fishing for more info on the man.

“Well that’s what friends are for Benny, you keep my secrets and I’ll keep yours. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. We’re on borrowed time so let’s get going so I don’t miss the picnics festivities” you stomp in good spirits. Benny’s smiling at you already indulging outbursts he shouldn’t. 

“What if we blew off the picnic? And just went somewhere just us two?” Benny asks.

“How much money for gas do you have?” You ask handing him a five dollar bill.

“That’ll get us far enough” he comments, pulling out another ten. “This’ll keep us fed” 

“What about if it rains or we need a place to stay?” You ask.

“We can figure it out. You trust me don’t you?” He asks and you find yourself smiling.

“With my life” you confess.

“Why are you so sunny today?” Benny asks, trying to get a hold of his own happiness.

“I get to spend seven more days with my best friend in the entire world who doesn’t expect me to wear stuffy proper clothes, or do anything really but be me and exist. To me that’s as exciting as a brand new shiny Harley is to you.” You explain.

“Now I feel special,” he says sarcastically, only it’s the furthest thing from a lie.

“Benjamin, don’t mock me, I'm being sincere.” you laugh shoving him playfully. Benny grabs your arm pulling you in closer as the two of you laugh.

“Y/N, if it was you or a brand new high performance Harley and unlimited gas. I’d choose you” Benny says.

“Oh wow, I am special. For a bike rider that’s practically wedding vows” you gape genuinely surprised.

“You can’t be surprised, you’re my best friend in the world” he asserts. “You grew up nice, I’d marry you too” Benny says cavalier. He shrugs casually and you laugh.

“Now I know you’re pulling my leg, I see the way you look at my clothes. I know what you and the guys think about my fancy style” you tell him to get on the back of his bike and slide back so he can get on.”

His good humour fades into a serious expression “Not pulling your leg. What’s so hard to believe? You don’t love the other guy and he’d marry you” Benny says and you take a breath closing your eyes. You blank when you try to picture your future with Benny married. He smiles amused that you visualise things in adulthood.

“We both have bikes” he says, starting you off.

“Mhm” you nod motioning for him to keep the visuals coming.

“We live someplace simple but near enough to a shopping mall to feed your habit” he says and you laugh.

You nod some more “Keep going…” 

“And I work at an auto shop or factory. You bake from time to time to make some money.”

Benny continues and you hold out a hand with your eyes till closed moving it from side to side to tell him that part of the vision is so so.

“When do you have time to ride and meet up with the guys?” You ask, opening your eyes and he shrugs.

“Weekends” he proposes.

“This bike is everything to you Benny. Don’t be so quick to give it up for a life of responsibility. We’ve had enough of that” you tell him disregarding his incomplete satirical vision of the future.

“So what your fiancé has more to offer you?” Benny snaps. “Or is an auto mechanic not good enough” he snaps feeling affronted. 

Your brows knit and it takes you a moment to realise it was real for him. You take in enough air to fill your lungs in absolute shock sitting there on his bike. Benny watches as it all comes to you. The revelation hurts, he’d been swimming in confusing feelings for you since he’d laid eyes on you and you hadn't given it a serious thought. He leaves you spinning as he heads in the direction of the outdoor pool to have a smoke and cool off instead of kicking up a fuss.

 Swallowing you look at your feet and then to his bike and then you relax as water comes to your eyes. The thought of hurting Benny is too much. You’d locked up your heart long ago. No expectations, no disappointments. When your fiancé came around it seemed perfect. You’d be tethered to each other out of chosen obligation, not something as fickle as love. He promised to care for you and he would. He’d never have to pretend with you and that there was real love enough. Just not the kind most couples hoped for. The world wasn’t yet ready for him to openly love the man of his choosing and so he opted for a wife that understood and accepted him. Your fiancé was a safe space who ensured that you wouldn’t be the only one playing a role while in public within your society. Pretending to be proper and well off when your humble beginnings suggested otherwise. Getting off the bike you make your way to the pool and find Benny sitting on one of the chairs. He’s gorgeous even when he’s upset. You smile, allowing yourself to see him as more. You sit down beside him and he kills his smoke on the concrete before looking at you with a clenched jaw.

“If you get mad so fast this’ll never work. I’ll wear down your nerves and keep your cigarette pack empty” you tease with a smirk. Benny swallows his own, unable to stay upset with you. “I wasn’t implying you don’t have enough to offer. I was making it clear I don’t expect you to sacrifice your happiness for my comfort” you explain.

“It would make me happy to keep you comfortable” Benny mutters.

“You could work for a bit and then we could save up and buy a mobile home. Huck would give us a truck. We could do something that keeps you on a bike as often as possible.

“That would make you happy?” Benny asks.

“We could drive anywhere, see this country and eventually maybe even the world. An extended adventure. That would make me happy.” you confess allowing yourself a dream.

“Not being a mother?” Benny asks.

“I’d like to live a little first so I can settle down and have something to offer a kid.” You explain. Bennys never heard such a thing. He scratches his head. People got married, got a home and worked until they died to provide for their families. That’s how adulthood had been put to him. “Benny, do you want kids?” You ask.

“Not sure, I mean if it happened I’d be okay with it” he shrugs. “A mobile home?” He asks, looking at you.

“Yeah, cheaper than hotels and motels. You can use it like a tent. A boy from my high school got one he drove all the way down to South America. Said it was life changing” you share.

“That’s what you want?” Benny says being the first to ask. You close your eyes again and you can picture it. Being on the road with Benny for hours. Exploring new places. Taking pictures, laughing, talking by campfires. 

“Yeah” you nod, opening them to him. He draws in a deep breath.

“I don’t know a lick of Spanish” he mumbles.

“We can figure it out,” you shrug.

He sighs. “Doubt your mother will like that”

“She’ll get over it” you shrug again. “Now let’s go to this picnic and have a good time.” You stand holding out a hand for him. Benny takes it, getting up and pulling you into a warm hug. You were his heart beating outside his body. Something he heard Johnny say about his daughter once. Now he finally knew what it really felt like. He gets on the bike first and you follow suit giving him space as he starts up. The running engine starts the motor and Benny settles back in his seat. Taking your hand from his side he pulls your hand to slide you closer to him so you’re body to body before repositioning your hand on his abdomen.

“Comfortable?” He shouts over the sounds of the bike looking back at you.

“Yeah!” You nod before resting your head on his back. He gives your hand a pat feeling like a new man as you pull off. Your mind runs wild at the possibilities and at the physical contact. You can’t help but wonder where all this has come from. Benny declaring his intentions.  He’d always loved you but had it really been more? He’d been in a relationship and you betrothed and there’d been no room in your heart for expectation or disappointment after a lifetime of it one way or another. You’d never really had anyone after you left Benny.  Your fiancé had been a friend turned potential life partner and overall good man. In your bid for normalcy you’d decided to adopt and maybe foster a child that came from a situation like yours. You wouldn’t be a mother but a friend, a safe space for the kids and him. It brought you enough peace. 

The prospect of being with Benny was different. Exciting, terrifying, riveting. Your return had fed your soul in more ways that anyone could ever know. Love had never been in your vision for yourself. You tried it in high school but what your friends described and what you felt were totally different. Pretty dressed and pretending was all it was. After high school you were in a relationship with a guy your mom thought was great. You tried to let yourself fall but it didn’t happen. He was enamoured but you’d always been lukewarm. Smiling on cue, laughing at his jokes and he was none the wiser parading you around like a trinket. Sex was the nail in the relationship's coffin.

You went to the library at a women’s college the next day. A small penis and premature ejaculation were to blame for that god awful first time, in addition to a lack of skill. As you closed that book on sex you closed your heart and mind to the possibilities of love. Your fiancé came into town a few weeks later. The rest was history.

Benny takes his hand from the handles placing one over yours on his stomach. He’d never felt so full in all his years. Tearing through the Chicago roads his mind is fixed on your vision of the future. He’d never ever thought he could travel. Be free of this city. Be with a woman like the one you’d become. You start to hear a party as the cement turns into gravel and eventually dirt roads. There’s cheering at Bennys arrival. You hug a couple of the guys looking for Johnny’s wife Barb. You watch a couple guys on the grill and run around with the kids playing tag and frisbee. A few hours in, you and Barbara walk up the hill to sit in peace.

“Benny can’t keep his eyes off you” she says perceptively. Looking into your drink you smile and she laughs at your blush. “You’re good for him, he looks relaxed every time he sees you’re having fun” she adds. “Hear you two have been hold up in one hotel room”

“It’s not like that” you smile, knocking your knees against hers. “We’ve never fooled around,” you tell her honestly.

“I believe you, Bennys girls aren’t typically so sane” she jokes. You look at the sunset.

You sigh.“The girls say it’s not easy living a vandal”

“Because they love the vandal when they’re supposed to love the man.” She says.

“I love Johnny. He loves the club so I support that. And god does that man love me. Comes home every night unless he’s driving a long hall and works his ass off. He deserves a little partying and some beer every night. If riding around with his friends and sitting at the clubhouse makes him a vandal, so what?” She shrugs.

“Y’all get down here before it gets dark” Johnny shouts from below. You and Barb hold hands talking it slow. By the time you’re down it’s dark and the guys are tending a fire. The kids are asleep in cars and the party is getting started. You sit beside Benny and he wraps an arm around you.

“Alright?” He checks in.

“Yeah you?” 

“Mhm” he nods with eyes on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as he kisses your forehead instead. He’s golden in the hue of the campfire. You look away melting under the heat of being looked at as an object of desire from someone you actually love and admire. It’s an immense pressure. Your heart races and fear wins out, when you remember society’s expectations.

“I’m not a virgin Benny. I know it means a lot to some men so I thought I’d tell you now” you confess looking at him. His eyes hold yours before he smiles a little.

“Neither am I” he shrugs. You hold his gaze relaxing when you see he’s serious and it’s not a point of contention. “What, you thought I'd be upset? You gonna be upset that I’m not either”

“I don't know you could be. You’re a bike rider. I hear how these guys are and I hear you get all the ladies.” You recall.

“I’m not like that. I don’t run through women.” He says. “How about you?”

“It was once and it was terrible but at least it was quick.” You tell him and he frowns.

“Did he have your permission?” He asks with his heart in his stomach.

“Yes but it was … god Benny I’ve never said any of this out loud” you admit feeling bashful.

“It was what?” He asks pulling you in closer.

“Not good, I wanted it to end and him to get off of me and then it was over and he was asking for a few more minutes to make it up and apologising and I was getting dressed to go home.” You confess making Benny chuckle. “Sheesh” he says amused.

“It’s not funny” you say, misunderstanding his laughter.

“No it’s not but it is. Gorgeous as you are poor fool probably got too excited. That’s not how it should be.” Benny says looking down at you. It was a strange thing to be so open with a woman but it was you.

“No?” you ask.

“No,” he affirms.

You sigh not believing him.“I think that’s just for men”

“It’s not ask Barbara,” Benny advises.

“I’m not asking Barbara about her and her husband” you whisper aghast at Bennys suggestion. He chuckles some more and you realise you love to see him smile. “You’re being a terror” you smile getting up and he follows suit, enjoying winding you up now as much as he had as a boy.

“It’s not just enjoyable for men,” he says, pulling you close as you make it to a park bench away from the group. The city is sparkling below as you sit resting your head against his. 

“Tired?”

“Mhm” you nod.

“Let’s head back while you can still ride with me” he says standing. You find Johnny and a few others before  leaving and riding into the night. Benny parks and you get your keys for the hotel stopping when you see two big guys outside your door. You step back into Benny who steps in front of you.

“Y/N Y/LN?” One of the men says.

“Who’s asking?” Benny snaps.

“You have an outstanding debt. I was gonna collect it’s value from your step mothers house but she told me you could give me cold hard cash” the man says looking around Benny at you.

“I don’t have any, the man is dead, leave us alone” you tell him.

“You deal with me” Benny tells them and he scoffs.

“Fancy hotel like this. You have until tomorrow at midnight to clear the debt or I’ll beat one of the kids. Vandal, you know where to find me.” the man says before walking away. You feel your hands trembling. Benny takes the keys letting you in. You’re a kid again. It’s not the first time. Far from the first time men have showed up to collect.

“Even while dead” you sigh and Benny holds you.

“I’ll take care of it. Must’ve missed one” Benny promises.

“Benny it’s extortion, they’ll keep on now they think I’m well off. I can’t believe she sent them here?!” You snap.

“Y/N relax, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Grab a shower and let’s go to sleep.” Benny suggests but just like that you’re too wired. A ball of nerves. A mix of fear and frustration. You sit on the couch and he follows pulling you onto his lap before cradling you like a child. His eyes assure you it’s handled. “Nothings gonna happen to you” he promises as tears fall. He wipes them away, taking on the role of protector like he had so many times before.

“Benny, I'll just take some things to the pawnshop for the cash. I don’t want trouble” you sigh, not wanting it to be bigger than it needs to be.

“I’ll take care of it,” Benny asserts.

“But B-“

“Shhhhhh, I have the cash. I’ll clear the debt” he asserts. You swallow looking up at him wondering how it was that you were so lucky to have him and then find him again. Sitting up you run your fingers through the low sides of his hair. His eyes watch you intently. 

“Thank you” you whisper and he places a kiss on your forehead and the nose.

“You never have to thank me,” he says, not needing it.

“I do Benny, and I love you” you confess. “Like a crazy amount” you say, breathing through your tears. 

“I know, and believe me I love you more” he says.

“Impossible” you smile as he wipes your tears away. Taking your chin he brings your lips to his several times kissing them quickly as he tries adding levity to the situation.

“It’s a fact” he asserts.

“Now go shower first” he whispers and you nod, getting up feeling a little better. You cry in the shower feeling as powerless to your father as you did in childhood. You get in bed as Benny heads to the bathroom. You don’t have to ask him to sleep beside you. He does. Getting in the bed pulling you to him and placing his hand under your silk top is resting skin to skin.  “I’m here okay?”

“Mhm”

“Forever” he promises and you turn to him.

“Forever” you agree. He’d gone from having nothing to everything in a matter of weeks. He never wanted you to worry again. This time your dad’s choices wouldn’t win. He’d save the day and keep. His hand slides up your back as he holds you and your heart beats sync.

Authour's Note:

Ok, ok, ok, so we're moving along. I know this one moved a little quick but it's longer than the typical update. How do we feel about them unthawing for each other? How do we feel about their vision for the future? How do we feel about that ending? Lets get into it!

Thanks for reading lovelies 🩵🩵🩵

TAGS:

@mrsalwayswrite @ughdontbeboring @astrogrande @palomavz @thesaturngurl @peggyao3 @thefallofthedamned @avidreader73

[thestarlightforge]

I think I am drawn to a film-based Snowbaird AU because minus the conniving nature of the book’s internal monologue—and despite my background (the accent & voice, being AFAB, from a family of musicians in not-upper-crust Tennessee) being more similar to Lucy Gray’s than citizens of the Capitol—there are aspects of me that are far closer to Young Coriolanus than to anyone else.

Thankfully, I had enough liberal-minded relatives as a kid that I was never steeped as severely into White Southern racist misogynist classist ableist antisemitic heteropatriarchal etc. indoctrination (dehumanizing “others”) as Coryo or his family were in the Capitol. But I still didn’t receive the education I should have. I internalized many biases. As a teen, I was finally exposed to more knowledge and started to slowly become aware of how horrible the world can be. I was also in love at the time, and I hyperfixated on that.

But then, I lost that love—right around the time I was understanding “The Horrors™️.” Just like he did. I wasn’t in therapy till years later. And I hated that person for abandoning me, both for how they did it (without going into details) and their timing. I felt totally alone when the world came crashing down around me.

In canon, Lucy Gray was right to leave, and Snow was properly demented for his obsessive hatred. He was far more damaged and radicalized than I ever was, he caused her leaving (while my messy breakup was ultimately just a sad series of circumstances), and he became evil by his own choice.

But I would like to believe that I can heal—that anyone who’s been steeped in indoctrination can. That even if you’re in as deep a hole as he was in those woods beyond Twelve, you can still climb out of it—making that first different choice, to be honest, and a million little choices after that.

I guess I’m inclined to give him a chance at grace (after hard work) because when I lost my person, my life raft… I almost went down some dark roads, too. NOTHING like becoming the genocidal dictator President Snow became; I was mainly cruel to myself. But nonetheless.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[ofalltheginjoints]

[milo-is-rambling]

Need to stop making jokes about my grief and depression but then literally who would I be anymore.

[poisonf0rest]

Kiss Shot

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, light bondage, teasing, semi-public sex, praise kink, pwp, dom!zayne, sir kink, pool & billiards, oh he has pretty hands, exclusive tutorial card

word count: 8.2K

synopsis: Zayne has curated a perfectly polished reputation. He’s a renowned surgeon, the youngest of his graduating class, has a plethora of research papers in his name, and is well-liked and respected amongst his peers. And he would throw it all away to have you like this again, whining and desperate as he fucks you over a billiard table. It’s not fair, really, how easily you manage to get Zayne riled up. Especially when you call him sir.

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55931518

Your negroni is fifty percent water by now.

The flock of past classmates, professors, and adorning fans has been relentless, swarming the bar where you and Zayne currently sit— or perhaps more accurately, swarming where the distinguished Dr. Zayne sits. 

You sigh under your breath, fussing with the cocktail dress slit against your thigh before taking another sip of your drink, the melted ice dulling the burn of the gin. It has only been an hour since you arrived, and yet you can already feel your social battery reach its limits, tired of going through the same motions for every other person who bothers to acknowledge your presence: a smile, what’s your name, are you a surgeon as well, what’s your connection to Zayne, no we’re not together.

It’s not that you haven’t met fascinating individuals— your first round of drinks was shared with two sisters, old classmates of Zayne’s who were now Linkon’s top OB/GYN doctors and genuinely the sweetest women you’ve talked to today. 

But everyone has limits. And with the relentless swarm sucking up to Zayne, it hardly gives you a moment of peace, let alone an opportunity to talk with your date for the evening.

Thinking about the stipulations of your relationship and what this night even means for the two of you sends your mind reeling further, and you finish the rest of your negroni in a shot, wincing. 

As if sensing your frustration, the doctor in question looks up from his conversation with a classmate. Zayne gives a knowing, apologetic smile before returning to his conversation, the gesture leaving you with a fluttering in your chest.

Calling the bartender over, you place another drink on the tab before tuning in to the conversation next to you as you hear the echo of laughter. 

“No, no, I’ve been lucky enough to have seen it myself!” An older man laughs again, his drink nearly sloshing over the rim as he smacks Zayne’s shoulder. You snort at the way he stiffens. “Our Dr. Zayne isn’t just a professional at work, you should see him play billiards. Let me tell you, he’s amazing at both the operating table and the pool table”

A deep sigh. “You drank too much…” 

“Nonsense!” The man pats Zayne again before recounting a story from their residency days to the crowd of onlookers.

You yourself are rather engrossed too, more than happy to learn more about your elusive doctor, especially these hidden talents he seems set on keeping from you. Zayne, on the other hand, is far from impressed. Brows furrowed, he turns from where he sits against the bar counter to scan your face. 

Leaning in closer, you inhale sharply at the feel of his cool breath against your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” 

His thoughtfulness would be sweet if it weren’t for the way Zayne had whispered it, lips brushing against your sensitive skin as you shudder at the slow, deep cadence of his voice. 

Noticing your hesitation, Zayne’s hand comes up to rest on your knee, thumb slipping under your dress’ slit. He cocks his head, waiting for your response, drawing soothing circles against your bare skin, which is having quite the opposite effect. 

Panicking, you shake your head. “I’m alright. Plus, I’d feel bad stealing you away from all your adoring fans so soon, Dr. Zayne.”

He scoffs under his breath, but you see the slight curl in the corner of his lips. Still, he has yet to let go of your thigh, and you decide to shift closer, turning in your seat so your knees brush against Zayne’s, his hand involuntarily sliding higher. 

His fingers are calloused and worn, a testament to his many years spent in the medical field, and his grip is firm against your thigh. It feels familiar, and the memories of his hands on you in many different places sends heat rushing to your cheeks.

The thought doesn't seem to have left his mind either, judging by the way his eyes dart down to your parted lips.

Clearing his throat, Zayne looks away. He is about to say something when you decide to interrupt instead.

“Besides,” you hum, taking a sip of wine. “If the rumors are to be believed, then I’m missing quite a show. Is our Dr. Zayne really that skilled at pool?”

“Ah.” Zayne retracts his hand, clearing his throat as he straightens up in his seat. ”You’re trying to gang up on me.”

You know him well enough to recognize the hint of embarrassment in the way he avoids your gaze. But before you can tease him further, another cheery voice interrupts.

“We meet again, sir!” A young man practically bounces over to the bar, caught between a bow and a handshake as he stumbles into both, flashing a gummy smile at Zayne. 

You raise a brow at his overwhelming enthusiasm, glancing at Zayne as you watch recognition flash across his face.

“Good evening. It’s Steven, yes? You don’t need to address me as “sir”.” Zayne nearly grimaces as he says the word, and you take a sip from your drink to hide your growing smile. 

“Yes! I’m honored you remembered.” Steven nods vigorously. “But anything less would be inappropriate. After all, you taught me so much with your hands-on instruction, I owe my knowledge and successful residency so far to you, sir.”

Still, Zayne shuts him down. “I was only doing what I should have done. Any credit beyond that is your own.” 

It’s almost like he’s allergic to praise. 

“Humble and smart,” Steven laughs, winking all-too-obviously at you. “Regardless, I just wanted to thank you for everything formally, sir. You two have a wonderful rest of your night!”

“Yes.” Zayne frowns, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. ”To you as well.”

Quickly feigning ignorance, you pretend to be absorbed in the powerpoint some professor is giving on the opposite side of the venue, immediately lost in a diagram of a heart valve. You’re about to take another sip of your drink when something pinches your ear. Yelping at the sting, you jump in your seat, whirling around to face the culprit.

Zayne scoffs. “I could see you eavesdropping a mile away. Did you find anything interesting?”

“Oh, aside from learning that you are extremely humble, smart, handsome, and rather adept at hands-on instruction, nothing much,” you lean against the counter, blinking up at Zayne through your lashes as you sing the last word, “Sir.”

You watch his jaw clench, a rigid movement that makes your heart skip. Zayne laughs, a harsh, sharp sound. He shakes his head before his hand grips your jaw, tugging you gently but firmly towards him. His eyes narrow, and your heart stutters.

“Clever girl. What is it you want this time?”

This time. As if Zayne could refuse you anything, as if the mere sight of you isn't enough to make him go mad.

But you're not the only one who knows how to play. And he rather likes watching just how far you’ll go.

Smiling innocently, you rest a hand on Zayne’s shoulder. The warmth of his skin seeps through the silky material of his suit. You can't help but slide your hand further up, tracing the curve of his neck with your thumb. “Well…” You lick your lips, tasting the waxy remnants of your lipstick as you fight to keep your voice even under Zayne’s piercing gaze. ”You never did any hands-on training with me, and everyone says what an honor it’s been to be taught by you, sir. I wonder what I’ll have to do to experience it finally.”

Zayne sighs, and for a moment, he appears disappointed.

“It seems like you truly want to learn about surgeries.” A scoff, and Zayne’s face seems to fall back to its stoic facade. But he pulls you closer, tilting your head so his lips graze your earlobe once more. “Who knew my little hunter was so skilled at acting?”

You gasp, placing a hand on your chest in faux surprise. “What accusations, doctor. Besides, I was thinking about something with a… less steep learning curve.”

Zayne hums thoughtfully, thumb venturing from your jaw as it brushes across your lips. Once. Twice. Three times before he stands up, hand finally dropping from your face as he grabs your wrist instead. 

“Then allow me to take our first lesson elsewhere.”

You don’t offer any sort of resistance as Zayne leads you through the crowd, opting to let go of your wrist and guide you away from prying eyes, hand instead lingering against the small of your back as he walks beside you. He opens the door for you, directing the two of you down one of the main venue halls, echoes of conversation muffled by the soft ding of an elevator. Zayne flashes his medical ID before clicking the top floor, the sensor buzzing green as it carries you up with the smooth flow of elevator jazz. 

Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your waist. His thumb goes back to tracing soft circles against the divots in your back as though from habit, nearly touching bare skin due to the sweeping backless design of your dress. You fight the urge to lean further into him, already fidgeting in your heels at the thought of his touch, slow and careful and calculated, elsewhere.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the elevator. 

Oh, god, snap out of it. You rush out of the elevator, hoping Zayne didn’t notice the furious heat you can feel rising from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

Smoothing some loose hair back behind your ear, you close your eyes and focus on taking deep breaths, as if it’ll push all these obscene scenarios of Zayne’s large, perfect hands doing unspeakable things out of your mind. 

It works for a moment, expelling all these potential scenarios and instead reminding you of every time Zayne has taken action. Memories of him after hours at the clinic, during movie nights when neither of you paid attention to the TV, and even the drive here where he decided to—

“Does the sight of a billiard table scare you that much?”

The heat from earlier is back in full force. Your eyes snap open, and you are greeted with Zayne’s signature eyebrow raise, feigning concern despite his amused smile that only grows more prominent when he notices the flush creeping across your skin.

“Hardly.” You force a smile, turning your head as you refuse to let him gloat. “I’m just so ecstatic that I’ll finally receive hands-on training from the Dr. Zayne.”

A low hum, “Yes, at least until you feel well enough to go back and socialize.” 

He says this, yet you know Zayne is just as happy as you are to finally escape from the crowds below.

“Well,” you purr, “take care of me until then, sir.”

You giggle as he frowns at the title, waltzing past him to a corner pool table in the billiard hall. The floor is dedicated to different tabletop games, all lined up against numerous floor-to-ceiling windows aglow with a gorgeous view of Linkon City. The city lights bleed in since the entire room was rather dim, no doubt an artistic choice, adorned sensually with faux candlelight chandeliers and the low timber of jazz.

“Have you played before?”

“Once or twice– some call me a natural genius.” You brush imaginary hair from your shoulders as Zayne scoffs before handing you a cue stick. Lacing his hand into your own, you pull the stick and thus him closer. “Why? Are you going to be strict with me, sir?”

Seeing through your jab, Zayne responds without hesitation. “Strict teachers make outstanding students. Let’s start.”

You pout, about to walk to the other side of the pool table to observe his shot, when Zayne’s arm laces around your waist, holding you against him for a second longer. 

“And no more distractions.”

Not trusting your voice, you nod, watching as he bends to aim the cue, muscles beneath his sleeves flexing with each calculated movement. You hear the sound of a cue stick colliding with its target, but your attention is too focused on his fingers to process any of the actual movements.

Another sharp click breaks the silence. You watch as the cue ball collides with a red striped one, sending the former skittering off the sides while the other sinks into the pocket with a dull thud.

“You’re unfairly good at this.”

Zayne raises a brow, “Maybe it’s because a surgeon requires steady hands.” 

And the moment you glance down, any chance of salvation is lost.

You’re not a fool. You’ve noticed Zayne’s hands before, on more occasions than you’d care to admit. But it’s as he says and more. 

Lining up for another shot, you watch him stretch forward, forearms exposed from his deliciously rolled-up sleeves and discarded blazer, your eyes tracing every prominent vein down to his hands, spread wide against the table, tense as the stick rests against his pointer finger and thumb. Even in the dim lighting you can see pale silver scars littering his forearms, and you swear you’ve never seen something so beautiful, like traces of frost against marble. 

Again, it shouldn’t be a surprise that a surgeon must take good care of their hands, but it’s nearly unfair how gorgeous Zayne’s are. Not only that, but you remember how comforting his hands feel against your own, how they caressed your thigh earlier tonight, and just how attentive and precise they can be. 

“You’re not focusing on my lesson.”

Shit.

With a single strike, Zayne tries to sink another ball, but the angle is just off, and the striped ball hits the corner of the pocket, ricocheting against the wood with a dull thud. 

Zayne leans against the pool table, cue stick resting against his shoulder.

"Your turn."

Copying Zayne’s movements as best you can, you clumsily position your cue stick between your knuckles, aiming for what seemed to be a fairly easy shot. Only for the ball to ricochet far left as the white ball knocks into it. Even your cue stick wobbles after, as if shaking in laughter at your poor shot. 

Frowning, you look up to see Zayne’s disapproving gaze locked onto the pool table. 

“Is there not an easier way to do this? One more suitable for beginners?”

“There is.” Zayne leans in, his expression betraying nothing. “First, try adjusting your posture. You’ll see better results.”

Another sigh, and you halfheartedly drape yourself over the table again. “Like this? I’m not sure I fully understand, I think I need your help identifying my weak spots via more hands-on learning, sir.”

“Allow me to guide you, then.”

For a moment you think you’ll have to bait Zayne more, yet before you can figure out how to push the stubborn doctor any further, you feel the weight of his hands, heavy against your shoulder and hip. 

Zayne shifts forward, and you can feel the fabric of his suit vest graze the bare skin of your back, his hands unnaturally cool against the dips in your waist as he nudges your back into an arch. You comply, Zayne’s body nearly folding atop yours as his chest brushes your back. 

He takes the cue stick from your hand.

“You’re too tense,” Zayne pats your back two times. Your waist immediately bends, and you hear him laugh under his breath. “And now you’re too relaxed.”

With his hands still pressed against your waist, Zayne repositions himself and thus you as well, and you can feel the chill of each exhale against the crook of your neck.

He guides your aim, lining it up to the cue ball. The tip brushes ever so gently against the felt surface as it pushes, slowly and deliberately, practicing the gentle back-and-forth motion as you struggle to keep pace. 

“Drop your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally.” He taps your elbow and waist. “Your head, dominant arm, and the cue stick should all form a straight line.”

You begin to shuffle according to Zayne’s instructions, hinging your hips backward before you realize what a wonderfully compromising position he’s placed you in. As discreetly as possible, you allow your right leg to step backward, movement forcing you further against Zayne as you press the curve of your ass into his hips. Immediately, you’re rewarded with a sharp inhale next to your ear. 

But instead of pulling away or reprimanding you Zayne merely continues with the lesson, almost frustratingly unaffected if it wasn’t for the fact that you could feel his reaction grow between your thighs. 

Still, he is nothing if not a professional as he whispers against your jaw, "Behave.”

"I am," you reply, and one of Zayne’s hands comes up to guide your cue stick. “...It just hurts a little.”

You don’t have to see his face to know that Zayne is giving you a smug smile. 

“That means it’s correct.”

You take a deep breath. You practice the same back-and-forth motions, thrusting the stick forward on the third, watching as your cue stick strikes the white ball, sending a solid orange one rolling.

Another click and a thud, and you successfully land a pocket.

Just when you feel like you’re finally getting the hang of it, you make the fatal mistake of looking down to where Zayne's fingers guide yours against the cue stick, and your brain turns to scramble once more. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a soft, fleeting sensation.

And you miss.

Zayne is quiet for a long moment, tilting his head, letting the warmth of his cheek press against your neck. “Snap out of it. Are you even paying attention?”

Bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“Of course,” you retort, skin feeling uncomfortably hot even when Zayne finally steps back from you, your body searing the memory of his touch into every nerve. “I’ll score the next one myself.”

He hums and cocks an eyebrow as if telling you to go on, prove him wrong. 

“Remember, move the cue stick to gauge the shot two or three times, then stop at the position closest to the ball.”

You do, gauging the weight of the cue stick, bending down over the table so your chest nearly brushes with the felt, narrowing in on the solid green ball. 

“Stop and pull back the cue stick in three, two, one.” 

On Zayne’s command, you strike, a satisfying click followed by the thump of the ball falling into the corner pocket. You scored. All on your own.

“It went in!” You jolt up, spinning as you laugh. 

“So it did. Seems like your pool skills are less about precision and more… passion.” Zayne’s lips twitch into a smile, and you’re not foolish enough to ignore his double meaning. “Granted, you might need a little more than passion to come back and win this round.”

You scoff, attempting to change the subject without drawing attention to how red your face has gotten. “Well then, perhaps if you’re not too committed to this doctor thing there’s still a chance for you in the professional billiard space.”

“No, thank you. Now, think you can make another shot by yourself?”

“Wait a moment. When a student does well, shouldn’t they get a reward?”

“Very well,” Zayne relents, tone even despite the searing gaze he practically strips down your body. “What do you want?”

“There are a few balls blocking my next shot. Help me?”

A beat, and he blinks at you incredulously. “That is all?”

“What’s wrong, Dr. Zayne? Scared that if you give me too much help, I’ll steal this victory from you?”

“Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

“Then come here.”

God, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how pliant he is for you, obeying your command without so much as a moment of hesitation. His larger frame now towers above you, close enough that you have to crane your neck to maintain eye contact. And you can’t help but tease him a bit more. It’s not your fault his obedience gives you a rush.

“Closer,” you whisper, teasing your fingers against his vest buttons. “Or else I can’t reach it.” 

Still, Zayne complies. Although this time his brows furrow, shuffling closer so his knee slips between yours and your chest presses against his. “What exactly are you…”

You yank his tie, pushing him down atop the felt tabletop before he can finish his sentence. 

There’s a dull thud, Zayne’s vest ruffled as you pin him to the table. He still looks frustratingly composed, not a hair out of place, but you feel his chest rise and fall uncharacteristically fast under your palm.

Smiling in victory, your other hand brings up your cue stick, making a show of tapping it on his broad shoulders. “Ah, look, the ball is so far away. I think I’ll need a cue rest.”

“Using cue rests would be overkill,” Zayne retorts, propping himself onto his elbows as you pout. You’ve been teasing him all night; surely just one more push, and he’ll finally give in? 

Before he can escape from your hold, you lift the cue stick off his shoulder, letting the tip slip under his tie. Zayne watches with a tight frown as you tug his tie loose. “And this is inappropriate.”

“But are you not enjoying it too?” Your leg slides out from the slit in your dress, allowing you to straddle Zayne’s thigh as your arms cage him further against the pool table. “Sir?”

His brows furrow, almost surprised at your brazenness before he looks down with a huff, and you see the smirk he’s fighting to keep at bay. “I shouldn’t have taught you so much.”

Getting revenge for before, it’s your turn to grip his jaw, brushing kisses against his beautifully hooked nose and down his jaw, leaving smears of cherry red in your wake as you purposefully neglect his waiting lips. “What can I say? I have a very attentive teacher.” 

Zayne is about to say something sarcastic back, no doubt, so you roll your hips forward, cutting off his words as you’re rewarded with a groan instead. The angle allows you to grind atop the rough seams in his trousers, nearly catching against his zipper and the heavy bulge you can already feel straining underneath. 

His hand shoots out, gripping your thigh as you gasp. There’s a warning look in his eyes, but he makes no move to stop you.

Encouraged, you repeat the motion, rocking forward against him as you give an exaggerated moan. Zayne quickly cuts it off with his other hand, thumb pressing against your bottom lip as he muffles your noises. You open your lips further, allowing the digit to slide against your lipstick and push against your tongue. 

Zayne tsks, shaking his head.

You gently nip at his finger before beginning to suck the offending digit, flicking your tongue against the rough pad of his thumb. You watch his eyes narrow, the grip on your waist tightening. Zayne is holding himself back. Again. 

You release his thumb with a pop. "Don't worry, sir, no one will hear." As if to prove your point, you stop grinding, instead bringing your hand up to cup at the bulge straining against his pants. “Besides, you’re too pretty like this. I'm the only one who gets to hear all the sounds you make.”

You smile so sweetly despite the way you torture him with every rough drag of your palm against his clothed cock. But it’s only when your smile breaks into something more genuine that Zayne feels himself flush, gazing up at you adoringly before he tries to play it off with a chuckle and a pinch at your hips.

"The things you say..." His expression changes to something unreadable, stone-cold and conflicted. The chances of losing you again are greater than he once thought. He doesn't deserve this, and he doesn't deserve you. Zayne is reminded of that every time he dares get too close.

But he can't help it. He’d eternally become a fool, a martyr, just for you.

Zayne’s jaw clenches, and a stuttered moan slips through his teeth as your hand squeezes his clothed cock. "Do you think I'm that weak to flattery?"

"No. I just think you deserve it sometimes." You smirk. "Plus, I'm not flattering you, I'm complimenting."

"And what's the difference?"

"The intent," you whisper, grinding your hips forward again.

This time, you catch him by surprise, and Zayne moans, the sound low and rough and so fucking addicting. Zayne grunts, head tilting back as he shuts his eyes, lips parting ever so slightly as more soft sighs and moans slip out, spurring you on.

You lean in, breath warm against his ear as you whisper, "What's wrong, sir? I thought you had a lesson to teach me."

Zayne’s grip tightens, and he yanks you down so your palms skid across the smooth felt of the pool table you’ve pinned him against, pulling your hips flush against his as his palm cups your ass.

“If you actually want to learn, there's another way I can teach you…” Zayne leans up on his forearms until his lips brush with yours, and right as his eyes begin to flutter closed, you shove him backward. Denying his kiss. Again.

“Sir, this seems to be highly unprofessional.”

And Zayne finally snaps. 

“First you use your teacher as a cue rest, then you try to talk about professionalism?” He lets out a curt laugh, and you can practically feel his patience wearing thin. It’s terrifying, and your stomach flutters in anticipation.

“ Unprofessional ,” he spits, and your thighs clench at the growl undercutting his words. “Unprofessional, like that time you were screaming my name in the back of my car while we were still at the hospital parking lot? Or unprofessional, like that time you interrupted me during work hours, begging me to eat your cunt out in my office? Or perhaps it’s like when you decided to turn this lesson into an opportunity to tease me since you’re clearly so desperate?”

You can practically feel yourself drip at Zayne’s blunt words, each one harsh and true— your relationship with him had passed morally ethical the moment you pulled him in to kiss you instead of pushing him away months ago.

Using this moment of weakness, Zayne lifts you up, flipping the two of you around so you’re the one pinned against the pool table as he reaches for his abandoned cue stick. And he finally- finally - claims your lips with his. 

Zayne always kisses like he operates, slow and methodical, as if he could spend hours learning every inch of your body, and it never fails to leave you breathless. But today, the urgency in the way he licks into your mouth is palpable, and it has you whining and clutching his suit, legs wrapping around his waist as you try to bring him closer, the oak rim of the table forcing your back into a deeper arch as you whine. 

A firm hand against your hip stops your movement, pinning you down. You feel so small, caged in between his much longer legs, his superior height much too obvious. The difference in size is almost laughable as he bends down to lick deeper into your mouth. You gasp against Zayne’s lips as his other hand slides to the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles against the column of your throat and your fluttering heartbeat underneath.

You whimper into his mouth, futilely attempting to push him away even though your hips grind insistently against his thigh. “Zayne,” his name tapers off into a moan as he kisses you again, addicted. “We can’t–” another kiss. “Anyone could walk in.” Another.

When he does give you space to breathe, a thin string of saliva connects his bottom lip to yours. He pants heavily, lips shaded a hue of cherry red from your lipstick and teeth as the corner of his mouth tugs into a frown. “Hm, I suppose that’s true. But that didn’t stop you before, did it? So I see no reason why it should stop me now.”

And you realize your fate has long since been sealed.  

Zayne returns to peppering your neck with kisses, teeth nipping the soft skin at your collarbone, and you yelp as he leaves a particularly harsh bite. Your hands come up to fist into his hair, and Zayne groans against your chest.

"Do not think I have forgotten our lesson," He whispers.

"Who, me?" You bat your eyelashes. "I would never. Sir."

His gaze darkens. "Then watch closely, I’m only doing this once.” 

Leaning over you, Zayne positions the cue stick against your shoulder, not unlike you did to him before. But unlike you, he forces your hips up against his thigh, watching your eyes roll back from the delicious friction of his expensive trousers. “There are two striped balls left. As punishment for your attitude during my lesson, I want you to come on my thigh before I pocket both of them.”

Dumbstruck, you can only stare up at him, stammering at his demand as you feel your pussy flutter. “I- I don’t think…”

Zayne scoffs, silencing you by roughly thumbing at your lips again. “Don’t act so shocked. You’ve been humping me like a desperate brat all evening, so go on and come like one. Come for me.”

His words are demeaning, each one cold and seemingly emotionless as he stares down at you. But you can see the truth in his eyes as he watches your every reaction, their gentle green filled with an adoration so tender it terrifies you. You feel the truth in his touch, only moving with your consent, already having memorized your body to learn the way you tick and acting upon your every whim, only pushing you just as far as you wish to be. 

Zayne has never told you he loves you, but he has shown you that he does in a thousand countless ways. 

And he’ll prove it to you in a thousand more. 

”Unless, you want more punishment?” Zayne twists his head towards you with his next statement, and he feels the way it makes you flinch— it makes him throb at the same time. You shake your head. 

You can barely form sentences when he’s deliberately tensing the muscles in his thigh, each movement in time with every needy twitch of your hips like it’s a means to emphasize his point. 

“Use. Your. Words.”

“No.”

His grip tightens, fingers tensing against your neck, and you stammer back out the correction. “No, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Your heart flutters at the praise, a quiet whimper escaping you as you buck against him. Your lips are pouty from being bitten between your teeth, and you still hear muffled sobs and moans slip past your lips as you begin chasing the friction against his thigh, the upward angle punishing your clit. 

Despite how much Zayne likes to front that he’s in complete control, something tells you he’s having a harder time holding back than he’ll ever admit. You think maybe the bulge in his slacks and his low moans against your ear is proof enough of that.

Zayne’s not sure which is more distracting, the sight of your pretty pussy grinding against him, only just covered by the thin silk of your dress, or the sounds falling from your mouth. The room is filled with the wet sounds of your cunt, your whimpers, and Zayne's own groans.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Zayne leans in for another kiss, the tips of your noses barely touching. But the proximity makes you slow, and he clicks his tongue, reaching above you to line up his cue stick for the next shot. But he pauses, instead fully tugging off the tie you had loosed.

"Since you were so insistent on taking my tie off earlier, here. Keep it for me." Zayne grabs both your wrists with one hand, looping his tie tightly against your skin, skillfully making a knot without ever releasing your wrists. 

“Maybe this will help you behave properly,” Zayne whispers, voice low as he mouths your pulse point, a fresh surge of arousal rushing to your core as you feel his length pressing further into you. 

With a broken whimper, you hook an ankle around Zayne’s back as you begin to grind harder against his thigh, moaning at the new angle. It hardly compared to the feeling of his fingers or cock fucking into you, but you barely cared, arousal and lust spurred on by Zayne’s voice. 

You soon fall into a rhythm, painfully slow, the mere friction sending jolts of heat through you until you’re certain Zayne’s trousers must be stained. You nearly beg for something to hold onto, hands writhing helplessly against his tie as your sobs are muffled into your red-bitten lips.

But just as soon as the pleasure builds, you feel it plateau, hips beginning to stutter as the dull friction becomes too little, the coiling heat inside you desperate to be properly filled up by something, anything. 

Zayne, on the other hand, is faring no better. 

He’s thoroughly distracted with the pretty little thing desperately fucking herself against his thigh, caging you down to the table as his hands clench against the cue stick, nearly enough to make it snap. 

You continue to push yourself in desperation to fulfill Zayne’s order for you to come, his continuous praises mingling with the lewd squelch of your cunt, and your eyes roll back with a cry. Zayne’s voice is intoxicating, his steady tone rough with lust sending tremors down your spine, infecting you like an aphrodisiac. You were building further and further, mounting pressure in your core dizzying, desperation for release seeping through you, mind lust-drunk as you willed yourself to fall off the peak.

But the familiar sound of the billiard balls clicks somewhere above you, followed by two distinct thuds. 

A hum, and Zayne pries himself away as you whine at the loss, cold air rushing in. 

You failed. 

“How disappointing.” Zayne scolds as if he wasn’t the one who nearly came from your grinding instead. ”But you know what happens to students who fail to follow clear instructions, don’t you?”

Standing back, Zayne discards the cue stick entirely as one hand readjusts his trousers, and you whimper at the sight of him cupping his bulge, stroking and coaxing it against his thigh just so he can stand straight. 

“Turn around and lift your dress.”

You obey, propping yourself up on shaking arms before you flip around so the rough edge of the billiard table now presses against your stomach, the felt hot beneath your bound wrists. 

Zayne hums in approval, almost apathetically observing the way you squirm before he nods at you to continue. Lowering your eyes from his, you allow your leg to slip out from the slit in your dress, spreading your legs back and to the side as the silk falls off the curve of your ass, Zayne’s piercing gaze following every movement. 

“Didn’t think a game of pool would turn you on this much,” he muses, leaning against the rim of the table as he crosses his arms.

Unable to meet his stare any longer, your head falls between your still tied-up hands, every inch of your body burning in shame and lust as Zayne continues to wordlessly observe you. You swear you’ll burn up with the way he fucks you with his eyes.

 Still, Zayne doesn’t move. 

You nearly scream against the table, eyes scrunched as you snap. “Fuck! Zayne, I swear to god, if you don’t finally fuck me I’ll do it myself or find someone else who will.”

The words barely leave your mouth when a hand fists into your hair, pulling you backward until you arch back, and you gasp, mouth falling open at the sensation. Zayne's breath is cold against the shell of your ear, the growl undercutting his words sending tremors down your spine.

"Needy little brat," his fingers curl into your hair, pulling until your jaw goes slack. Zayne's other hand finds its way back to your underwear, the material so damp that it almost feels sticky beneath his touch, and you moan at the sensation, unable to formulate a retort as your eyes flutter closed. “I think you’re forgetting this is meant to be your punishment.”

He snaps the band of your panties, and you choke, knees wobbling.

"Remember to count, or we start over.”

Placing the flat of his palm in the space between your shoulder blades, Zayne pushes you down against the billiard table, the side of your face pressed against the felt.

You hear the sharp crack of his hand meeting your ass before you feel it, the burn returning with a vengeance as you scream into the table. The sting of his palm leaves a searing heat across the curve of your ass, and you bite down on the tie binding your hands to muffle the cries that escape you.

Then you remember his order, lips quivering as you say, "One."

Another smack. This time harder. The strike is so precise it nearly sends you toppling over, the sting and ache following pushing you further against the wood. You let out a sob, eyes beginning to water as you clench around nothing, the throbbing of your cunt only worsened by Zayne's firm grip on the base of your neck.

"Two."

The third strike comes down even harder than the last, the resounding echo of his slap followed by a strangled scream from you, the heat and pain making your knees give out, forcing you to rest fully atop the pool table. “Three.”

You feel tears running down your face, undoubtedly ruining your makeup. But before you can process the fourth smack, you feel the familiar sting against your ass and the paradoxically gentle rub of Zayne's hand against the aching spot, soothing the pain as you count.

 "F-Four." You shutter as you feel sheer cold bloom against your skin, his Evol numbing your ass as you whimper from the pleasure-pain.

Zayne’s thumb dips past the seam of your panties, gathering the slick that has been dripping out of you for the entire night. You feel the heat of his stare on you and the weight of his hand heavy on the small of your back, his other hand still gripping your neck with his thumb tracing soft circles against your pulse.

"So wet. Is this what you were hoping for, hm? Testing me until I finally snapped and ruined you?”

You don't dare look him in the eye. "Please, sir. I can't—"

"Can't what? Take anymore? Can't take any more punishment like the disobedient brat you are?" Zayne's voice is low, and you shiver at his words, unable to respond as the tears continue to flow, the mixture of pain and arousal leaving your vision blurred and cloudy. He spanks you again, this time hard enough to leave a mark, and you keen, legs spreading even wider in desperation.

"I can't— ah shit — please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir, please, just fuck me already.” you plead, voice trembling as you beg, desperate to be filled by anything other than the emptiness. 

“Language.” Zayne reprimands, and the sting of his strike follows shortly after. “And you forgot to count.”

“Five! It’s f-five.” Your knees buckle with a sob, and Zayne has to hold your waist so you don't slide onto the floor, his touch paradoxically gentle compared to everything else he’s done.

“Shh, you’re far too noisy. It’s almost as though you want someone walking in to find us like this.”

Your dress is only noticeably bunched up from the back and Zayne is still fully clothed. Anyone walking by the billiard hall would just see a couple talking by the tables, but if they were to enter the room it would hardly take a brain surgeon to figure out what was happening. The realization has your walls clench around nothing.

Zayne hoists your wrists up, forcing you into a deeper arch before untying your restraints. You then watch him fist the purple silk into a ball before pushing it into your mouth, gagging you with it. “Don’t worry, this will help.”

It doesn't.

You moan against his tie, saliva pooling against the silky fabric as Zayne pushes the soaked garment deeper into your throat, his chest pressed against your bare back. You look up at him through watery eyes, sniffling, the tingling sensation of being punished in such a way overwhelming you completely. Zayne uses this opportunity to soothe you like he always does— never failing to find the perfect balance between rough and gentle.

"It's alright, I know, my little darling can’t make up her mind. I’ll help you, I’ll show you what you want." Zayne soothes, stroking your cheek with his thumb, his gaze gentle despite his steady and strict voice. Then, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “If anything hurts or becomes too much, tap the table twice." 

You wouldn’t dare, not after finally getting what you wanted.

Zayne slips his hands under the backs of your thighs, easily lifting your weight against his chest as you whimper, the toes of your heels just barely grazing the tiled floor. The position is beyond embarrassing, ass up, face down, completely exposed and at his mercy.

He withdraws one hand, and you cry out, a garbled mess of pleas. The absence of his touch is torturous, the throbbing of your pussy and the soreness of your ass a painful reminder of the punishment you received.

The tent in his pants was tantalizingly obvious, even more pronounced once he pushed his pants down, taking out his length. He spits on his fingers, the slick sounds of him stroking himself making you whine in anticipation. It was oozing with precum, head red and flushed as he jerks himself off with sharp movements between your thighs. You grind your hips back, trying to tempt him, but all Zayne does is coo at your pitiful attempts.

"Look at you, so desperate. All that childish stubbornness just because you want my cock." He lines himself up, the head of his cock catching against your entrance as you shiver. The stretch burns, and you groan, eyes screwing shut at the feeling. "My beautiful, filthy girl."

Zayne whispers, curling an arm between your sweat-slickened bodies. You think he means to finally alleviate the needy throbbing against your clit, but instead his hand presses firmly against your lower stomach as he continues to fuck into you, torturously slow, allowing the blunt head of his cock to bully its way deeper and deeper still. 

The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch of Zayne's cock combined with the sting of his earlier punishment leaves you a mess, fluttering around him as he finally bottoms out.

He lets out a long moan, a low rumble that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You're so full, the head of his cock pressing insistently against the bundle of nerves inside you.

Some distant part of you is mortified of every lewd squelch and moan that echos over the jazz in the public hall, but feeling Zayne gently cup your ass while the other brutally pins you down, hearing him come apart against the back of your neck, knowing that your stoic lover was pushed to such extremes has you keening.

You want to feel every inch of him, so you clench down, and Zayne bites the back of your neck in retaliation, his hips stuttering.

"You’re perfect." Zayne praises, and his breathless voice sends shivers down your spine. "So good for me, taking me so well."

Zayne finally starts moving, letting the tip of his cock pull back until the head catches on the rim of your cunt, trying desperately to keep him inside, until he thrusts back into you in a single harsh motion, watching you fall apart just as he knew you would. 

Your scream muffles into the gag, and Zayne reaches down to push the tie deeper into your mouth, the knot catching on the back of your tongue as he sets a steady pace. 

The hand against your lower stomach shifts, still pressing hard enough so Zayne can feel his cock throb through you, and yet now positioned perfectly to thumb against your clit too. He needs to make you come, to feel it around him. 

Zayne knows your body better than his own, knows exactly what angle he needs to hit, knows exactly where to touch to send your hips jerking back, and knows exactly where to tease to have you clenching down and sobbing into his tie.

It doesn't take long until you're coming, his fingers circling the bundle of nerves until you're screaming, thighs shaking, and he has to hold them open as you fall apart around him, cunt gushing as you squirt over his suit and trousers.

Your orgasm has your walls fluttering, clenching around his cock as it nearly begs for him to be buried deeper inside, and Zayne grunts, a broken moan ripped from his throat as his grip on your thigh tightens.

The pace of his thrusts grows sloppier, and you can tell he's close, the wet squelch of his cock inside your cunt driving you mad as his rhythm becomes inconsistent. You can feel his breath fan against your neck, labored and shaky, with the way he chases his high.

Your cunt aches with how full you feel, overstimulated and sensitive, but you push your hips back anyway, meeting Zayne halfway as you both chase the release that's been building up all night.

With one final thrust, Zayne finally comes inside you, a choked gasp followed by a low moan as his hips stutter, almost fucking his cum back into you as a sloppy mixture of your release drip down his cock and your thighs. 

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your second orgasm takes you by surprise, your body convulsing at the overstimulation and the warm soothing sensation of being filled to the brim. 

"Fuck." Zayne whispers, his hands holding your hips as his thumbs trace circles against the dimples at the small of your back. The chill and comfort of his hands is almost enough to distract you from the ache, and you groan, legs finally giving out beneath you as you fall forward onto the pool table, the hard surface unforgiving as the wood rubs against your bruised knees.

Ever so gently, Zayne removes his tie from your mouth, turning you around so you’re pressed tight against his chest, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his rapid heartbeat and the way his hands tremble, and you smile, the familiar tenderness of his touch calming the both of you.

He slowly runs a hand down the curve of your back and you hum against the top of his head, your own hand coming up to gently stroke his hair. “I think I love you, Zayne.”

He doesn’t say a word, instead, you feel his other arm wrap around your waist, tucking you further into his embrace.

The two of you remain like this, tangled in each other until your breathing finally evens out and the fever that inflected you begins to cool. When Zayne finally speaks, his voice is muffled against your skin, and you shiver at the mere brush of his lips. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Hmm, not any more than I’d want to be.” 

You mean it as a joke, but Zayne immediately stiffens in your hold, pulling back just enough to inspect your neck, then your wrists and hips as he kisses each bruise and remaining mark with hushed apologies. 

"Did you mean it?"

You look down at him, his brows furrowed as you thumb at the stubborn crease that appears between them. You’re not sure why, but something in the way he stares up at you, waiting, longing, makes tears prick in the back of your eyes. 

"Zayne," your voice is gentle, and you cup his cheek. "I do. I love you."

The tension in his jaw melts, his expression softening into something unnameable. His hand comes up to cup yours, scarred thumb tracing circles against your palm. " Say it again."

"I love you," you repeat, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. "I love you. I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, Zayne–"

The last syllable of his name is cut off by his lips against yours, and you smile into the kiss, pulling him up until his forehead finally rests on your again. 

"As do I," Zayne whispers, voice thick as he hold you close.

And you believe him.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW Reaction to You Taking the BDSM Test

Warnings: Implied Smut, MW Characters Being Down Bad & Feral, Mean! MW, Rough! MW, Dominant! MW, Submissive! MW, Teasing, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Ghost

His laugh is gruff from over your shoulder. A glower, if you listen closely enough. His hands, rough and calloused with the weight of his atrocities, clamp down on your shoulders. He squeezes them. Tight. Tighter.

“You don’t need a test to find out what you’re into, Love.”

He stands closer. From your position on the couch, you can feel something hard pressing between your shoulder blades. He rolls against you, his grip tightening. You whimper, wince, and he lets go a hum.

His hands drop from your shoulders to the front of your shirt. There, he grips the seam and rips it open. You jump, gasping, the buttons flying off into god-knows where — corners of the room, pinging off furniture.

His hands are on your chest, kneading, needing. He’s rough. He needs you now — he can’t even stop to remember to be gentle.

“I can do that,” he lowers his lips to your ear. His breath is hot.

“And more.”

König

König had sat with you while you took the test, curious to see what you’d choose — what your heart truly desired.

Of course, despite how close the two of you were, you did try to retain what little of your dignity you could by choosing answers that didn’t make you look insane. Or nymphomanic.

Little did you know that König could see right through you, his lips stretching into a smile whenever he saw your fingers itching to choose the highest values for kinks he absolutely knew you had (whether you were aware of his knowing or not).

When the test was over and you got your results, you thought you’d walked it. “See?” You showed your results to König. “Told you I wasn’t into anything—“ you searched for the term he’d used. “Extreme.”

“Oh, Maus,” König said, almost growling. Purring, perhaps. His eyes were narrowed, feline. “We both know that’s not true.”

König took your phone and placed it somewhere out of your reach. Frozen with anticipation, you gave no fight as König took you by your shoulders and laid you down, pressing you into the floor. He brought his thighs over you, caged you beneath him. His hands either side of your head, he smiled.

“You needn’t be evasive with me, Darling.” His hips dipped down. Something hard pressed against your abdomen. König’s eye twitched. ”Now then, let’s see how many of your answers were true, shall we?”

Soap

Johnny looks at you with what you could only construe as confidence. A challenge. You could feel the sly remark creeping up his throat as you tried to explain away the results of your test, trying not to paint yourself as someone whose answers suited them a little too well.

“Oh aye, Bonnie — I believe you,” came Johnny. With all the genuity in the world. “I just don’t think you do.”

When you gave him a queer look, his smile grew.

“What I’m sayin’ is you know there’s more to sex than that test’ll have you believe.”

Johnny shifted closer to you, eye-level with you. His hand came up to your chin, taking it between his fingers. He held you there.

“And I’d be more than happy to show ya what you’re missing out on.”

Valeria

“Looks like mi Cariño’s had a little too much screen time.”

She’s on you before you can even escape to your lock screen, a viper-strike hand plucking your phone from your grip and throwing it over Valeria’s shoulder. It cracks, somewhere, but her frame is all you can see as she pushes you to the floor.

“Seems like you’ve forgotten your place,” she grunts as she forces you to the ground, watching you fall flat on your backside. The carpet is enough to cushion your fall, but there isn’t a material in the known universe that can withstand the fire in Valeria’s eyes.

“Seems to me that you need to be reminded what you like.” Valeria bites her lip, coming to stand over you. Her shadow roves over you, almost as if to grope you, feel you.

She brings her boot onto your chest. Keeps you down.

“And where you like it.”

Price

“So you think I’m vanilla, Hm?” Price’s voice carried a weight you were not unfamiliar with, but the way in which he spoke suggested something unknown. His ankle sat atop his knee, arms crossed over his chest.

You’d gotten him to take the BDSM Test — “For science!” you’d told him. And, to nobody’s surprise, John’s results had come back relatively tame. Yours, however, were a different story.

John leaned back in his chair, his cigar lying in the ashtray, embers fading.

“Why don’t you come over here,” John said, voice low. He spread his legs, patted the expanse of his covered thigh. His eyes glinted with all the light of a black mirror.

“And teach this old dog some new tricks.”

Horangi

Hong-jin had seen your results by accident and had decided that teasing you about it would provide him with enough of a distraction to stop himself from salivating at the possibilities they opened.

Sure, it started off tame. The odd comment here and there about you seeming to be ‘tied up’ with whatever task you were doing, that you were doing such a good job of completing your work, etc.

Anything to get you hot under the collar.

And, luckily for Hong-jin, it worked. You came to him, frustrated and very much in need of relief.

Hong-Jin hummed, putting you on his lap. He ground his thigh between your legs, calling you his “Good little pet — behaving so well for me.”

His eyes almost seem to glimmer as he tells you how much he should reward you for being able to hold out for so long. Something to the tune of an oddly specific interest you knew you’d never told him. But that’s alright; your scores told him everything he needed to know.

Alejandro

He was NOT expecting the answers you got on your BDSM test. And you weren’t fully prepared for what you found on his.

Yes, Alejandro leans towards taking the dominant role in bed. Sure, not all the time, but enough that one look at the two of you could definitively conclude which of you wore the pants in bed.

Which, until tonight, neither of you had questioned.

“You know, Corazón,” came Alejandro. He sat beside you, not looking away from the TV. “It couldn’t hurt to…test some of our weaker areas.”

You looked at him, eyebrow raised. Then, it clicked.

“Oh,” you said, leaning closer, smiling. Knowing. Alejandro looked down at you. You could see him biting back a wide grin.

That night was spent with Alejandro bottoming while you went to town making him cry, whimper and beg for more.

Rodolfo

You’d assumed that Rodolfo’s results would be, at most, rather banal. In spite of his military background, he was gentle — loving — when it was just you, him and the late hours of the night.

So, when you saw his results and discovered that, oh you’re kind of depraved, actually (in a loving, non-judgemental way; you just weren’t expecting how much his results told you he was into), you wanted to test Rudy’s limits.

A whole day of teasing, complete with a healthy side of blue-balling, had, eventually, caused Rudy to grab you and drag you into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. He threw you to the bed, his strength masked by his lamb-like disposition.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. He stood over you, arms crossed over his chest. “And I know why you’re doing it. You’re trying to make me cave — trying to get me to ruin you.”

You couldn’t have put it better yourself. But he could. He approached you, came down to your level, crawling over the bed. You backed up until you hit the headboard (for the first of many times, you suspected), and Rudy, with a dark glint in his eye, gripped the headboard behind you, trapping you.

“Trust me, Amour,” he said, bringing his face level with yours, his voice low.  “With the way you’re acting, you’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of you to ruin by the time I’m done with you.”

Graves

Bless your cotton socks — you’d forgotten to close the tab on Graves’ phone that had your results splashed across it. Hence, Phillip was having a good old laugh about it now in the confines of his office. Though, the longer he studied your results, the stronger the throbbing between his legs became.

Of course, he sought you out. And of course, he made now secret of your faux pas. And, of course, you tried to explain it away. ‘I took it for fun’, ‘It was for a laugh’, ‘I didn’t t think you’d find it—‘

“Ah, there we go. The truth, coveted as it is,” said Graves, smiling from ear to ear. He stepped over the threshold of your bedroom, backing you up against the edge of the bed. He kicked the door shut behind him. No escape.

“Now,” he drawled, approaching you. “You’re gonna show me exactly what you’re into, where you like it,” He stood chest-to-chest with you now, watching you lose your balance as you fell back onto the bed. He all but pounced on you, taking your wrists and pressing them into the mattress.

His eyes were ablaze with a lustful vengeance as he pressed down on you. Into you.

“Or I’m gonna fuck it outta ya.”

Gaz

“Didn’t know you were into…” Gaz squinted, looking over your results from over your shoulder. He went quiet.

“Oh…” From the corner of your eye, you saw his face turn pink. Then red. He cleared his throat and took a step back.

“Y-yes, well— uh— that’s a very…colourful scorecard you have there!”

Smiling, a hint of mirth in your eyes, you turned to him. You could see he was nursing a rather pressing, growing problem, and you sought to relieve him of it.

“How about you come and help me make it a bit more colourful, hm?”

At that, Gaz’s eyes widened. His tongue tied as he tried to form words — a word — anything !

Your smile grew. So did Gaz. “Oh, come on, Gaz! Big military man like you scared of a little fun?”

Let’s just say, Gaz also found himself taking the test shortly after you’d ruined him.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[pshcomforts]

➳ brought the heat back | psh.

situationship!sunghoon x fem!reader (feat. gunwook from zerobaseone)

“i’m so jealous, i’m going crazy, my patience will run out”

synopsis: sunghoon definitely wasn’t amused when coming to a party and seeing some guy talk to you.

warnings/content: written in third pov. mentions of alcohol. suggestive. little fluff. tension. possessive and jealous sunghoon (what did you expect). cursing. not proofread.

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 2.7k

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: brought the heat back by enhypen

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:34 ──|───────────────── 2:22

y/n had just arrived to the dim-lit party, music loudly blasting through her ears as she moved past waves of people.

the girl struggled to find her friends as they remained scattered all around.

“damn heeseung just had to throw a huge ass party..,” she mumbled to herself, sighing softly once she realized she wouldn’t be able to find anyone.

she even sent texts, but she deemed that all had gone off of their phones for the night so she settled on a drink and time well spent of being alone.

that was until her coworker had approached her.

“hey y/n!” gunwook yelled out, grinning at her shocked expression.

“gunwook?? i never thought i’d see you here!”

the male laughed before taking a step closer to her. “never thought i would’ve either, especially when you’re alone.” he frowned, earning a playful smile to form on y/n. “where are your friends?”

“they’re off somewhere… i can’t find them honestly..,” she admitted to him.

gunwook quickly wore a grin that reflected hers, presenting a sweet expression as he said, “so.. i take it you’re alone then?”

she cocked a brow at him before the two broke out into laughter. “what do you mean by that, gunwook…?” she softly teased, breaking another chuckle out of him.

“just saying… if i’m alone, and you’re alone, we can be each others company.”

the girl tensed up for a second, stopping to process the words her coworker had just uttered out to her.

that wasn’t what she thought it meant.. right?

she glanced at the tall boy to search for what his intentions were, but given that they were just coworkers, she deemed it was nothing, so she agreed.

surely, no one would be upset with that option, right? (no)

gunwook offered to get the next cup of liquor after she downed her first, both sitting on the couch that had been crowded by others.

“why didn’t you help that customer out??” he laughed with a huge grin plastered across his face.

“because!—“ y/n yelled, pausing to sip her cup. “she looked like she would’ve much rather talked to you so i let her go to you!”

the boy sputtered out a giggle. “so you let me have your sale then?” he teased, earning a soft hit on the arm.

“well that wasn’t my intention, she just seemed more interested in talking to you so i didn’t know what else to do.” she rolled her eyes, scoffing as she remained hearing hearty laughs erupt out of him.

he let his tongue slip through his lips when he furrowed his brows and shook his head. “you could’ve just stolen that sale from me, y/n. i would’ve let you,” he sighed.

“well i’m sorry, gunwook, i thought you would’ve actually appreciated getting that sale.”

the two laughed out her play on sarcasm, unintentionally getting closer with their body movements.

just when their heads were about to bunk, a buzzing notification caught y/n’s attention and thinking it was one of her friends, she quickly glanced at it.

just a friend ‼️:

Stop getting close to him.

Do you want me to do something about it?

✩ ‘who is that guy who said hello earlier?’ ✩

her heart instantly dropped at the texts. where was he? and how did he know? she tried to scan around the area, but another notification pulled her back to her phone.

just a friend ‼️:

Looking for me?

y/n began to text back with her heartbeats getting louder by the second. her hands were softly shaking and she didn’t know what to do.

encountering jealous hoon was something that happened occasionally, but it was always minor and not noticeable enough to make it seem like they were more than friends.

✩ ‘i’m getting jealous’ ✩

‘where are you? and why are you watching me??’ — she quickly messaged back, chewing her lips as gunwook started to notice the change in her demeanor.

just a friend ‼️:

Don’t worry about where I am, pretty girl

Now get his hand off of your leg or I’ll come over and do it myself.

✩ ‘it’s weird, i don’t want to but i’m envious’ ✩

y/n felt her stomach rupture with butterflies at the possessive tone in his text. her eyes fell down to her leg and finally noticed the unintentional hand slip there.

“gunwook, your hand..,” she awkwardly mumbled, gesturing down to where it laid.

the boy quickly gasped and removed it with a blush forming on his cheeks. “oh god, i’m sorry! i didn’t know my hand was there…,” he admitted in shame. “that won’t make it awkward at work right..?”

she shook her head in reassurance and laughed at the way he panicked. “noo, you’re fine!! i didn’t realize it was there either..,” she chortled.

gunwook nodded, cheeks still flushing with embarrassment as he scratched his neck.

“sorry about that…,”

“what are you sorry for!” y/n swiftly chuckled. “you did nothing wrong, gunwook!” her hand placed itself on his arm out of habit, attempting to reassure the boy but the only thing it did was set off alarms in sunghoon’s head.

the older male who watched from afar felt his jaw tighten at the little action, eyes squinting and staring down at the two who were innocently on the couch.

✩ ‘why are you smiling at him like that?’ ✩

his hands went to his phone, typing his message out of irritation.

‘Why do you have your hand on his arm? Take it off.’

✩ ‘it feels like burning, hotter, hotter’ ✩

he glanced up with crossed arms, hoping that his girl would listen. he watched her mumble incoherent words that he couldn’t make out and soon enough, her hands slipped away from that stupid guys arms.

✩ ‘rough madness’ ✩

his lips began to curl and a smirk started to form as his gaze remained on the two, not even caring that there was a party going on.

✩ ‘it’s getting stronger, stronger’ ✩

jake even tried to offer a drink, but sunghoon declined, not wanting to feed the jealous rage that still fumed in the pit of his stomach.

but when he found that tall boy inch closer to y/n, his heart was quick to sink. he straightened himself before walking to the scene without even thinking, fists clenched and brows furrowed to display his pissed reaction.

✩ ‘i can’t stand it’ ✩

sunghoon stood before them, eyes narrowing down at the guy he couldn’t recognize.

“y/n,” he gritted out with a tightened jaw, hating the way his heart burned at this.

✩ ‘i can’t hide it, my head is spinning, crazy, yeah’ ✩

he watched how the girl instantly pieced that it was him as she glanced back. “sunghoon…,” she gulped, finally taking in the handsome features present on him.

he quickly let out a soft scoff, eyes rolled while keeping his glare directly on her.

a soft lick was made between his lips. “what are you doing, hm?” he taunted, smile slowly curling once he saw how she lowly panicked.

“nothing, hoon. i’m just catching up with my coworker.” y/n quickly excused, gesturing to gunwook, who awkwardly sat there.

✩ ‘don’t test me’ ✩

but the older male didn’t bother to glance at him, letting his attention lay completely on the girl who he wanted as his.

before he could speak, gunwook intervened with a murmur — “we’re really just coworkers, man.”

sunghoon glared back at him for a second, disbelief written on his face as he scoffed. that’s not what it looked like seconds ago when he was inches away from his girl.

✩ ‘trying hard to endure, endure’ ✩

he got a hold of y/n’s wrist, fingers tightening around while pulling her away from the scene. his nails were close to digging into her skin as his heart picked up on the jealous energy that chucked at him.

✩ ‘i’m going crazy like this, i’m going crazy’ ✩

she softly winced in pain, feeling every press of his slim fingers that wrapped around her wrist.

“sunghoon..,” y/n whispered, but he ignored her, making the girl unable to clarify that gunwook was just leaning in to remove something from her hair.

truth be told though, he almost fell weak to his knees when his name had slipped out of her mouth. his possessive demeanor nearly dropped, but only grew stronger once he realized it fueled flame to fire.

✩ ‘no, it ain’t my fault, ain’t my fault’ ✩

the inner corner of his lips curled in satisfaction before bringing her to an empty room.

the door quickly closed and y/n was slammed against it with hoon caging her to himself. his arms were securely palmed against the door as his eyes stared down at her.

“sunghoon..,” she quietly murmured out again, heart fluttering at his tall frame towering over hers.

he tilted his head with a slight brow raise in response, loving how weak she could fall within seconds of barely making contact. he leaned himself in, closing the gap between their heated bodies.

✩ ‘ain’t my fault, it’s because of you’ ✩

their lips barely grazed against each others as his breath hit her skin. “what are we doing?” y/n mumbled to him, truly confused at their situation.

sunghoon swallowed down a harsh lump in his throat, trying to find words that would answer her question. “i don’t know, y/n. you tell me,” he squinted his eyes in jealousy again. “one second you’re texting me about how we should go watch this new movie together, and the next you’re talking to your coworker who obviously likes you.”

one of his hands that laid flat against the door began to clench, turning it into a fist as he remembered just how close the boy was getting to her.

“do you like him?” he questioned, feeling his heartbeats rise with every silent second that passed.

✩ ‘don’t be confused, is it me or him’ ✩

y/n stayed quiet, unable to admit her feelings for the guy in front of her when she suddenly felt a finger hook around her chin. sunghoon pulled her attention onto him, eyes boring into hers to get a straight answer.

“tell me, pretty.” he spat, already knowing that she liked him, and not the coworker.

at this point, his lips were about to get a taste before he could even think. he was close to caving in with how her silence was saying much more than needed.

he let his top lip graze against hers again, noses bunking and foreheads almost colliding when the room began to get hotter.

“say it,” hoon whispered near her skin, faint groans slipping pass his throat when he felt her try to resist.

y/n gulped, softly biting her lips to temper herself down but couldn’t when they were so close to taking it to the next level. “i like you, sunghoon, not him.” she confessed, feeling her stomach bubble with butterflies.

his lips were quick to coil into a shit-eating grin, causing her to feel it against her skin as he murmured, “you drive me crazy, angel. you don’t even understand what you do to me.”

before she could even speak, he smashed his lips against hers, finally colliding into a much needed kiss. y/n quietly gasped, allowing more entrance for the male as her hands instantly ran to his muscular arms.

she squeezed them, trying to signal for him to pull away with how rough he moved against her, but he couldn’t stop. even if he wanted to, he couldn’t with how much he had been craving this.

sunghoon’s thick brows furrowed as he continued, loving the sweet taste her lips offered while his hands slipped down to her waist. he pushed himself closer, allowing her to melt into the harsh movements.

and once she did so, her hands quickly moved up to the messy hair that covered his forehead, softly tugging at them to stimulate his satisfaction.

he let out a soft groan, pulling back ever so slightly to take a breather with all that was going on.

y/n felt his breath fan against her skin, making her glance down at his now-swollen lips that were running pink around the edges from his initial intention to go for it.

sunghoon quickly leaned it, urging for another kiss when her hands stopped at his broad chest. “hoon, let me breathe,” she whined, earning a low chuckle.

a soft sigh left him as he wore a mischievous grin. “fine, breathe then.” he uttered out before leaning in closer to her neck.

he pressed firm kisses against it, causing a gasp to be heard from his girl. “sunghoon!” she yelled, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

the asshole only smiled, continuing to leave pecks around her neck to tease. “what? i’m letting you breathe,” he taunted with a coy tone. “isn’t that what you wanted?”

she whined at his words, still attempting to push away at his shoulders. “you better not leave anything noticeable.” she warned once she felt his vampire-like fangs begin to nibble.

a scoff immediately fell from his lips. “why? can’t i let everyone know that you’re mine now?” he growled.

when she kept her mouth shut, he let another puff of air slip by. “oh i see.” he peered into her gaze. “you don’t want that coworker of yours to know, hm?”

sunghoon quickly narrowed his eyes and poked his tongue out through his cheek. “aren’t you gonna admit it?” he asked, thumb pulling her bottom lip down.

y/n choked out, completely falling in a daze at how jealous he was. “it’s not that…,” she murmured.

“then what is it?”

“i just don’t want anything noticeable, hoon.” the girl frowned. “it’s hard to cover up.”

hoon widely grinned, raising his brows as he uttered, “isn’t that the whole point?”

she rolled her eyes and shoved his arm. “i can’t have it show anywhere, idiot, especially at work.”

“so i’m right then?” he joked, earning another nudge on the arm as he laughed. “you could’ve just admitted it, you know?”

“that’s not what i meant, dumbass!” y/n defended, now smacking his arms and giggling alongside him.

the two continued their banter until sunghoon decisively wrapped his arms around her, stopping the constant hits he was receiving.

“fine, no marks.” he huffed, muzzling his head into her shoulder. he breathed in her intoxicating scent as he tightened her closer to his chest.

“you’re mine now though, right?”

y/n laughed at his words before bringing her hands up to hit his arm. “obviously.. idiot,” she responded.

sunghoon’s lips formed a huge smile that was now plastered across his face. “good…,” his soft voice whispered — “because i hate that coworker of yours.”

“hoon, he wasn’t even doing anything that bad.”

he playfully scoffed. “so now you’re trying to defend him?”

she quickly rolled her eyes. “sunghoon! he was—“

he leaned in with a grin, pressing his lips against hers to shut her up. his hand firmly held her cheeks as he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

hoon finally pulled away after her arms wrapped around his neck.

“i hate you,” she murmured.

“as if.” his lips connected with hers again for a soft peck, unable to restrain himself.

and when he leaned in again, y/n put a hand to his chest once more. “we should go back to the party,” she said, knowing how much he wanted to kiss again.

“come on, baby.” sunghoon whined, giving a slight pout. “don’t say that.”

she giggled before shaking her head. “let’s go, hoon, before they start to get suspicious.” the girl replied.

he declined for minutes, trying to convince her for another kiss, in which she eventually gave in.

y/n planted a soft peck on his lips that lasted only seconds, leaving him to scoff.

“okay, what was that?”

“that was a kiss?” she teased.

“you know i want more than that.”

his brow raised and she only laughed before pushing the door open and holding his hand. “later, dummy. come on!” y/n quickly dragged her grumbling boy out to the party and ignored his petty behavior that came afterward.

safe to say that sunghoon was definitely gonna get another kiss that night.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

a/n: heyy… i know it’s been a while.. i’m sorry! i’m currently working and also doing a summer session so i haven’t had any time at all to write, but i’m hoping to be posting regularly again. but if not then.. you will be hearing from me once a month…

[sjyuns]

🗒️ 、 INTENTIONS

popular sunghoon x fem reader 1535 words genre fluff mikaela’s note because sunghoon is so tristan dugray coded, inspired by a gilmore girls scene

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” Sunghoon mumbles, and he’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips.

He holds your gaze confidently, with a tinge of arrogance as his tongue darts out to lick his lip. You think that Sunghoon is the most annoying person in the world, because how can he look so devilishly handsome and have such an intoxicating effect on you.

It all started when he showed up unannounced and uninvited to your birthday party — still in his school uniform, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up with his blazer hanging over his shoulder.

And you should have known better than to let him charm his way into your house. “What are you doing here, Hoon?”

He loves the way his nickname rolls off the tip of your tongue, it's so addictive and he wants to record it so that he can play it again and again, even if your tone is one of spite.

“Happy birthday princess,” Sunghoon completely ignores your words, taking steps closer towards you, “now, where’s my birthday kiss?”

He’s at it again, aimlessly flirting with you. You roll your eyes, a deep sigh exiting your mouth, “it’s my birthday, Hoon.” How did he even know where you lived? You were sure you told everyone you invited not to bring him along.

“So I’ll give you a birthday kiss,” he grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches your facial expressions fall, ears burning red as you quickly turn around.

You hate Park Sunghoon and the unimaginable hold he has on you. “I’m going to find my mother. Do not, I swear to god, cause any trouble.”

“Your mother? It’s a little early in the relationship,” he moves swiftly to your side, arms casually slinging over your shoulder as he pulls you closer into him forcefully. “But it’s okay, I’m ready.”

Where in the world does Sunghoon get his cocky attitude from, you think as you try your best to pry and lift his arm away from your shoulder. Despite your surface indifference towards his advances, there were millions of butterflies invading your stomach at his every single action.

Before you can even try to escape, a voice calls your name and you stop to talk to Yunjin. “Park Sunghoon? What are you doing here?”

Sunghoon steals a glance at you, and he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you pout at the image of multiple people seeing you with him; given how you always seemed to have complaints about his overly flirty nature and playboy ways.

But Sunghoon hasn’t fooled around since you transferred into Decelis two months ago, a personal record for him. At first all you were was a form of entertainment, someone who had cute reactions to his smooth pick up lines.

Then it all came crashing down, when he started to feel the need to bicker with you everyday and mess up your hair every time he sees you in the hallways. And somewhere in between the blurred lines, he fell in love.

“Here to celebrate my girl’s birthday,” he cocks his head towards you, who’s palms now cover your face in sheer embarrassment. God, now it’s going to spread like wildfire. His girl?

Yunjin’s eyes widen and jaw drops, “really? You guys are together? But I thought you were with Choi Soobin.” She asks, nudging you.

Sunghoon frowns at her words. Choi Soobin? Since when? Sunghoon literally follows you around school whenever he sees you, and he’s never seen you ever talk to that boy.

“Soobin and I are just friends,” you clarify, “also we are not a couple,” your finger gesturing to you and Sunghoon as you answer the girl.

“Tomorrow we’ll be a couple,” Sunghoon cuts back into the conversation, voice loud, and he catches your surprised expression as he smirks slyly.

Though he continues the conversation without a single stutter or break, Sunghoon’s feeling utterly disgusted. Is that the kind of boy you like? Nerdy losers who can’t do anything for the life of themselves? He doesn’t really like the thought of turning into those types of boys, but whatever you want, he thinks — he’s already practised abstinence for you, he might as well go all the way.

At the same time Sunghoon wonders if you’re really that oblivious to his obvious advancements towards you. He’s made it crystal clear: dumped his girlfriend, follows you around, talks about you literally all the time, and yet you’re still clueless.

And he whisks you away before you find the chance to clarify his words again. He’s determined this time round, to make it extremely straightforward for you.

“Hoon why in the world would you say stuff like that,” you groan, hands slapping his chest. And he grins like an idiot at your touch, if this was what it took for you to initiate skinship with him, he’d be more than willing to proclaim himself as your boyfriend any day.

He places a hand on the place you’d just hit, “it’s painful,” he pouts, and you almost feel a little guilty at your harsh actions, “can you kiss it better?”

Until that. You huff, “i’m leaving,” you announce as you turn away, ready to walk right back into the crowd. Sunghoon quickly clasps his fingers around your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes become those of a deer caught in headlights as your body is pressed firmly against his, his arms finding their way to your waist; a gentle but firm hold as he bends down.

“Wasn’t done yet, princess,” he smirks, and you feel some sort of danger looming over because Sunghoon looks like a devil enticing you to commit sin. His black hair styles perfectly like always and his red tie, due to his excessive movements, is now dropping down even more to expose his honey skinned collarbones.

The most you can muster is a mumble, “what,” and your eyes are glassy as you stare up at him, he thinks he might go insane — so close to just moving in to place a kiss on your invitingly soft lips.

“I’d kiss you but your boyfriend’s watching,” and he literally spits the term out, unable to believe he’s labelling someone else other than him ‘your boyfriend’. He knows you guys aren’t together, but just for the comfort of his heart he has to hear it again.

It takes you a while before you process his words. “He’s not my boyfriend, Hoon,” and it’s that short statement coupled with the way you say his name that really breaks it for him.

Sunghoon moves in just as you finish your sentence, and he sinks into your pillowy lips. It’s paradise on earth and he thinks he will never be able to get enough of this feeling.

“Sunghoon,” you mumble when he breaks the kiss, slightly out of breath as you look up with hazy eyes.

He chuckles, “sorry, baby, my bad. I’ll return your kiss back,” and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to give you another kiss, fingers caressing your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

This time it’s you who breaks the kiss, way too out of breath to even form full sentences without a few breaks in between. “You just kissed me.”

“Right, I just did that baby,” he smiles, those tiny fangs of his showcased as he gazes adoringly at you. “Actually, I’m looking for a girlfriend.” He pauses, eyeing your flushed cheeks and pink lips, “you looking for a boyfriend by any chance, princess?”

Now that you’re literally glued onto Sunghoon, you take the chance to look at him. Sharp nose, pretty moles that you could probably trace along all day, and his eyes which contrasting to his calm demeanour, held anxiousness as he waited for you to answer.

You’ve thought about dating Sunghoon before. Multiple times. Way more than you should’ve. And you never wanted to ever confess to it, because he was everyone’s crush. And not only that, he was annoying — constantly teasing you and making you flustered by his actions. You’d curse every time your heartbeat started to accelerate at his flirty words. You had thought that there was no way he’d ever like you back.

“I’m looking for a boyfriend,” you admit, letting out a soft giggle at Sunghoon’s overjoyed expression. And you decide that maybe now’s the time to get back at him, tease him a little to get him to stay on his toes, “maybe I should go find Soobin.”

His shoulders drop almost immediately and his arms wrap around your waist securely, chin resting on the top of your head. “No fucking way,” he grumbles, “you’re my girlfriend now. And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, voice muffled in the embrace of Sunghoon. And you hear him giggle slightly, the rumble of his chest exposing the boyish feelings your boyfriend was currently going through, “for now.”

Sunghoon lifts his chin from your head, fingers brushing over your cheeks before they land themselves on your jaw. He tilts your chin up, “too bad my intention is forever.” And he places a chaste kiss on your lips again and again.

You are in for a long ride.

© SJYUNS

[storiesforallfandoms]

herogasm ~ soldier boy;the boys

word count: 3678

request?: no

description: in which she’s trying to leave the supe orgy, just to stumble into the room of the man who started it

pairing: soldier boy x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, praise, unprotected p in v), mentions of herogasm (the event, not the episode)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I didn’t want to be there. There was a number of reasons why, but the most prominent one was definitely that I did not want to be involved in an orgy full of Supes.

My best friend, Maria, had convinced me to come. I had gone through a pretty hard breakup that left me basically inconsolable for days. I only left the house to go to work, and even then I was very much just operating on autopilot. Maria wanted to get me out of the house, so she came over and told me she had gotten an invite to some big Supe party and intended to take me with her to get my mind off of things.

She didn’t tell me until we showed up that the “party” was the infamous Supe orgy known as “Herogasm”.

Apparently, Maria had hooked up with a Supe who had an in to the party. She got the invite and thought an orgy would be the perfect idea to get me over my breakup. There was just one little flaw in her plan: I was not an orgy person. I was insecure enough about my body that I felt awkward being naked in front of one person, let alone an entire house full of strangers. Supe strangers at that.

Maria abandoned me the minute we walked through the door, taken by the Supe she fucked to get here. I was left, on my own in the corner, while a lot of naked people walked or fucked around me. A couple glanced in my direction, one even tried to proposition me, which I politely declined. I wasn’t sure how long I was stood there before everything became overwhelming. I needed to get away from all those people. I needed to be somewhere with no moaning or screaming or sex noises. Somewhere that I could calm myself down before I left.

I stumbled through the house, feeling my heart pounding harder and harder with every overwhelming second that passed. Behind almost every door I could hear more moaning and squelching. It felt like there was no true escape from it - there was even people fucking outside - until I turned the knob on a door that led to a seemingly empty room. I stumbled in, slamming the door behind me and sliding down it until I was sat on the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest and rested my head against my knees.

“Well, hello there.”

I jumped at the sudden sound of someone’s voice. I looked up to see I had hidden myself away in a bedroom. The main bedroom, I concluded, judging by the huge size of the room, the bed, and the fact there was a mini bar in the corner of the room. A mini bar with a man stood behind it. A very handsome man in nothing but a silk robe.

“Shit,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, I - ”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said. “Judging by the fact that you still have clothes on, you’re not here for the orgy.”

I shook my head. “One of my friends brought me here. She didn’t even tell me what it was until we pulled up.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before stepping away from the mini bar. I tensed up as he got closer to me. I was trying to figure out if I’d get out fast enough when he reached me. He reached over me and turned the lock on the knob.

“Stay as long ad you want,” he told me. “Not that anyone usually comes in unannounced anyways. I think you’re the first person to stumble into my room in years.”

My eyes widened as he started walking away. “Y-Your room? So...you’re the host here?”

He turned back and raised an eyebrow at me. “You serious?” I nodded. “I created this whole fuckin’ thing. Herogasm is my baby.”

That’s when it finally clicked. “Holy shit, you’re Soldier Boy!”

He grinned at me before he took a sip of his drink.

I couldn’t believe it. I had stumbled into the room of the most famous Supe in the entire world and I didn’t even recognize him at first! God, this couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

“You don’t have to huddle up by the door like a scared kid,” he said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I wasn’t sure if I could take his word for it. I knew he was a Supe and all, and Supes were supposed to protect people, but he did have me locked in his room, while he was naked no less. Well, besides a robe. I’d be helpless against him if he did decide he wanted to hurt me.

Despite knowing this, I still slowly got to my feet. He was pouring up another glass as I walked further into his giant room. It was like the size of my living room and kitchen combined. I was in awe of it so much that I could hear Soldier Boy chuckling to himself. He extended a glass to me and gestured to the bed. I took the glass, hesitantly, and sat down.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Bourbon,” he responded. “Some of the best shit money can buy.”

I wasn’t much of a drinker. I could smell the strong, alcoholic scent before even raising the glass to my lips. I took a small sip and immediately cringed at the stinging feeling that ran down my throat. Soldier Boy laughed.

“That’s God awful,” I groaned.

“You just don’t appreciate fine alcohol,” he said.

“I appreciate it when it doesn’t taste like battery acid,” I retorted. “What are you doing in here, anyways? If you created this...thing, shouldn’t you be partaking?”

He grunted and took another mouthful of his own drink. I figured that was the best I would be getting from him.

“How did you get in?” he asked. “It’s invite only, and usually the only non-Supes invited are hookers.”

I looked down at my glass again, debating on taking another sip. “My friend hooked up with a Supe who gave her the invite. She lied at the door and told them I had been invited, too.”

“Then she ditched you?”

I nodded. “Probably getting her pussy super-stretched as we speak.”

That made him laugh. I felt some sense of pride at that. The most famous Supe in the world was laughing at my jokes. That had to be bragging rights.

“Sounds like a shit friend, then,” he commented.

“No, she is a good friend. She’s very...sexually liberated. This type of thing is very up her alley. Me, not so much.”

“Then why did she take you here?”

I gazed down at the glass of auburn liquid. The memory of my recent breakup brought back all my negative emotions. With one swift gulp, I finished the contents of the glass. I shuddered as it burned down my throat.

“My boyfriend of four years dumped me,” I said. “Just woke up one day and told me he didn’t feel the same way anymore. After we had just moved in together a few months prior.”

Soldier Boy whistled. “That sounds rough.”

“It was the worst fucking day of my life,” I muttered. “Maria, my friend, I guess she thought a super-sex party would be the best way to get me to move on. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and all that.”

“That never works. Trust me.”

Oh, there was a story there. I could tell. One that was probably connected to the reason he wasn’t participating in his own orgy. Normally, I wouldn’t pry. I didn’t know Soldier Boy. He would probably forget all about me once I left his room. But the bourbon was starting to get to me. I found myself leaning forward, close enough that I could smell his aftershave.

“What happened?” I asked him. “What made you not want to participate in Herogasm?”

He looked at me. I could tell he was debating on telling me. I wasn’t sure if I should push the issue further than those questions, even if my curiosity was getting the best of me.

Finally, he sighed and said, “My girl left me because of one of these things.”

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I couldn’t even remember who Soldier Boy’s “girl” was in that moment.

“We used to host together,” he explained. “Once a year, we would allow each other to fuck whoever we wanted at Herogasm. One night, one meaningless orgy, and that was it. Then, a few years back, she comes to me the day after Herogasm and she tells me that she met someone that night. I don’t know, I guess they talked in between the fucking or some shit. She dumped me on the spot for the guy. Took all of her shit and left that same day.”

Okay, definitely a lot worse than my sob story. My ex completely shattered my heart, sure, but he didn’t leave me for someone else. Especially not someone that he fucked in our own house, during a party that we were hosting together. Even if they had an agreement that they could sleep around during Herogasm, that was a huge hit to trust. One that I don’t think I would’ve ever gotten over in his shoes.

“Since then, I haven’t participated,” he continued. “I’ll host, since it’s my creation, but I usually just walk around, make sure everything is going okay and everyone is having a good time, then I hide away in here until everyone gets too tired from the fucking and either leaves or falls asleep.”

“Why keep hosting it if you don’t want to participate anymore?” I asked. “Why not hand it off to someone else?”

“Because it’s my thing. I created it, and it got bigger than I could’ve ever imagined. I thought about cancelling it after Countess left me, but it’s become this huge thing to Supes and their groupies. I don’t want to disappoint anyone by cancelling it, and I wouldn’t want anyone else stealing it from me and making it a shit version of what it used to be.”

Before I could respond, there was a bang against his door. We both jumped and turned towards the door. Judging by the rhythmic beating on the door and the shouts of pleasure, it was just a couple that had decided to use Soldier Boy’s door as another fuck place. I chuckled and turned back to him. My laughter died out, though, once I realized how close we had gotten to one another. My face was mere inches away from his. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. The closeness made my heart start pounding a little harder.

The alcohol had definitely kicked in because I did something that was very unlike me in that moment: I leaned forward and kissed him.

He was receptive right away. His free hand moved to hold the back of my head. His lips moved perfectly in time with mine. His tongue slid against my lower lip, asking permission for entrance, and I gave it to him. I let my empty glass fall to the floor, luckily the fall being cushioned by a rug next to his bed, while he placed his on the nightstand next to the bed without breaking our kiss. In one swift movement, he moved me so that I was straddling his lap, not once breaking our kiss.

His hands explored my body, running down the sides of my torso, to my hips, then over my ass. He grabbed the meaty flesh there, rocking my hips forward unintentionally (or maybe it was intentional) against him. His cock was growing hard and I could feel that the tip was starting to peak out from his robe. Suddenly, I felt very overdressed compared to him, and I wanted to change that.

I broke away and Soldier Boy watched with lust filled eye as I pulled my shirt over my head and discarded it onto the floor. I stood from his lap to unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and stood in front of him, just in my lingerie. Realizing how naked I was, I felt a little shy suddenly. Like I wanted to cover myself up or make all the light in the room disappear so that he couldn’t see me. But when he pulled me forward again, standing me between his open legs, and leaned forward to start kissing over the exposed skin of my stomach, the insecurities melted away into desire again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Don’t you dare think of hiding this beautiful body away from me.”

I was shocked that he knew what I was thinking, but I didn’t have time to figure out how he knew. His hands were on me again, pulling me down onto his lap and then quickly turning the two of us so that I was laying beneath him on the bed. I could feel him pressing against my inner thigh as he kissed me again, a pool of wetness starting to fill in my panties.

He moved one hand between my legs, opening them up for him, and ran his finger over the clothed material. I gasped and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth again.

“You’re already so wet,” he noted. “How long has it been since you were touched?”

The answer was a bit embarrassing. That probably should’ve been the first sign that my relationship was going downhill, but I was too naïve to notice that we hadn’t been having sex. Or maybe just too blind to the downfalls of my relationship.

When I didn’t answer, he pulled my panties to the side and slid a finger into me. The sudden protruding felt painful at first. I dug my nails into his arms hard, but didn’t leave any marks or didn’t seem to hurt him in any way. He slowly started thrusting his finger in an out of me until the pain turned to pleasure, and then he added a second finger.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he commented. “That asshole must not have stretched this pussy out in a long time. Either that, or he had a microdick.”

His fingers gained speed. I could hear them becoming wetter and wetter every time he thrusted them inwards. I was well beyond cloud nine, probably cloud twenty at this rate. Whenever I opened my eyes all I could see was stars, and Soldier Boy’s face watching me as I came undone beneath him. He was an expert in ways I could only dream of, reaching places I didn’t even know could feel so good. He had me on the edge of my orgasm, when suddenly the pleasure was ripped away as he pulled his fingers from me.

I whined, trying to reach for him to get the feeling back. But he pulled away from me, putting the two fingers covered in my slick into his mouth and sucking them dry.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he said.

“Please,” was all I could manage. It almost sounded pathetic how desperate I sounded.

He smirked down at me. “I’ll give you what you want. I just want you to cum on my dick instead of on my fingers.”

He sat up and untied his robe, throwing it to the floor along with the other discarded clothes. His cock finally sprang free, standing at attention against his stomach. My eyes widened at how big he was. I should’ve anticipated it, I figured most Supe men were probably well hung, but it a shock none the less. I wondered if I would even be able to take his whole length.

He spit on his hand to lube himself up, moved my panties to the side again, and then lined his tip up with my entrance.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded and he began to push into me.

My gasps and moans filled the room as he slowly slid into me, inch by inch, almost at a painfully slow rate. I felt so full with him completely inside of me. I could feel the burn of him stretching me out around his girth, but even the burn felt like pleasure. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him back down to me. I kissed him again, hungrily, desperately, and he got my silent message to start moving.

His thrusts were slow at first, testing the waters. It felt so good to feel him pushing in and out of me. His dick was so long that I could feel it not only poking my g-spot, but absolutely abusing it with every thrust. It sent shockwaves of pleasure through me that I wasn’t even sure I had felt before. My head fell back onto the pillow, letting moans tumble from my lips as they felt the need to.

“F-Fuck,” I breathed. “S-Soldier Boy.”

“Ben,” he said, not breaking his pace. “Call me Ben.”

“Ben,” I moaned instead. Definitely a better name to say in bed. “Fuck, it feels so good.��

“Yeah? I think I can tell.”

I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he had a cocky smirk on his face.

I ran my hands from his shoulders down his toned back to his ass. I gave it a squeeze, urging him to go faster. I could feel my high coming back, and I desperately needed to chase it. He did as I wanted and his thrusts became faster, rougher. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with my moans and his grunts. He took hold of my legs and wrapped them around his waist, giving himself a better vantage point for his rough thrusts. I screamed out as his dick pounded against my g-spot, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

“I can feel you’re close,” he said. “I can feel this fucking pussy getting tighter. Cum all over my cock. You can do it, beautiful, I know you can.”

His words of praise and encouragement sent me toppling over the edge. Stars exploded from my vision as my body trembled and convulsed around him. It was the hardest I could ever remember orgasming in my life, and it was definitely the best orgasm I could remember having. I felt like I was flying off of the bed and high into the sky, never to return to Earth again.

If it weren’t for Ben above me, still thrusting and whispering words of praise into my ear, I probably would’ve thought I had actually floated away.

His release came shortly after my own. I could feel his dick twitching inside of me before he was coating my walls. His arms tightened around me as he rode out his own orgasm, grinding into me until he has squeezed every last drop into me. He pushed himself up so he could look down at me again.

“You look fucking gorgeous after being filled with my cum,” he commented.

I felt myself grow hot at the compliment, but my body felt too heavy to cover myself.

“Are you...are you on the pill or anything?” he asked. “I probably should’ve thought of that before, but I was kind of...busy. I can get you a plan b. We have plenty of those lying around for this day.”

I lazily shook my head. “I’m good. I’ve been on birth control since I was a teenager. Besides, I don’t think Supes can reproduce, can they?”

“We’ve been unsuccessful in that field thus far. Thank God.”

I started to chuckle, but it turned to a gasp as I felt him pulling his soft cock out of me. Even when it was soft, it was big. I could hardly believe all of that fit inside of me.

He took hold of my panties and pulled them down my legs, gazing at the mess he had left between them.

“That’s a fucking beautiful sight,” he commented. I rolled my eyes and tried to close my legs, but he quickly held them open. “No, let me see this for another little bit at least.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“You just fucked me, what does that say about you?”

He eventually climbed back into his bed next to me. I could still hear the orgy raging on outside of the door. I chuckled to myself, causing Ben to look over at me and arch an eyebrow.

“I fucked a Supe at the Supe orgy,” I explained. “But just one Supe, and it was the guy who created the whole fucking thing. I was planning on leaving when I stumbled into your room.”

“Well, thank God you didn’t.”

He put an arm around me and pulled me into his chest.

“Maybe getting under someone does help you get over someone,” I said. “I don’t even remember my ex’s name now.”

His chest vibrated as he laughed. “That is a good thing. If you find yourself remembering, though, you know where I live. You can always come over and I’ll help you forget again.”

I looked up at him. “Really? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

“I don’t intend for it to be. Did you?” I shook my head. “Okay, good. Since we’re on the same page, my offer still stands. Although, the offer actually extends to any time you want to come over, for any reason. Not just for some rebound sex.”

“That’s a dangerous offer. In a house this big, a bed this big, I might never want to leave. I might just live in this bed, honestly.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

We both laughed as he pulled me in to kiss my forehead. I made a mental note to thank Maria for dragging me to the super-fuck party when I finally found her again. Turns out, it wasn’t such a bad time after all.

[simjaexy]

𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙈𝙚 𝙋.𝙅

pairing ⇀ bf! park jongseong x (f) reader

synopsis ⇀ you stop by jay’s studio to visit him and end up with him teaching you how to play the guitar. what you also end up with is his fingers inside you.

genre ⇀ smut

warnings ⇀ lower case intended, minors dni, cursing, making out, grinding, fingering, choking, cum eating, name calling (slut), lmk if there more!

w.c ⇀ 1.1k

a/n ⇀ i was planning on making it longer but i had another one shot coming soon so i’m finishing that one up. lmk what you think of this drabble! not proofread!

masterlist here!

the soft hum of a guitar filled the air as you stepped into the studio. jay was sitting on a stool, his fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings. the notes he played were soothing and intricate, creating a beautiful melody that resonated throughout the room. he looked up and smiled when he saw you, his eyes lighting up with a mix of surprise and joy.

"hey, I didn't expect you to drop by.” he said, setting his guitar down for a moment.

you smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest, "I was curious to see you in action. plus, I was hoping you could teach me a few things."

jay's grin widened, his excitement palpable. "i'd love to.”

you walked over to him, and he handed you the guitar. his hands were warm as they guided yours to the correct positions on the strings. he explained each chord with patience, his voice soothing and encouraging.

"okay, this is a g chord," he said, placing your fingers on the frets. "now, press down firmly and strum."

you strummed the chord, and a pleasant sound resonated from the guitar. jay’s eyes sparkled with pride. "see? you're a natural."

as you continued to practice, jay moved closer, his presence comforting and alluring. he showed you how to transition between chords smoothly, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours making you flustered. each time you made a mistake, he was quick to reassure you.

"it’s all about practice," he said, his voice gentle. "everyone starts somewhere."

you nodded, feeling more confident with each passing minute. the studio seemed to fade away as you focused on the guitar and jay's guidance.

"now, let's try a simple melody," jay suggested, his enthusiasm infectious. he played a few notes, demonstrating the sequence. "give it a shot."

you followed his lead, your fingers moving hesitantly at first. but with jay's encouragement, you soon found a rhythm. the melody was simple, but to you, it felt like an achievement.

"you’re doing amazing," jay said, giving you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "we should do this more often."

you looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude, but you felt another feeling from the way he squeezed your shoulder with a gaze you couldn’t describe, "i’d like that."

as the session went on, you couldn’t help but watch jays fingers as they strum softly against the guitar. you felt your heart pang when he used his two fingers to slide up the string (yk what i’m talking about). you shook your head and cursed at yourself for thinking like that in a heartfelt moment. jay then looked up at you with a grin.

"You're a quick learner," he said, his eyes twinkling. you felt a faint hotness upon your cheeks and looked away.

“w-well thanks to you.” you stuttered. jay hummed and stood up making you stare at him confused. slowly he leaned into your space causing you to back up against the desk.

“i’m not stupid baby. i see how you looked at my fingers. what were you thinking?” jay muttered. you felt yourself getting embarrassed and put your hands on his chest.

“i-i wasn’t trying too make it weird-“ “then you should be ashamed for making it like that.” he cut you off. you gasped when you felt one of his hands creep against you waist, gripping it softly.

“well don’t back out now. tell me what you were thinking.” he smirked. you whimpered when he suddenly lifted your skirt up revealing your wet panties.

“seongie-“ “tell me. what were you thinking when i was playing the guitar?” he suddenly snapped.

“y-your fingers. they looked g-good.” you whined when you finally felt him dip his hand in your underwear.

he started off slowly by rubbing your wet folds, the sound of stickiness and wetness filling the air. you moaned in pleasure and tried to grind, but that earned a slap on the thigh from jay.

“you like my fingers? like it when they’re deep in your pussy?” he rasped out. you cried out when he circled your bud making you arch your back. he lifted you up swiftly and set you on the desk.

“seongie please! i want your fingers.” you moaned. jay smirk never faltered even when he shoved his fingers in you without warning.

you let out a silent moan feeling his thick long fingers stuffed in your pussy. you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“oh fuck! m’there!” you gasped. jay pace was deep and slow causing you to shiver in pleasure. your legs shaking beside his waist.

“such a slut for me. you’re lucky it’s soundproof.” jay commented. you nodded your head dumbly and tried grinding on his fingers. he stopped your movement making you groan.

“you’re not gonna cum until i tell you too. understand?” he said. you shook your head in disagreement.

“seongie no-“ “then you’re not cumming at all.”

you whined and sniffled, feeling his fingers still stuffed inside you. you nodded your head, “fine okay!”

he smiled and started moving his fingers again but this time faster. you gasped and cried when he angled his fingers deeper, “oh my god jay!” you screamed.

you felt your climax coming and repeatedly tapped his shoulder. he ignored you and continued to abuse your pussy. you felt your body shake as tears fell down your face. jay kissed your tears away and wrapped his free hand around your neck, slightly squeezing.

“remember what i said.” he spoke. you whimpered and nodded. your climax so close and yet so far. jay groaned when he felt your pussy squeeze around his fingers. fuck, he wanted to fuck you so bad.

“j-jay please. i’ve been good.” you sighed. jay stared at you for a few minutes before humming.

“go ahead.” was all he said before you finally came. your orgasm coming hard. you let out a shaky moan when he slowly pulled out.

you panted harshly, your back laying against the cold wall. you gasped when you watched jay out his fingers in his mouth, licking all your cum. he winked at you teasingly and kissed you. you let out a sigh feeling your slick in your mouth.

he broke the kiss and softly kissed your forehead, “we have to go now before i cum in my pants.” he said. you giggled and stood up. you felt your cum in your underwear and pouted.

“you should’ve taken my underwear off.” you complained.

jay grabbed your hand, “don’t worry. i’ll clean you up when we get home with other things.” he smiled before sticking out his tongue causing you to gasp and slap his chest. the only thing you got back was his beautiful laugh.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “mix of random dialogue and non-dialogue, smut and non-smut” prompts

“I’m a mess because of you.” “You’re my mess.” “I’m… I’m your mess.” (FUCKING HELLO BITCH DO NOT- WLKFNFKLN I’ll get on my knees for you, my love—)

“That’s my baby girl/baby boy.” (Can he just— HEWOQKNFWKELNF) 

“You look so hot like that.”

“God, you turn me on so much.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come—” Character B whimpers, hips bucking into Character A’s. “Mm, yeah? Then come for me,” Character A murmurs, stroking their fingers through Character B’s hair. (The noises he made as he came undone were SO FUCKING HOT BYE. those WHIMPERS?? FUCKING DELICIOUSSSSS LET ME HEAR MORE OF THEM, I BEG- ALSO WHO KNEW I HAD IT IN ME TO SAY THAT TO SOMEONE LMFAO, “then come for me” WQBHRELWJKNEWF BITCH. GET OUTTT-)

Those sweet little noises Character B tries so hard to suppress but is unable to as they come undone.

“I’m such a fucking wreck right now…”

“Imagine how good I’d feel inside of you.” (FUCKIFKSKSKKSKSKS WHEN HE SAID THAT AND I WAS LIKE LKENFKLEWNF-)

“I love you so much,” Character B murmurs, hugging Character A closer to them. (🥹🥹🥹 HE SAID IT HE SAID IT HE SAID ITTT 😭 He’s said it over text before but now it’s in person and I’m actually gonna WEEP EWKLNFWEEFN)

“I love you for you, and I’m going to continue to love you. I’ll always love and support you no matter what,” Character B reassures after Character A spills out their anxieties and worries to them about a situation they’ve been so, so scared to tell them about; scared of how Character B would react. (…I’m just going to say I love this man so much.) 

“When I first met you, I didn’t know you were like this,” Character A murmurs, slowly grinding their hips down against Character B’s. Character B grins up at them, hands wrapped around their thighs, squeezing gently. “Yeah, and I didn’t know I was like this, either. And I thought you were shy when I first met you... Now look at you, huh?” 

Character A not knowing how sensitive their breasts are until Character B pays full attention to them with their mouth. (…I WILL NOT SAY ANYTHING ELSE BUT FUCK YES—) 

Character A tearing up as they try to be vulnerable with Character B, and Character B reassuring them by telling them they can take their time and it’s okay if they can’t say it right now; that they can say it when they’re ready. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so enamoured by someone,” Character A murmurs, caressing Character B’s face. (I’M A POETIC SIMP, WHAT CAN I SAY—) 

“Fuck, why are you— Mmh— why are you doing this to me?”

“We can take things as slow as you want. I want you to be comfortable, and as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy.”  (PLEASE WJDJJS IM CRYING AHH, how’d I get someone so sweet sjkdms)

“We can rent a hotel somewhere… You can be as loud as you want then, hm?” (HE’S JUST FUCKING OUT HERE, YOUR HONOUR!!) 

“Fuck me,” Character A whimpers as Character B’s hips picks up with speed. “I could if you wanted me to,” Character B grunts. (SIR- FUCK OFF ISTFGGG)

Character B placing their hand on Character A’s thigh while they’re sitting down.

Character B wrapping their arm around Character A’s shoulders and pulling them closer to them, letting Character A rest their head on their shoulder.

Character B leaning in for a kiss and Character A shyly leaning in to give them a quick peck on the lips. 

“Whatever I do, I’ll always be adorable to you, won’t I? Even if I do the most heinous shit known to mankind—” “Yes. Yes, you’ll always be adorable to me.” 

“You sure you don’t wanna close the blinds? People outside could see us…” “Trust me, they won’t.” (this FUCKING GUY, but I guess he wasn’t wrong after I took a closer look at the blinds—) 

“You’re enjoying yourself up there, aren’t you?” Character B teases, watching through hooded lids as Character A rides them while clothed. “Does it look like I am?” Character A questions, breathless. 

“You just… You make me happy.” (YOU DO TOO, MY LOVE <333) 

“You’ve always been so caring and supportive of me so I don’t know why I doubted you… I’m sorry.” 

Character A being ticklish on their neck whenever Character B plants soft feather like kisses there, so Character B plants even more soft kisses there, turning Character A into a giggling mess. 

Kisses on the eyelids. (The softest shit EVER)

“Didn’t realise your objective was to get into my pants all this time,” Character B teases, and Character A rolls their eyes, a breathless laugh leaving them. “You know that’s not true. I think you’re the one who has the objective of getting into my pants,” Character A throws back. Character B shakes their head with a chuckle. “That’s not true.”

“How are we gonna manage being away from each other for a whole month?” Character A murmurs softly. “Mmmh, we’ll somehow manage,” Character B reassures, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair.

“How are you going to manage without this for a whole month?” Character B questions as Character A grinds down on them. “I don’t think I fucking will is the thing,” Character A admits, unabashedly.

Character B moving Character A’s hair out of their face to plant gentle kisses on their face.

Character B laying their head on Character A’s stomach and Character A fondly saying to them, “You’re such a baby,” while carding their fingers through their hair.

Character B snuggling up next to Character A, post-orgasm. (SIRRRR- PEHFLKEWNELKWNF) 

Character A moaning Character B’s name and Character B losing their self-restraint over it. (Maybe I did it on purpose to turn him on—)  

[maysileeewrites]

18+ content; mdni!

Thinking about husband!Coriolanus barely being able to contain the anger and jealousy coursing through him when he sees you flirting with another man during an evening gala in the Capitol.  

You’re laughing, your whole face lighting up, your hand touching the other man’s shoulder and Coriolanus is surprised that he hasn’t broken the champagne flute in his hand, seeing how his grip on the fragile glass is so tight. 

Oh, the things he’ll do later, to punish you. You on your knees in front of him, his hands fisted in your hair, your eyes filled with tears and him fucking your mouth relentlessly- 

Suddenly, he sees the other man lean in closer towards you, placing one hand on your arm. 

Coriolanus has had enough. He carelessly places the champagne flute on a table, before walking over to you, settling his hands on your waist, his grip on you so tight that he knows it’ll leave brusises. 

Good, he thinks, smirking to himself. It will leave a reminder for you - a reminder of who you truly belong to. 

“There you are, darling”, he says, forcing a smile onto his face, before placing a deliberate kiss on your neck - a place he’d normally suck and bruise, just to drive you crazy, leaving pretty purple marks. 

He smiles when he can feel you shivering, pressing himself even closer to you. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you, darling”, he says, completely ignoring the other man staring at you both with a confused expression. 

You gasp when Coriolanus suddenly leans forward, his lips brushing over your skin, before whispering in your ear: “I told you what would happen if I’d see you flirting with another man. Now behave and be a good girl.”

You turn your head so that you’re looking right at the fire in his blue eyes, your lips so close to his that they nearly touch. 

“Or what … are you going to punish me, President Snow?”, you whisper, placing a delicate, chaste kiss on his lips. 

You feel his grip on your waist tightening even more, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. You see him biting down hard on his lips, probably trying to hold back a groan. 

You smile, satisfied, when his eyes find yours again. Two can play this game, you think, reaching up to push a stray blond curl from his forehead. 

But then you shiver when you see Coriolanus smile back at you - a promise. A threat. 

“I’m sorry”, he tells the handsome man - his name already forgotten to you, you think it’s somewhere along the lines of Alexander or Adrian - you’re pretty sure it started with an A; though you’re not entirely sure, but you also don’t really care -. „But my wife and I need a moment.” 

Then, he walks away, guiding you along with him. 

The next thing you know, you’re being pushed into an empty bathroom, your back hitting the door, Coriolanus’s mouth already on yours, his hand already finding its way under the skirt of your dress before the door has even closed properly behind you. 

He groans, breaking the kiss and burying his head in the crook of your neck when his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your panties, already soaked through with your arousal. You can’t help but shiver when his hand cups your cunt, his other hand settling on your waist with a bruising, harsh grip. 

„Look at you“, he says, his voice rough and coarse, barely more than a strained whisper, „already dripping down my fingers, even though I barely touched you - or is that all for him?“ 

His left hand moves up from your waist to your face then, forcefully cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. „Tell me“, he demands, his blues finding yours - a fire in them that will burn you down until you’re nothing more than a withering pile of ashes. 

But then, you’ve always liked playing with fire, living for the thrill of it. 

Still, you quickly shake your head, trying to reach for Coriolanus with one hand, but Coriolanus moves faster than you, his hand leaving your cheek, seizing your hands in his and pinning them in place above your head. 

„No - Coryo - I“, you try to say, but then he’s roughly yanking down your panties - you think you hear the thin material tear - forcefully pushing two fingers inside you. 

You gasp, clenching around him, and Coriolanus groans. 

„Fuck, Coryo - I - I don’t even know him - I - fuck“, you stumble, trying to form a coherent sentence while Coriolanus pumps his fingers in and out of at an unrelenting pace, his blue eyes never leaving yours. „I - he just came up to me and started talking to me and I-“, the rest of your words gets swallowed by the loud, whiny moan that leaves you when Coriolanus adds a third finger, pushing his hips against yours. 

Your back aches from how hard and uncomfortably its pressed against the door, but you don’t care - the only thing you care about is Coriolanus, his hungry, desperate eyes on you, his fingers inside you, you clenching desperately around them. 

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus suddenly asks, before lowering his mouth to your neck, his lips immediately finding that spot that drives you crazy when he starts sucking on the soft, sensitive skin with his lips. 

„I - I don’t remember - fuck“, you cry, when Coriolanus curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars perfectly.  

Coriolanus leaves another bruising kiss on your skin, before coming up again - his smirk telling you that he’s going to wreck you. „Good - because I’m going to fuck every memory of him out of you“, he promises. 

Suddenly, his fingers leave you and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness inside you, your walls clenching down around nothing, but then both his hands settle on your waist, turning you around until your front hits the bathroom door. His hands leave you for a moment and you can hear the rustling of fabric. 

Then, suddenly, the skirt of your dress is pushed to the side and Coriolanus lines himself up behind you, his erection straining against your back. 

„I’m going to fuck you - and after I’m finished with you, the only name you’ll remember is mine; the only name you’ll be screaming is mine - everyone in here, including that nobody will know that you belong to me“, he promises, before entering you in a rough, powerful thrust. 

„Fuck“, you breathe, throwing your head back. 

His cock is so big, the stretch almost painful, but unlike normally, he doesn’t give you any time to adjust to the stretch - pulling completely out of you, before slamming back into you with a harsh, almost painful thrust, his hands gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

His pace is unrelenting, his thrusts into you rough, and fast, and bruising. 

You whimper, your hands pressed against the door. „I - fuck, Coryo - ’s too much, fuck!“

Another painful, unrelenting thrust, but one of his hands suddenly leave your waist, moving to your clit, his fingers drawing teasing circles over the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. 

„That’s it, good girl“, Coriolanus praises, when he can feel you start clenching around him again. 

You’re a quivering, panting mess, the lines between pain and pleasure so blurred you don’t know where one starts and the other ends. 

Coriolanus’s harsh thrusts don’t let up. The only sounds filling the bathroom are his loud groans, your whiny whimpers and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus suddenly asks you again, at the same moment his cock hits that sweet spot inside you again, his fingers still circling your clit. 

„I don’t - fuck, Coryo!“, you pant, the pressure inside you building and building and building with every one of Coriolanus’s powerful thrusts. 

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus repeats, his hand on your waist suddenly moving up to your neck and squeezing - applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel perfectly dizzy. 

„I don’t - I don’t remember - yes, Coryo, right there!“, you pant, when his cock starts hitting that spot inside you again and again, his fingers still stimulating your clit. 

„That’s right“, Coriolanus says, his voice rough and coarse, „you belong to me.“

„Yes“, you pant, trying desperately to move your hips to meet his movements - you’re so close and you just want to feel that sweet, dizzying release. 

„Yes, Coryo, I - you - I’m your’s.“ 

„Again“, he demands, his thrusts becoming even more rapid, his fingers still circling your clit. You know immediately what he means, what he wants from you. 

„Coryo - I - I’m yours“, you pant, clenching around him. 

His lips find the soft, sensitive skin of your neck then, leaving a bruising kiss. „Good girl.“ 

It’s all too much for you, then - Coriolanus inside you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, his fingers circling your clit, his hand on your throat, his lips on your neck, his words that make your head spin. 

Your back arches, and you come with Coriolanus’s name on your lips, your cry so loud that you’re pretty sure that everyone that’s still gathered in the hall outside is able to hear it. 

But you don’t care, because all you can think about is Coriolanus. 

„Fuck“, he groans when he feels your walls squeezing him. 

His grip on you tightens, and suddenly, he bites down on the soft skin of your neck. He thrusts into you again, and once more, making you whimper, and then he’s coming as well, his hot cum shooting into you. 

„Fuck, Coryo“, you whimper, the added sensation too much for you. 

For a moment, Coriolanus’s heavy breathing is your only answer. You stay like that for a moment - pressed against the door, him still inside you. 

Then, Coriolanus presses a soft kiss to your throat. „Good girl“, he praises again, pulling out of you, his hand leaving your neck. „But I think you still need a reminder of who you belong to“, he adds, before suddenly his fingers are pushing back inside you, smearing his cum around your walls and your clit. 

Suddenly, he bends down to retrieve your panties from where they hang around your ankles. You were right before, you think dizzyly, when you watch him tugging your panties up towards your waist again, the material did tear. 

Coriolanus, however doesn’t care, stopping only once he’s pushed your panties up your waist again - smearing his cum across the thin material, before pressing your panties back against your swollen, cum-covered, oversensitive clit. 

You whimper - you know what he’s going to do. He’s going to force you to walk around in your panties, soaked through with his still hot cum for the rest of the evening - a reminder that you belong to him. He’s the only one who gets to fuck you.  

„There“, he says pressing a chaste, tender kiss to your shoulder - the gentle sensation in stark contrast to his harsh grip on your cunt. 

„This should serve as a sufficient reminder, don’t you think, darling?“ 

tagging: @namelesslosers

someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these very unsophisticated thoughts

for more Coryo imagines, take a look at my Coryo masterlist :)

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

In the comfort of your touch

Word count: 964

Pairing: lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: After finishing third at Monza, Lando Norris struggles with self-doubt, but finds solace and reassurance in the comforting touch and unwavering support of his girlfriend

Part two of celebrating wins

Also requests are still open

________________________________________________________

The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the Monza paddock as the energy from the race slowly began to wind down. The podium celebrations were over, and while the champagne had been sweet, Lando’s expression told a different story. He had made it to the podium, secured third place, but the weight of what could have been was etched deeply into his features.

I found him in the back of the McLaren motorhome, seated on a small sofa, his racing suit peeled down to his waist, revealing a damp undershirt. He was staring at the floor, hands clasped together as though trying to hold himself together. The tension was palpable, radiating from him like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“Lando?” I called softly, stepping into the room. His head lifted slightly, his eyes finding mine, but the usual spark wasn’t there. It was as if he was somewhere else, lost in the replay of the race that had just unfolded.

I moved closer, kneeling in front of him so that I could look into his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”

His gaze dropped back to the floor, a long sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t know,” he murmured, voice thick with frustration. “I got P3, but… I should have done better. I could have had P2. Maybe even P1 if I hadn’t made that mistake.”

I could see the storm of doubt swirling in his eyes, the way he was tearing himself apart over every little detail. “Lando, P3 is amazing. You were on the podium at Monza, in front of all those fans. That’s something to be proud of.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “It doesn’t feel like enough. Not when I know I could’ve done more. I just… I feel like I let everyone down. The team, the fans… you.”

My heart ached hearing him say that. I reached out, gently cupping his face, forcing him to look at me. “You didn’t let anyone down, Lando. You gave it everything you had. You fought hard, and you earned that podium. That’s something to be proud of.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch, but the tension in his body didn’t ease. “I just… I don’t know how to shake this feeling,” he admitted, voice trembling. “I need… I need…”

He trailed off, his voice breaking as he struggled to find the words. My thumb stroked his cheek softly, and I leaned in closer, whispering, “What do you need, Lando?”

His eyes opened, filled with a vulnerability that tugged at my heart. “I need you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I need you to just… hold me. Please, can you… can you run your fingers through my hair? I know it’s silly, but it helps.”

The plea in his voice was enough to break through the last of my restraint. I moved closer, sliding onto the sofa beside him and wrapping my arms around his waist. “It’s not silly at all,” I whispered, my voice soothing as I gently raked my nails through his hair. “I’m here, Lando. I’m here.”

He let out a shaky breath as I began to stroke his hair, his body relaxing ever so slightly under my touch. I could feel him slowly unwinding, the tension melting away bit by bit as I continued to run my fingers through his curls, gently massaging his scalp.

“This feels so good,” he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I just… I needed this. I needed you.”

I smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m always here for you, Lando. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He nuzzled closer, his arms tightening around me as if I were his anchor. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think I could get through this without you.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” I whispered back, my fingers never stopping their gentle motion through his hair. “But I’m glad I can be here for you. You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to lean on me.”

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, the world outside fading away as we found solace in each other. Lando’s breath slowly evened out, the weight of the race, the pressure, and the doubts slipping away as he let himself relax in my arms. The steady rhythm of my fingers through his hair seemed to calm him, grounding him in the moment, away from the swirling thoughts that had haunted him since the race ended.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his temple. “No matter what, I’ll always be proud of you. You did an incredible job today.”

He didn’t say anything, but the way he held onto me, the way his body relaxed completely into mine, told me everything I needed to know. He trusted me, needed me, and in that moment, I knew that as long as we had each other, we could face anything together.

Eventually, Lando pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes clearer now, though still heavy with emotion. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice steady again. “I really needed that.”

I smiled, brushing a curl away from his forehead. “You don’t have to thank me, Lando. I’m always here for you. Always.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, filled with all the gratitude and love he couldn’t quite put into words. “I love you,” he whispered against my lips, his voice full of sincerity.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, resting my forehead against his. “And I’m so proud of you. Today, and always.”

[6okuto]

AN INCH BETWEEN US

osamu x gn!reader | ~800 words, he calls you hon once, you're getting married! :3

“you don’t usually get nervous.”

“well,”—osamu fiddles with his cufflink, eyes trained on the metal around his finger—“today’s kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

make sure you don’t see each other before you get out there, atsumu warned as he pat your fiancé’s back. bad luck or somethin’.

doesn’t make sense if we’re doin’ a first look, idiot.

oh, shut up. don’t look at each other ’til then, then!

your back rests against the door, his on the other side keeping it from closing. maybe it’s just a silly superstition, but it cements today as something real, reminds you that it’s happening.

you reach your hand around to search for his own. “at least we’ll be together the whole time. and then we can say goodbye, and go home, and get out of these clothes, and sleep—”

osamu groans and rests his head against the wood—you don’t think he’s slept properly in two weeks, head scrambled and busy with preparations and the same nervous buzz as yours; the fact that he fell asleep before 1am last night was a miracle.

his hand finds yours, engagement ring resting cool against your skin, palm warm and a little rough. he mumbles, “thank god i closed the shop for a few days, if you told me to wake up any earlier than 9 tomorrow i think i’d die.”

“why are you- we haven’t even gotten to the actual wedding, ’samu.”

“okay? i’m tired and ’m gonna get even more tired. i just wanna cuddle at home. can a man not dream?” he defends, and all but whines. you snort but relent, letting him pull your hand closer and settle into a quiet.

“what if i fall?” he blurts out.

“...what?” a laugh escapes you. “you won’t fall.”

“i could trip down the aisle.”

“you won't.”

he squeezes your fingers. “didn’t realize i was marrying someone who could see the future?”

“’samu. you won’t fall, but if you get in my head and i fall, i’m blaming you,” you warn with a teasing lilt.

a beat passes, and you can tell he’s smiling as you stare at the couch ahead of you.

sitting on a wooden hotel floor, wedding attire on and hair not done, bed covered in supplies and friends’ outfits, the buzz of the air conditioner making it a little too cold in your room—you think you’re content like this, because at least you’re here with him.

shuffling a little closer, he says your name.

“hm?”

the inch between you feels a little bigger as osamu lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, lingering on your ring finger a second longer than the others—“i’m glad i get to marry you.”

your grip tightens, and if osamu listened carefully, you think he could hear your heart trying to beat out of your chest in search of his.

the elevator dings somewhere down the hall.

“i’m glad i get to marry you, too.”

“samu!” his twin’s voice rings out. “are you done cryin’, or do i haveta drag y’back to get your hair done?”

“god, ’tsumu, yeah, i’m comin’, stop yellin’!” he chides with a huff.

atsumu scoffs before replying—something about his twin being ungrateful for all he does—then walks back to the elevator. you hear a sigh. “guess i should go, huh?”

a thumb rubs the back of your hand, and you almost tell him to stay, but there isn’t much time, and it won’t be long before you’re pushing it. taking a deep breath, you let go to stand up first. “mhm.”

the door squeaks at the weight now gone as you both stretch.

you turn to say goodbye, the open door and shadow in the hall taunting you, but freeze when a familiar hand starts to push the door open.

“wh- samu!” your hand flies up to push his grey bangs out of view.

“woah- what- shit- sorry, sorry. habit, was gonna kiss ya,” he apologizes with a stumble.

panic evaded, your heart rate comes down and he huffs. “my- seriously, hon, you’re lucky my hair isn’t done yet.”

“...sorry, i—” you try to hide a laugh. “i’m sorry, i panicked.”

“no, really?”

“’samu,” you whine, embarrassment painted across your face, though he can’t see. he laughs outside, and you try to ignore the heat in your face.

“...at least you’ll kiss me later, right?” you ask quietly.

“....yeah.” there’s a smile in his voice, a pause, a rustling of fabric as he pats down his suit once more. “see you out there?”

you place your hand on the doorknob. “see you out there.”

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[starlessea2]

That It Is (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: After a long day trudging through the sunlit wetlands, you discover your bedroll is waterlogged, and that Astarion has lost his in the swamp... AKA, the classic: ‘oh no, there’s one bed, whatever shall we do, darling?’ (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N This one has a tad more enemies-to-lovers vibe to it, but sweetness nonetheless. 

Masterlist

Night was creeping over Faerûn.

After a day of toiling through the deep murk of the sunlit wetlands, your party had found refuge: an abandoned shack a little ways inland from the swamp. It was unassuming enough through the fog that Gale had tripped over its porch, and even Astarion’s darkvision had missed the contours of the old building tucked away. 

But once scoped, you found that the place was empty. Shadowheart deemed it safe enough for you to unpack your bedrolls and dry your waterlogged boots. So you did just that—even managing to rouse a fire with an ignis and a few pieces of damp wood. 

The flames took a few moments to blaze to life, but once they did, the warmth was heavenly on your skin. One by one, you started to shed your wet outer garments, laying them out by the fire.

“Oh, bloody hells!”

A voice rang out over the crackling hearth. You turned to find Astarion on his knees, rummaging through his supply pack half-deranged.  

He flung the contents out onto the floor: some soggy books, a cask of water, pristinely-folded clothes. Then he promptly turned the pack upside down, seemingly devestated to find nothing else inside.

The rogue threw his hands up. “Gone,” he declared, with a dejected sort of laugh. “Be it just my luck after trudging through this gods forsaken waste—”

From the corner of the room, Shadowheart stopped wringing out her gloves. She gave you a look. Deal with him, she said through the shared connection. 

With a sigh, you conceded. “What’s wrong, Astarion?” You stood over the pale elf, hand on hip, “Broken a nail?” 

Irritation painted his face, but his demeanour remained playful.“Ha! Hilarious as always, my dear,” he replied, without sparing you so much as a glance. “Alas, I’m afraid my situation is a tad more dire.” 

You clicked your tongue. “Go on.”

Astarion stood up, taking a moment to dust himself off. “It seems I’ve lost my bedroll somewhere in that bloody marsh,” he finally admitted. 

Somewhere across the room, Shadowheart’s snort was quickly covered up by a faux cough from Gale. “Oh?” you said, “I thought elves didn’t need to sleep.” 

Astarion shot you a glare. “And do you need to dry your clothes by the fire? Need to eat tonight or, gods forbid, drive us half mad with your infernal singing sometime tomorrow?” 

He stalked the cabin, pointing vivaciously at your drying garments, and menial rations you’d hoped wouldn’t spoil. 

You felt your brow furrow at his display. “No need to be rude,” you said shortly. “Today’s been hard on all of us.” Pushing past him, you quickly retrieved your own pack from its place near the door. “Here—just take mine.”

Fishing around the bag, you searched for your own bedroll before producing it for him. Astarion let out a sound of disgust. 

“You could at least try to be grateful, Astarion,” you started. Then you felt it; your trusted bedroll squelched in your hand. It was pasted with a layer of thick algae, and some other mysteries you couldn’t discern. “Son of a—” you cursed. How had you forgotten when it rolled into the marsh earlier in the day?

A hand found your shoulder. “Thanks for the generous offer, my dear, but I think I’ll pass,” Astarion said, proudly. He then flicked a rather large leech off your bedroll, causing Gale to shriek when it landed at his feet. “I’d like to remain the only bloodsucker around here.”

You were about to quip back, when Astarion stepped closer—enough so that his breath dusted your cheek when he spoke. “And I think I spy a bed in the other room. That should do me just fine.” 

It took you a moment to unravel his words. By the time you did, he’d already traipsed halfway across the cabin. “Hang on a moment,” you called after him,“I already staked my claim on that earlier!”

“Hmm?” the elf hummed, feigning ignorance.

The audacity. You shot a glance back at the wizard, who immediately threw his hands up in surrender. “Oh no, you don’t,” warned Gale, “I’m staying out of this one.”

To his left, Shadowheart looked equally unbothered by your plight. You scowled at them both. 

It was going to be a long night.

—

The cabin was quiet. It had been some time since you had rested in a place with a roof and four walls. There were no beasties lurking near your camp, or dangers beyond the trees. The only threat to your person was Gale’s snores coming from the main living space. He’d taken refuge on the floor, whilst Shadowheart seized the chaise lounge. 

It was a comfortable night. So in principle, you should have had no problem falling into a dreamless sleep. Especially given the feather bed at your back. 

“You know, my dear,” Astarion whispered, “I might have agreed to this arrangement, but that was under the condition that you get some sleep.”

You tried not to startle, but his words sounded so close to your ear. It made your skin prickle with anticipation—despite doing your utmost not to show it. 

“I think you’ll find I was the one who was forced to agree,” you countered, “and I’m trying. You just—” 

Shifting in the bed, you turned around to face the elf beside you. He was leaning on one arm, gazing up at the wooden ceiling as though he were watching the stars. His eyes found yours. “I what?” he asked. 

You could hear his grin; he was teasing you. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down now. “You make me nervous,” you answered bluntly. 

He did not reply. Each second of silence that passed made you more and more uneasy. You couldn’t see him well in the dark. And as much as you tried to make out the contours of his face, you knew for sure discern every line on yours—every expression you hoped to conceal. “And why’s that?” he finally asked.

You let out a huff before falling onto your back. “You know why. Stop acting so smug—It doesn’t suit you."

Astarion’s laugh made its way to you. “Everything suits me, darling.” 

A witty remark alluded you, so you opted to stay quiet. Sleep was what you needed right now. The gods only know how deprived you were of it.

So you plumped your pillow and made yourself comfortable. Then you gathered some blankets to yourself. A yawn left you, but your mind felt anything but relaxed. You readjusted again, this time your body pressing into Astarion's. He moved to accomodate you; you stiffened in response.

“Will you stop wriggling around? I can’t so much as move without you flinching."

At his words, your breath hitched. You were midway through an apology before he interrupted.

“Look at me,” he said.

Despite the darkness, his thumb perfectly traced your jaw until it found the space just under your chin. Gently, he coaxed your head up.

“You know I’ve drank from you, right?” You gasped at his candidness. “I've felt your pulse on my tongue and your blood coat my teeth,” he went on. “Hells, I have your thoughts swimming in my head far more often than you probably realise.”

He paused for a moment, and in that time you breathed twice as fast as you ought to.

“You’ve allowed me that much, so sleeping beside me like this?” he said, with a lightness to his voice, “that shouldn’t matter, now should it.”

You couldn't reply. His words were likely meant to comfort, but they had only the opposite effect. As his fingers brushed your cheek, you immediately pulled back—hoping he did not feel the way you burned for him.

“No. I guess not?” you stuttered.

“Good,” came his reply. “Now sleep. I promise I won’t bite” 

He returned to his side of the bed, not overstepping the invisible boundary you'd drawn earlier that evening.

And on your side, you were left to press down whatever feelings threatened to bubble to the surface. You weren’t quite ready to let them out yet—not when you couldn’t see clearly the face he would make in response.

Right now, you just needed to sleep.

So you focused on the snores echoing from the other room, the rain pattering the windows, Astarion's breaths and your heart—which, without realising, had recently started to beat for him.

“Goodnight, Astarion,” you whispered into the dark.

“Yes, my dear," he said softly. "That it is."