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flux1563 · 2 months ago

Text

Between two worlds ft. Gaeul

Words : 9k

Tags : multiple orgasm, squirting, public sex, creampie

In the bustling heart of Seoul, where neon lights painted the night in vivid hues, there was a young woman named Gaeul. Known to millions as the ethereal center of a chart-topping K-pop group, she had the kind of white skin and skinny frame that seemed to float on the pages of glossy magazines. Her eyes, a deep brown, held a spark that could electrify an entire stadium. With a height of 164 cm, she cut a delicate figure, her every move a study in precision and poise.

Gaeul stepped out of the luxurious van that had brought her to the club, the paparazzi's flashes leaving afterimages like a trail of shooting stars in her vision. The air had the promise of music and mischief, a stark contrast to the meticulously crafted image she presented to the world. The club's bassline thrummed through her, setting her nerves alight with an energy she hadn't felt in months. A rare night out, away from the suffocating embrace of her manager's schedule, she craved the anonymity of the pulsating crowd.

Inside, the club was a cavern of shadows and strobing lights, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sweat of freedom. Gaeul felt a rush of exhilaration as she slipped into the throng, her heart racing in time with the music. The press of bodies, the smiles and whispers of recognition that danced around her, it was all a thrilling masquerade.

Her eyes fell upon you, Y/N, a stranger amidst the sea of faces. You were tall, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a waist that made her heart flutter. There was something about your confident stride, the way you moved with the music, that spoke of a soul unshackled by the constraints of the world outside these walls. You noticed her watching, and for a moment, your gazes locked, the music fading to a distant hum as the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Gaeul felt an unexplainable pull, a gravitational force drawing her to you. She approached, her heart a wild drumline in her chest. You didn't flinch at her celebrity, instead, you offered a genuine smile that made her feel like she was more than just the sum of her parts. Together, you began to dance, your movements complementing each other's as if you'd been partners for a lifetime. The air around you crackled with an undeniable chemistry.

The dance floor became a stage, the spotlight of the DJ's attention shifting to the magnetic pair. Your hands found hers, and the electricity grew stronger, a dance of fingers and palms that spoke a language more intimate than words. As the music reached a crescendo, the tension between you was palpable, a silent symphony of attraction that could no longer be contained.

Her heart racing, Gaeul leaned in, and you met her halfway. Your lips met in a kiss that was fiery yet tender, a secret shared in the chaos of the dance floor. It was a moment out of time, a silent promise that the night had only just begun. When you finally pulled away, breathless and grinning, she whispered in your ear, "Would you come to my apartment?" The question hung in the air, laden with anticipation and desire. Without a moment's hesitation, you nodded, your eyes reflecting the excitement that danced in hers.

You followed her out of the club, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the club's interior. Gaeul led the way to a sleek, black sedan parked at the curb, the engine purring quietly. The driver opened the door for her, and she slid in, beckoning for you to join her. The car's interior was a cocoon of luxury, the leather seats enveloping you both as you sped through the neon-lit streets of Seoul. The city passed by in a blur, a vibrant tapestry of life outside the window that seemed so far removed from the intimate bubble you now shared.

The sedan pulled up to a towering building, its glass façade gleaming under the moonlight. Gaeul's apartment was high above the city, a penthouse that offered a breathtaking panorama of the urban sprawl. The elevator ride was a silent countdown to an unknown future, the air thick with the promise of what lay beyond the doors. As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Gaeul took your hand, her touch sending a shiver down your spine.

Her apartment was a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the chaos of her public life. The walls were adorned with art that spoke of quiet contemplation, and the floor was a cool marble that seemed to whisper secrets underfoot. The living room was bathed in soft, muted lighting, casting an intimate glow over the plush sofas and the grand piano that sat in the corner, a silent sentinel of her other passion. Gaeul slipped off her heels, the sound echoing through the space, and you followed suit, feeling the comfort of the plush carpet beneath your feet.

Without a word, you took her hand, leading her to the couch. The tension between you had grown into something palpable, a living entity that demanded release. You leaned in, your eyes never leaving hers, and kissed her again, deeper this time, your tongues exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. Her hands found their way to your shoulders, then slid down to the hem of your shirt, her fingertips tracing the lines of your abdomen as she pushed the fabric upward.

Gaeul's skin was warm and soft, and as you touched her, she shivered with pleasure. Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands working in tandem to strip away the layers that separated you. Her dress fell to the floor, revealing the lacy lingerie beneath, a stark contrast to the armor she wore on stage. She broke the kiss only to whisper a breathy "yes," her eyes never leaving yours, a silent invitation to continue.

With trembling fingers, you unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor with a whisper of fabric. Her breasts were small but perfect, the nipples peaked with desire. You took one in your mouth, teasing it with your tongue as she gasped and arched her back. Her hands found the button of your pants, and with a flick of her wrist, the zipper was undone. You stepped out of them, leaving only your boxers as a barrier to the warmth of her touch.

The air was heavy with the scent of desire, a heady mix of perfume and pheromones that seemed to amplify every sensation. Your heart was racing, the blood pounding in your ears as you slid her panties down her legs, revealing the apex of her thighs. She was bare and beautiful, and you couldn't help but marvel at the sight before you. Gaeul reached for you, her hand wrapping around your hardness, her touch sending shockwaves through your body.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink as she caught you staring. "Don't look at me like that," she murmured, but the way she said it was more of a challenge than a reprimand. Her eyes held a playful glint, and you could see the excitement dancing in their depths. You met her gaze, unable to resist the allure of her unblemished skin and the way her body responded to your touch. She was a vision, and you were the lucky one who got to behold her.

With a smirk, you leaned in and whispered, "I think your fans will envy me," your voice low and teasing. The laugh that bubbled from her was genuine, a sound that didn't often reach the ears of the outside world. It was a rare glimpse into the person she was when the lights and cameras weren't watching. She playfully swatted at your chest, but her hand lingered, her thumb tracing circles over your heart.

You took the cue and gently pulled her closer, your hand sliding around to unbutton your shirt. As the fabric parted, revealing your bare chest and abs, Gaeul's eyes widened in surprise. But it was the sight of your boxers, straining against your arousal, that truly left her speechless. With a sense of the dramatic flair that was part of your own nature, you slid the boxers down, freeing your erection. It stood proudly, the size of it making even Gaeul gasp. Her eyes were glued to the thick length of you, her pupils dilating as she took in the full view.

Her hand reached out tentatively, her fingertips brushing against your skin. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through your body. She wrapped her hand around you, her grip firm yet gentle, and began to stroke. It was a heady experience, having this goddess of K-pop, adored by millions, worship your body in the quiet sanctity of her penthouse.

With a hunger that could no longer be contained, you guided her to the plush carpet. The coolness of the floor sent a thrill up her spine as you laid her down, her legs spreading to accommodate your weight. Your kisses grew more fervent as they trailed down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, until finally, your mouth found her center. Gaeul's hips bucked in response, her body arching like a bow drawn taut.

Her grip on your hair tightened as she whispered, "Yeah, keep going, I'm gonna cum." Her voice was a sweet symphony of pleasure, the words echoing in your mind like a siren's call. You lapped at her eagerly, your tongue exploring her folds with a mastery that surprised even you. Her breaths grew ragged, her body trembling beneath you as the tension built to a crescendo.

And then she screamed. A primal, uninhibited "Ahhhh" that filled the room, her legs shaking so hard it was as if she was in the throes of a seizure. Her back arched off the floor, her body a sculpture of ecstasy as she reached her peak. The sound was a declaration of your power over her, a testament to the intimate connection you two shared in this stolen moment.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she met your gaze, a soft smile playing on her lips. "That was..." she began, but the words trailed off as she struggled to find the right ones. You kissed her thigh, the taste of her still lingering on your tongue, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. You had given her something she hadn't experienced before, something real and raw and utterly human.

After catching her breath, Gaeul pushed herself up onto her knees, her eyes never leaving yours. Your cock stood tall and proud before her, a symbol of your desire for her. She reached out tentatively, her hand cupping you with a reverence that made you ache.

"Is this your first time with a cock this big?" you asked, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

Gaeul nodded, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm. "Yes," she murmured, her eyes wide and earnest. "In all the glamour of this industry, the men are often... less than adequate." Her confession was a stark reminder of the hidden truths behind the glitzy façade of stardom.

With a gentle smirk, you leaned back, giving her more room to explore. "Don't worry," you assured her, your voice low and soothing. "I'll go slow." Her hand hovered over your erection, her thumb tracing the vein that pulsed along the shaft. Her curiosity was palpable, and you felt a thrill at the thought of being her guide in this new realm of pleasure.

You took her hand and brought it closer, wrapping her delicate fingers around your girth. "Start with your hand," you instructed, showing her how to pump gently. Gaeul's eyes were wide with fascination as she followed your lead, her grip tightening and loosening in time with your demonstration. The sight of her small hand trying to encircle your cock was more arousing than you could've ever imagined.

"Now, use your mouth," you said, your voice a gentle command. Gaeul leaned in, her eyes never leaving yours. She kissed the tip, her soft lips a tantalizing promise of what was to come. You felt your cock twitch in anticipation as she took you into her mouth, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin. You guided her, showing her how to take more of you in without gagging, her eyes watering slightly as she adjusted to your size.

You praised her with murmurs of approval, encouraging her as she found her rhythm. Her cheeks hollowed with effort, and she took you deeper, her tongue swirling around the head in a dance that had you gritting your teeth to hold back. She was a fast learner, eager and attentive. Each stroke of her mouth sent bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, making your toes curl and your abs tighten.

Gaeul's eyes remained locked on yours as she bobbed up and down, her hand still working in tandem with her lips. You could see the concentration in her eyes, the determination to please you. It was a heady feeling, one that only served to amplify your desire. You reached down to caress her cheek, the silkiness of her skin a stark contrast to the rough stubble on your own.

Her eyes grew more focused, more intense, as she took you deeper still. The saliva from her mouth coated your length, making it slick and easier to glide in and out of her. You felt your control slipping, your hips beginning to thrust gently, urging her to take more of you in. Her moans of effort only served to turn you on further, the vibrations resonating through your cock and straight to your core.

"Glukk... glukk... glukk," she murmured, the wet sound of her mouth enveloping you. You watched in amazement as she took you in, her cheeks hollowed out, her throat working around you. Gaeul had never felt so alive, so in the moment. The power dynamics of their world had flipped, and she was in control, the one bringing pleasure to the person she had once thought untouchable.

"Ahh, so tight and warm, Gaeul," you moaned, the words sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her core. She redoubled her efforts, eager to hear more of those delicious sounds. You could feel your orgasm building, the tension in your body tightening like a coil ready to spring. Your hand found its way to the back of her head, guiding her, setting a rhythm that had your toes curling in the plush carpet.

Her eyes watered and she gagged a little, but she didn't stop. Instead, she took it as a challenge, pushing herself to take more of you in. The sounds of her efforts grew more urgent, a symphony of "glukk" and "gluk" as she worked her mouth along your length. You watched in amazement, feeling your climax near, the base of your cock swelling with each passing second.

And then it hit. "Ahh, I'm cumming," you warned, your voice strained with pleasure. But instead of slowing down, you thrust into her mouth harder, faster, your hand tightening in her hair. Gaeul took it all, her eyes never leaving yours, her own arousal spiking at the sight of your pleasure. Your cock pulsed, and she felt the hot, thick jets of cum hit the back of her throat. She swallowed instinctively, her eyes widening in surprise at the taste and the sensation of having you come in her mouth.

As the last tremors of your orgasm subsided, you pulled away, leaving Gaeul panting and gasping for air. Her lips were swollen and wet, a testament to her dedication. You watched as she licked her lips, savoring the taste of you. "Wow," she murmured, a hint of awe in her voice. "That was..."

You chuckled, running a thumb over her plump lower lip, catching a rogue droplet of cum. "A little too much?"

Gaeul's eyes twinkled with mischief. "No," she said, swiping her tongue across her lips. "It's perfect." She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The power had shifted again, and now it was your turn to be the eager pupil. "Get on all fours," you told her, your voice firm but not unkind. Gaeul's heart raced at the command, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of being taken so primally. She obeyed, her skinny body moving with the grace of a gazelle as she got onto her hands and knees on the plush carpet.

Her ass was high in the air, the perfect handfuls of flesh that you hadn't been able to stop thinking about since the moment you saw her in the club. You knelt behind her, taking a moment to appreciate the view. Gaeul glanced back over her shoulder, a seductive smile playing on her lips. "Is this what you want?" she purred, the challenge in her tone unmistakable.

You didn't answer with words, instead, you lined yourself up with her slick, waiting entrance. With one firm thrust, you pushed into her, the sound of your hips slapping against her skin echoing through the penthouse. Gaeul's gasp was music to your ears, her "Ahhhh" a symphony of pleasure and surprise as you filled her completely. Her walls tightened around you, a velvet vise that had you groaning with the intensity of sensation.

"Already cumming? Such a needy slut," you murmured, your voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction. Gaeul's eyes flashed with a hint of defiance, but she didn't deny it. Instead, she pushed back into you, urging you to go deeper. Your rhythm grew faster, the sound of skin on skin punctuating the quiet of the night. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through her body, making her feel alive in a way she hadn't in years.

"Yeah, fuck me like a dirty slut," she repeated, her voice a throaty growl that sent a shiver down your spine. The words were like a drug, spurring you on to claim her even more fiercely. You reached around to find her clit, rubbing it in circles as you pounded into her. Gaeul's moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room. Her body trembled with each thrust, her muscles tightening around you as she approached another orgasm.

Her nails dug into the carpet, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the exquisite feeling of you inside her. "Harder," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. You didn't hold back, slamming into her with all the force you had. The sound of your hips smacking against her ass filled the air, a rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest. You could feel her pussy getting tighter, her body preparing for another powerful release.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Gaeul moaned, her voice hoarse with passion. "Make it hurt so good."

Her words were like gasoline on a fire, and you picked up the pace, each thrust more powerful than the last. Your hands gripped her hips tightly, leaving bruises that would serve as reminders of this illicit night. Gaeul's body moved in sync with yours, her hips pushing back to meet your every advance. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, a cacophony of desire that drowned out the distant sounds of the city.

With a wicked grin, you raised your hand and brought it down sharply on her ass. The slap echoed through the room, and she yelped, "Ahh, it hurts!" But the way she pushed back into you, the way her pussy clenched around your cock, told you she didn't mean it. You smacked her again, the sound louder this time, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin. Her moan was a mix of pain and pleasure, a siren's song that only made you want to give her more.

Her breath grew ragged, and she began to chant, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." Her words were a sweet incantation, a spell that had you utterly captivated. Without a second thought, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen briefly illuminating your face. You started to record, capturing every second of her impending release.

But then, she looked back at you, her eyes wide with a sudden panic. "Don't record it," Gaeul said.

You paused, your hand hovering over your phone, a smirk playing on your lips. "Don't lie, Gaeul. Your pussy gets tighter when I record it," you said, your voice a low purr of challenge. She bit her lip, the internal struggle clear on her face. The thrill of the forbidden, the knowledge that this moment could be captured and watched again, was too tempting.

Her eyes searched yours, and you knew she was weighing the risks. The walls of her penthouse were thick, the chances of anyone hearing them minimal. But the thought of being caught, the possibility of the video leaking, was a thrill she hadn't experienced in a long time. Gaeul's breath hitched as she nodded, a silent permission for you to continue. You tapped the record button again, the red light a beacon of their shared desire.

With renewed vigor, you slammed into her, each stroke a declaration of your dominance. Your hand fell in a steady rhythm, the slap of your palm against her skin echoing through the room. Her cries grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that matched the beat of your hips. Each smack was met with a whine and a thrust, her body begging for more as you painted a picture of passion on the canvas of her skin. The red handprint grew darker with each hit, a brand of your claim on her perfect ass.

"Fuck, Gaeul, I'm gonna cum," you growled, the words a declaration of war on your last shred of control. She looked back at you, her eyes glazed with desire, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the sting of your hand.

"Just cum inside me," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea that sent a shiver down your spine. "Fill me up." It was a demand that was as much a declaration of trust as it was a bid for dominance.

With a roar of pleasure, you did as she asked, releasing a torrent of cum deep within her, marking her as yours. Gaeul's body convulsed around you, her own orgasm crashing over her like a wave. She collapsed onto the floor, her legs trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

You pulled out of her, the sight of her gaping pussy, slick with your seed, making you groan. You couldn't help but capture it, the phone's camera zooming in on the intimate view. Her body was a canvas of pleasure, sweat glistening on her skin, the red handprint on her ass a stark contrast to her porcelain complexion. You moved to film her face, the camera capturing her flushed cheeks, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, her swollen lips parted in a soft moan.

Gaeul looked up at you, her eyes hooded with passion. "Show me," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. You handed her the phone, and she took it with shaking hands, her eyes devouring the footage. The sight of herself being fucked so thoroughly, her body's reactions laid bare, was intoxicating. She watched as you recorded her, the video a testament to the raw, primal connection you shared.

The video played on a loop, the sounds of your lovemaking a siren's call that drew you both back in. Each groan and sigh, each smack of your hand against her flesh, was a reminder of the power and vulnerability you had shared. The red handprint on her ass was a trophy, a symbol of your passion, and she traced it with a fingertip, the slight sting sending a fresh jolt of arousal through her.

The room was filled with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady aroma that seemed to cling to the air. You sat beside her, your legs tangled together, watching the footage unfold. Gaeul's hand drifted between her legs, her fingers finding her sensitive clit. The sight of her touching herself, her body still trembling from your touch, was too much to bear. Your cock grew hard again, eager to claim her once more.

Without a word, you leaned over and took the phone from her, setting it aside. "Let me show you how much of a slut you are," you murmured, your voice thick with desire. You pushed her onto her back and spread her legs wide, the camera capturing the moment with a cold, unflinching eye. Her pussy was open and inviting, your cum leaking out of her and down her thighs. You dipped a finger in, watching as her eyes rolled back in her head.

You brought your hand to her mouth, the scent of sex strong on your skin. "Taste yourself," you ordered, and she obeyed, sucking your finger with a hunger that surprised even you. Gaeul's tongue swirled around your digit, tasting her own juices mixed with yours. The sight was too much, and you found yourself growing harder still, your need for her insatiable.

You leaned down, your cock nudging against her entrance. She was so wet, so open, that it took no effort to slide back in. Her legs wrapped around you, her heels digging into your back as you began to move again, the rhythm slower, more deliberate. The camera rolled, capturing every intimate moment, every gasp and moan, every bead of sweat that rolled down her body.

The world outside the penthouse walls had ceased to exist. In this moment, there was only you and Gaeul, your bodies joined in a dance of passion and power. And as you watched the footage, you knew that this was only the beginning. The night was still young, and there was so much more to explore, so much more to conquer. The story of your forbidden union was being written in sweat and sighs, in the stark red of her ass and the glint of the camera lens.

You moved from position to position, each one more intimate, more erotic than the last. Gaeul's lithe body was a canvas for your desires, her moans the brushstrokes that painted the picture of your pleasure. You recorded every moment, every twitch and spasm, every gasp and cry. Her legs wrapped around you in a vice-like grip, her heels digging into your back as you claimed her in every way possible. You watched the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows, the two of you a tableau of lust that could never be forgotten.

When you were both spent, you led her to the bathroom, the marble countertop cold against her skin as you sat her down. The room was bathed in a soft, candlelit glow, the steam from the running tub a gentle caress against your skin. You filled the tub with water scented with jasmine and lavender, the fragrance a gentle reprieve from the raw scent of sex that hung in the air.

With a lazy grin, you grabbed the phone from the floor, the wetness from the pool of your combined juices smearing across the screen. You sat cross-legged in the tub, the water lapping against your skin as you began to scroll through the footage. Gaeul leaned against you, her head on your shoulder, her eyes glued to the screen.

"See, baby?" you said, your voice smug as you played back the moments of her body shuddering under your touch. "You're a fucking goddess."

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "It's just... I've never felt this way before," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. "It's so raw, so... real."

You chuckled and kissed her temple. "And that's what makes it hot," you said, your hand idly stroking her thigh. "You should think about it, though. An OnlyFans account. You'd make a fortune."

Her eyes snapped to yours, a spark of excitement in them. "Really?" she breathed. "You think so?"

You nodded, your cock stirring again at the thought of her sharing her beauty with the world. "Just blur your face," you said, your voice a low rumble. "Let them see the body that drives them wild every time you're on stage."

The idea grew in her mind like a seed planted in fertile ground. Anonymity had always been a struggle in her line of work, but this... this could be her escape. A way to claim power over her sexuality and share her passion without the constraints of her public image.

The water grew cold around you, but neither of you noticed as you continued to watch the steamy scenes play out. Gaeul's hand trailed down to her pussy, her fingers idly toying with her clit as the video played. You felt your own arousal stirring once again, your cock thickening against her back.

With a growl, you turned her to face you, the water sloshing around you both. "Again?" she whispered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Always," you replied, your eyes dark with lust.

The night went on like a never-ending symphony of pleasure, each position a new note to be played. You recorded it all, the camera capturing every inch of her body as you explored each other with an intensity that left you both breathless. The walls of the penthouse echoed with your moans, the sound of slapping flesh a testament to your unbridled passion.

In the days that followed, Gaeul found herself in a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation. The idea of creating an OnlyFans account, a secret garden where she could share her sexuality without the prying eyes of her fans and management, was intoxicating. She chose the name 'like kim gaeul' as a clever nod to her stage persona, a way to keep her identity hidden while still giving a nod to her public image.

The first content she uploaded was a still from that fateful night, a shot of her bent over in doggystyle, your hand raised in mid-air, poised to deliver a firm spank. The caption read, "Imagine Kim Gaeul getting spanked in this position." The photo was tasteful yet tantalizing, a teaser that had subscribers clamoring for more. The power of anonymity was intoxicating, allowing her to express herself without the fear of judgment or repercussion.

The comments section exploded with excitement, the words "Wow, she's like Gaeul," "Gaeul is such a slut in this," and "I can't believe she's doing this" repeated over and over. Each message sent a thrill through her, the knowledge that she was giving them something they hadn't expected, something that made them question everything they knew about their favorite idol. It was a heady feeling, one that had her body buzzing with anticipation.

Her subscribers grew by the hundreds, and with each new member, Gaeul felt a little more powerful. The thrill of being someone else, of being the slut they all dreamed of, was like a drug. She found herself eagerly checking her inbox, eager to see the reactions to her latest posts. The thought of her fans getting off to her content was a constant source of arousal, her pussy always wet and ready.

One particularly daring fan wrote, "I bet if Gaeul saw this, she'd want to be my slut too." The message was a spark that set her imagination ablaze. What would happen if the real Gaeul found out about her secret life? Would she be repulsed or intrigued? The risk was exhilarating, a thrill she hadn't felt since her early days in the industry. She decided to lean into the fantasy, posting a video with the caption, "What if Gaeul was really this naughty?" Her heart raced as she hit send, the anticipation of their reactions a delicious torment.

The feedback was overwhelming, a deluge of comments praising her beauty, her brazenness, her willingness to be their fantasy. It was like a drug, each message feeding the fire in her belly, making her want more. The line between Gaeul the idol and Gaeul the slut grew thinner, until she could almost believe it herself. Her mind raced with ideas for new content, each more daring than the last. The persona she had created was a siren's call, drawing her further into a world where she was in complete control of her own desires and the desires of others.

In the dim light of her penthouse, surrounded by the trappings of her celebrity life, Gaeul felt a sense of freedom she hadn't experienced in years. The mask she had worn for so long had been shattered, revealing the woman beneath, and she liked what she saw. The feedback from her subscribers was a balm to her soul, a validation of her sexuality that she had been craving for so long.

And so, she continued to upload, each video and photo more explicit than the last. She lost herself in the role, becoming the slut they all wanted her to be, the goddess of their darkest dreams. The comments grew bolder, more demanding, and she reveled in it. The thought of her fans jerking off to her was a thrill that never waned, a reminder of the power she held in her slender fingers.

The more she posted, the more she realized that she was not just playing a role; she was rediscovering herself. The shy, insecure girl who had been molded into a star was giving way to a woman who knew what she wanted and was unafraid to take it. Her OnlyFans was a declaration of independence, a middle finger to the industry that had tried to control her every move.

But amidst the pleasure, there was always the fear. The fear of being found out, the fear of losing everything she had worked so hard for. Yet, she couldn't deny the thrill it brought her. Each time she posted, she felt like she was playing with fire, and she liked the burn.

As the weeks turned into months, Gaeul's account grew in popularity. Her subscribers were devoted, showering her with praise and money.

One evening, she found herself staring at a blank screen, her mind racing. The thrill of the new had worn off, and she was desperate for something that would set her apart from the sea of other creators. Inspiration struck her like a bolt of lightning. "Y/n," she whispered into the phone, her voice a seductive purr. "I need content for my OnlyFans. Let's do something wild... like public sex."

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. The excitement of the potential risk and the thrill of the forbidden had your blood racing. "Are you sure?" you asked, playing it cool despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Yes," she said, the determination in her voice unmistakable. "We're going to do it. And it's going to be amazing."

The adrenaline was palpable as you picked her up in your sleek black sports car, the engine purring beneath you like a living beast. The city lights reflected off the windows, creating a dazzling array of color that bled into the dark leather of the seats.

As Gaeul stepped inside, you watched with anticipation as she slipped off her top and unclipped her bra, the fabric sliding off her shoulders like a lover's caress. She was a vision in the soft glow of the car's interior lights, her small breasts bouncing gently as she complied with your command. The oversized jacket was thrown over her shoulders, swamping her slender frame, a stark contrast to the tight dress she had worn to the club. She slid the vibrator into her wetness, the sound of it buzzing to life a symphony of excitement in the confined space.

"Now what is the plan?" Gaeul asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Let's go to the mall," you suggested, the excitement building in your voice. "We'll make a vlog in there."

Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and arousal. "Really?" she whispered, her voice shaky with excitement. "That's so risky."

You chuckled, reaching over to stroke her thigh. "Isn't that part of the fun?" You pressed a button on the vibrator's controller, and she gasped as it buzzed to life against her clit. She nodded, her breath hitching as you began to drive, navigating the streets of Seoul with one hand while the other played with the intensity of the vibrations.

The drive to the mall was a delicious mix of anticipation and pleasure. With every stop light, you increased the power, watching her squirm in her seat. Her eyes darted around, searching for any signs of recognition, but the streets were mostly empty, the only witnesses the occasional neon signs flickering to life in the night.

"You're going to make me cum before we even get there," she murmured, her voice tight with need. Her hand rested on your thigh, her nails digging in as the vibrations grew more intense.

"That's the plan," you said, your eyes never leaving the road. You had to admit, the thrill of it all was making it harder to focus on driving, but you weren't about to let that ruin the moment. You took a deep breath and concentrated on the task at hand, both literally and figuratively.

When you finally pulled into the mall's parking lot, you killed the engine and turned to her. "Ready?"

Gaeul nodded, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she took the mini camera from the center console. She attached it to your button shirt, making sure it was angled down to capture everything. The anticipation was like a living thing in the car, pulsing with every heartbeat.

You stepped out of the car, her hand in yours, the vibrator still nestled between her legs. The mall's bright lights washed over you both as you walked towards the entrance, her hips swaying slightly with each step. The thrill of what you were about to do made your heart race. Gaeul's hand was in your pocket, the vibrator's controller hidden from view as she expertly manipulated the settings, keeping her on the edge of ecstasy.

The mall was bustling with life, shoppers milling about with bags in hand, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. Despite the chaos, Gaeul's eyes never left yours. She leaned into you, her breath hot against your ear. "Keep going," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. The vibrator's intensity grew, and she stifled a moan, her knees threatening to buckle.

You led her through the crowded corridors, her hand tightening around yours as you passed by a group of teenagers, their heads swiveling to catch a glimpse of the famous idol. They had no idea what she was hiding beneath the oversized jacket, her pussy singing a silent symphony of pleasure with every step she took. You felt a rush of power, knowing that you had her right where you wanted her.

The camera captured everything, the secret life of a kpop star laid bare for the eyes of her devoted fans. She was both Gaeul the idol and 'like kim gaeul' the slut, and the dichotomy was intoxicating. You stopped in front of a lingerie store, the mannequins in the window dressed in lacy garments that made you think of her.

With a grin, you whispered, "Pick something out. Something that makes you feel like a slut." She blushed but didn't hesitate, her hand moving to the controller to reduce the intensity just enough to regain control. She stepped away, the vibrator still humming against her clit, as she scanned the racks of underwear.

You watched as she chose a black lace set, her eyes never leaving yours. The vibrator was a constant reminder of what was to come, a silent promise of pleasure that had her moving with a sensual grace that drew the attention of those around her. As she stepped into the changing room, you couldn't resist the urge to join her, the camera rolling as you closed the door behind you.

The small space was filled with the scent of new fabric and arousal as you both shed your clothes. She stepped into the lingerie, her body a canvas of desire. You took the camera and captured every moment, her skin glowing in the fluorescent light.

The vibrator was forgotten for a moment as you kissed, your hands roaming over her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip. But soon enough, the need for more took over, and she slipped the panties to the side, exposing herself to the cool air. You took the controller and cranked it up, watching as her body responded, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

The mall outside was oblivious to the erotic scene unfolding in the cramped changing room, the camera capturing every gasp and shiver. The sound of fabric rustling and the low murmur of shoppers' conversations were a stark contrast to the symphony of moans that filled the space.

As the vibrator brought her to the brink, you whispered, "Do it, baby. Cum for them." And with a scream that was muffled by your hand, she did, her body convulsing as the orgasm crashed over her. The camera kept rolling, capturing the moment of pure, unadulterated bliss that she had never allowed herself to feel before.

You both stepped out of the changing room, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling with the aftermath of her climax. The vibrator was tucked away, the secret of her pleasure safely hidden. The thrill of what had just transpired had her moving with an extra sway in her hips, a silent announcement to the world of what she had just done.

You led her through the mall, the vibrator's buzz a constant reminder of your shared power play. She bit her lip to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, her eyes darting around nervously. Each time you stopped to browse or chat with fans, she had to fight the urge to lean into you, to beg for more.

The feeling of the vibrator against her clit as you walked through the crowded mall was a delicious form of torture. Each step was a battle between maintaining her composure and succumbing to the pleasure that threatened to consume her. Her breath grew shallower, her eyes glassy with need as the minutes ticked by. The shoppers around her had no idea that their favorite idol was being brought to the edge of ecstasy right beside them.

You couldn't resist the urge to push her further. You whispered in her ear, "Keep walking, baby. Just a little longer." Each word was a challenge, a promise of more to come. The vibrator remained nestled between her legs, the humming a constant presence that had her legs trembling.

Gaeul managed to keep it together, though just barely. The feeling of you in control, of her body responding so viscerally to your commands, was a heady mix of fear and desire. She walked with you, her hand in yours, her body a live wire of pleasure.

Her steps grew more erratic as the vibrator continued to pulse against her, and you could see the struggle in her eyes. The mall's lights played across her flushed skin, casting shadows that only served to highlight her arousal. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape from the relentless wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.

As you stepped out into the cool night air, Gaeul's grip on your hand tightened, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. "I can't... I can't take it anymore," she whimpered, her voice strained with need.

"Just hold it," you murmured into her ear, your voice a seductive rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "200 meters to the left is our car. Think about the rush when we finally get there."

Her eyes widened with a mix of terror and excitement, but she nodded. The vibrator was a persistent reminder of the thrill you were both chasing. You continued your leisurely stroll through the parking lot, Gaeul's hand in yours, the camera capturing every step she took.

As you approached the halfway point, Gaeul's resolve crumbled. With a gasp, she pulled away, her jacket and panties pooling at her ankles. The cold concrete met her bare skin, sending goosebumps racing across her body. She didn't care about the stares or the whispers, all she could focus on was the pulsing need between her legs. The vibrator slipped out of her and she stepped away from you, her hands moving to her clit.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, her legs shaking as the first spurt of pleasure shot through her. The vibrator lay forgotten on the ground as she squirted, her juices painting an abstract pattern on the pavement. The sight of her, standing there in the open, unabashedly claiming her sexuality was more than you could handle. Your cock throbbed in your pants, begging for release.

With a primal growl, you swooped her up into your arms, carrying her like a bride across the threshold. She wrapped her legs around your waist, her naked body pressed against yours, her pussy still quivering from the aftershocks of her orgasm. The cool night air kissed her skin, sending shivers down her spine that only served to heighten her arousal.

When you reached the car, you set her down gently, the anticipation thick between you. Her eyes locked onto the prize, the thick, throbbing cock that had brought her so much pleasure already that night. Without a word, she knelt before you, her hands trembling as she gripped your shaft firmly.

The cool air of the parking lot caressed her bare skin as she took you in her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. The feel of her warm, wet mouth around you was almost too much to bear, but you held back, enjoying the show of power she had become so adept at giving. The vibrations from her pussy had made her desperate for release, and now she was eager to return the favor.

Her mouth worked you with the skill of a pro, her tongue dancing around the head, teasing the slit before taking you deep. You could feel her eagerness, her hunger for your pleasure a mirror to your own. The camera captured it all, the look of pure need on her face, the way her eyes watered as she took you deeper.

Her hands moved to your ass, her nails digging in as she worked you faster, her own orgasm still a fresh memory. You watched as she swallowed around you, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head. The sight was too much, and with a roar, you came, spilling your seed down her throat. She took it all, her eyes never leaving yours, a silent declaration of victory in her gaze.

You helped her to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense climax. She leaned into you, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Behind the car, hidden from view, you didn't hold back as you kissed her deeply, tasting yourself on her lips. The adrenaline from the public display had you both on edge, your bodies craving more.

Without a word, you turned her around and bent her over the trunk, her ass in the air. The vibrator was forgotten, replaced by the need for the real thing. You lined up with her wet entrance, her moan muffled by your hand as you slammed into her. She was tight, a perfect fit around you, her pussy clenching as you began to pound into her.

The sound of your skin slapping against hers echoed through the quiet parking lot, a rhythm that grew louder with each thrust. Gaeul's eyes rolled back in pleasure, her body moving with yours in a dance that was both fierce and beautiful. The fear of being caught only added to the excitement, each grunt and gasp a silent chant of "fuck yes" that seemed to resonate through the night.

Her moans grew louder, her body begging for release. You knew she was close, could feel it in the way her pussy gripped you like a vise. With one hand, you reached around, finding her clit and pinching it hard. She came with a scream that you muffled with your hand, her body shaking violently as the orgasm ripped through her. You followed suit, your own climax a hot wave that left you weak in the knees.

You both stood there for a moment, panting, the cold metal of the car cool against your skin. The thrill of the moment had etched itself into your bones, a memory that would fuel your fantasies for weeks to come. The camera had captured it all, a testament to your wild night of rebellion and desire.

With a final, lingering kiss, you pulled away and helped her into the car. The drive to her penthouse was filled with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. You watched her in the rearview mirror, her eyes heavy with satisfaction, the glow of the city lights reflecting off her sweat-slicked skin. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her transformation, from a shy idol to a sexual goddess claiming what she wanted without fear.

When you finally pulled up to her building, she took one last look at you before exiting the car, the oversized jacket still hanging loosely around her. She leaned in through the window, her eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and mischief. "Thank you for an amazing night," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You watched her retreating figure as she sashayed towards the elevator, her hips still swaying with the aftermath of the intense public encounter. The thrill of it all was like a drug, leaving you craving more. As the elevator doors closed, you couldn't help but wonder what the next chapter in this secret life would hold.

Once back in her penthouse, Gaeul wasted no time in editing the video you had just shot. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her laptop open before her, her eyes glued to the screen. The sight of herself on the screen, her face contorted with pleasure, had her panties growing damp again. She felt a twinge of guilt for enjoying the objectification, but it was quickly drowned out by the rush of power and excitement it brought her.

Her nimble fingers flew across the keyboard, snipping and arranging the footage with a finesse that belied her inexperience. Each edit brought her closer to the climax she had experienced in the mall, her body responding to the visual cues she had so meticulously captured. She watched her own face, the desperation in her eyes as she came in the changing room, and her breath caught in her throat.

The video was a masterpiece of desire and rebellion, a testament to the woman she had become. Each frame was a declaration of her sexual prowess, a stark contrast to the innocent girl-next-door image her fans adored. Her heart raced as she added a seductive soundtrack, the bass thumping through her chest like a heartbeat.

Her hand slipped between her legs, her pussy already wet and aching for release. She watched herself take your cock in her mouth, her own mouth watering at the sight. The vibrator she had used earlier was forgotten in the bedroom, but she didn't need it now. Her mind was the best toy she had, replaying the sensations of the night as she touched herself.

Her strokes grew faster as she watched herself get fucked against the car, her orgasm building like a crescendo. The video was almost done, and she knew it would be a hit on her OnlyFans. The thought of her fans jerking off to her most intimate moments had her on edge, her clit swollen and begging for attention.

As she reached the climax of her editing, her own climax hit her like a wave, crashing over her body and leaving her trembling. She stared at the screen, her chest heaving, the video now a perfect representation of the raw, unbridled lust that had taken her over.

With a satisfied smile, she hit 'publish', sending the video into the abyss of the internet. The anticipation was almost as sweet as the act itself. She knew the response would be intense, the comments and messages flooding in like a storm of validation.

For a moment, she just sat there, basking in the glow of her own rebellious spirit. The line between Gaeul the idol and 'like kim gaeul' had blurred, but in that blur, she had found a sense of freedom she had never known before. She took a deep breath and leaned back, her body sated and her mind racing with ideas for the next wild adventure.

As the video spread through the depths of the internet like wildfire, the comments section grew more and more frenzied. Fans speculated, their imaginations running wild. Some posted gifs of her shocked expressions from music videos, others wrote feverishly about their newfound love for her 'naughty' side. The anonymity of the platform allowed them to express their darkest desires, and she reveled in every word.

One comment caught her eye, though. It was from an account with a profile picture that was eerily similar to one of her backup dancers. 'If real gaeul watching this...' it read, followed by a series of emojis that could only be interpreted as shock and arousal. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if it was him, if he knew her secret. But she pushed the thought aside. Tonight was about her, about the power she held in the palm of her hand, quite literally.

The next day, the buzz had reached a fever pitch. Her video had become the talk of the town, the whispers of "Did you see?" echoing through the hallways of the entertainment company she worked for. She walked with her head held high, her secret identity like a secret weapon she could unleash at any moment. The thrill of potentially being recognized, of the world knowing what she had done, was a potent aphrodisiac.

The fear of being caught was a thrill she hadn't anticipated. Each time she saw a group of people huddled around a phone, her heart raced. But she was careful, always one step ahead. The persona of 'like kim gaeul' was a double-edged sword, one that could both elevate and destroy her career. But for now, she reveled in the power it gave her.

Her interactions with fans grew more intense, their gazes lingering just a moment too long. They knew something had changed about her, could feel the electricity in the air when she walked by. The whispers grew louder, the glances more knowing. And she loved it. She was no longer just a pretty face on a poster, she was a force to be reckoned with.

But amidst the chaos, she found a strange comfort in the arms of Y/N. He was her rock, her confidant in this new world of secret lust and public adoration. The bond between them had grown stronger with each shared secret, each intimate moment captured for their private pleasure.

Their relationship had evolved beyond the physical, into something deeper, more profound. They had become co-conspirators in a game of desire played out for the world to see, yet only they knew the rules. The thought of him watching the video, his eyes dark with need, had her squirming in her seat.

Gaeul knew she had to tread carefully. The line between her two worlds was precariously thin, and one wrong move could shatter the illusion. But she was addicted to the rush, the thrill of the unknown. And as she scrolled through the endless stream of comments, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment. She had done what no other idol dared, and she had done it with style.

The story of 'like kim gaeul' was just beginning, and she was ready to write the next chapter. Whether it was in the safety of her penthouse or in the shadowed corners of the city, she was going to claim what was hers. Her heart pounded in her chest as she thought of the possibilities, the thrills and dangers that awaited her. But she knew she wasn't alone. With Y/N by her side, she could conquer the world. Or at least, the internet.

#kpop smut #male reader #girl group smut #ive smut #gaeul smut #kim gaeul #gg smut

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elalfywhore · 2 months ago

Text

partition • pazzi x reader

tonight was all about paige, as much as you loved to be the center of attention; you had to let her have her night.

azzi had already talked to you about this earlier in the day while she was getting glammed up, asking you for no fits, no snarky comments and no bratty behavior. the night went amazing; the draft had ended hours ago, team dinner was done and now the club was coming to an end.

it was about 4am when you checked your phone, you were sitting on paige’s right leg and azzi on her left; the three of you wearing dallas wings hats as paige felt up both of your thighs. you guys had spent the last 4 hours dancing and drinking the night away with your friends but now, your feet are killing you and you want nothing more than a street hot dog and your bed.

paige however; looks just as alive as she did when they called her name as she bites her lip, admiring yours and azzis bodies in your dresses. while your guys’ relationship was a secret the section at the club was private; you were pretty sure the bottle girls had to sign some kind of nda to work here tonight.

“you tired, baby?” paige asks, making you glance up from your phone. she must’ve noticed how your energy had plummeted in the last 30 minutes. “no, i’m okay.” you smile, assuming she’d want to stay out and continue to finish her time. “are you sure? you look tired?” azzi asks, making you shrug this time. “c’mon, let’s get going im ready to go anyway.” paige says, patting you and azzi both on your butts; signaling to get up.

you all get up and grab your belongings, saying your goodbyes and making the long journey to the car.

“that was so fun, im so proud of you.” azzi says, smiling to paige as you walk about a foot ahead of them but in the middle. “thank you, babe. couldn’t have done it without you two.” paige smiles, reaching to pinch your cheek; making you giggle and speed up your walk a bit.

once you guys get to the car you remembered what you had forgotten in your drunken state; the dallas wings sent paige a limo for the night, assuming she’d be riding with all her friends but it was just the three of you in reality. “i forgot about this” you blurt out, face a perplexed. “did you?” azzi giggles, letting her hand come to graze your hips. you hear the car door open and watch as the male driver gets out the car, coming around to open the door for the three of you.

“good evening, i hope you had a great time, miss buckers.” he greets politely, gesturing for us to enter the door. “i did, thanks man.” paige smiles, grabbing your hand guiding you into the back of the limo. once your sat inside you look at the exterior as she helps azzi in. it’s spacious, the couch wrapping all around the back in a U shape, it’s all white with an led rim that’s shaded to a light purple. there’s a small table in the middle, bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, a few glasses set on the table.

you throw you head back, thinking it’s time to relax but as the car door shuts and paige finds herself comfortable between you and azzi; you realize it’s a different time. “hope you’re not sleepy yet, mama. we still got 30 minutes until we’re back to the hotel.” paige licks her lip before biting it, grabbing you by the back of the neck; leaning to plant kisses on your lips. you moan into the kisses as paige’s hand goes up your thigh, hiking up your dress. “drove me crazy in this little fucking dress tonight.” your eyes roll back after paige says that, planting one more kiss to your lips before biting your bottle lip; pulling her head back slowly before letting your lip go.

you sit up, now fully awake and watch her shift to azzi a bit. “and you looked so fucking sexy tonight.” paige pulls azzi into a kiss, pulling her dress up and allowing herself to massage the soft skin of her thigh. you almost moan at the sight of time making out. shifting in your seat, you burry your face into paige’s neck, sucking at the skin as your hand makes its way into her top, letting your fingers graze her nipple. paige and azzis kiss breaks after a bit and azzi also gets to work, sucking on paige’s neck and really just trying to feel whenever she can.

paige is a moaning mess, heavy breathing and eyes rolling back. something tells paige’s to open eyes and when she does she realizes; the partition was down. she’s too drunk off of you guys to ever care to much yet she still calls out, “driver roll up the partition, please and turn on some music.” you and azzi don’t pay much mind, both of you now basically grinding down on the seat, trying to get any kind of relief.

the car is soon filled with the sound of luther by kendrick lamar and sza.

“god, i love you two so much.” paige moans, neck now filled with hickeys but she doesn’t even mind. you and azzi murmur out your love yous back and her hands come to the back of each of your heads, pulling you two off her neck. paige bites her lip as she watches your and azzis eyes interlock; mischief in your eyes. “hi, baby.” azzi whispers, face moving towards yours. “hi, az.” you whisper back shyly. your lips soon interlock, tongues grazing each others. you feel azzi move, trying to get more comfortable, getting on her hands and knees on the seat; making you follow, your ankles crossing as you arch your back.

“so unreal.” paige whispers, biting her lip and you gasp when you feel her hike up your dress, putting your ass on display and revealing your black thong. she gives you ass a few smacks before moving to azzi, lifting her dress up as well and smacking her ass a few times; making her moan into the kiss. your guys’ hands all over and in between paiges lap as she manspreads, one of each of her hands come to grab at yours’ and azzis asses; leaning back to admire the view of her girlfriends kissing in front of her.

you and azzi moan into the kiss loudly at the same time, both feeling a single one of paige’s fingers slip inside of you with no warning. azzi’s hand comes up; tightly grabbing onto your hair as paige starts to finger fuck the both of you. “look at my dirty girls.” paige teases, now slipping in a second finger in both of you. “do my girls like that?” paige’s forward, making you and azzi pull apart; moans spilling out of the both of you as paige continues her assault on your pussies. “feels so good, daddy.” you whine, leaning forward to give paige a few pecks on the lip. “feel good, mama?” paige asks azzi, who’s clearly trying not to cum so soon. “feels so good, fuck.” azzi moans are so soft, the type that make you feel like you can float on them.

as paige and azzi kiss you see a golden opportunity, immediately reaching to unzip paige’s pants. paige moans into the kiss, lifting her hips up to help you pull her pants and boxers down. you moan at the sight, your girlfriends kissing, azzi bent over facing you but you can still see the round of her ass and paige’s hand sneaking around her, paige’s pants now down at her knees; pretty pink pussy on display; all three of you still in your dallas wings hats. azzi pulls back from the kiss, looking down to admire paige’s wet cunt, glistening in the light purple lighting.

you’re the first one to touch, allowing your middle fingers to connect with her clit, wet and sticky; rubbing soft circles on it. paige bites her lip, looking down to watch you play with her; fingers still fucking you and azzi. it doesn’t take long for azzi to join in, sticking her pointer and middle fingers inside of paige, fucking her with the same sensual speed that paige is fucking you two at. you’re all moaning messes, shoving your face back inside of paige’s neck, licking and sucking all over as you feel your orgasm approach.

“think…think m’ gonna cum, daddy.” you whimper, warning paige. “yeah? did you ask if that was okay?” paige whispers back, a bit scarily to you; realizing you’d probably have to cum on whatever condition paige wanted. “can i cum, please daddy?” you pull your face from her neck, letting her see your pouty little face. “ask azzi, baby.” you look to azzi, who’s eyes are screwed shut and you can tell, she needs to cum too. “mommy, can i please cum.” you whine out, getting impatient, your hips now trying to jut away from paige a bit. “i’m gonna cum too baby, c’mon, cum with mommy.” azzi moans; pulling you into a kiss.

your tongues swirl as your orgasms hit, your movements on paige halting for a moment but she doesn’t mind, just happy to see you guys playing so nicely. paige helps you both ride out your highs, enjoying the feeling of your warm, wet holes pulsating around her. “good girls.” paige groans, pulling her fingers from both of you. you bite your lip, seeing how wet her fingers are from azzi as she brings them up to your mouth, “open up, baby.” she moans as azzis fingers start to move inside her again. you open your mouth, letting paige’s fingers inside; savoring the sweet taste of azzi, sucking on her fingers like a long popsicle. once her fingers are all clean paige brings her fingers that were inside of you to azzis mouth, she opens without needing to be told; immediately moaning at the taste.

you start to rub circles again, making paige moan out; now being stimulated by you and azzi. azzi releases paiges fingers with a pop. “so good for me.” paige groans, leaning back in the seat again; her hands going to untie the top of your dress, helping pull it down to your hips, letting your tits free. she immediately does the same to azzi, pulling down the straps of her dress to release her boobs. her hands come under both of you, reaching to play with both of your boobs, jiggling the fat in her hands.

“you gonna eat my pussy for me, baby?” paige asks you making you bite your lip with a nod; making you pull your hand away from her clit. azzi pulls her hand away as well and they watch and you get off the seat, it feeling good to get into a new position and onto your knees in between paige’s legs. you pull her pants down to her ankles and she spreads her legs wider, giving you easier access. azzi uses her left hand, helping guide your head towards paige’s pussy. you almost moan the feeling of the warmth radiating off of her pussy as your face gets close. the first taste is like heaven as you immediately take her clit into your mouth, sucking at the bud.

“holy shit.” paige groans, helping azzi readjust to sit perked up on her knees; her tits at perfect eye level with paige. you moan at the taste of paige and the view above you, azzis silk press becoming a bit frizzy with sweat but she still looks beautiful as ever; moaning out as paige takes her nipple into her mouth. paige’s arm wraps around azzis lower back, pulling her closer to her and the other hand goes to play with azzis other nipple. azzi throws her head back, her hand still pressing your face into paige’s pussy.

paige’s pussy tastes sweeter than normal, you’re not sure if it’s maybe the cherry liquor you’re still tasting on your lips, azzi’s vanilla lipgloss or maybe the fact that she just won first round pick in the draft but whatever it is; it’s making you weak in the knees. you nod your head in her pussy, eyes rolling back as you lick up her clit with the minimal movement your allowed with azzis hand. azzi looks down to check on you, noticing how fucking submissive you look she can’t help but to pull you back by your hair and lean down; making paige release her nipple for a second, she grabs you by the cheeks, squeezing with her other hand, “open wide, baby.” her voice is so alluring you do as she says, your mouth soaked with paige’s wetness and now her saliva as she spits in your mouth.

you swallow like a good girl of course, gasping for a breath before azzi shoves your face back into paige’s pussy. paige leans forward a bit, one of her hands grabbing at your dress that had bunched up at your waist and the other coming down to spank your ass. “good fucking girl, how did i get so lucky?” paige praises, leaning back again after delivering a few more smacks to your fat ass. “im gonna bust.” paige groans out making you lick her pussy faster. her hand also comes to grab a bunch of your hair, joining azzis. “c’mon, princess make daddy cum.” azzi moans, biting her lip at the sight of you two.

it doesn’t take many more licks and nods of your head before you feel and taste paige spilling down your chin, “fucking shit, baby.” paige groans hips bucking into your face as her and azzi hold your head still.

you gasp for air when they finally let you go, leaning your back against the seat as paige lays there limp for a second, azzi pressing soft kisses to her neck. “you did, so damn good baby.” paige praises, her hand coming down to reach for you; helping you back onto the seat.

you guys hear the music turn down and the partition cracks just a bit, “we’ll be at the hotel in 5.” the driver calls out, rolling the partition back up and turning the music back up. “fuck, let’s fix ourselves.” azzi says, starting to pull the top of her dress back up. you watch as paige starts to pull her pants back up, pouting as azzi puts her tits away and paige covers her pussy. “don’t worry, baby. i got something waiting for you at the hotel.” paige smiles, noticing your pouty face and knowing you’d want to go again. “really?” you beam, making azzi giggle as you start to fix yourself. you turn away from paige and azzi, just trying to figure out which way is which on your dress. “something real good.” paige comes behind you, one knee on the seat as she grabs onto your shoulders, starting to thrust her hips into your ass. you gasp out in excitement, “you brought the strap!” making azzi scoff, “actually i brought it, paige forgot to pack it.”

you crouch a bit in the limo, almost being at your girlfriends’ heights in your 6 inch heels. paige let’s you go, as you grab onto azzi; your dress still not fixed, ass and tits still out as you straddle her lap. “thank you, mommy.” you press a soft kiss to her lips, letting her taste paige who still lingered on your mouth. “you’re welcome, now let’s get you fixed.” azzis quick to squeeze your ass in both her hands for a second before pulling your dress down and fixing the top, re-ting what paige un did a while ago. “my pretty girls.” paige smiles, making you both look over at her, her phone in hand taking a picture to savor the moment.

the next morning hit like a hurricane, there were clothes and shoes all over the room, sex toys spread all over the bed and even some on the floor as you woke up in the middle of your girlfriends.

the sun was peaking through the curtains as you looked to see them still asleep, spotting your phone on the side of paige you reach softly for it.

3:39pm

your phone reads, you immediately feel a grumble in your tummy, turning to azzi to wake her up. “azzi, baby wake up.” you whisper making her groan, “please baby.” you whine. “what?” she grumbles, eyes not open yet. “i’m hungry.” you pout. “ask paige to order something.” she says, turning away; immediately falling back asleep.

you turn to your blonde girlfriend; realizing azzi was too sleepy to help. “paige, wake up.” you whisper, shaking her a bit and she opens her eyes immediately; stretching her long limbs. “what happened, babe?” her morning voice sending a jolt straight to your pussy that you decide to ignore. “i’m hungry.” you whine out, “here.” paige turns, grabbing her phone and handing it to you. “doordash something for us.” making you smile in victory. you turn away from paige, allowing her to spoon you, one of her hands going between your thighs, enjoying the warmth of it.

azzis turns back to face you, joining in on the cuddles, still probably half awake. you cuddle in the middle of them; keeping paige’s brightness on low as you place your guys’ order. sitting the phone between you and azzi; you relax, deciding it’s just best to sleep until your food gets here.

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rafeshit · 5 months ago

Text

STARSTRUCK (inspired) drew x fan!reader

warnings — none

summary — you are trying to get home when a celebrity hits you with a door.

you were in the city of new york, eager to get home after a long day. the city lights were shining, illuminating your path, but you're too tired to appreciate it. You've been looking forward to collapsing onto your couch, and shedding off the white dress you wore to a party.

As you turn the corner, you're suddenly slammed into by a door that read “set stage”, flung open by a suited figure. "Ow!" you cry out, clutching your head as you stumble backwards. Your world spins for a moment before you collapse onto the pavement. You lie there, dazed, and confused.

The suited figure, dressed in a black suit and tie, rushes to your side, "Oh my god, did I just hit you?" he asks, worry evident in his voice. You gaze up at him, your vision blurry, and reply with sarcasm, "No, the door just flung open by itself. Good job, door." You can't help but roll your eyes, even as a sharp pain shoots through your head.

He looks taken aback, but then mutters, "Oh, this isn't looking good." You struggle to sit up, wincing as the pain intensifies. As you take in the man's features, your eyes widen in recognition. You've seen that face plastered on billboards, magazine covers, and movie screens. "Wait, you're drew star—" But before you can finish, the man's hand closes around your mouth, his eyes darting around nervously.

"I'll get you free tickets to my movie if you don't scream my name," he says, his voice urgent in desperation. You shove his hand away, irritation flooding your system. "I don't want tickets to your stupid movie. I want to go home." You try to stand up, but the world spins again, and you stumble backwards.

“wait your not a fan of me?” He asks, visibly hurt.

you roll your eyes, “not in a million years.”

The man's expression turns grave. "I'll drive you to a hospital, my car's just around the corner." You hesitate, not wanting to get into a car with this stranger, no matter how famous he is. You've heard the stories about celebrities and their games,"I don't want to get into the car with you," you say.

He raises an eyebrow. "Would you rather walk all the way home with a concussion?"

You cross your arms, trying to sound braver than you felt, “I’d rather play in traffic.”

The man's gaze flicks towards the alleyway, he must have heard the distant chatter of fans approaching, because he quickly says, "Enough with the bratty act, follow me." There's a tone of authority in his voice that makes you hesitate, but your head is pounding, and you're not sure you have a choice. You struggle to your feet, realizing that your head hurts more than you initially thought. Maybe getting into the car with this... celebrity is all you got.

You follow him, grunting as you hold your head, and get into the black car parked nearby. As you sink into the leather seats, he says, “would you mind sinking a little lower I don’t want the paparazzi seein’ you”.

You roll your eyes, sinking lower. The man slips into the driver's seat, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror as he starts the engine.

As you settled into the luxurious car, you felt annoyed at being stuck with this stuck up celebrity. Drew glanced at you in the rearview mirror, attempting to make small talk. "So, how's your head feeling?" he asked. You shot back with a healthy dose of sarcasm, "Oh, it's just peachy. Thanks for asking, Mr. Celebrity."

Drew's expression remained calm, but you detected amusement in his eyes. He continued to drive, navigating the city streets with ease, until you finally arrived at the hospital. As you entered the emergency room, the lights only added to your growing headache. A doctor approached you, asking a series of questions about the accident. After a quick examination, he led you to a private room for a scan.

The wait felt long, but eventually, the doctor returned with the results. "Well, the scans came back empty, so I think you'll be just fine," he said with a reassuring smile. Drew peeked his head into the room, "So, she'll be okay?" The doctor nodded, adding, "Just make sure your girlfriend drinks water and stays off her feet for a while, just to be safe."

You quickly corrected him, "He's not my boyfriend." Drew chimed in, "Yeah, unfortunately." You rolled your eyes, retorting, "God, you're so full of yourself." Drew shot back, "I wasn't being cocky, I was just saying anyone who dates a brat like you is in for a treat." To which you laugh at.

The doctor excused himself to retrieve some paperwork, leaving the two of you alone. You turned to Drew, asking, "So, Mr. Movie Star, what's it like finally not being the center of attention?" Drew's response was filled with sarcasm, "I'm literally killing myself over this." To your surprise, you laughed at his remark, and he smiled, adding, "Just because I'm a movie star doesn't mean I'm not human." You nodded, "I know, but that doesn't make you exempt from me going off on a guy who hit me with a door." Drew chuckled, "Yeah, I guess so."

As the conversation continued, you proposed an idea, "Hey, how about you give me an autograph and I'll sell it to pay for this hospital bill?" Drew agreed, "Deal, pretty girl." However, he added a condition, "You can't tell anyone about this, not even your closest friends, or else the press would get the wrong idea."

You assured him, "I wasn't planning to, you're not that big in my world." Drew replied, "Right," but you quickly added, "But now you are, since you're my knight in shining armor." A smirk spread across his face at the remark.

Before long, the doctor returned with the paperwork, and Drew got up to leave, grabbing his suit jacket and a piece of paper. He scribbled his signature on it, handing it to you with a small note attached,

"I really hope you're gonna be okay." Your eyes widened as you gazed at the autograph, accompanied by a wad of cash and his phone number. The note read, "I'll pay for your bill, but give me a call, and maybe you could ride in my car to a restaurant and not a hospital. Sell it if you want, but I'll be really sad if my number gets leaked."

A small smile crept onto your face as you read the message and the brat in you softened ever so slightly. Maybe he isn’t who you thought he was.

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew x fan #drew fluff #drew starkey #rafexreader #rafe fluff #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey fanfiction #starstruck #fanfic #fanfiction

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cinnamongrl2006 · 1 month ago

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Omg can you please please do older bf/sugar daddy Bruce I absolutely love ur work

Older bf Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Sorry for my absence, life has been beating me up (quite literally), but I am back in full swing. As always, the age gap is legal, I feel the need to mention it. cw: fluff, age gap, insecurities (?), smut in part 2 summary: Bruce takes you out on a date for your birthday, but when people begin to look at you wrong he takes matters into his own hands.

part 1 | part 2

You weren’t completely sure how your arrangement with Bruce had begun, but somewhere between flirty conversations at events and muttered hellos in passing, the two of you had fallen into a steady rhythm. What started as a simple acquaintance had blossomed into a relationship.

So now there you were, standing on the street outside of your apartment, phone in hand, carelessly scrolling as you waited for his car to show up. You heard it first, roaring from down the street, and then you saw it— saw him, as he rolled the window down to greet you— park in front of you.

He got out of the car and jogged towards you, embracing you once he got to you.

"How's the birthday girl doing?" He spoke into your hair, breathing you in.

"Better now that you're here." You mutter, face smushed against his shirt.

He led you back to the car, opened the door and helped you settle against the seat before jogging back to the driver's seat.

You rested your head against the car window, watching the city streets, the night lights, the traffic go by. Bruce's hand laid steadily atop your thigh, his touch warm and grounding. He squeezed your flesh periodically, as if to remind you he was there.

"I got you something, but you'll have to see it later, 'kay?" He mumbled, looking over at you, the red light of the stoplight made his sharp features stand out, his gaze almost aggressive.

"Then why tell me now?"

"Because I don't want my girl thinking I'm not spoiling her. I'd just...rather do it somewhere private." He winked at you before hitting the throttle again once the lights went green.

The first thing you noticed when you walked into the restaurant was the low lights and the soft jazz music playing. Then, you noticed the people—couples having dinner, just like you and Bruce—except they didn't look like you, not really. The women were middle-aged, dressed in classy pearl-colored dresses with tastefully painted nails, their skin pulled taut and diamonds adorning their wrists. Their husbands looked just like your boyfriend.

Bruce had assured you many times you belonged there, but standing there, waiting for the maitre'd to come over, in your high heels, red dress on hugging your waist, you couldn't have felt more out of place.

He squeezed your hand arrhythmically, brought it up to his lips, kissed your knuckles. When you did nothing in response he looked over at you, one brow raised in concern. You didn't meet his gaze, to engrossed in a staring contest with a woman in some other table. Way to spend your birthday.

Once the maitre'd got back to where you stood he excused his absence and led you to your table, in a secluded booth, away from prying eyes. Bruce had always valued privacy, more so when he started dating you, the backlash came almost instantly after your first public appearance together, and then never really stopped; you'd learned to ignore it, Bruce did the best he could to help you avoid it.

Throughout the dinner you felt their eyes on you, like phantoms poking at your skin, vipers biting at your flesh. You knew the looks you were getting without even having to turn your head.

Bruce held your hand on the table, his fingers, curious, played with your rings, your acrylics, your bracelets. He failed to notice the way your heart sped up and your eyes found solace in your lap, the way your palms began to sweat and your cheeks reddened. At least you weren't fucking crying, you thought, but then the waiter brought a birthday cake, and more eyes were on you, and you swore you were happy but god could people mind their business?

Bruce noticed after taking a photo of you, trying your hardest to smile for him, he was so happy, smiling softly under the low lights of the restaurant, his gaze sticky and thick like caramel— and then he noticed, your smile faltered for a second, your brows knit with discomfort as you tugged on your clothes, your hair, the stupid napkin on your lap that wasn't smooth enough, why wasn't it smooth enough.

"Hey," His deep voice broke you out of your worries, "let's leave. I'll get the check, you wait in the car, how does that sound?"

"Yeah, fine. Sorry, I just—"

"—got overwhelmed, I know. I know you." His voice was authoritative and sweet, in a way that made you feel protected, safe, like you could just let him take the lead and you'd get to where you needed because he always looked out for you.

You got up from your chair, gathered your stuff and exited the restaurant, trying your hardest not to break in there. The tears came as you sat in the car waiting for Bruce. You saw him move around the establishment, talking to servers and the maitre'd, from the stern look on his face it seemed like he was arguing. He always did that, got into passive aggressive arguments to defend you.

And then he walked out, winking at you, smirk on his face.

"Bought the place. We'll do some...staff rearrangements, change some of the rules...ban a few people, maybe next time we'll be able to actually enjoy our dinner in there."

Your tears dried down almost instantly, sobs replaced by giggles. "B, that's so reckless! You can't just buy a restaurant because someone in there looked at me wrong." "Yes, I can," He hummed. "It's your birthday." He argued.

Bruce had never been one for bold displays of affection— you sometimes swore he had the emotional range of a wet wipe— and he found that spending his money was a way for him to demonstrate he loved without having to risk anything. That's why you'd learned moments like this mattered, where he bought a restaurant out of spite for all of the clientele, threatening to ban them if you wanted to dine there again.

But what you liked the most was when he wasn't trying to prove he could love, when he simply did it. When he took pictures of you when you were sleeping or eating, or sitting in the yard drinking coffee in the morning, pictures he took to remember how his heart had done a little flip when he saw you like that.

When he struggled trying to post them on social media, because you looked so beautiful the whole world had to know. His usually deft fingers, so smooth when it came to Batman technology, felt too big, too heavy for instagram.

The car ride back to the manor was quiet, his hand traced small circles on the flesh of your thigh all the way. He was at your side, picking you up into his arms immediately after parking the car and killing the engine, apologetic look on his face.

"I really wanted it to be a good birthday for you, sweet thing, I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck as he carried you upstairs.

"B, don't say that, it wasn't bad. I was with you."

Once he got to the bedroom he set you down on the bed, beside a pink box with black bows on it— your birthday present, lingerie. How on brand for him— but his gaze was stuck on you.

His hands caressed your ankles before he helped you kick off your shoes, finally looking away from you, offering the pink box to you by setting it on your lap.

"You don't have to wear it tonight, we can just put you to bed and leave it for tomorrow, but I thought you'd look beautiful in that." He whispered on your ear from over your shoulder.

You nodded silently and undid the bows, opening the box to reveal a black lace matching set, pretty soft pink bow at the front of the panties.

"I'll go put it on."

"Okay." He kissed the exposed skin of your back, and tapped you in the ass once you'd gotten up from the bed.

────୨ৎ────

co-written with @cherrycolaheartss tags: @laceyfaeryy, @resting-confused-face

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thedensworld · 1 month ago

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When Love Kills | W. J

Pairing: Wen Junhui x reader

Genre: mafia au!, exes au!

Type: angst, fluff, action, smut (mdni!)

Word count: 12k

Summary: Love is a double-edged sword—one for a kiss and one for a kill. Jun was meant to do one thing: uphold his family’s ruthless legacy. But everything changed when he met the woman he loves.

Jun arrived in South Korea after six years, returning to a place that felt strangely like home. The city had changed—skyscrapers seemed taller, neon lights brighter, and the streets more crowded, all moving at a relentless, breakneck pace. Yet the air held a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of the time he first set foot here a decade ago, learning the language, understanding the world of business, and tasting a freedom he rarely experienced back home.

The driver navigated the bustling roads, eventually pulling up at a high-end hotel where Jun would stay until his work was done. A simple task, at least in theory—secure the prime minister’s daughter.

Ji Jaekyung, the prime minister, had quietly forged an alliance with a rival syndicate in South China. Betrayal was something Jun’s father could never tolerate, and he had ordered his son to ‘take care of it.’ But Ji Jaekyung was a cautious man, his daughter a carefully guarded secret. No photographs, no public appearances—she was a ghost even in this hyperconnected country. Yet Jun had his ways.

A single bank account—the one receiving regular transfers from Jaekyung—had led Jun to her. A small apartment in a quiet neighborhood, nothing extravagant, almost too ordinary. Tonight, he stood across the street, watching through the café window. She was there, laughing, her short hair framing her face, eyes crinkling with joy as she spoke with someone—a boyfriend, perhaps? That would make things more interesting.

Jun’s gaze lingered, a strange pang tugging at his chest. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected to feel anything at all. But there was something familiar about the sight of this city, a memory buried beneath years of distance.

Back in his hotel room, the city lights spilled through the tall glass windows, casting a cool glow. He should be focused, preparing his men for tomorrow's briefing, but his mind refused to stay on task. His thoughts wandered, retracing old memories of this city—the late-night walks, the crowded markets, the warm, humid summers.

And most of all, the girl he met one summer night. You.

He hadn’t thought of you in years, and yet now, in this familiar city, the memory of you felt too close, too vivid. The taste of yout laughter, the warmth of your touch—it all rushed back with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

But that was then. This was now.

Tomorrow, he would have to forget sentiment. His father had given him an order, and sentiment had no place in this world.

Jun woke up in the morning with a dull ache of desire, a boner—one night in Seoul, and already his dreams were haunted by memories of you. He sighed, glancing down at the unmistakable evidence of his thoughts. His hand reached for his phone, fingers dialing quickly.

"I’ll be late for the meeting," he informed his men, voice steady despite the heat pooling in his chest. "Something urgent to take care of. Very healthy, I assure you."

He leaned back against the pillows, letting his mind wander. "Y/n…" he whispered, the name a ghost on his lips. Memories rushed in uninvited—one summer night in college, the first time he saw you.

It was the beginning of summer break. Jun and his friends had decided to blow off steam at an arcade. The place was alive with flashing lights and laughter, but nothing captured his attention like the girl on the dance game platform. Long hair swaying, laughter bright and infectious, you danced with a carefree joy that seemed to pull all eyes toward you.

"This is Y/n," one of his friends had introduced, nudging him. "She’s an art student."

Art student—that explained the wild creativity in your movements, the way you painted the air with every step. But what lingered most was your scent, a subtle sweetness that seemed to linger even when you weren’t near, an intoxicating memory.

One date became two, then three, and soon, he found you in his bed, bare and vulnerable, the world beyond those sheets forgotten. For the first time, Jun felt himself attach to someone—truly, dangerously. And it was you.

You held him with a warmth and softness no one else could replace—a touch that seemed to whisper comfort, a presence that wrapped around him even in the coldest of nights. If he ever met you again, he would make sure you knew that nobody else had ever taken your place. But there was one problem—he didn’t know if he would ever meet you again.

"Y/n, where are you?"

Jun waited in the shadowed corner of an old, abandoned building, its peeling walls and broken windows a testament to forgotten days. His fingers drummed lightly against the worn leather of the chair’s armrest, impatience simmering beneath his calm exterior. His people were on their way, and they had clear instructions.

"Bring her alive. Don’t you dare touch her," Jun had ordered, voice cold and precise. At least not before he arrived. Killing her immediately would be such a waste. There was so much potential—so many ways she could be useful. And if there was one thing his father valued, it was Jun’s efficiency. He never wasted anything. He never left a trace.

The creak of the rusty door pulled him from his thoughts. Jun stood as three men entered, one carrying a figure slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice—unconscious, her limbs hanging limply.

"Money first, then we’ll hand her over," one of the men demanded, his voice gruff.

Jun’s gaze slid to his right, where Minghao stood with a quiet, composed demeanor. A silent nod from Minghao, and Jun gestured for the money to be handed over. One of the men seized the briefcase, snapping it open and greedily flipping through the crisp bills.

They set the girl down on a dusty chair, her head lolling forward, long dark hair cascading over her face. But as Jun stepped forward, a chill ran down his spine. Something was wrong.

"Are you sure this is the right girl?" Jun’s voice was sharp, a sliver of suspicion threading through his usual calm.

"She's the only one there," one of the men replied, barely looking up. "Exactly where you told us."

Jun’s jaw tightened. The girl he had seen last night had shoulder-length hair. This one… He reached out, brushing a few strands aside—and his world seemed to freeze.

Familiar features stared back at him, pale and unconscious but unmistakable.

"Y/n…" he whispered, the name escaping him like a secret he had tried to bury.

Ji Y/n. His ex-girlfriend. The woman who had vanished from his life six years ago.

"What’s wrong, boss?" Minghao’s voice cut through the tension, but Jun barely heard it.

His chest tightened, a storm of emotions crashing against his resolve—shock, confusion, and something he didn’t dare name.

He forced a steady breath, eyes never leaving your face. "We’re going to stay here longer than expected," he murmured, his voice betraying none of the chaos inside.

The drive back to his hotel was tense and silent, the hum of the city outside muted by the weight of his thoughts. In the back seat, you lay slumped against the leather, still unconscious, your chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm—a reminder that this was real. That you were real.

Once inside his suite, Jun dismissed his men, locking the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring at your figure on the king-sized bed, trying to process the chaos in his mind.

Six years. Six years of unanswered questions, of searching without knowing he was searching. And now, you were here. But why? How?

Stepping closer, he leaned over you, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The softness of your skin was the same, the gentle curve of your lips unchanged. Memories threatened to overwhelm him—the laughter you shared, the nights tangled in each other’s warmth, and the sudden, aching emptiness when you disappeared.

His jaw clenched. He needed answers, but he wouldn’t get any while you were unconscious.

He turned away, forcing himself to think logically. First, he needed to make sure you were unharmed. Jun grabbed a damp towel, gently wiping away the faint traces of dirt on your cheek. Your breathing remained steady, your pulse calm beneath his fingertips.

But who were you now? What had brought you to this dangerous world? Are you the daughter of Ji Jaekyung?

Jun leaned back against the wall, his gaze never leaving you. For now, he would wait. Because the moment you opened your eyes, he would demand every answer you owed him.

Morning light filtered through the hotel’s thick curtains when you finally stirred, your head pounding, ears ringing. A dull ache spread through your body as consciousness returned in fragments. Flashes of memory hit you—the door of your apartment bursting open, three towering men storming in. You thought it was Jena, your friend, coming by. But then rough hands grabbed you, muffled your screams, and darkness swallowed you.

A familiar voice pulled you from the fog of confusion.

"Awake already?"

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the bright room. Clean sheets, a spacious layout—luxury everywhere. Panic tightened in your chest until your gaze landed on the figure leaning casually against the wall.

"Moon Junhui…" you whispered, disbelief lacing your voice.

A faint smile played on his lips. "So you do remember me."

You pushed yourself up on the bed, the silk sheets slipping from your shoulders. "Where am I? What is this—"

"A hotel room. My hotel room." He stepped closer, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, an unsettling calm in his eyes. "Relax. You’re not going anywhere… yet."

Silence thickened between you, tension simmering beneath the surface.

"What is Ji Jaekyung to you?" Jun’s question cut through the air.

You frowned, your heart pounding faster. "What’s wrong with him?"

"So, he’s not your father?"

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. "He… he is my father."

Jun’s gaze sharpened, a dangerous curiosity in his eyes. "You don’t sound so sure. Your father passed away when you were sixteen, Y/n. So tell me… which one is a lie?"

Your breath hitched, the truth clawing at your throat. Six years of running, hiding, trying to forget. And now you were trapped—trapped in a room with the one person you never thought you’d see again. The one you once loved… and you tried to hate.

He moved toward you, and you instinctively scooted back, your back pressing against the headboard. But before you could retreat further, his hand caught your wrist—not harshly, but firmly.

"Relax," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your arm, where a faint blueish mark had begun to form.

Jun’s eyes darkened. "Why would you defend yourself against men twice your size?" His thumb traced the bruise lightly, his touch almost gentle despite the situation.

You didn’t answer, your throat tight, a mix of fear and stubborn pride keeping you silent.

Jun sighed, pulling out his phone and calling for room service, his tone cold and commanding. "Bring a first aid kit. Now."

But as he ended the call, his gaze lingered on you—intense, unreadable. Memories you tried to forget flooded back—his touch, his voice, the warmth you once craved. And you hated how, even after six years, he still held something in your chest—an ache you couldn’t ignore.

"Now, you’re going to tell me—who is Ji Jaekyung’s real daughter?" Jun’s voice cut through the quiet of the room, sharp but calm as he watched you finish your breakfast.

He had tended to your bruises himself, his touch surprisingly gentle, ordering room service to bring you a warm meal. He hadn’t said much, letting you eat in silence while he took a shower. But now, standing before you in his neatly tailored suit, his patience was gone.

"I’m his daughter," you replied, your voice steady.

Jun chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "I dated you, Y/n. I knew your family. Ordinary people. They weren’t part of any political circle, let alone connected to Ji Jaekyung."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "I told you, I’m Ji Jaekyung’s daughter. If you have anything to do with him, then do it to me."

Jun’s expression didn’t change, but there was a brief flicker in his eyes—something like frustration or disbelief. He said nothing more, simply adjusted his suit jacket and stepped away. Moments later, you heard the door click shut behind him.

Silence settled around you. He was gone, leaving you alone in the spacious, luxurious room. A chance. Maybe your only chance.

Just as you stood, a voice cut through your thoughts.

"I’m Minghao, Mr. Wen’s right-hand man."

You froze, turning to see a young man leaning casually by the door. He had a calm, almost disinterested expression, but his gaze was sharp.

You sighed, leaning back against the plush chair. "You mean Moon Junhui?" you corrected, using Jun’s Korean name.

Minghao’s lips twitched slightly, a hint of a smile. "Yes. He went out for a business meeting and left you with me. You’re not allowed to leave without my supervision."

Your hands clenched in your lap, a mix of frustration and resignation washing over you. That man—he hadn’t changed at all. Still controlling, still calculating.

And yet, even now, your chest tightened with a confusing ache—anger, fear, and something else you refused to name.

Jun returned to the hotel room as the evening sun cast a warm, fading light through the curtains. His suit jacket was the first to go, discarded over a chair, his gaze immediately falling on you, curled up on the bed, still asleep.

"Did she say anything about Jaekyung?" Jun asked, loosening his tie.

Minghao, who stood by the window, shook his head. "No, sir. She insists she’s his daughter."

Jun’s lips curled into a faint smile. "I believe even his real daughter would rather disown him," he muttered, waving Minghao off. "You can leave for tonight. I’ll be going alone."

Minghao nodded, slipping out quietly.

Jun walked over to the bed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. A moment of quiet hesitation. Then he leaned down, gently touching your shoulder. "Wake up. I’ll drive you back to your apartment."

You stirred awake, blinking against the dim light. His words barely registered, but you nodded, getting up slowly. In the car, the silence stretched between you two, thick and tense. Jun’s eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable.

At your apartment, you fumbled for your keys, and Jun followed you inside without asking, his eyes scanning your modest living space.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend?" Jun asked, picking up a framed photo of you with a younger man, both of you smiling brightly.

"So you like them younger now?" he teased, a hint of something bitter in his voice.

"Not your business, Jun," you muttered, already searching for your phone, checking if you missed any important messages.

A sudden knock at the door cut through the tension. "Y/n, are you ready? We need to be there before the Prime Minister," a man’s voice called out.

Panic surged through you. You spun around, grabbed Jun by the wrist, and dragged him into the kitchen. "Stay here. Don’t make a sound."

You rushed back, smoothing your clothes, and unlocked the door with a bright, apologetic smile. "Sorry, I fell asleep. I’ll be ready in 15 minutes."

"Got it. Don’t take too long," the man replied, his footsteps fading down the hall.

You turned to find Jun leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You need to go, Jun."

"Going somewhere with the Prime Minister, are we?" he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. "So tell me, are you his daughter or his mistress, Ji Y/n?"

Your patience snapped. You tried to step past him, but his hand shot out, catching your wrist. His touch was firm but not painful, his eyes searching yours. The heat of his presence was too familiar, too close.

"Let go," you hissed.

"Make me," he challenged, his voice low.

In a swift motion, you stomped on his foot, and he grunted, instinctively letting you go. You didn’t spare him another glance, marching off to your bedroom to get ready.

Behind you, Jun leaned against the wall, rubbing his foot with a mix of pain and reluctant admiration. "Still got some fight in you, huh?" he muttered under his breath, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

Jun watched you all night, his car parked discreetly across the street. He saw everything—from the moment you stepped out of the sleek black car, escorted into a high-end restaurant, to the late hours when an older man led you into a lavish hotel lobby.

His jaw tightened, fingers gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His chest twisted with a mix of rage and disgust. He had pieced it together, or at least he thought he had. Ji Jaekyung was using you, presenting you as his daughter to entertain his clients—perhaps even worse. The thought sickened him.

By the time dawn brushed the city with pale light, Jun was already waiting in your apartment, a storm of emotions swirling beneath his calm exterior. The door creaked open, and you stepped in, your makeup smudged, hair disheveled, exhaustion written all over your face.

"Tell me," Jun's voice cut through the quiet, cold and sharp. "What is that bastard making you do?"

You froze, surprise flashing across your features before you frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Ji Jaekyung," he spat the name like a curse. "What is he making you do? Is he forcing you to entertain his clients? To sleep with them too?"

Your expression twisted with shock, then fury. "Fuck you, Jun. It’s none of your business!"

"None of my—" He stepped forward, his towering presence making the small space feel even tighter. "It becomes my business when I see you being treated like—"

"Like what?" you snapped, your voice rising, tears stinging your eyes. "Like a tool? A pawn? How the hell did you even here?"

"Don’t twist this, Y/n! I’m trying to help you, but you’re too stubborn, too damn prideful to admit you need it!" His voice escalated, fingers twitching with the urge to shake you awake.

"By accusing me of being a whore? By making me feel even smaller than I already do?" You tried to push past him, but he blocked your way, his glare unwavering.

"I’m not letting you walk away from this. Tell me the truth!" he demanded, his voice like a thunderclap.

"Get out of my way, Jun!" You shoved him, but he didn’t budge. His anger, his judgmental gaze—everything overwhelmed you.

"I won’t! Not until you—"

The sharp crack of your palm against his cheek silenced him. The room fell still, the sound of the slap echoing. Your chest heaved, tears spilling freely now.

"I’m tired, Jun. I’m so damn tired," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I don’t need your judgment. I don’t need your pity. And I don’t need you."

After leaving South Korea six years ago, Jun had learned how to mask himself. He buried the version of himself that only Seoul had known—the carefree, warm-hearted boy who once believed in love. In his father’s world, there was no room for softness. He trained relentlessly, sculpting himself into a weapon, a businessman, a strategist. He drowned himself in work, in power, in everything that would keep his mind too busy to think about you.

But tonight, as he watched you being paraded like a mistress—escorted by a man old enough to be your father, vanishing into the shadowed halls of a luxury hotel—every wall he built crumbled. All the effort to forget you was worthless. Because seeing you like that didn’t just hurt—it enraged him. You were his lover, and you were never meant to be anything else.

The phone in his hand felt like a lifeline, his father’s voice crackling on the other end. "It’s taking longer than expected to find his daughter," Jun reported, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"I’ve managed a few business matters here well," his father replied, almost dismissive. "Honestly, it would be easier to end him than to keep searching for his daughter. The man’s a coward—paying someone to pretend to be his child."

"I know. Ji Jaekyung is a damn snake," Jun muttered, jaw clenched. But now, a new resolve burned in his chest. He wasn’t just going to finish his father’s mission—he was going to save you, even if you didn’t want to be saved.

"Listen to me, Y/n," Jun's voice was sharp, cutting through the suffocating silence. He turned to face you, his expression a fierce mix of anger and desperation, while you stood there with tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Jaekyung has a lot of debt with my family in China. He promised his daughter as collateral for the deal, and he broke that promise. If you keep pretending to be his daughter, you’re walking straight into danger. Real, unforgiving danger."

His words struck like a whip, each one leaving a mark, but before you could even process them, Jun stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a thunderous bang. The sound echoed in your chest, leaving you alone in a silence that felt louder than anything else.

Your mother was murdered the night you left Jun.

The call came from the police, their voices cautious and clinical. They informed you that your mother had been found dead in her apartment. They tried reaching your brother, Seungkwan, but you knew they wouldn’t succeed—it was nearing the KSAT, and Seungkwan usually buried himself in his studies outside.

The first piece of evidence they found was a security camera recording of a stranger leaving your mother’s place in the dead of night. A dragon tattoo was visible on his arm—a dragon you recognized. The same ink Jun bore on his back.

"It's from a Chinese crime syndicate," the officer explained, his voice tinged with grim seriousness. "We suspect your mother may have been involved with them."

But you knew better. Your mother was no involved to the syndicate. And you couldn’t let Seungkwan know. He had worked so hard, pushing himself to become a police officer so he could catch the person who killed your father. Another tragedy would shatter him.

It all spiraled into a tangled mess. Your parents had once worked for Ji Jaekyung, and both were killed by people with that dragon tattoo. Now Jun, with the same tattoo, had shown up—searching for Jaekyung’s daughter.

One night, a man in a sleek suit appeared at your door 6 years ago. His expression was as sharp as his attire.

"Ji Jaekyung wants to meet you."

Seungkwan was asleep, exhausted from his studies, so you left quietly.

The proposal was straightforward: become Ji Jaekyung’s daughter. Smile, play the role, and he would pay you enough to support Seungkwan’s dream of entering the police academy. No further explanations, just one threat:

"Or else, we’ll have to do something about your brother."

That was the leash around your neck.

From that moment, you were a hostage in a game far beyond your control. You learned about Long Wei, the syndicate Jaekyung was tangled with—the same syndicate responsible for your parents' deaths. You thought you could uncover the truth by diving into this chaos, but instead, you were trapped deeper.

You hated all of it—the politics, the business, the way innocence was trampled for power. But you had no voice, no power. Just a thin, fragile line of survival with a bullet always aimed at your head.

"I brought chicken!" Seungkwan's delighted voice filled your apartment, a burst of warmth you didn’t realize you needed. You looked up from your laptop, seeing him still in his uniform, clearly fresh from his shift.

"You didn’t even change," you noted, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Figured I had some clothes here anyway," he quipped, already darting into your room. "Don’t start without me!"

Moments later, he emerged in a faded pajama set he had once left behind, immediately joining you at the small dining table where you’d set out the chicken and a few cold beers.

"My shift was a nightmare," Seungkwan grumbled around a mouthful of chicken. "Two separate thefts in one shift! Why do criminals love my schedule? Seriously, is it me?" He gestured dramatically, his expression an exaggerated mix of exhaustion and outrage.

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension you’d been carrying. "Maybe they just love giving you a challenge."

"Chicken is the best stress relief," he declared, tossing another piece into his mouth.

But your laughter faded when your phone buzzed, and you saw the caller ID—Ji Jaekyung’s assistant. A sense of dread settled in your stomach. The man wanted you at a meeting with clients tomorrow. Seungkwan’s eyes darkened as he recognized the name.

"I’m annoyed," he muttered, throwing his fork into the chicken box, his mood dampened.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your hand reaching for his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We have to get through this."

Seungkwan’s jaw tightened. "If only our parents hadn’t worked for that bastard, we wouldn’t be stuck in this mess—especially you."

A thick silence settled between you, rage and sadness lingering like an uninvited guest at your table.

"I promise, I swear," Seungkwan’s voice trembled, his grip on your hand tightening. "I’ll catch everyone who made our lives this hard. I won’t let them win."

"You have a beautiful daughter, Mr. Ji."

The familiar man across from you smiled, his words smooth but laced with something darker. So, this was how people like him played their games—one meeting with Ji Jaekyung, a pleasant exchange of words, deals sealed over expensive wine. And in the end, it was always the innocent who paid the price.

Just like your parents.

Would you be next?

Jun tilted his head, watching you squirm in your seat, your gaze fixed on the ornate carpet beneath you. Beside you, Ji Jaekyung wore a pleasant smile, sipping his wine with the ease of a man who controlled the room.

"Your visit was rather surprising, Jun. I was expecting one of your uncles, actually. I can't believe they sent the serpent himself," Ji Jaekyung mused, swirling his glass.

Jun chuckled, his voice light, but his eyes sharp. "I apologize if my visit seems a bit impolite. I was just playing around in the city—feeling nostalgic."

Jaekyung nodded, a smile never leaving his face. "Ah, nostalgia. I heard you graduated here. My daughter is an alumna of the same university."

Jun’s gaze shifted to you. "Is that so?" he murmured, leaning back with an air of casual interest. "You're very secretive about her for someone so beautiful."

Ji Jaekyung’s hand moved to your hair, brushing a strand behind your ear with a touch that felt cold rather than comforting. "She is beautiful. I simply want to protect her. You know how it is—enemies can be unpredictable."

"That's very fatherly of you," Jun said, his smile unwavering. "Do you consider me an enemy?"

Ji Jaekyung laughed, the sound loud and full, yet hollow. "Of course not. You're practically family. I know your grandfather, your father, your uncles... No, you could never be an enemy."

Jun’s smile widened, though his eyes never softened. "Since we’re practically family, may I take your daughter with me tonight? I find myself feeling a bit lonely here in Seoul."

Your eyes widened, a jolt of shock running through you. He had trapped you with a simple question—one that Ji Jaekyung couldn’t refuse without appearing rude, and one you couldn’t reject without risking angering either man.

"Of course, of course," Jaekyung agreed with a chuckle. "I’m sure my Y/n doesn’t mind. You don’t mind, right?" His gaze shifted to you, a smile masking a warning.

The weight of your fate pressed against you like a stone. You were nothing more than a pawn in their game, your life a currency exchanged with a polite smile. And maybe that was all you were meant to be—something to be used, polished, and displayed, but never truly free.

Jun drove in silence, the city lights spilling over the windshield, their glow a pale wash against the dark leather interior. The gentle hum of the engine filled the void between you, but it did nothing to calm the storm in your chest. Every breath felt sharp, every heartbeat a painful reminder of how your world kept spiraling out of control.

Your gaze remained fixed outside, the blurred neon signs and bustling sidewalks passing like ghosts. But your mind wasn’t in the present. It was wandering, lost in the echoes of a time you had tried so hard to forget.

Six years ago, you were different—bright-eyed and hopeful, your world centered around love and simple dreams. Jun was a part of that world, his laughter a melody you cherished, his touch a promise of comfort. But then everything shattered. Your mother was murdered. Your father’s name was stained with secrets and blood. Seungkwan was left clinging to his dreams of justice while you were forced to live as someone you weren’t.

Was it all a lie? Was Jun just another player in this twisted game? Even then, when he held your hand, whispered sweet promises—was he already playing a role? Was everything a calculated move, leaving you to fend for yourself in this nightmare?

The ache in your chest grew unbearable. You wanted to scream, to demand answers. But part of you was terrified—terrified of hearing the truth, of confirming that the one person you once loved was just another betrayal.

The car eventually slowed, pulling into the familiar driveway of the grand hotel where Jun was staying. He stopped in front of the entrance, but neither of you moved. He let out a quiet sigh, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

You didn’t respond. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, knuckles white. You had nothing to say to him. Nothing that wouldn’t break you further.

After a long moment, Jun stepped out, moving around to open your door. Ever the gentleman, even when his actions felt like cruel mockery. You stepped out, your legs feeling like lead, and followed him into the grand, silent lobby. The warm, golden light of the chandeliers felt oppressive, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness pooling in your chest.

The elevator doors closed around you, trapping you in the suffocating silence. You stood beside him, his reflection in the mirrored walls a ghost haunting your thoughts.

When the elevator chimed, you stepped out without waiting for him. But he followed, his footsteps quiet but ever-present. He opened the door to his suite, and you walked in, each step feeling heavier than the last. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and polished wood washed over you.

Your hands moved mechanically, a reflex born from nights of forced smiles and silenced pride. Your fingers reached for the zipper of your dress, pulling it down, the fabric slipping off your shoulders. Cold air touched your skin, but you didn’t feel it. You were numb, lost in the hollow routine you had perfected—a doll performing its part, a daughter sold for survival.

But just as you began to let the dress fall, a strong, calloused hand caught your wrist.

“Stop.” Jun’s voice was sharp, cutting through the suffocating silence. His grip tightened, his touch burning against your skin.

You looked up, your hollow eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was clenched, a faint tremor in his grip. Anger radiated from him, his dark eyes stormy, but beneath the fury, something else lingered—hurt, desperation.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice low but shaking with barely contained rage.

“What do you think?” Your voice was empty, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “This is what I’m supposed to do, right? Isn’t this what you wanted? What he wanted?”

“I never—” His voice broke for a second, but he quickly composed himself. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t you dare think I’m like them.”

“Then why did you take me?” Your voice rose, trembling, your chest heaving with a rush of anger you didn’t even know you had left. “Why, Jun? Is this your revenge? Is this how you prove your power over me?”

“Revenge?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is revenge? Watching you—watching you reduce yourself to this?” He released your wrist, but the heat of his touch lingered, burning against your cold skin. “This isn’t you, Y/n. This was never you.”

“Then who am I, Jun?” you shot back, your voice cracking. “A liar? A puppet? A pawn in your sick game?”

“No.” He took a step closer, his anger palpable, but there was something else—pain, raw and unhidden. “You’re the woman I—” He stopped himself, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Damn it, Y/n. You’re not some doll for them to play with. Not for him. Not for me.”

“Then what am I?” Your tears broke free, hot against your cheeks, your voice desperate. “Because this is all I know now, Jun. This is all I’ve become.”

A thick silence fell between you, your breaths heavy, your tears blurring your vision. His fists were clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if fighting to keep his own emotions in check.

You stood there, trembling, your arms wrapped around yourself like a fragile shield. Jun’s presence was overwhelming—tall, intense, his dark eyes fixed on you with a mixture of shock and anger. But you couldn’t stop. The dam had broken, and the words poured out like a torrent you couldn’t control.

“My father… he was killed. By people with those dragon tattoosn. And I thought it was just a coincidence, I thought… I thought I could escape. But I couldn’t.” Your voice wavered, your breathing coming in short, frantic gasps. “I met you, and for once, I thought I could be happy. But then… my mother—my mother was murdered too. They said it was the same people. The same syndicate. Your people.”

Jun’s eyes widened, his brows knitting together. He tried to reach out, but you stepped back, your voice rising.

“Don’t touch me!” you cried, the tears streaming down your face. “Don’t you dare touch me, Jun. I was a fool. I thought I could protect Seungkwan, that I could find a way out. But I ended up becoming Ji Jaekyung’s puppet. I became his fake daughter, a plaything for his clients, all because I had no choice. And now you—” Your voice broke, a sob escaping your lips. “Were you part of it, Jun? Were you always part of it? Did you know everything?”

“Y/n, stop—” he began, but you cut him off.

“Stop what? Lying to myself? Pretending that you’re different from them?” You laughed bitterly, your knees giving out as you sank onto the cold floor. “I don’t know who you are anymore. I don’t even know who I am. I’m just a pawn in their game—a doll they pass around. And you… you might be just another player.”

Jun moved towards you, but you curled into yourself, hiding your face in your shaking hands.

“Did you use me, Jun? Did you ever care? Or was this all a game to you? A way to keep me under control? To keep me as a bargaining chip?” Your voice was hoarse, your body trembling uncontrollably. “Because that’s what I’ve become—someone they use, someone you might have used too.”

“Y/n, no,” Jun’s voice was rough, desperate. He knelt before you, reaching out but hesitating, his hands hovering in the air. “I swear, I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“Then why?” you looked up at him, your tear-filled eyes pleading. “Why are you here? Why are you pretending to protect me?”

“I’m not pretending.” He leaned forward, his own voice breaking. “I never used you. I never lied to you. I… I didn’t know about your parents. About your mother. I swear, Y/n.”

Your vision blurred, your breathing ragged. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe those desperate, pained eyes looking back at you. But the darkness around you was suffocating, and trust was a luxury you no longer had.

“Then what are you, Jun?” you whispered. “A savior? Or just another monster wearing a kind face?”

His hands finally found yours, his touch warm, but you couldn’t feel it. You were drowning, trapped in a whirlpool of doubt, fear, and grief.

“I’m someone who won’t lose you again,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Jun’s arms held you tighter, his embrace warm but desperate, like a man trying to keep you from slipping away. His hand cradled the back of your head, his lips pressing against your hair as he whispered, “Y/n, listen to me. I swear to you, I didn’t know. I didn’t know they would hurt your family. I didn’t know you were trapped like this.”

His voice trembled, yet there was a firm resolve beneath the fear. “I swear, I’m not a part of Jaekyung’s schemes. I came here to deal with him, to bring him down for everything he’s done—not just to you, but to everyone he’s destroyed.”

You leaned back slightly, your tear-streaked eyes meeting his, searching desperately for any hint of deception. Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Are you telling me the truth? You’re not lying to me again?”

“I’m not lying. Not now, not ever again.” Jun’s gaze never wavered, his thumb gently brushing away your tears.

Your fingers tightened on his shirt, fear and desperation clawing at your chest. “Then save me, Jun. Please. I can’t do this anymore."

Jun’s thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears, his touch so gentle that it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them—regret, longing, and something deeper, something that had never truly left even after all these years.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t a hesitant kiss, nor a cautious one—it was a kiss of desperation and yearning, of a man who had lost you once and was terrified of losing you again. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent warmth flooding through your chest, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as though he needed you to breathe.

You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as though he was the only solid thing in your crumbling world. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him, and you felt the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Jun’s kiss softened, the fierce urgency giving way to something deeper, something that spoke of all the years of regret, the nights spent wondering if he should have come back sooner. His lips trailed over yours, slow and tender, as though memorizing the shape of your mouth, whispering promises with every touch.

Your hands slipped up to his shoulders, and you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch. But he didn’t pull away; if anything, he pulled you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair, his forehead resting against yours as his lips moved softly, lovingly against yours.

“I missed you,” he breathed against your lips, the words a quiet confession. “I never stopped thinking about you, never stopped loving you.”

A soft, broken sound escaped your throat, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. “Don’t leave me, Jun. Please… promise me, don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” he whispered, and you could hear the promise in his voice, the desperate need to be the man you could trust again. “I swear, I won’t.”

His lips found yours again, slower this time, savoring each second, each gentle press, his hands cradling you with a care that made your heart ache. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a silent vow that you weren’t alone anymore, that he would stand with you, fight for you.

And for the first time in years, in his arms, you felt safe.

Jun's sleek, black car sliced through the bustling city streets, the quiet hum of the engine a sharp contrast to the tension hanging in the air. Minghao sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed ahead, but his voice clear and steady.

“Her parents worked for Ji Jaekyung for a long time,” Minghao began, fingers drumming lightly on his knee. “Her father, Ji Ho-seok, was a lawyer—he worked for us. Her mother was a housewife, quiet but smart.”

Jun leaned back against his seat, his jaw clenched as Minghao laid out the twisted history. The dim overhead light cast sharp shadows over his face, making the anger in his eyes even more pronounced.

“So, Ji Ho-seok wasn’t just a victim of his own honesty,” Jun muttered, his voice low and edged with rage. “He was framed. Jaekyung made him a scapegoat, painting him as a traitor to Longwei so they would take him out.”

Minghao nodded, his expression grave. “That’s right. Jaekyung manipulated the narrative. Ho-seok’s death wasn’t just an accident. It was a calculated move. He convinced Longwei that Ho-seok was a threat, a liability who might expose their business dealings in Seoul.”

“And then he didn’t stop there,” Jun continued, his fists tightening. “Six years ago, he found out about Y/n. He used her—forced her into this fake daughter role to exploit his connections. And when her mother tried to protect her…”

“Jaekyung had her killed. Made it look like another syndicate move, but it was all part of his plan,” Minghao finished. “He knows that Y/n’s survival means his control over her. The moment she tries to escape, he can turn everything against her.”

Jun’s chest heaved with barely contained fury. The woman he loved had been caught in this twisted game for years—used, threatened, and forced to play a role that trapped her.

Jun strode into the safe house with Minghao and a group of guards trailing behind him. The cold, metallic hum of the place seemed to amplify the shock on the faces of the Longwei members stationed in Seoul. Their whispers died down immediately, replaced by a tense, suffocating silence. It wasn’t every day that their young boss appeared without warning—especially not with that fierce, unyielding glare in his eyes.

“Everyone, listen up.” Jun’s voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and authoritative. “I want this man found by tonight.”

Minghao stepped forward, holding up a clear, high-resolution image of a man—his features hardened with age, but the distinct dragon tattoo on his forearm was unmistakable. The room seemed to shift, the guards exchanging uneasy glances.

“This man killed Ji Ho-seok fifteen years ago,” Minghao announced, his voice steady but intense. “He was one of us—Longwei. But he betrayed that honor the moment he became a pawn in Ji Jaekyung’s game.”

Jun’s gaze swept over the room, his jaw clenched. “I want him alive. No excuses. No mistakes. If he tries to run, you make sure he regrets it.”

The men nodded, already pulling out their phones, making calls, and exchanging brief, whispered instructions. They knew better than to disappoint Jun—especially when his voice carried a darkness they rarely heard.

Jun stepped quietly into the hotel room, the soft click of the door almost drowned out by the city’s distant hum. His eyes immediately found you—sitting by the window, wrapped in one of the plush white robes, your knees drawn to your chest. Pale morning light filtered through the glass, painting you in a soft, ethereal glow, but your expression was distant, lost somewhere beyond the bustling streets below.

“You’re back.” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it carried a weight he couldn’t ignore.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone.” Jun closed the door gently behind him, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair. His gaze never left you, taking in the way your fingers absentmindedly traced invisible patterns on your knee.

Silence stretched between you two, but it wasn’t the comforting quiet you used to share. It was heavy—thick with questions, with fears, with everything left unsaid.

“I thought about everything… about how this started. How one decision ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice cracking just slightly. “I feel like I’m drowning, Jun… I don't even know if there’s a way out.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, kneeling beside you. His warm hand reached for yours, covering your cold fingers. “There is. I swear there is. And I’ll make sure you’re free from all of this.”

You looked down at him, searching his eyes, desperate for even a flicker of certainty. “You promise?”

“I do.” His voice was steady, his grip firm, grounding you. “I’ve already started. Minghao is tracking the man who killed your father. We’ll get answers. And I won’t let Jaekyung touch you again.”

Your eyes stung, a tear slipping free despite your best effort. “It’s just… I keep thinking you’re going to disappear too. Like I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone… just like everything else.”

Jun’s hand moved, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not now. Not ever.”

His forehead pressed gently against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I lost you once. I won’t lose you again.”

You met Seungkwan at a quiet, tucked-away cafe far from the city center. He was already there when you arrived, his uniform jacket draped over the back of his chair, his face pinched with worry. The moment you sat down, his sharp gaze settled on you.

"You look tired," he noted, his tone softening just slightly. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

You offered a weak smile. "Sleep has become a luxury I can't afford."

Silence hung between you as you stirred your coffee, the warmth seeping into your fingertips. Finally, you took a deep breath, bracing yourself. "Seungkwan, I need to tell you something."

His expression tightened, and he leaned in, immediately alert. "What is it?"

"It's about Jun. He... he’s here. And he promised to help me. To help us escape from Ji Jaekyung," you whispered, watching his reaction closely.

Seungkwan's face darkened, his jaw tightening. "Jun? Your ex, Jun? He's with Longwei. He's part of the syndicate. The same people who ruined our family."

"I know," you admitted, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I know what he is. But he promised me, Seungkwan. He’s not like the rest of them. He’s trying to help."

Seungkwan leaned back, crossing his arms, his disbelief painfully clear. "Help? A man from the same group that killed our parents? That controlled Jaekyung? How can you even believe him?"

"Because he’s different!" Your voice broke, drawing a few glances from nearby tables. You forced yourself to lower your tone, tears burning in your eyes. "Because I have no one else to turn to. Because I’m so tired, Seungkwan. I’m tired of being Jaekyung’s pawn. I’m tired of living in fear, of pretending, of wondering who will be next—us, our parents, everyone we love."

Seungkwan's expression softened, but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. "Sister…"

"He promised me, Seungkwan. He promised to protect me. I know how this sounds, but I trust him. Maybe I’m a fool, maybe I’m desperate, but I need you to believe in me. Just this once. Please, understand."

Seungkwan ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky sigh. "And what if you’re wrong? What if this is just another trap? What if he’s using you like everyone else?"

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice a bare whisper. "But I’d rather take a chance with Jun than keep living this nightmare. I can’t do it alone anymore."

Silence stretched between you two, only the faint clinking of cups and murmurs of the other patrons filling the air. Finally, Seungkwan leaned forward, his gaze soft but still cautious.

"Then let me help too. Don’t keep me in the dark. If you trust him, fine—but I’ll be watching. And if he betrays you, I won't hesitate."

A small, shaky smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you, Seungkwan."

"I just want you safe. That's all I ever wanted."

You stepped out of the cafe, the cool air brushing against your face, calming the lingering ache in your chest. The black sedan parked by the curb seemed almost out of place in this quiet neighborhood, but the tinted window rolled down as you approached, revealing Jun's familiar, composed face.

"How was the talk with him?" Jun asked, his voice steady but his gaze searching.

You slipped into the passenger seat, closing the door with a sigh. "He’s skeptical, but I told him everything. He’s worried, but… he’s willing to trust you. For now."

Jun's lips curved slightly, a trace of relief in his expression. "That’s a good start."

The car smoothly pulled away from the curb, and for a while, silence filled the space between you. But Jun’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, a quiet comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

"Let’s take a break today," he suddenly suggested, glancing at you. "There’s a place I want to take you."

You blinked, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "Where?"

"You'll see."

The cityscape gave way to quieter streets, familiar corners, and warm nostalgia began to seep into your chest. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized where you were—your old university district.

The car stopped by a small, colorful alley with photo booth stations lining one side, neon lights flickering in the daylight. Memories rushed back, the laughter, the warmth, the days when everything was simpler.

"We had our first kiss there," Jun pointed to a particular photo booth, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You remember? You were so nervous, kept laughing to avoid looking at me."

Your lips curved, a small laugh escaping. "And you kept teasing me until I got so annoyed that I pulled you down and kissed you first."

"Best surprise of my life." He chuckled, a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache.

Jun led you down the alley, his hand still holding yours, and he insisted you both take a new set of photos. The first shot captured your shy smile, the second was Jun leaning close to kiss your cheek, and by the third, you were both laughing, caught in that familiar, carefree feeling.

As the photo strip printed, Jun pulled you aside to a small cafe next door, the same place you used to visit after classes. He ordered the same iced coffee you loved, and you shared a slice of cake by the window, the warm sunlight painting gentle patterns on the table.

"You know," he murmured, watching you take a bite. "I thought I lost this feeling... That simple happiness of being with you."

Your fingers tightened around the cup. "I thought I lost you."

Jun leaned forward, resting his hand on yours. "You never did. And I won’t let you go this time."

Warmth spread in your chest, the weight of fear and doubts momentarily melting away. This was Jun—the Jun you loved, the one who made you feel alive. And for the first time in so long, you felt like you could breathe.

Jun drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gently holding yours. The city’s noise faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic whoosh of waves as the beach came into view. The golden hue of the setting sun stretched across the sky, its reflection dancing on the water’s surface.

He parked near the empty shoreline, and together, you stepped out, letting the cool breeze brush against your face. Without a word, Jun pulled down the back bunk of his car, and you both settled on it, facing the endless sea. His jacket draped over your shoulders, enveloping you in warmth as his arms wrapped securely around you.

Silence fell comfortably between you, the soothing crash of waves filling the space. The sky melted into a fiery orange, then a soft purple, stars slowly emerging one by one. But as the darkness grew, so did the weight in your chest.

Finally, you leaned against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. Jun’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, cutting through the quiet embrace of the evening. "Why did you leave me?"

Your breath hitched, eyes fixed on the waves crashing against the shore, a rhythmic reminder of how time never stopped, even when your world crumbled.

"I didn't leave, Jun... I was forced to disappear." Your voice trembled, the bitterness of the truth catching in your throat. "After my mother was killed, Ji Jaekyung came to me. He knew everything—who I was, who my family was, how vulnerable I was. He gave me a choice, or at least pretended to. Play his daughter, entertain his clients, and in return, he'd keep Seungkwan safe. But I knew it was never really a choice."

Jun's hold around you tightened, his jaw clenching against the side of your head. "And you couldn’t tell me? You couldn't come to me?"

A faint, sad smile curved your lips. "How could I? I didn’t even know if I could trust you back then. After I learned about your family’s connection. Everything became a blur, and I was scared. I didn’t know if you were part of it... if you were just another trap."

Silence stretched, heavy and cold. Jun’s fingers trembled slightly on your shoulder, his breath warm against your temple. "I would’ve torn the world apart for you… if you had just told me."

"Would you?" You whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Or would you have seen me as a burden—a weakness in your world of power and secrets?"

Jun leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes fierce, filled with a pain that mirrored your own. "You were never a burden. You were everything I wanted… everything I thought I couldn’t have. And I was an idiot to let you go."

Your hand reached for his, intertwining your fingers. "Then don’t let me go this time, Jun."

"I won’t," he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead, a promise sealed in the warmth of his touch.

Jun's strong hands gently lifted you onto his lap, and once you settled, he cupped your cheek with tenderness, his thumb brushing your skin as if you were the most delicate porcelain. His other hand began a slow exploration, starting at your thigh and gliding with a featherlight touch beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers traced every curve and dip of your body as he leaned in closer, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

"You're mine, Y/n," he murmured against your mouth, the words a gentle command. His hand slid to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss with a fervent intensity. "Say you're mine," he urged, his fingers dancing up your thighs, lingering at the curve of your waist before tracing the outline of your stomach.

You gasped his name, a soft moan escaping as his fingers brushed against your most sensitive spot, teasing and exploring with deliberate slowness. His lips never left yours, devouring you with a passionate hunger as his fingers slipped inside, moving with a steady, rhythmic intent. Captivated by the sounds you made, each soft whimper and sigh, he began to undress you, the cool night air whispering over your bare skin.

Your fingers moved with urgency, unbuttoning the last remnants of clothing between you both until skin met skin. He lifted you effortlessly, laying you back against the soft, worn cushions of the car's backseat. Spreading your legs, he positioned himself between them, his gaze locked on yours.

"Tell me each name that bothered you," he said, his voice a low promise. "I'll show them that touching you means messing with me."

With infinite care, he entered you, and the world around you seemed to disappear. The warmth and tightness enfolded him, and in that moment, there was only the two of you, cocooned in each other's embrace, with the gentle sound of waves lapping in the distance, an intimate symphony to your shared solitude.

Twelve men sat rigidly on the cold, metal chairs, fear starkly painted on their faces. Thick ropes wound around their torsos, binding them to the chairs, their wrists tied behind their backs, rendering them helpless. The dim light overhead cast a sickly glow, accentuating the sweat beading on their foreheads. The room smelled of damp concrete and something darker—panic.

Jun stepped into the room, Minghao trailing behind him with a steely gaze. Jun’s sharp eyes scanned each terrified face, lingering on the man he recognized—the one he saw that night, leading you through the hotel lobby. Rage simmered beneath his calm exterior, a silent storm brewing.

He remembered your voice, trembling but steady, each word a needle prick against his chest.

"What did they do to you?" he had asked, his jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving yours, desperate for the truth.

"Everything... They did... everything."

The quiet crackle of the burning charcoal snapped him back to the present. A thick metal rod, its tip glowing a fierce orange, sat on the smoldering heat, a twisted promise of pain.

"What should we do to them, boss?" Minghao's voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath his words, a coldness matching Jun’s simmering fury.

Jun's gaze never left the men, especially the one he recognized, whose face had turned ghostly pale.

"For whoever laid their hands on her," Jun’s voice was calm, almost emotionless—a chilling contrast to the violence in his words. "I want them to touch that." He pointed to the searing metal rod, the heat radiating from it like a promise of hell.

Minghao nodded, signaling to the men holding the rod. They stepped forward, the fiery glow reflecting in the captives’ wide, terror-stricken eyes. Some thrashed against their bindings, whimpering and begging, while others shut their eyes, murmuring desperate prayers.

Jun’s phone buzzed in his pocket, the screen flashing with a familiar name—Ji Jaekyung. He signaled Minghao to keep an eye on the captives before stepping away, his expression unreadable. With a swipe, he answered, his voice calm but guarded.

"Mr. Ji," Jun greeted, leaning against the cold wall.

"Jun, my boy!" Jaekyung's voice carried a forced warmth, laced with a hint of tension. "I haven’t seen my daughter since yesterday. She’s not answering her phone. I thought you two would be together. Care to tell me where she is?"

Jun’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. "She needed some fresh air, Mr. Ji. I figured she'd enjoy some time away without all the... usual pressures."

Jaekyung chuckled, though the edge in his laughter was clear. "Fresh air? That's sweet of you, but you know how dangerous this city can be. Especially for a young woman like her."

"Don’t worry, she’s in good hands."

"Good hands, you say?" Jaekyung's tone turned sharper. "I hope you're not forgetting our arrangement, Jun. You understand how important my daughter is to me... and how unpleasant things can get if something happens to her."

Jun’s fingers curled tighter around his phone. "Rest assured, Mr. Ji. I always take good care of what's mine."

A brief silence stretched between them before Jaekyung's voice softened again, but the threat lingered beneath. "See that you do. I expect her back soon, Jun. Don’t disappoint me."

The call ended, and Jun lowered the phone, his gaze darkening. He looked back at the room where the captives were. His grip on the phone was so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Minghao," he called out, his voice cold.

Minghao approached immediately, reading the look in his boss’s eyes. "Jaekyung’s getting anxious?"

"He's getting suspicious." Jun’s voice was low, almost a growl. "Have someone follow him. I want to know every move he makes. If he sends anyone to look for her, I want to know before they even leave his doorstep."

Minghao nodded, already typing instructions to his men. "And the men here?"

Jun’s gaze returned to the captives. His voice was ice. "Continue. Make them talk. I want to know everything they did to her. And I want them to feel what it means to lay their hands on her."

With one last glance at the room, Jun stepped out, his mind racing. He needed to protect you, and to do that, he needed to stay two steps ahead of Ji Jaekyung.

Jun’s car sped through the city streets, neon lights casting fleeting colors across his face. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he dialed the secure line to his father. The call connected after a few rings, and a deep, authoritative voice echoed through.

"Jun?" His father's voice carried the weight of decades of power. "Is something wrong?"

"Father," Jun began, his voice steady but tense. "I need your permission to eliminate Ji Jaekyung."

A sharp silence filled the line, followed by a low, incredulous chuckle. "Holding his daughter isn't enough? Have you lost your mind, Jun?"

"No, Father. I've seen enough." Jun’s voice remained firm. "Ji Jaekyung has tainted the deal further than Longwei expected. He’s using our name, manipulating our men, and worst of all—he's exploiting innocent lives. He uses a false daughter to shield his business, dragging her into a world of filth."

His father’s silence deepened, the weight of his contemplation almost palpable through the phone. "Are you certain this isn't personal?"

"It is personal too," Jun admitted without hesitation. "But even without the personal part, his actions have become a liability. He hides behind our name, but he’s a snake, corrupting our reputation."

"Jun, killing an ally can bring consequences. The balance in Seoul will shift. His partners, his clients, they might turn against us. He just needs a warning."

"But if we keep him, he’ll turn them against us with his lies and deceit. I can handle the fallout. I will clean up every trace."

"Would you stake your position for this decision?" his father asked, his tone now sharp, testing.

Jun didn’t hesitate. "Yes. If you give me your approval, I will do everything. No one will ever trace it back to us."

A slow exhale echoed from the other side. "Very well, Jun. But remember, this is your choice. If you fail, it’s your head on the line, not just his."

"I won’t fail, Father."

The call ended. Jun's jaw clenched as he tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. The weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him, but it was a weight he was willing to bear.

The car pulled up to the hotel, and Jun stepped out. His expression remained cold, but beneath that exterior was a storm of determination. He was going to protect you, no matter the cost.

The television screen in the hotel room flickered to life, its glow casting a pale light over the dimly lit space. You were curled up on the bed, staring blankly at the screen, trying to distract yourself from the whirlwind of emotions inside you. But then the program shifted, the tone turned urgent, and a news anchor appeared, her face a mix of shock and professionalism.

"Breaking News—South Korea's Prime Minister Ji Jaekyung has died in a tragic car accident earlier this evening. Authorities report that his vehicle lost control on a mountain road before crashing into a ravine. Emergency responders arrived on the scene, but Ji Jaekyung was pronounced dead on arrival. The cause of the accident is still under investigation, but preliminary reports suggest a possible brake failure. This sudden loss has sent shockwaves throughout the nation."

Your breath caught, and the remote slipped from your hand, clattering against the floor. A cold chill spread through you as your eyes widened. Ji Jaekyung… dead?

Your thoughts raced—was it truly an accident? Could it be connected to Jun? You remembered his words, his quiet but fierce promise to protect you. You covered your mouth, trying to suppress the mix of fear and relief flooding your chest.

The screen continued to show footage of the crash site—flashing lights, twisted metal, and officers cordoning off the area.

"The Prime Minister's office has yet to release an official statement. Reports indicate that Ji Jaekyung’s car was traveling alone, and there were no other passengers. The investigation is ongoing."

Your heart pounded against your ribs as the door clicked open. Jun stepped in, his sharp suit barely wrinkled, his expression unreadable as his eyes immediately found yours. He saw your pale face and glanced at the television.

"You did this," you whispered, a mixture of disbelief and shock in your voice.

Jun's face softened slightly, his steps careful as he approached you. "I told you I would protect you."

You stared at him, tears pooling in your eyes. "Did you… was it really an accident?"

"It was necessary," he said, his voice gentle but unyielding. "He can never hurt you again."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and your legs gave way, but Jun caught you, pulling you into his arms. His hold was firm, grounding you as your mind struggled to process everything.

"You… you killed him," you whispered against his chest.

"Yes," Jun murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "And I'd do it again to keep you safe."

The weight of everything crashed down on you all at once—fear, anger, betrayal, and an overwhelming sense of relief. Your chest tightened, and a sob tore itself free from your throat.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of Jun’s suit, twisting it as your body trembled. A wretched, broken cry escaped your lips, raw and unrestrained. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his shoulder as you buried your face against him.

"I-I thought… I thought he'd never let me go," you choked out, the words barely coherent between your sobs. "I thought… I thought I’d lose everything—Seungkwan, you—"

Jun’s arms tightened around you, a steady, protective embrace. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to hush your cries. He simply held you, letting you release every ounce of fear and pain you had bottled up for so long. His hand moved gently, cradling the back of your head, his other arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you.

"You’re safe now," he whispered, his voice steady, a calm in the storm of your emotions. "No one can hurt you. Not anymore."

Your sobs grew louder, uncontrollable. Years of suffering, of living under someone else’s shadow, of being used, manipulated, and threatened—all of it broke free. Your knees buckled, but Jun held you, sinking with you to the floor.

"I was so scared… so tired…" you cried, clinging to him. "I don’t want to be afraid anymore."

"And you won’t be," Jun murmured, resting his cheek against the top of your head. "I promised you, didn’t I? I will protect you… no matter what it takes."

You didn't know how long you cried—minutes, hours—it all blurred together. But through it all, Jun never let you go. He stayed, a silent, steady presence in the chaos of your breaking heart.

Life changed swiftly, almost ruthlessly. You followed Jun to Guangzhou, leaving behind the shadows of Seoul for the neon-lit city bustling with life. Jun was a name whispered with both fear and respect here, a man painted as the villain in countless stories. But to you, he was never a villain—he was your hero. The man who pulled you from the jaws of despair, who held you when you were broken, and who taught you how to survive.

Guangzhou was a different world. Jun's life was a world of negotiations done in half-lit rooms, whispers exchanged in crowded clubs, and loyalty measured in blood. You learned quickly that being Jun’s partner wasn’t just about standing by his side—it was about keeping up, about becoming strong enough to protect yourself and everything you held dear.

He introduced you to Minghao, who taught you self-defense. Hours spent in a private dojo, where you learned how to disarm a knife-wielding attacker, how to break a grip, how to move swiftly and strike precisely. Every bruise, every ache became a reminder of your growing strength.

Jun didn't just shelter you; he prepared you. Over sleek mahogany tables filled with maps and documents, you learned the art of strategy—how to anticipate moves, how to read people, how to negotiate. You became a quiet but sharp presence in his meetings, your observations valued, your voice heard.

"You’re not just my woman, Y/n," Jun whispered one night, his fingers tracing along your jaw as you lay in his arms. "You’re my partner. I need you to be strong. Strong enough to stand by me… and strong enough to protect yourself when I can’t."

And you became that.

Yet, being Jun's partner meant facing danger. You felt it the night a black sedan rammed your car, your body jolted against the seatbelt as your driver struggled to regain control. You heard it in the sharp, cracking sound of gunfire in a dim alley one evening, Jun’s arm pulling you against the wall, his body shielding yours.

You saw it in the cold glint of a knife pressed against your throat when you were kidnapped by a rival syndicate. You remembered the terror, the way your voice didn’t shake as you spoke to the man holding you, buying just enough time until Jun stormed in, his men dismantling the enemy with calculated precision.

But Jun, like he promised, was always there. When you were dragged out of the car wreck, he was the first face you saw, his voice soothing you even as blood ran down his cheek. When you were taken, he didn't sleep until you were back in his arms.

Your life was a dance on the edge of a blade, a world where chaos and calm intertwined. But in every shadow, Jun was your light. In every storm, he was your shelter. He was a villain in the stories of others, but to you, he was a savior.

Amidst all this, a call came from Seoul—Seungkwan’s voice on the other end, trembling but determined.

“I did it, Y/n,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I found him. I found the man who killed our parents.”

Your heart raced, the room around you fading into silence. “Seungkwan… where is he?”

“I have him in custody. He’s confessed. Ji Jaekyung set it all up—made him do it, made him kill them to cover his tracks.”

A cold rage settled in your chest, but also a twisted sense of relief. The ghosts of your parents had haunted you for so long, their deaths an open wound that never healed. Now, that wound had a face. A face that could finally be punished.

“Y/n?” Seungkwan’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, but a small, determined smile touched your lips. “I’m okay, Seungkwan. Because you did it. You brought justice to them.”

Jun noticed your tears as he entered the room, his gaze softening as he knelt before you. “What’s wrong?”

You met his eyes, your hand reaching out to grasp his. “Seungkwan found him… the man who killed my parents.”

Jun’s jaw tightened, his fingers threading through yours, offering his silent, unwavering support. “Then we’re one step closer, Y/n. To finally ending this nightmare.”

Or maybe, one more nightmare.

The grand hall of Long Wei's headquarters was a spectacle of opulence—crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over a sea of influential faces. Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air, but a sharp tension cut through the room as a man grabbed you, a knife pressed against your neck. Gasps rippled through the crowd, fear seizing those who watched. The man’s voice trembled as he shouted threats, his grip on you shaky, his eyes wild.

“Everyone back! I swear I’ll—”

But his voice faltered when he noticed the subtle change in the air—an eerie calm, an odd sense of confidence. You stood perfectly still, your breathing steady, your gaze unwavering. The knife against your skin was a cold whisper, but fear didn’t cloud your eyes. Instead, there was something else—annoyance.

Jun stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the marble pillar, a glass of wine still in his hand. His head was tilted slightly, a slow, amused smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t rush, didn’t shout. He simply watched, his eyes locked on you.

And you knew what that meant—his trust in you was absolute. Even though he was nervous, considering you were eight months pregnant, his confidence in your abilities never wavered.

The man’s grip tightened, his voice shaking. “I said move back, or she’s—”

Before he could finish, you moved. Your heel slammed down on his foot, hard enough that he cried out, his grip loosening just enough. Your hand shot up, grabbing his wrist, twisting it sharply until the knife clattered to the floor. His free arm reached for you, but you drove your elbow into his ribs with a force that made him gasp.

The room watched, frozen, as your fist collided with his jaw in a clean, precise strike, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Chaos erupted around you. Long Wei’s guards surged forward, tackling the man to the floor, rough hands ensuring he wouldn’t rise again. But you hardly noticed. Jun was already at your side, his arms wrapping protectively around you, pulling you close. His hand instinctively rested against the gentle curve of your stomach, feeling the faint movement within.

“You’ll be the death of me, baby,” he whispered, his voice half-scolding, half-loving, his lips brushing your temple.

You leaned into his touch, your own hand resting over his. “I didn’t even break a sweat.”

Jun chuckled, though there was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “If you weren’t eight months pregnant, I’d be proud. But right now, I’m just trying not to have a heart attack.”

Behind you, the party guests were beginning to murmur, the tension slowly dissipating. Long Wei’s men dragged the failed attacker away, and whispers of admiration and shock spread through the crowd. Even Jun’s father, who had been watching from the balcony, gave an approving nod.

“Come on,” Jun murmured, steering you gently toward a quieter corner. “Let’s sit you down. You’ve done enough for tonight, hero.”

You chuckled, letting him guide you, your fingers lacing with his. “Maybe next time, they’ll think twice before trying to mess with Long Wei’s family.”

Jun’s expression softened as he looked down at you, his hand never leaving your stomach. “They better. Because I can’t lose either of you.”

273 notes · View notes

bernardsbendystraws · 1 year ago

Text

𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐬 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Chris likes how the donut glaze looks on your lips.

Warnings: Smut, p n v, cum eating, male receiving, and more.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The street lights reflected on the dashed white lines as I make a left turn down the street. Music had been stopped a while ago, Chris’s voice being the only source of noise.

“No, yesterday for a video idea we tried a bunch of different donuts, but they all sucked-well, except for maple, but still-I’d prefer glazed. I was craving donuts, not garbage.” Chris rants through the car speaker.

I let out a soft giggle, the same complaint that had already been explained to me at least three times.

“How far are you?” He questions.

Gazing around at my surroundings, his house is right around the corner. I had the map to his house memorized mindlessly at this point.

Afterall, we are best friends.

“Um-I’m at the ugly green house.” I mutter.

“I’LL BE AT THE DOOR IN FIVE SECONDS! SEE YA!” He yells as I hear the line go dead.

I park the car in his driveway, looking over at the plastic food container in my passenger seat. Before I have the chance to grab it, Chris is yanking open my door and pulling me into his arms.

“Fucking missed you. God, I think I’m going insane, you even smell like donuts.” He compliments, inhaling deeply with his nose against my neck.

Goosebumps travel up my spine from the sensation. I pull away from his embrace, seeing a slight pout appear on his lips.

“I made us donuts! They’re the homemade one I made for your birthday last-”

The sentence is long forgotten as I let out a shriek. Chris’s arms reattach to me, squeezing me while jumping up and down.

“I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!!” He proclaims.

His voice echoes loudly so I place my pointer finger over his mouth. Chris shoves my hand off, holding it in his own.

“Don’t try to shush me! I’m excited! Now, let’s go in and eat!” He announces.

He leans into the open driver’s side door, grabbing the container on the adjacent seat and dragging me inside.

***

The cold kitchen counter feels freezing against the back of my thighs. I sit on the smooth granite, watching as Chris stands by the microwave.

“Why? I just want them now!” He whines with a child-like pout.

Laughing at his antics, I playfully punch him in the arm. “They taste better warm, remember? It’s only ten seconds!” I reason.

He begins to roll his eyes, but the beeping of the microwave snaps his attention back to the donuts. Pulling out the plate filled with an array of donuts, he places it on the counter next to me.

He moves in between my legs as he picks one up. He takes a colossal bite out of the warm desert and moans softly.

“Don’t be greedy!” I exclaim, placing a flat hand on his chest.

Chris moves the donut in front of my lips allowing me to take a bit. As my mouth waters from the sugary taste, I feel the warm glaze on my lips.

“Mmmmmmm, fuck these are so good.” I acknowledge, savoring the sweet taste on my tongue.

I bring my tongue out, licking my bottom lip clean as an attempt to wipe off the glaze. I shift my gaze up, seeing Chris’s intense stare.

He was staring with a certain look.

A look best friends don’t give each other.

“Chris?” I ask, calling him back to reality.

He shakes his head slightly, “Sorry, zoned out there for a minute,” He responds.

I move my hand that lays flat on his chest up onto his shoulder. He didn’t have a shirt on, which wasn’t unusual, and neither was me touching him. We constantly were hugging or leaning into each other.

Physical touch was our main way of showing how much we cared about one another.

One time, we had decided to get severely high together. One thing led to another and…we really showed physical affection. Especially him as he fucked me into pure bliss. The next morning, we agreed never to talk about it again.

But that didn’t stop me from thinking about how good he fucked his cock up into me all the damn time…

Especially right now.

The cold counter beneath me did almost nothing to soothe the heat between my legs. A burning of desire building up as I felt myself be overcome with a need for him.

“Here, open.”

I open my mouth, letting him place the donut inside.

As I take a bite, he pulls it away, brushing it all over the side of my face. His eyes look hypnotized at the sight.

“Chris!” I exclaim.

I pull my hand off of his bare shoulder to cover my mouth as I chew.

I barely finish swallowing the donut as he shoves it in my mouth once more, catching me off guard. More glaze is decorated on the side of my face, practically dripping from my chin.

That wasn’t the only thing dripping either.

I meet his gaze, the heat becoming hotter between my legs. I let my thoughts wander to the familiar memory of the hazy night we spent together. The night we were tangled up in the sheets with no regrets until the morning.

“Chris, are you even gonna eat the donuts I made you? I thought you were craving them!” I reclaim, holding his wrist back from shoving the warm dough back into my mouth.

Using my other hand, I grab the napkin next to us and wipe my face off.

“I’m not craving donuts anymore.”

The way the sentence falls out of his mouth makes my thigh squeeze together subconsciously, closing in around his torso.

“Chris…” I warn.

Chris places the donut back down on the plate, pulling me towards him. My legs wrap completely around him as he rests his hands where my hips and thighs meet, caressing with a firm grip.

“Chris…we can’t. We’re best friends.” I remind.

His face doesn’t falter in the slightest. His gaze only focused on my lips.

“How often do you think about it?” He asks.

He pulls his face down to the crook of my neck, leaving slow, soft, teasing kisses. My mind goes blank, but I don’t push him away. I rest my weight back on one hand behind me as my other one wraps in his hair.

“Think about what?” I ask, a newly found neediness clouding my emotions as I anticipate his response.

“Us. That night.” He mutters, his lips continuing against my neck.

I snapped back into my senses, “Chris. We agreed not to talk about it.” I state.

“You don’t wanna talk about how good I fucked you? How perfect you looked taking my cock, hm?”

I feel myself clenching around nothing at his words. His lips become hungrier, starved as his kisses turn to sucking and sucking turns to biting. I grind myself against him, attempting to get some sort of friction subconsciously. He pulls back up to my face, looking me directly in the eye.

“You gonna answer me or do I need to get it out of you in a different way?” He cocks an eyebrow up, tilting his head slightly to the side.

I don’t say anything. Instead, I fist my hand in the collar of his shirt and bring him down to me. He doesn’t hesitate, kissing me back with an aggressive passion.

Becoming dizzy from the lack of air, I pull back. He lets his lips kiss the side of my mouth, trailing a path down to the base of my throat.

One of his hands snakes up under my oversized shirt, a light pressure from a single fingertip tracing my skin as his lips are all over my neck. He places his palm flat, caressing my torso right below my breast.

“Do you want this?” He asks, pulling away to look up at me.

I nod my head, “Touch me, Chris.” I reply.

He grins at me, his hand covering my breast before tweaking the nipple, making me moan as I wrap my hand back in his hair. He brings his lips back down, ravishing each inch of my neck with a mix of soft kisses, harsh sucking, and light nibbles on the skin.

I couldn’t help but rock my hips against his hard erections, making him groan against my neck.

He pulls away once more, bringing his hand to take off my shirt in one swift movement. His lips come down to my chest, using the same pattern that he used on my neck.

It felt more than just good.

From the way his mouth was moving against me, his other hand rubbing the top of my thigh, getting closer and closer to where I wanted him most, to the friction I got from moving my hips to grind on his hardness.

It all felt fucking amazing.

Shamelessly, I let every sound slip out of my mouth, encouraging him as he continued.

“Why don’t you get on your knees for me, sweetheart…” he trails off, bring his hand up to my face and swiping his thumb against my bottom lip, “Wanna fuck your mouth and cum on your pretty little face.” He finishes, a daring look peering into my eyes as I look at him.

I nod, he helps me off the counter, pulling my sweats off as well. I let my knees land on the hard, wooden floor and place my hands on the tops of his thighs to support my weight.

I put my hand on his clothed dick, trying to pull his waistband down, but he stops me. “Uh-uh-uh, not so fast…gotta put your hair up first, hm? Good thing I always have a hair tie for you.” He remarks, pulling the black elastic off his wrist.

He had always carried around a hair tie for me. After I had complained about losing them, or not having one when I needed it, he bought some and always made sure to have one for me.

It was endearing and sweet, making me feel a warmth of comfort.

This didn’t though.

This made me burning hot, desire flooding as I watched him bring his hands behind my head. He starts gathering my hair softly, pulling it into one spot.

I gasp as I feel the abrupt movement of him yanking me back by my hair, pure want written all over his face as he stares down at me.

“Gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?” He asks, looking down at me for a response.

“Please.”

As the word leaves my mouth, he places the hair tie in my hair and finishes putting my hair up.

“Good girl, now open up for me.” He directs.

He lets one hand stay on the back of my head, holding me by my hair. The other pulls out his hard dick, placing the tip against my lips. I gather spit in my mouth, licking up and down his shaft as best I can to lubricate his hard length.

I bring my hand up, jerking him slightly. He pulls my hair back, grabbing my wrist with one of his hands.

“No hands. I just want to fuck your mouth. Can you do that for me?”

I nod, sticking out my tongue.

“Mmmmm fuck.” He hisses out, sliding his wet cock in my mouth as I cover my teeth with my lips.

Only around half his length is slowly thrusting in my mouth. I get antsy, moving my mouth forward to take more of him. He pulls harshly at my hair, keeping me in place.

“Who's greedy now, hm?” He teases, thrusting his entire length in my mouth.

Tears immediately well-up as his pace ensues faster and faster. I can feel him sliding down the back of my throat. I gag each time he reaches the back, his head thrown back at the sensation.

“Just like that-fuck!” He exclaims, picking up his pace.

I can tell he’s close by the way his hips become messier in their movements and the way his hand grips my hair tighter.

He looks down at me as I stare up at him through my eyelashes, watching as he furrows his eyebrows and his mouth hangs slightly open.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

He grips my hair, gripping hard as he holds me back.

“Open up, pretty girl.”

I succumb to his request, opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue. He jerks himself off, white spurts of cum landing mostly on my tongue as some falls onto my face.

He drops his throbbing cock, letting his hand in my hair pull me at an angle to lean me back and face up at him. He takes his other hand, wiping my face before shoving it into my mouth.

“Mmmm…looks even better than I imagined. I wonder what my cum would look like dripping out onto your thighs…”

I swallow the salty liquid, “Why don’t you find out?” I urge.

A sadistic smile creeps on his face as he yanks me to my feet by my hair, “If you say so. Bend over for me, princess.” He commands, pushing me against the counter.

I bend over, the cold counter making my nipples harden from the sudden change. But, it doesn’t last long as everything starts to get hotter and hotter.

His hand rubs my thighs from behind, spreading them as he rubs over my heat, making me moan.

“So wet, baby. This all for me?” He asks.

“Yes, fuck.” I moan out, his hand wrapping in my hair again as his other directs his cock towards my entrance.

“Tell me, princess. How often do you think about that night?” He asks.

I grind my hips back, attempting to get some sort of friction. He immediately drops his dick, his hand slapping against my ass with a loud snap.

“Tell me or I’m not giving you anything.” He threatens, leaning down and whispering the dirty words into my ear.

“Fuck-all the time! Every time I touch myself, every time I think of you. Please!” I beg, wiggling my hips in desperation.

“Tell me what you think about, baby.” He requests.

My mind is hazy, but all I can think about is how much I need him.

“I-I…I think about how you were-fuck!” I scream out, putting my hands behind to push him away as he forces his entire length into me, filling me with a gut-wrenching stretch.

“Keep talking, baby. Doing so good, just keep talking.”

I take in a deep breath, feeling him grind himself into me and letting me adjust to the feeling.

“T-think about-um-how you were pounding into me-mmmm..” I moan, the feeling of him pulling out and pushing in slowly bringing me an undeniable pleasure.

“You like it when I pound you, princess?” He questions.

“Yes!” I let out, my hands feeling his bottom abdomen as his stomach flexes. “Fuck, too much!” I scream out.

As my hands push on his stomach, he grabs both of my wrists with one hand and pins them to my back.

“Hey…it’s okay, you’re taking me so good, princess.” He comforts, thrusting at a slow pace deeply.

I moan, clenching around him as he starts picking up the pace.

“You want me to pound you, hm? Remind you how good it feels?” He asks, a loud clapping noise sounding as our skin slaps together with each thrust.

“Please!”

The simple word seems to adhere. Chris starts pounding relentlessly up into me, fucking his cock up in my gut.

“Fuck-you feel so good. So close, yeah?” I moan out as a response, letting myself clench down around his cock as my mouth falls open with deep moans.

“Good girl. That’s right, princess. Cum all over my dick.” He praises, slowing down his pace as I ride out my orgasm.

However, he doesn’t stop or pull out. Instead, he starts fucking up into me again.

“You’ll give me one more, right baby? You can do it.” He says.

I nod my head, letting the pleasure build up once more as he pushes me further down into the counter. The pressure on my lower stomach makes his dick pounding in and out of me even better.

My mouth opens wide, a strangled moan coming out as I cum around him once again.

“Gonna be greedy with my cum in your pussy too?” He says, leaning down as his breath fans against my ear.

I nod, writhing beneath him as his thrusts become more erratic.

I feel his cum fill me, leaking out as he pulls out.

I try to stand up, but his hand holding my wrists pushes me back down. I feel his hand let loose of my hair, pulling my thighs apart.

“Looking so pretty with my cum dripping all over you.” He compliments, rubbing the skin of my thigh roughly.

He lets go of my wrists, pulling me against his chest.

“You okay?” He asks, laughing at my fucked-out expression.

I nod my head, letting my weight fall onto him. He pulls my clothes back on me, setting me back on the counter as stands in between my legs.

My eyes are closed as I try to catch my breath.

“These donuts are so fucking good.” I hear his muffled voice say, his mouth full as I look up at him to see him finishing the donut from earlier.

I laugh at him, “Yeah, well…they’re better when they’re warm.” I remark, echoing my same statement from earlier.

He rolls his eyes, shoving the donut into my mouth. I give him a blank look, remembering his previously similar antics.

“It’s just a glazed donut this time, I swear!” He exclaims, holding his hands up in defense.

“Okay…” I trail off, accepting the bite.

He moves the donut back to his mouth, chomping on another large bite.

“I fucking love glazed donuts.”

#retired roses #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅ Rose Toy Old Works

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astars-things · 2 months ago

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SOS

Charles Leclerc x sister!Reader

summary- you text Charles SOS and he drops everything for you

reader is 17

SOS was all you sent to Charles, he knew what it meant. You had struggled with anxiety for so long, and when you were in a situation where it got too much, all you had to do was text Charles SOS, and he would come get you. The first time it happened was when you were 10 and Charles was 21, you were going for your first sleepover "Bug, if you need me to pick you up for whatever reason, text me SOS and I'll be there", Charles said, giving you a quick forehead kiss

Fast forward to now, you were sitting in a small corner of the library, you didn't know what triggered it, but your hands were shaking, and it felt like you could barely breathe, you felt your phone vibrate in your shaky hands "Go to the office, I'll be there in 10 minutes" You mumbled out loud reading the message, you grabbed your bag. You walked with your head down to the front office and sat on one of the chairs, and waited.

Every second felt like an hour as you tried to focus on breathing, just like Charles always taught you. In for four, hold for four, out for four. You heard the office door open and heard some mumbling, soon you heard footsteps coming towards you

You didn’t have to look up to know it was him. You would recognize the sound of Charles’ hurried footsteps anywhere. "Je suis ici, Bug," (I'm here, bug) you heard him murmur as he crossed the office, his voice low and sure and steady, just for you. "Come on, let’s go home," Charles said gently.

You barely nodded before he took your bag from you, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing. His free hand reached out, and you slipped yours into it instinctively. His thumb brushed over your knuckles in slow, comforting circles as he led you out of the school.

The moment you stepped outside into the fresh air, you could breathe a little better. Not completely, but enough. Charles opened the passenger door for you as you slipped inside the Ferrari. By the time he got into the driver’s seat, you were already clutching the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to disappear into the fabric.

Charles started the car but didn’t move it just yet. He looked over at you, his green eyes soft. After a few minutes, he glances over at you with a little smile. "I was thinking..." he says casually, like you didn’t just have a panic attack at school. "Emergency ice cream?" you hadn't quite found your voice yet so you nodded your head yes "Just don't tell my trainer" Charles muttered to which you let out a small giggle

Charles’ head whipped toward you immediately, his whole face lighting up like you’d just handed him a trophy. "There she is," he said softly, almost in awe, as if that tiny laugh was worth more to him than any win he’d ever had on track.

Without wasting another second, Charles shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. The drive was peaceful. He played some quiet music, humming under his breath in a way that made the car feel warm and safe. Every once in a while, he'd drum his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat, sneaking little glances at you to make sure you were okay.

When you pulled up to the little ice cream shop, Charles parked in his usual spot at the back, where it was a little more hidden. He jogged around to your side of the car before you could even unbuckle, opening your door like a chauffeur.

"My lady," he said in a mock-posh accent, making you smile again as you stepped out. Inside, he ordered for you without even asking, rattling off your usual like it was second nature. When the girl behind the counter handed over your ice creams, Charles passed yours over with a little bow that made you roll your eyes affectionately.

You found a quiet bench outside, shaded under a big oak tree. It was far enough away from the street that it felt like your own little world. For a while, you just sat there, legs swinging slightly, slowly working your way through your ice cream. Charles made a show of pretending to steal a bite of yours, grinning when you smacked his hand away with a mock glare.

"You’re allowed to have bad days, Bug," he said after a while, his voice low and steady. "You don't have to fight them by yourself." You stared at your ice cream for a second before leaning your head against his shoulder, ice cream cone still clutched loosely in your hand.

"I’m glad you came," you whispered, your voice small but steady now. Charles immediately leaned his head against yours, squeezing your knee gently. "Always," he said, like it was the easiest promise in the world. "You text SOS, and I'll drop the whole damn world to come get you. No matter what."

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x sister!reader #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 fic

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whowrotethenote · 1 month ago

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𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈: After a drunk round of Truth or Dare goes wrong, Nani is challenged into getting her first tattoo. The artist in question—an unmoved, cryptic, fine ass stranger. Can she take the pain? Can she take the heat? Can she take him?

𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶: Roman Reigns (Roman) x Black Fem OC (Nani)

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂: Profanity // Slight grieving // Age gap // Smut // Depictions/descriptions of tattooing

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃: 7.5k

Disclaimer // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist // Navigation

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ masochism — a sexual or psychological tendency where individuals derive pleasure from being subjected to pain, suffering or humiliation

“We gotta do a wrap around the block! We can’t park here!” Mercedes yelled to her best friend from the driver’s seat of her 2020 Jeep Wrangler. One finger pointed to the street sign that explained, no parking on weekends from eleven p.m. to two a.m.

Nani stood on the sidewalk by her lonesome, following the path to where her friend’s finger was trained. They were right smack in the middle of the no parking zone. At twelve twenty a.m, the burnt tangerine colored streetlight cascaded over the entirety of the otherwise dark block—the humidity that only a mid-June night can usher in casting a glow of almost sweat on their skin.

The air smelled of city fumes and that earthy smell after a mini rain shower. Evidence of such still on the pavement of the sidewalk and the street. Mercedes’s car decorated in tiny droplets of water with wet tires.

“Just go in! We’ll be right there!” Samantha aided in the passenger seat.

“We don’t even know if they take walk-ins!” Something of a pout adorned Nani’s square face. She stood on the side walk, separated from them—wishing either had a heart and would just tell her, “never mind, just hop back in.”

But she knew in her heart that wasn’t happening. No way in hell did they all jump up from Sam’s room, threw on clothes and drove twenty minutes—risking a DUI amongst other things—just for them to change their minds. She knew better than that. Always the closest thing to innocent amongst them—they chose the perfect dare for the perfect girl to shake shit up.

“Sure we do! I know one of the artist! He does walk-ins all the time!” Samantha answered hanging out the window with both forearms resting on the side of the car. Her sand-colored face burned with a red hue from all the shots the trio took throughout the night. That tipsy smirk with lazy eyes just barely hanging on.

That was another reason Nani knew that what she was about to do was a grave mistake. Not one of them was sober enough to make such a permanent, stoned decision. But still, here they were, in the middle of the night, in front of Dragon’s Lair Tattoo & Piercing shop. The only building, with the exception of the smoke shop at the other corner, still lit up to invite patrons. The red neon sign glowing over the back of Nani’s small frame.

It was supposed to be harmless fun. The night started off perfect.

All three girls watched each other blossom on the same block since they were missing teeth and waiting for the adult ones to sprout back in. Side by side through all the major milestones—sweet sixteens, prom, losing their virginities, breakups, heartache, graduation, fall outs, family trauma and everything in between. If you saw one, the other two were on their way. And if you saw two, the other one wasn’t too far behind.

What started as a fiesta—a ceremony to commemorate completing junior year without a scratch, a baby, or an std—took a sharp left turn. Sharing war stories under the purple LED lights of Sam’s bohemian style room, turned into Drunk Uno, making TikToks to whatever sounds they could find, until the roulette of their first night together landed on Truth or Dare.

Nani had racked up on too many jaw dropping truths. The liquor kicked in and carried her impulse. She chose the dare. And the next words that fell from Sam’s glossy lips had her thinking somebody slipped something into her red cup.

“I dare you…to get a tattoo…tonight!”

It seemed as if with every word, they got slower and deeper—like the sound of a chopped and screwed song.

“He did Cedes tattoo last summer before y’all left for school, remember?” Sam asked.

Mercedes leaned over and stretched her left arm where a red dragon saturated the caramel skin of her inner wrist. Nani didn’t need an exhibition. She had seen the tattoo a thousand times before. Merecedes last fuck you to her unrealistically religious and problematic mother, before packing it up and hauling back down to Florida A&M for fall semester.

While Mercedes voyaged down south, Sam stayed home in Philly opting for community college, all while Nani explored UCLA on the west-coast. All three girls connected by an invisible thread, separated for two whole semesters for three years now, and were home again for the summer and clearly losing their heads from the excitement of reuniting.

This is not how any of them forecasted ending the night, especially Nani— but here they were. If unpredictable was a parasite, it’d be attached to the three of them. Always in the most unlikely situations just to laugh about such for the years that follow. This night was no different.

Nani whined and stomped one foot on the pavement. “Come on, y’all! This is just cruel!”

Sam smiled wide like a Cheshire Cat, glancing back at Mercedes. “Girl, you’re the one that’s been talking about wanting a tattoo anyway! Just go and get situated at least! We’ll be right there!” The oversized tires swoosh on the wet ground as she puts the car in drive. Sam waved dainty fingers as they took off and violently turned right at the stop sign.

The dead silence of the night creeping in as she no longer even heard the roar of her friend’s engine. She turned in place, neck craned up as the red glow blinked and welcomed her in like she stood amongst the devil’s playpen.

“Don’t be pussy,” she mumbled to herself before blowing out all the air in her chest.

The bells above the glass door dinged as she pushed to step inside. Everything was everywhere. A thrumming hip hop beat blasted from somewhere deep within the shop, some rapper with a British accent rapping lyrics aggressively—making it hard to keep up with his words.

After twirling around like a child in a candy factory—studying the art pieces and pictures of clients— she landed on a woman dressed in all black emerging from the back. Hair darker than black if there is a such thing, with long claws for nails.

“Hey, love.” Her voice was welcoming. Smile warm reaching her eyes with creases on either side of her mouth, that all of sudden looked like they belonged there. A contradiction to her pale forearms covered in art, accentuated by the septum hook and darkest, thickest eyeliner she had ever seen on a woman. Something about her was still very feminine, sexy and alluring. Nani had to close her mouth, feeling her jaw go slack almost. “You need some help?” She asked. Nani then noticed the beefy accent that she missed before. Australian.

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to get a tattoo,” she answered. Working double time to appear normal and keeping her voice steady.

“Okay. You made an appointment?” She raised a brow walking around the glass desk. In the clear display, sparkly and lively jewelry for sale along with aftercare products.

“N-no. My friends said you do walk-ins?”

“We do.” The girl leans forward and back, trying to gauge the space. “Uh, it looks like most of our artists are busy right now. Ro!” The girl’s sudden switch in volume earned a jolt from Nani. Her nerves mimicked the audio meter of the loudest song you could think of.

“What?” She heard a deep voice from behind after a beat.

Turning she found a man. Twice the size of anyone in the shop. Skin tanned and glowing under the bright florescent lights. Arms cut and toned—demonstrating the discipline of daily weight training. A very visible vein running along his inner bicep. One arm covered in ink from his wrist until it disappeared under his black tee. His hair—damp, dark and thick, framing his face and stopping just at his shoulders.

His eyes. They whispered in spells. A deep brown like burnt honey atop high cheekbones. The bottom of his face dressed in the mustache and goatee combo—two plump, pink lips in the center of it all. A touch of feminism in the throws of his hard masculine features. They made her clit jump just imagining his tip the same shade of pink. She snatched her eyes away from him, realizing she was staring with an open mouth. Heat filling her cheeks. He was easily the most beautiful man she had ever been in the same room as.

“This is…” The girl’s eyebrows rose, expecting a name.

“—Nani,” she blurted. Her social queues completely off track. A product of the alcohol and jitters.

“Nani,” she repeated averting her gaze back to the stone cold stranger. His gaze never landing on Nani. “Walk-in. She wants to get tatted.”

“Where?” His eyes were on the dark-haired woman, but somehow Nani knew the question was for her. She hesitated, never thinking about where she wanted the damn thing. It had to be somewhere discreet. She didn’t need the attention from family members. Behind her ear? No, she couldn’t even see it. Her hip? Her wrist?

“Um… I don’t know. My rib?”

“You don’t sound sure.” The woman’s face still plastered with a smile as she leaned her elbows on the desk.

“I am sure.” She nodded.

“You heard her. Her rib.”

“Rhea it’s an hour ’til close. I don’t take walk-ins after midnight.”

Nani frowned hearing him deny her without the respect of eye contact or addressing her directly. She felt invisible. Half of her didn’t mind. She could stare at him in peace without the worry of him catching her. Like a moth to a flame she was drawn to him. She didn’t even know why. Obviously, he was beautiful. In the way that everything on him looks like it was placed there strategically. The weight of his muscles fell around him perfectly. He was just perfect. But he reeked of danger. A do not enter zone. The exact kind of man a father would do everything in his power to keep his daughter on the opposite side of the planet and detached from. Thankfully, Nani didn’t carry those problems…

“You can do one more,” she pushed. “Besides it won’t take that long. It’s small, right?” She winked in Nani’s direction.

“—right,” Nani answered catching her drift. “Not even the size of my fist.”

He stood with all his weight in one leg, and lips in the straightest line. Both women trained on him. The events of the rest of the night in his hands as they waited for his verdict.

“Come on.”

Rhea beamed for Nani, sticking a tongue out. Nani nodded in a silent thank you, before following his towering frame to the back. He wasn’t even walking fast, but his long legs carried him to their destination faster somehow and she struggled to keep up. They passed at least five different open rooms. Two with groups in them. One, more intimate, with just the client seated with their face buried, as the artist went to work on their back. Another where a girl was preparing a bunch of needles for three different piercings to a man’s tongue. And the last one they passed was shut completely. That left one door at the very end of the hall on the left.

He stopped and threw a hand up signaling her to enter first. The room was medium sized. A dim glow of light blanketed over it, making her wonder how he even did his job in such sketchy lighting. Pictures of his work—vibrant and intricate pieces on all shades of skin, but mostly Pe’a or Malu. His specialty.

He had historic, cultural figurines and sculptures lined on the window sill of the furthest wall. Everything about this place, since she walked in was so in your face and blunt. Still, everything left a trail of curiosity in its wake.

“You can put your stuff in that chair.” He nodded to a small emerald love seat in the corner by a window.

Throwing her bag on his chair she walked along the wall where the pictures were, while he typed away on his phone. Telling the girl he promised to see after work that he wasn’t going to make it. Last minute walk-in. Truth is, Nani was an angel in disguise. He never wanted to link the girl, anyway. She was just a fuck to him. Something to do in the wee hours of the night. But she talked way too much, seeing as it wasn't her conversation that brought the two together. And he couldn’t fucking stand the smell of her cat’s litter box. So, staying at work to do what he was passionate about was the best thing that could’ve happened. He wouldn’t dare show it, though.

He placed his phone face down and turned to find her staring at him. Hands clasped in front of her in the middle of the room looking like a lost puppy.

What Nani perceived as him ignoring her was really him avoiding her. He saw that plump ass sitting between two wide hips the minute he rounded the corner, after being summoned by Rhea. His too cool for anything demeanor, almost breaking when she turned and her front was just as satisfying as her back.

Doe eyes accentuated by long thick lashes. Two full pouty lips, dripping in gloss, making his dick twitch in his sweats. High cheek bones with a beauty mark resting high up on one of them. All of that beauty centered in a head full of honey blonde highlighted curls.

She was fine as fuck to him, but he could tell she was young. At twenty-six he refused to make himself susceptible to the delusions of a young girl and her heart. Love wasn’t on his radar. He was too busy falling for and perfecting his craft.

He crossed two muscular arms, one over the other with his butt rested on the counter where he kept most of his supplies.

“I’m Nani,” she informed.

“I’m aware. You said so out there.” She kicked herself for forgetting something that happened not even three minutes ago. “Nani,” he repeated. Her name rolling off his tongue as if it tasted good to him—like he was savoring it. “This your first time getting a tattoo?” His eyes traced her perimeter finding nothing visible.

She nodded. “Yup.”

“I’m Roman,” he finally told her.

“Roman…that fits you.”

He squinted. Her face, a flushed hue of red since the moment he saw her. Like she was burning up. It was hard for her to keep still. Fidgeting constantly. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Twisting her hands.

“You been drinking, Nani?”

“Not a lot,” she lied. “Why? Is that a problem?” In her head, she silently wished he said yes and turned her away. They stood there, eyeing each other before he decided to speak again.

“My ass.” He called her bluff immediately. “Babygirl, I can smell the tequila from over here.” He turned back to his station. “I’m not supposed to tatt you, if you’re under the influence. The alcohol—it thins your blood. Which means more blood when the needle hits. Which makes it harder to do my job.” The sound of him tossing tools and supplies around overruled the silence in the pause he took. “Might fuck up how it heals. Infections.” He shook his head. “And I don’t really have time for you or your folks coming in here tomorrow because you did something stupid while you were drunk, that you’re gonna regret tomorrow.” He faced her again with hands on his hips. “When you’re sober.”

“So—you turning me away?” For the quickest second, she envisioned the disappointment and disdain plastered on the faces of her best friends as she staggered back to the jeep with news of rejection. They’d think she was lying. “Come on. Don’t make me go back and tell my friends you told me no.” She forced a laugh. His hard exterior displaying anything but amusement. “They’ll be strolling in any minute now. They’re parking.”

His eyes traveled her silhouette again. His face still impenetrable. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking even if he had speech bubbles growing from his head.

“Sign this.”

She took it and read quickly. Not able to focus long enough, she just hoped nothing crazy was written in black and white. Taking the pen she held the paper against the wall, turning from him to sign it.

“The air don’t work back here. You care if I take my shirt off?” Nani’s tongue went dry at the revealing of his sculpted back as he removed his shirt before she even had a chance to answer.

One of them bitches slipped me something for sure, she thought. Every thing about tonight was unconceivable. It’s like she was observing the whole chain of events outside of her own body. Nothing about it seemed real—nothing about it felt like it was happening to her.

He was fucking beautiful. Like God himself told the angels to lay off because he felt compelled to draw the lines and sculpt this one himself. And damn, did he take his time savoring every minute and making them count.

Just as she thought, the tattoo spread to the vicinity of his back and broad shoulder. He was already built so hard and the tattoo was just a further testament. A story told in the language of pathways, roads and lined patterns, of a Pacific warrior.

When she thought it couldn’t get any better, she damn near wet her pants at the sight of him shirtless and facing her. Tattoo stretching to his defined chest. Deep lines, mountains, valleys and ridges mapping different routes to his adonis line. Tiny smooth black hairs peaking over the top of his red underwear, only made visible by his black sweats hanging loosely off his hips.

He stepped up and held his hand out. Confused at first she just stared at his big palm. Then remembering the paper in her hand, she passed it and the pen back to him.

“You wanna tell me what you want?” Dangerous words from an even more dangerous looking man.

“I want a tattoo—”

“Obviously.”

“I wasn’t finished.” She squinted at him and folded her arms. Something of a smirk dancing on her lips at his discreet playfulness. “I want a tattoo of a sea turtle,” she told him chin up. “With tribal patterns. Maybe some waves mixed with flower patterns too? You can get creative. Do what you want.”

“Do what I want?” He challenged.

“You’re the artist. I trust you.” They sat in silence for a beat before he pushed off the counter.

“Can I trust you to do this part on your own?” He stood expressionless with a paper towel and roll of tape in one hand extended her way. She looked between the items and him. “I just need you to cover yourself.” His eyes shuffled between the outline of her nipples through her pink Skims top, and she finally understood the assignment. “Leave enough space so that I can do what I gotta do.”

“Okay.” And with that he left out of the same door they came in.

Her nipples and the dark shade of her areolas were probably only the size of a pinball. Ripping two medium sized squares, she placed one over her left nipple in the mirror to make sure nothing that didn’t need to, showed. She didn’t have a clue what enough space was for him to do his job.

Where the hell are they? They’re the ones that pushed her to do this. Trying to simultaneously control her heartbeat and breathing, while appearing sober, was a daunting task on its own. This was the least they could do for her.

“I think I’m good!” She yelled to him hoping he was only right outside the door.

He stepped back in. The sound of his sneakers heavy even over the sound of the music playing from somewhere else in the shop. He walked, eyeing her B cups with the paper towel covering the most sensitive parts. Every time she thought he’d stop, he kept coming until he ended up dangerously close. Eye level to his chest she waited for him to say something as her heart picked up a dangerous pace. Doe eyes looking so innocently up at him.

A low gasp escaped her as she felt the tape above her right nipple, being disconnected from the sensitive skin. She looked down for just a second, feeling air on her exposed breast, as he moved the tape up higher on her chest.

“Rib is one of the worst places. Straight skin. No fat or extra muscle to go through.” His eyes never left hers. A snake in the garden hypnotizing Eve. She feared consequences if she broke the trance. “I think you can take it.” He rubbed the tape to ensure it stuck, right up against the top of her nipple. Her breath got caught in her throat, trying to suppress the moan that threatened to leave her.

He ripped the tape off her left nipple. Eyes stuck on hers still. Repeating the same motions as he did for the right side. Using his fingers to place it where he needed it, and smoothing the tape down, without a single glance at his handiwork.

“Lay down,” he demanded.

She sat, butt first, high up on the leather table, before laying all the way down. The weight of her breast pushing up toward her collar bones.

She kept her eyes trained on his every move. “Just taking the hairs off,” he explained holding up a razor before shaving the space under her chest. “Vaseline.” He held it up before smearing it smoothly onto the same spot. He found it best to be transparent and explain every little step to the clients that looked like they might run for the hills.

The sound of latex stretching and snapping caught her attention and she halfway flinched. He blew a sharp breath out of his nose to cover the amusement that threatened to leave him. “It’s just gloves, baby.” He held his covered hands up. Just breathe, she coached herself. Mercedes and Sam wouldn’t be able to control their laughter at this point. She was glad they’d miss this part.

He flipped a button and the gun stirred up a loud buzz. She thought she might throw up right then and there. “Just relax.” He tried his best to prepare her. The shock of first connection was always the most unpredictable. His hand was warm even through the material of the latex glove as he spread her skin in preparation. Her square face immediately contorted in pain. Jaw clenched down and eyebrows pinched together.

“Mm,” she groaned.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“What if I say it already is?”

He laughed inside. Stretching her skin to get a sturdier canvas. “You’re doing so good already, though,” he lied.

“Is it supposed to burn?”

“Yeah. If you can’t take blood I wouldn’t look,” he advised feeling her head rise right near his. “I need you lying all the way back, anyway.” He nudged her head back with his knuckles. Nani was now forced to just listen to the machine responsible for her pain, and the blasting of background music. None of it was overpowering enough. The pain won. After what felt like minutes passing, she broke her silence.

“Is it almost done?”

“Nani, it's only been like two minutes.” She whimpered at his revelation.

“How long did yours take?”

“A full day.”

“Like twenty-four hours?”

His upper lip tugged in a smirk. The first time anything nearing a smile graced his features and the sight took her breath away. His cheek bone heightened with a flashed dimple.

“Nah. Like fifteen with an hour break.” He swiped the blood away and repositioned his hands on her ribs. It didn’t matter that the latex separated him from her. It was useless. She could still feel him—still burned with heat.

“Wow.” She didn’t know what to say. She was just afraid of the silence paired with the electrical buzzing of his tattoo gun, scaring her straight. “That’s a—that’s a long time.”

“That’s right. Just keep on talking to me. You’re doing good,” he encouraged. Even though every time the needle came off and went back on her, she jumped. And with every swipe as he tried to clear the canvas from the mess of blood, she flinched.

His words. They weren’t supposed to be, but the rasp in his baritone voice accompanied by his large hands on her—made it sexual. Sounded just like the dominant men she read about in her erotica novels on Kindle. Only, he was live in the flesh in place of words etched on a screen. Finer than anything she could imagine while reading.

“Why the turtle?” He probed noticing her grow stiff. She was swallowing the beast that was her drunken hormones and he thought she was two seconds from telling him to stop.

“My uh…my grandmother had one just like it.”

“She’s an islander?”

“She’s Samoan—was. She was.” Nani looked in the opposite direction from where the needle punctured her flesh repeatedly. The alcohol enhancing all her emotions. Not just lust. “She passed away a few months ago.”

Roman swiped her skin again, his brown orbs piercing hers. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her sincerely. “You two were close?” The last thing he wanted to do was dissect her brain and get deep. Interrogation with personal questions— unlocking doors to emotions she kept hidden. But she was in desperate need of the distraction. More importantly, he needed her to relax. She was way too tense. The best way he knew how to do that, was to keep the client engaged in conversation. He’d halfway listen, only jumping in and asking another question when they grew quiet again, knowing people loved to talk about themselves.

“Closer than close.” Nani smirked remembering Momma Leya. “She raised me. I don’t know my parents,” she confessed. Her deepest lure that everyone she crossed paths with had to earn the awareness of. And she just handed it to him.

They conversed some more—but fell back into that pit of silence covered in the machinery and music. He had to focus on the patterns and she was too drawn to the discomfort.

She tried to focus on exactly where the pain was—the constant keen burn like he was lighting tiny little matches to her skin—but for some odd reason the pain almost felt like pleasure. Like something that hurt so good and you didn’t want it to stop. The curiosity of how far your body could go with the inflection of pain weighing on her.

Her breathing sped up and she wondered if maybe she was just on the verge of passing out. He had already warned her that alcohol and the gun didn’t mix.

Her gaze flickered to him. The crease in between his brow as he was so close to the underside of her exposed breast. The hotness of his breath fanning her, giving her chills even though she was blazing from the inside out like she had a fever.

He’d turn his head right, angling to get a closer look at the lines he drew. Eyes in slits. A single lock of thick wavy hair fell out the sleek forest that was the rest of his curls, and over his forehead.

The tension in the sticky hot room was nothing if not sexual. It was so heavy and suffocating, she just knew he felt it to. Theres no way he didn’t. No way he couldn’t see the hardness of her nipple through the think fabric of the napkin.

The easy part was over. He traced the main lines and perimeter. It was time for the shading—the part where even the toughest men cracked. It wasn’t as simple as the needle traveling from just one spot, down to the other. He had to switch needles—a tighter grouping. Lower the speed and the voltage, which meant dragging the pain out. He was going over the same spot repeatedly. Up and down. Circles.

Nani hissed quietly every time it became too much. That sensation of pain transforming to something foreign, coming back harder with every stroke of his needle. She couldn’t keep still. Her legs clamped together, trying to clam herself from the desperate need of friction. She could feel the wetness pooling. Her whole body heating up a notch a second.

“You gotta be still, baby. Otherwise it’ll come out jacked up.” He raised a thick brow, eyes bouncing over her face before focusing back down to the turtle. “I’m trying my best to get the job done regardless—but I can only do so much.”

There was a break in the sensation. The needle hovered over her skin. Their eyes locking. “You alright?” He asked the question with his stare unwavering. Deep voice married with tenderness. Nani couldn’t take it. It's the moment when the water in a tea kettle reaches its highest point and it starts to scream. Begging for attention. Demanding relief. And she was no different.

It's like they had a radio transmission in their heads for a split second—because as soon as she thought it, he heard it and received it. His head turned down just inches from hers, she clamped her thighs tighter. She must’ve been leaking. He could smell her.

The muscles in his jaw danced as he grit his teeth. Eyes finding the exact spot where that familiar pungent smell was coming from. He hardened to an uncomfortable degree underneath the fabric of his sweats, noticing how tight she had her legs shut.

The realization of it all hitting him like a city train full speed. He didn’t know what spirit had possessed him, but he didn’t counter it, as it forced him to rip the tape off her right breast. Her chocolate peak right in front of his mouth.

Sticking a flatted tongue out, his eyes were trained on hers as he rolled the hard skin over his tongue before taking it into his hot mouth. Tongue sliding over it after sucking, earning a whimper from her pretty mouth. Catching it between his teeth and pulling until it snapped back. He noticed the rise in her chest with every action. Exhilaration staged on her small features.

She likes pain.

His tongue still dancing and doing tricks on her nipple—he watched her struggle to keep still. Gasping—mouth wide, but nothing came out except heavier pants. She craved relief of a different kind, in a different spot. Her small hand found its way under the thick elastic band and into her Skims shorts.

“Ohh.” The moan finally broke free as rubbed that magic button. All the heat transferring down, leaving her hole clenching on nothing and aching.

As the thought to fill herself with her fingers passed to fruition, he pulled her hand out by the wrist. Undoing the latex gloves and replacing her. His fingers slid over her clit with ease from her juices covering her.

“So fucking wet,” he mumbled. He played in it. Noises of macaroni and cheese before you bake it, violently traveling up to their ears. Sinking two thick fingers in without warning, she grabbed his wrist. Her back arching off the table. Mouth falling open even wider. Pupils blown as he stared down at her from the bridge of his nose. Studying her. “You like pain,” he uncovered to the both of them.

Filling her up, he curved his fingers finding that spot. Plunging in and out. The wetness spilling with every rapid thrust. Sliding all the way out, he rubbed her clit again in painfully slow but calculated circles. Nani’s waist winding like a snake to keep up with him.

Rising up from the seat, his face hovered over hers. He wanted to kiss her—bad. Her full lips begged for his. But he knew what that came with. Kissing was too intimate in his head. It was too romantic-adjacent. He didn’t even dare collide tongues with half the women he’s laid with.

“Roman,” she whimpered. His name spilling from her mouth like she had said it numerous times before, under the same circumstances. He wanted to free himself and fuck her into the table, until the legs gave out and they ended up on the floor. That’s what the sound of his name on her tongue did to him. Visceral. It was now him that had reached the top of his mountain.

Hooking long fingers in the waistband of her shorts, he yanked them down her legs in a flash. Her panties coming off with them. A thick glob of stringy wetness between her and the fabric of them. His mouth watered at the sight. If he hadn’t already decided before, his decision was set in stone right then and there. She wasn’t leaving this room until he got a taste. Consequences be damned.

He found her eyes again, like he was daring her to stop him. She wasn’t that brave. Nani had no more will or energy to fight with the promise of pleasure, even if it came cloaked in danger. She fought enough the first thirty minutes in this humid room, alone with him, with his rough hands all on her body.

With her clothes still pooled around her ankles, he hooked his hands on the back of her knees, pushing until they were close against her chest, folding her in half. The flesh of her pussy squished together, lips neatly folded—-waiting and ready.

He bit down hard on the back of her thigh. She hissed from that familiar burning that danced the thin line of pain and pleasure. Sucking until the light skin bruised. He made a trail of them until he came face to face with her pink, aching flesh.

He latched onto her like velcro. Like his mouth was made for the sole purpose of connecting with her. Nani saw stars the moment his hot mouth made contact with her center. He took her swollen clit into his mouth and sucked hard. No warming up. She was already well past done. Burning up.

Hips bucking, chasing that feeling that was already at her front door. He barely did anything and her core was wound tight and ready for release. She wouldn’t last much longer.

Space rendered between her back and the leather bed as she arched. Hips grinding whichever way felt the best in the moment. His lips smearing into her—entire mouth aiding in the mission to make her come undone on his tongue. She didn’t have a care in the world. Her head twisted and she caught the open door that had slipped her mind like the rest of the world outside of this room.

She hoped the volume of the music was enough to drown out her moans. If not, she didn’t care. Nothing took precendee over cumming in this moment. Even if someone had walked in, she knew she didn’t want him to stop. What she didn’t know is that he wouldn’t. Roman had been caught in this very room fucking numerous clients. Them giving head or whatever other debauchery as payment. The whole shop knew it. This was different though. Never had he ever been on the other end, not as the receiver. His heavy member pulsed harder like the blood from his heart, picturing someone walking in while he was face first in her.

Nani grew hornier with every stroke, flick, and swipe of his warm tongue. The liquor, the rush of sin, running the risk of getting caught, the room vacant of any fresh air—it was all too much. The thrill of exposing and opening herself so intimately to this stranger. This might’ve been the single most enthralling night of her life. She cursed the moment it had to end.

“Mmm,” he groaned. Moving with the rhythm she set, grinding on his face, letting her control the show for a bit. “That’s right. Use me. Yesss.” His hand—blood pumped veins—came up to cover her left breast. He pinched and tugged on the sensitive skin. “Fine ass.”

Pulling back a little, he admired the view. Her nub peaked out from two fat lips covered in gloss. “Pretty ass pussy,” he muttered to himself just before spitting harshly and licking the mess up before it got to the destination of her ass. He stuck a long stiff tongue inside. Fucking her with it as if it was his dick he was driving in and out of her.

“Oh my god—don’t stop. Fuck, that feels so good.”

He needed to hang a PhD along the wall, where the rest of his accomplishments lived—because the head was brilliant. Genius.

Nani had never felt anything like this before. His speed, the switch in tempo, the pressure—all of it was perfect. He gave her just enough to where she felt like she was on the edge, without falling completely off. Making it last.

She was working up a sweat now. A thin sheen on her throat caught under the dim light as she threw her head back. It matched the same layer of sweat that glowed on the deep line of Roman’s rugged back.

Those wet, gushy sounds were music to his ears. She was leaking for him. He slid his tongue through her folds and over every part of her with ease. Smearing his lips in it as it coated him like chapstick. For a man that didn’t indulge often, he was taking full advantage. Reveling in it, like a pig in dirt. She was sweet to him. Moaning and whining so prettily. Her fearlessness turned him on. The complete opposite of him. She hid in innocence while his vileness was on full display. They met in the middle somehow. Playing out each other’s mutual vices.

“You like the way I eat at this pretty pussy. Don’t you?” He growled.

A swollen lip sunk in between her teeth. She could only moan in response to his filthy uncovering. He didn’t even need an answer. The answer was scribed in the wind of her hips into his mouth. The grip she had on his hands. The breathless pants like a bitch in heat. “Say it,” he demanded still. He got a kick out of turning girls out. Pushing them past their comfort zone and making them say and do things they wouldn’t otherwise be able to without his wicked guidance. “Say, I love the way you eat my pussy, Roman.”

In fear that he would arrest her pursuit to pleasure, she obeyed. “I love the way you eat my pussy, Roman,” she mewled. Twisting and contorting her upper body. Unable to hold still as he rewarded her obedience with lightning speed flicks of his tongue. He took her confession and shoved it in the same basket where the rest of his sexual side quests lived in his memory.

“Doing so good,” he repeated the same praise as he had when his needle was inside of her. “I want you to come in my mouth, baby.” His cheeks hollowed in as he sucked the life out of her, ready for the explosion. No more holding back. He was ready to knock her over the cliff. “You gonna cum for me? Hm?” He questioned. Mouth still full of her. The hum of his voice sending vibrations all through her body.

Shaking her head frantically like a fiend, she held his gaze, peaking over her legs to watch him eat at her. He could’ve asked for the moon and the stars and she’d run out into the night to bring it to him. He had her in the palm of his huge hand. “Do it. Come on. I wanna see you cum all over this fucking tongue. Do it.” He spanked her left ass cheek and squeezed after the harsh sound rang loud.

It all sent her into overdrive. All that was in her came crashing out. So powerful she had to lock her fingers with his. The flesh of his hands turning white on his tanned skin, from the pressure of her hold. Legs suspended in the air—shaking. Feet arched to a painful degree. The worst and best was done.

Roman rose like a fallen angel—wet mustache, stroking his damp hair back and out of his face. Still bonded at the ankles, Nani swung her legs down, unbalanced. Reaching for his sweats to free the unnaturally large bulge. She yearned to see it. She just knew it had to be as pretty as he was.

He let her get all the way there before he swatted her hand away. “Lay back down,” he instructed. She wasn’t running this show. He wanted nothing more than to buss her down right here on the table. Feel her clenching down on this thickness until he came right on that pretty pussy.

But the bells signaling her friends entering the shop were drowned out by the noise of rap music blanketing the shop.

Rhea’s head rose from where she was buried in her phone at the front desk. “Hi, ladies.” She beamed welcoming the young girls in. “Just so you know we’re closing in about thirty-five minutes.”

“That’s cool,” Mercedes stepped up while Sam admired the collage of photos displaying the work of their artists. “We’re not getting anything. Our friend should be in here. Same height as me. A little lighter. Curly hair.”

“She was a walk-in, right?”

“Yup,” Mercedes nodded. Rhea noticed the girl’s low red eyes and unsolicited smirk. An effect of nature’s medicine. She smiled to herself and nodded to the back.

“She’s with Roman. Last door on the left down that hall.”

“Thank you,” both girls slurred.

They gawked in each room, moving at a sedated pace, taking slow strides until they finally reached the last door on the left. Halfway open, Sam pushed it to reveal inside.

The girls stared in horror almost at the scene in front of them. She had really fucking did it.

“Oh my god, Nani.” Sam peaked over Roman’s shoulder seeing the near finished product with a wide grin. “We just knew you were gonna pussy out and come back to the car. We didn’t think you’d actually fucking do it.”

“What the fuck took y’all so long?” Nani’s eyebrows hiked up.

“Well,” Mercedes started, throwing her Kurt Geiger bag to the same couch Nani had hers in. “There was no parking for like two blocks. Then when we finally found one, a little package slipped from your hoodie in the backseat.” Both girls snickered.

“You bitches did not smoke my blunt.”

“Oh, don't worry.” Sam bit her lip. “We left some for you.” She picked up a clay figure of a man with patterns etched into his skin. Saveasi’uleo—Samoan god of the underworld.

“Please don’t touch that.” Sam flinched at his baritone voice, despite it only being an octave over a whisper. Something about the way he said it felt urgent. The fact that he knew she was touching something without looking her way, was enough to scare her into retreating. It clacked on its landing.

That was enough for both girls to just take a seat. They watched like medical students shadowing a doctor, as he shaded in the last of the tattoo for twenty minutes.

“All done,” he announced. “You gotta be careful. A lot of friction in this area for women. No swimming for a couple weeks. Wash with non-scented soap here. No gym. We don’t want any sweat.” He ran down as many rules he could think of. His mind still in a frenzy. Hard dick tucked. He kept a firm hold on her hip as he had her stand between his spread legs to cover it in plastic wrapping. “It’s gonna itch when it’s healing, but don’t scratch it. Rhea has some stuff up front for you to put on it.” He nudged her away from him. The smell of her arousal still strong.

The four of them made their way to the front. The shop now empty and silent. Rhea abandoned her closing task of sweeping and rounded the desk to ring the healing ointment up before looking to Roman.

“How much does she owe you?”

His eyes found Nani’s. Stoic demeanor cracking for a split second, smoldering eyes, as he rejoiced in the way she arched for him. The way she pushed into him to feed him. The curve of her breast into the stiff peak of her nipples. The way she took him with no hesitation or pushback. Begging for more when there was none left to give.

“I’ve already been paid.”

𝙰/𝙽: hey, so i came to the conclusion that as long as Biggest Fan is still in progress, i might as well just release whatever else was in progress for him. i'm not wasting my art. this was like 75% done when that big-eared bitch tried to kill me us. i didn't want it to go to waste.

this is during his NXT days. for purposes of the story let's just pretend his tattoo was finished back then.

i barely proofread. i'm tired, sorry lol

as always, if you read it or even just a portion, i am grateful. feedback is always welcomed. k, bye😘

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banner credit — @bernardsbendystraws & @anitalenia

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amirasainz · 7 months ago

Note

Can u do an Oscar x driver!reader fic where she is meeting Oscar’s family for the first time and is really nervous but they got on really well xx ♥️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

The Piastri family

It was a sunny morning in Melbourne, the kind of day that made everything feel a little too perfect. Yn adjusted her sunglasses nervously as Oscar maneuvered his car through the suburban streets toward his parents' house.

“You’re going to be fine,” Oscar said, glancing at her with a soft smile.

“I’m not so sure,” she muttered, her hands tightening on her lap.

Oscar chuckled. “Yn, they’re not going to interrogate you. They’re just excited to meet you.”

“That’s the problem. What if I say the wrong thing? What if they don’t like me?”

“They’re going to love you,” he said firmly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Besides, you’ve already won over Mark. My family isn’t half as intimidating as he can be.”

Yn snorted. “Mark doesn’t count. He’s a Red Bull guy. Of course, he likes me.”

Oscar smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled into a driveway and put the car in park. Yn’s stomach flipped.

“This is it,” he said gently.

The front door opened almost immediately, and Oscar’s mum, Nicole, stepped out, her face lighting up at the sight of them. Yn barely had time to unbuckle her seatbelt before Nicole rushed over and enveloped her in a hug.

“Yn! Oh, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you!” Nicole exclaimed.

Yn blinked, startled, but quickly hugged her back. “It’s so nice to meet you too, Nicole.”

Oscar was grinning as he grabbed their bags from the boot. “Told you,” he mouthed to Yn.

Nicole looped her arm around Yn’s and led her inside. “Come in, come in! Chris been dying to meet you too. He’s got a hundred questions about racing.”

Oscar laughed from behind them. “Mum, don’t scare her off.”

Nicole waved him off. “Nonsense. Yn’s a racer; she’s tougher than that.”

Yn smiled shyly, feeling some of the tension in her chest ease. Inside, the house smelled like fresh coffee and baked goods, and she could hear chatter from the living room.

“Yn!” Chris, Oscar’s dad, greeted warmly. He extended a hand, but Nicole swatted it away.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chris. Give her a hug!”

Yn found herself laughing as Chris pulled her into a quick, slightly awkward hug. “It’s great to meet you,” he said sincerely. “We’ve been following your season, of course. Fantastic stuff.”

“Thank you,” Yn said, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“Right, right,” Chris continued, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “So tell me, how are you finding the car this year? Any big changes for Melbourne?”

Oscar groaned from the doorway. “Dad, at least let her sit down first.”

Chris chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Coffee first. Questions later.”

Yn exchanged a glance with Oscar, who winked at her before guiding her to the couch. She settled in, feeling more at ease as Nicole bustled around, offering snacks and drinks.

“Hey, mate,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen.

Yn turned to see Mark leaning casually against the counter, sipping a mug of coffee.

“Mark!” she said, standing to greet him.

“Yn,” he replied with a grin. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too. Wait, what are you doing here?”

Oscar rolled his eyes as he sat beside her. “It’s Mark. He’s always here.”

“Pretty much,” Mark admitted with a shrug. “I couldn’t miss the big introduction, could I?”

Yn laughed. “Fair enough.”

Nicole returned with a tray of drinks, setting them down on the coffee table. “Mark’s like part of the family. You’ll get used to it.”

Mark smirked. “I’m just here for the food.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Nicole asked about Yn’s travels and how she balanced racing with everything else, while Chris peppered her with technical questions that she happily answered. Mark chimed in occasionally, sharing stories from his own career that had everyone laughing.

At one point, Oscar’s younger sister popped her head in from the backyard. “Yn, you have to see the purple kangaroo that keeps hopping around out here!”

Oscar groaned. “Not this kangaroo again.”

Yn grinned. “A purple kangaroo? I have to see this.”

The group moved to the back patio, where they spent the next hour chatting, laughing, and keeping an eye out for the infamous purple kangaroo. Yn couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at home.

As the sun started to dip lower in the sky, Nicole wrapped an arm around Yn’s shoulders. “You’re part of the family now, Yn. There’s no escaping us.”

Yn felt a lump in her throat but managed to smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Oscar watched the interaction with a soft expression, his heart full. Later, as they were leaving, he turned to Yn and took her hand.

“Told you they’d love you,” he said quietly.

Yn smiled, her earlier nerves now a distant memory. “Yeah, you did.”

“And for the record,” he added, leaning in close, “I think they’re right.”

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #piastri family #mark webber #mark webber x oscar piastri #mark webber x reader #mark is oscars second dad

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bucketgetter535 · 1 month ago

Text

No Margin for Error: Chapter Ten

CW: Mild-ish sexual content?

WC: 6.1k

Notes: if only Ferrari was really this good…

Baku had come and gone.

The street circuit under lights had delivered all the chaos it was known for, and still somehow, it had settled into something nearly predictable. McLaren had been fast. Too fast, if Azzi was honest with herself. Their top-end pace on the straights made overtaking miserable, and their tire degradation had somehow improved overnight. Still, she’d salvaged third. Paige fourth, less than a second behind. Neither of them thrilled, but no damage done. Ferrari still led the constructors’ standings comfortably, and Paige still had a grip on the Drivers’ Championship.

It wasn’t a bad weekend. Just a loud one.

Now they were thirty thousand feet above the ground, somewhere over Central Asia, heading toward the relentless humidity of Singapore. And Azzi, feet tucked under her on the cream leather couch of her jet, was deeply regretting letting Luka and Mateo talk her into this.

Well, not really. She’d offered.

“You’ve never flown private?” she’d asked them after the race, eyes wide with genuine disbelief.

Luka had shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Never needed to.”

Mateo had grinned. “We’re team players. We suffer with the staff.”

Azzi had rolled her eyes, already texting her flight manager.

Now they were here. Luka was sitting backward in his chair, ankles crossed on the armrest like he owned the place. Mateo was three snacks in and holding a banana like it was a mic.

And Paige was seated across from Azzi, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, looking more relaxed than she had since Baku qualifying. At least until Luka started squinting at her.

“So,” Luka said, his voice filled with the kind of faux-innocence that immediately made Azzi want to groan. “How was New York?”

Azzi looked up from her phone slowly. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Mateo echoed, like a parrot with a PhD in sarcasm. “Totally random dinner in the same restaurant, same table, same neighborhood, at the same time.”

“Wild coincidence,” Luka added, flipping his phone around to show a photo. “This viral shot disagrees.”

It was the picture from dinner. Dimly lit but sharp enough to see how close Azzi had leaned in. How Paige’s hand had been on the back of her chair. It had hit TikTok mid-week and was still racking up edits with soft piano music and increasingly romantic captions.

“Okay,” Paige said, trying not to smile. “People eat.”

“In the same city?” Mateo asked. “On the same night?”

“We’re coworkers,” Azzi said, deadpan.

“Who fly private together,” Luka offered. “And also disappear at parties together, according to this thread.”

He flipped to another screen. Azzi caught a flash of Dirk’s smug face in one of the photos and looked away before her mood could turn.

“It’s not that deep,” Paige muttered, but the back of her neck was pink.

“No, no,” Mateo said, holding up his banana-mic. “We’re just engineers asking questions.”

Azzi cracked then, covering her face with one hand and laughing despite herself. Paige leaned back with a groan, pulling her hood over her eyes like it might protect her from the onslaught.

They weren’t mad about it. Not really. Just caught. Sort of. Not that there was anything to catch.

Sort of.

“So,” Mateo said after a beat, tossing the banana peel into the trash bin behind him. “Big weekend coming up, huh?”

Azzi nodded. “Singapore’s a good track for us. Hot. Technical. Tight corners.”

Luka tilted his head. “And after that?”

Azzi smiled, folding her hands behind her head. “Austin.”

Her mood shifted warmer at the thought. “My family’s flying in. Parents, Jon, José… even the baby cousins might show if my uncle can figure out how a plane works.”

“Serious crew,” Luka said.

Azzi nodded. “Haven’t seen them since Miami. They’re loud and sweet and will eat like twelve thousand funnel cakes.”

“You hyped?” Mateo asked.

Azzi looked at Paige, who peeked out from under her hood.

“Yeah,” Azzi said. “We both are.”

Paige nodded. “I love the U.S. GP. And I think my dad and Drew are coming to Vegas in November.”

Azzi smiled. “Tell your dad he owes me a rematch in cornhole.”

“I won’t,” Paige said. “He’s still pretending it never happened.”

Luka leaned over and stage-whispered, “So we’re going to pretend this whole flight isn’t basically a Ferrari honeymoon?”

Azzi picked up a pillow and chucked it at him.

–

Singapore was a furnace.

Not the dry, blistering heat of southern Spain or the sunbaked stretches of Silverstone. This was suffocating. Dense. Sticky. Every step outdoors felt like walking through a pot of simmering soup. Even indoors, with air conditioners on full blast, it seeped into the walls, the floorboards, the threads of your clothes.

Azzi hated it.

Or…she didn’t. The city was beautiful. Flashy. Clean in the way ultra-rich cities were. She and Paige had landed a few days early, with Ferrari’s blessing. The travel time back to Italy or the States just didn’t make sense. Too many flights, too many layovers. Too much stress on their bodies, their heads, their sleep cycles.

Better to just land and wait.

So they waited. Spent mornings at the pool and afternoons slipping between meetings and film review. Nights were quiet. Or they were supposed to be.

It was just after 2 a.m. when Azzi gave up on sleep.

The ceiling fan wasn’t helping. The hotel AC unit might as well have been wheezing its last breath. Her sheets clung to her legs like plastic wrap. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck. She turned, then turned again, then flipped her pillow over like that would make a difference.

It didn’t.

And her thoughts—well, they weren’t helping either.

They never did when Paige was two floors below her.

Eventually she sat up, kicked off the sheets, and pressed her bare feet to the cool tile. She pulled on a pair of loose shorts and a tank top. Nothing crazy. Just… Singapore clothes. Weather-appropriate.

It was only when she stood in front of Paige’s hotel door, barefoot and sweaty and half sure she was about to get laughed back to bed, that she hesitated. But her knuckles knocked before her brain could stop her.

She heard movement. Then a click. The door cracked open, revealing Paige, eyes shadowed, hair messy, and very much not asleep.

She blinked at Azzi once. “What are you doing here?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Why are you awake?”

Paige leaned against the doorframe, one hand braced overhead. She was in a black racerback tank and boxers, the fabric darkening slightly with sweat along her collarbone and under her ribs. Her skin glowed, dewy from heat and maybe something else.

Azzi’s mouth went dry.

“I was watching race film,” Paige said, casual, like she wasn’t standing there looking exactly like a Nike photoshoot for trouble.

“At two in the morning?”

Paige gave a small shrug. “It’s hot. Couldn’t sleep.”

Azzi crossed her arms and shifted her weight. “Same.”

A moment passed. Not tense, exactly. But… loaded. Paige was still in the doorway, still sweaty and barefoot, and looking at Azzi like she could read every reason she’d come down here that had nothing to do with heat.

“Wanna come in?” Paige asked, stepping back.

Azzi followed, brushing past her, skin sparking at the near contact. The room was dim. Cool, by comparison. Paige had one of those portable fans humming near the bed, and the curtains were drawn to trap the dark.

Azzi flopped onto the edge of the bed like she belonged there. Paige sat back down in the chair she’d pulled up near the window. Her laptop was open, paused on a corner-speed breakdown from Baku.

“I wasn’t lying,” Paige said, tapping the spacebar and letting the screen go black. “I really was watching film.”

Azzi let her head fall back against the pillow. “I didn’t say you were lying.”

Paige stretched her arms over her head, slow and long. Her tank shifted with the movement, revealing a flash of toned stomach, the low swoop of her hip. Azzi looked away. Tried to, anyway.

“You want water or something?” Paige asked.

“Water would make it worse,” Azzi said. “I’d just sweat it out.”

Paige smirked. “True.”

Another pause. The fan whirred.

Azzi rolled to her side and studied her. “You really couldn’t sleep either?”

Paige glanced over. “I’ve been thinking a lot.”

Azzi’s stomach flipped.

“About?”

Paige tilted her head. “Life.”

Azzi snorted. “You’re gonna get all vague now?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Paige’s mouth, but it didn’t fully land. “You ever feel like the heat makes you think too hard?”

Azzi nodded. “Too much sweat, not enough oxygen.”

“Exactly.”

She stood again, walked over, and grabbed the second pillow off the other side of the bed. Tossed it to Azzi without asking.

Azzi caught it. “I’m staying?”

Paige met her eyes. “Do you want to?”

Azzi didn’t look away. “Yes.”

Silence again.

The tension, sticky like the air, settled in again between them. Thicker now. Not new, but no longer brushed off as nothing. Not in this room. Not after New York. Not after the jet rides and the teasing and the way Paige had said her name during comms last race like it meant something more than just race craft.

Paige sat on the other side of the bed. Not touching. But close.

Too close.

Azzi exhaled. “I didn’t come down here to start anything.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

She turned her head. Paige was already looking at her. Hair sticking to her temple. A faint glow across her chest where sweat caught the moonlight.

Azzi wanted to look away.

She didn’t.

“Still hot,” Paige murmured.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”

Paige reached for the remote and clicked the fan up a notch. The air shifted slightly, not enough to matter.

Azzi laid back again, one arm thrown over her eyes.

“If I sleepwalk into your lap it’s because you’re cold,” she muttered.

“I’m not cold.”

Azzi peeked out from under her arm.

Paige’s eyes were still on her. Unmoving. Unapologetic.

Azzi swallowed, pulse loud in her ears.

“Well,” she said softly, “you’re cooler than me.”

Paige didn’t respond.

But she didn’t move away either.

Paige knew what Azzi was here for at 2 in the morning. Though, Azzi had been feeling it for a while at this point.

It had started hours ago, maybe even before she knocked on Paige’s door, when she sat restless in her bed, pretending it was the heat that had her peeling off layers and twisting in the sheets. Now, in the dim quiet of Paige’s hotel room, with the fan kicking up warm air and the curtains drawn tight against the city glow, Azzi could feel that low, pulsing certainty settle in her chest:

She hadn’t come here to cool off.

Paige knew it too.

She lay next to Azzi now, close but still not touching. The kind of distance that a deep breath could erase. Azzi turned her head, slowly, and found Paige already watching her. No hesitation. No teasing smile. Just that steady, quiet focus that always made Azzi feel like she was under a microscope. As if Paige was learning her in real time, one heartbeat at a time.

Paige reached out first. Just a hand, brushing soft along the edge of Azzi’s wrist. Barely a touch.

Azzi let out a slow exhale. “So much for staying cool.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Paige’s mouth. “I said I wasn’t cold.”

Her voice was lower now, sleep rough in it. Or maybe not sleep.

Azzi shifted closer, until her thigh brushed Paige’s. Her skin buzzed at the contact. Paige’s breath caught, and Azzi felt it, that tiny shift in air between them, like gravity had tilted in their direction.

They’d done this before.

But not like this.

Not with something real and fragile humming underneath. Not with a promise quietly blooming between touches.

Azzi rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. “You gonna let me kiss you, or are we still pretending this is about sleep?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to her mouth. “I’m not pretending anything.”

Azzi kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It didn’t need to be. There was no urgency, no scramble. Just warmth, and closeness, and the soft hum of a fan cutting through the heat. Paige’s hand found Azzi’s hip, steady and sure, and pulled her closer.

She fit there like she always had.

Azzi felt Paige’s fingers trace along her spine, slow and deliberate. Her skin prickled in response. She deepened the kiss, let herself settle into it, let herself feel everything. The softness of Paige’s lips, the low sound she made in the back of her throat when Azzi kissed her jaw, the way her hands didn’t rush but held like she meant it.

This wasn’t a secret, not here.

Azzi felt safe in this room. Hidden. Honest. She didn’t need to perform, didn’t need to hold back.

Paige rolled them gently, shifting to hover above her. Her hair fell around her face, catching bits of light. She looked down at Azzi like she was studying a map, trying to remember all the familiar landmarks.

Azzi’s chest rose and fell, slow and even.

“You good?” Paige asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded. “You?”

“Of course.”

–

Azzi was not a morning person.

She could pretend, sometimes, when cameras were waiting or sponsors needed her bright-eyed and branded. But this morning (body humming and thighs still comfortably aching) she was no actress. She rolled out of Paige’s bed with a wince and a grin, the sheets warm and tangled, the air still heavy with Singapore heat and something softer. Something that lingered in the pit of her stomach like a secret.

Paige was already up, sitting at the edge of the bed with her long legs stretched out and a bottle of water tilted lazily toward her lips. She glanced over when Azzi groaned softly, twisting her torso with the ease of someone who knew exactly what she’d done last night and wasn’t sorry about any of it.

“Meeting in thirty,” Paige said, her voice dry but amused. “Fred.”

Azzi sighed. “God. Do you think he knows?”

Paige’s brow arched. “He’s French. He definitely knows.”

They arrived ten minutes late, hair still slightly damp from rushed showers, Azzi in a loose ribbed tank and oversized linen pants, Paige in a plain black tee and joggers, fresh-faced but unmistakably guilty of something. The meeting was already in motion when they slipped into the cool, air-conditioned conference room tucked into the back of the paddock hospitality suite. Fred sat at the head of the table, glasses pushed high on his nose, flanked by two PR officers and an assistant who looked entirely too caffeinated for the hour.

Fred didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at them. A long, pointed look.

Then: “Do I want to know why you’re late?”

Azzi blinked. Paige said, “Probably not.”

The younger PR rep cleared her throat. “So. As you both know, a photo surfaced earlier this week. From New York.”

Azzi fought the urge to smirk. The photo in question had gone viral within hours. Her leaning back in her chair at the candlelit restaurant, mid-laugh, Paige in a black button-down across from her, arm resting casually close, eyes on Azzi like she was the only person in the room. Which, for Paige, she probably had been.

It was a good photo. Too good.

The rumors had been relentless.

“Obviously, the speculation is getting traction,” the older PR manager added, flipping through a folder of printed tweets, headlines, and one particularly bold Instagram comment that read simply: “Hard launch when??”

Fred tapped the table. “We need a plan.”

“Plan for what, exactly?” Azzi asked, even though she already knew.

The younger rep tried to be gentle. “The public is making assumptions. And if you don’t control the narrative, they will.”

Paige leaned back in her chair. “What narrative are we supposed to offer?”

“A distraction,” the older one said. “Or a clarification. Or ideally both.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “So, what—lie?”

They both looked briefly uncomfortable before the younger one said, “Well… more like shape.”

Fred finally chimed in again, steepling his fingers. “We don’t need a scandal. We need focus. You’re one and two in the championship. Ferrari is winning. We cannot afford the headlines to be about dinner dates and who is or isn’t sleeping with whom.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. She’d known this was coming. She just hated that it was happening in a cold room with fluorescent lights and lukewarm espresso cups.

“So, what’s the best option?” Paige asked. Her voice was calm, but Azzi knew her well enough to catch the flicker in her tone. She was annoyed. Bracing.

The rep didn’t miss a beat. “Option one—one of you is seen with a guy. Someone safe. Familiar. Maybe even someone we’ve used before. Dirk van der Meer’s name came up—”

“No,” Paige said, sharply.

Fred raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not doing that again.”

Azzi stayed quiet, but her lips pressed into a thin line. Dirk had been a necessary evil once. A blurry summer and a PR contract and a few half-hearted smiles for the camera. Paige hadn’t spoken to him since. Didn’t want to.

“Option two,” the older rep continued, “we release a statement. Neutral, minimal. Just something to dispel the noise without denying or confirming anything.”

“So basically saying nothing,” Azzi said.

“It lets the moment pass,” Fred said. “Without adding gasoline.”

“And if we don’t do anything?” Paige asked, even though she knew the answer.

The rep’s silence was enough.

Azzi ran a hand through her hair. The AC was too cold. Her body still ached pleasantly from the night before, but now her stomach was twisting. Not with regret. Just frustration. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Neither had Paige. But the world they lived in, the one with contracts and sponsors and publicists who printed Instagram comments, wanted neatness. Stories they could sell.

“I’m not fake-dating Dirk again,” Paige repeated, quieter now. Firmer. “I’d rather the rumors keep flying.”

Fred nodded slowly. “Okay.”

That surprised both of them.

“But no stunts,” he added. “No more dinners in candlelight restaurants that look like Vogue covers.”

Azzi couldn’t help the smile. “So rooftop burgers it is.”

The older rep pinched the bridge of her nose.

Fred stood. “We’ll manage it. Just keep your heads down until Singapore’s over. We’ll reassess before Austin.”

Paige was already half out the door.

Azzi lingered for a beat, then glanced back at the table.

“Just for the record,” she said, tone light but words clipped, “I’d rather be caught kissing someone I actually like than pretending to be straight for a sponsor.”

Then she left, leaving the PR team in stiff silence and Fred wearing something almost like a grin.

–

Azzi found Paige later that night where she always went when things didn’t sit right—perched on the edge of the hotel’s rooftop terrace, eyes scanning the city below like she could read the skyline for answers.

Singapore at night was golden and electric. Air thick as syrup. Every surface radiated heat even long after sunset. But Paige was still in the same black tee from the meeting, legs folded up on the lounge chair, jaw tight and unreadable.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first. She sat down beside her, letting the silence settle between them like steam.

“It’s not like I didn’t expect it,” Paige said finally, without looking over. “The photo, the reaction, the PR scramble… it’s all part of the game.”

“But it still sucks,” Azzi offered.

Paige glanced at her then. Her expression wasn’t hurt exactly. Just tired. “It’s just not fair, you know?”

Azzi nodded. She did know.

They both sat with it for a moment—what it meant to be watched, packaged, speculated on. What it meant to choose someone in a world that kept asking you to pretend.

Then Azzi shifted, tucking one leg underneath her. “Can I ask you something?”

Paige shrugged. “Sure.”

Azzi hesitated. She hadn’t meant to bring this up tonight, but something about Paige’s quiet stillness made the moment feel right. Like this was a story that had been waiting for a quieter hour.

“Why’d you do another year of F3?” she asked. “You had F2 offers. Everyone knew that. Hell, I got pulled up halfway through my F3 season and dumped into F2 for six months, then almost straight into F1. But you did two full seasons.”

Paige’s brows lifted, caught off guard. “That’s what you’ve been wondering?”

Azzi smiled faintly. “Well, I thought maybe you were being strategic or something. But it always felt a little off.”

Paige was quiet for a long moment. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers picking idly at the edge of the chair cushion.

“You probably already know this,” she said at last, not looking up. “But I didn’t finish the F3 season.”

Azzi blinked. “After I got moved up?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. That was… sort of the beginning of the end.”

She let out a breath, more weight than air.

“I mean, on paper, I was still on the team. Still under contract. But I didn’t race again. I had this whole… thing. A moment, I guess. Or a breakdown, depending on who you ask.”

Azzi’s heart tightened. She hadn’t known the details. Not really.

“I was seventeen,” Paige said, voice low. “And I was so burnt out. I’d been pretending like I was fine, like I could handle all of it. But then you got pulled up to F2, and it was like… suddenly the bar changed. And I was still there, still grinding in the middle of the pack while they were talking about the next season like it was already decided.”

She swallowed.

“I called my mom. Thought I was calling her to vent. But I just lost it on the phone. I was crying or whatever about contracts and performance clauses and how I didn’t even know if I wanted any of it anymore. And she… did what moms do. She took the wheel. Called my manager. Froze the talks. Told them I was out for the rest of the year.”

Azzi stayed quiet. Her chest ached.

“I was so mad,” Paige continued. “Like, really mad. Felt like I was being punished for cracking under pressure. But now?” She finally looked over. “I’m glad. That break let let me breathe. Let me figure out if I really wanted this. Not just the career. But the life.”

Azzi exhaled, slow. “I had a bit of that too,” she said. “After F2.”

Paige blinked. “You?”

Azzi nodded. “After I signed with Ferrari, I was supposed to finish the rest of the F2 season. Just keep racing until F1 pre-season started. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep driving when my brain was already somewhere else, and my body was exhausted. So I told them I needed out. Needed a breather.”

She gave a wry smile. “Everyone thought it was strategic. That I was preserving myself. But honestly? I was just spent.”

Paige tilted her head, eyes soft. “And you never told anyone that.”

Azzi shook her head. “Didn’t feel like I could.”

The heat settled around them again, humid and heavy, but this time it wasn’t so uncomfortable. It was grounding. Real.

“I think that’s why I kept watching you,” Azzi said quietly. “Back then. Even after I got moved up. You weren’t trying to force it. You were just… doing it your way.”

Paige looked over, surprised. “I thought you were always too focused to notice me.”

Azzi laughed, low. “I noticed everything, P.”

Paige’s expression shifted then—somewhere between disbelief and something softer. Azzi reached over, took her hand. Their fingers curled together without resistance.

They stayed like that, side by side under the stars, traffic humming far below, the world too far away to interrupt.

“I like doing this with you,” Azzi said, barely above a whisper.

Paige squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

–

Azzi couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t the heat, not this time. The AC in her room had finally won its battle against the Singapore humidity. Her sheets were cool, her body relaxed, but her brain was wide awake, lit up like the track on race night.

She lay on her back, one hand resting across her stomach, the other loosely curled near her head. Paige’s voice echoed softly in her ears, not in any exact sentence, but in that quiet, open way she had spoken earlier. Honest. Unfiltered. Trusting.

Azzi rolled over and checked the time—nearly midnight. Singapore time anyway. That made it late morning in D.C.

She reached for her phone and tapped on the contact saved as Mom before she could talk herself out of it.

Katie picked up on the second ring.

“Hi, baby,” came her warm voice, and just like that, Azzi’s chest loosened.

“Hi,” she said, sinking into the sound like it was home. “You busy?”

“Never too busy for you. What’s up?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She let the silence hold for a moment, then pressed the side of her face into her pillow.

“I just wanted to talk,” she murmured.

Katie waited, sensing something underneath.

Azzi let the words come slowly. “Paige is like… sort of my girlfriend now.”

There was no dramatic pause on the other end. No gasp. Just a quiet hum, like Katie had already guessed and was smiling softly to herself.

“Sort of?” Katie asked gently.

Azzi huffed out a small laugh. “We didn’t do the whole label thing. I think we’re both too stubborn for that. But… yeah. She’s mine. I’m hers. That kind of thing.”

Katie didn’t need more than that.

“Well, I’m happy if you’re happy,” she said simply.

Azzi’s throat tightened. “I am.”

She meant it. Even with the media storm building outside their hotel rooms, even with PR teams drafting fake-boyfriend talking points, even with everything still uncertain—she was happy.

“But it’s complicated,” she added. “With the photo, and the fans, and the… speculation. Fred called us in this morning. They’re all trying to figure out what to do. And it’s exhausting. Like, just pretending everything’s fine.”

There was a pause.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Katie said softly.

“I know,” Azzi whispered. “That’s why I called.”

Katie didn’t fill the silence with advice. She waited, patient as ever.

Azzi sat up in bed, legs crossed under her, phone pressed to her ear. “I miss you guys,” she said quietly. “You and Dad. And the boys. I’ve been thinking about Austin every day.”

“We can’t wait to see you.”

Azzi smiled. “I promised I’d win for you.”

“We’re already proud of you, Az.”

Azzi let her eyes close for a moment, imagining the way her mom might be sitting right now—curled up on the family room couch, tea in hand, wearing one of her oversized sweaters. Her voice always sounded like calm.

“And I was thinking,” Azzi went on, her voice picking up a little, “maybe… maybe Paige and I should post about mental health. Like, in a real way. Not some sponsored one-liner. We’ve both been through stuff. We could make it honest. Not for damage control. Just… because it’s important.”

There was a smile in Katie’s voice now. “That sounds like a really good idea.”

Azzi’s heart swelled a little.

“I think it would help people,” she added. “And maybe it would help us too. To not feel like we’re hiding everything. Plus it’s great for PR…”

Another pause.

Then, lighter, Azzi said, “Also… I’m running a pink helmet this weekend.”

“Your bright pink?”

“The brightest,” Azzi said proudly. “Almost neon. I wanted something that felt like me again.”

Katie laughed gently. “I love that.”

Azzi leaned back against her headboard, smiling into the phone. “Paige’s helmet is lilac this weekend. Or lavender. Whatever you call it. It’s so pretty. I think it’s her favorite color.”

“Is it your favorite color too now?” Katie teased.

Azzi giggled, cheeks warming. “No. But it’s… her. It looks like her. All soft and shiny and—” She stopped. “She’s really pretty.”

Katie didn’t say anything for a second.

“You really like her,” she said.

Azzi’s smile faded into something quieter. “I do.”

They sat in that for a while—just breathing together across the distance.

Eventually, Katie said, “You should get some sleep, baby. You’ve got a race to win.”

Azzi nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see it. “I will. Thanks for picking up.”

“Always. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Azzi ended the call and set the phone down on her nightstand. The room felt softer somehow. Less heavy.

She slid down under the covers, one hand resting on her stomach again, the other still tingling from holding the phone.

Sleep came easier after that.

–

The lights above the Marina Bay Street Circuit burned like white fire against the inky Singapore night, and even at 9 p.m., the air hung heavy and wet around them like a wool blanket soaked in steam. Race day in the tropics was never pleasant, but this—this was a different beast entirely.

Azzi was drenched in sweat before the formation lap.

The second she pulled down her visor, the air inside her helmet turned into a sauna. Her race suit clung to her like a second skin, heat radiating from every panel. Even her gloves were damp. She hadn’t even put the car into gear yet.

“Let’s keep it clean. Smart start. No drama into Turn One,” came Mateo's voice over the radio.

Azzi didn’t bother answering. She was saving her energy for what promised to be a long, miserable hour and forty-five minutes.

Next to her on the front row, Paige sat stone-still in P1, her lilac helmet glinting softly under the floodlights. She was good here—really good. Fast, smooth, patient in the technical sections, aggressive in the perfect places. Singapore was where Paige had made a name for herself in F3, and now, one year into F1, she looked every bit the future world champion.

Azzi had no plans to make that easy for her.

The lights went out, and chaos reigned.

Paige got away clean. Azzi tucked in behind her. For the first twenty laps, it looked like they might cruise to a textbook 1-2 finish, as planned. No mistakes. No drama. Just the Ferrari girls slicing through the city heat like blades.

Then came Lap 22.

A midfield collision brought out a full Safety Car, and that’s when things started to unravel. McLaren pitted both drivers at once and somehow still managed to gain track position. Red Bull gambled on hard tires, and Mercedes threw soft tires on one car just to see if the world would end. Paige’s restart was flawless—but a lunge from a McLaren into Turn Eight forced Azzi wide, and she had to fight tooth and nail just to avoid contact. She dropped to fourth.

Then it started.

Yellow flags. Debris. Another Safety Car. Virtual Safety Car. One car parked sideways in the tunnel section like it forgot how to exist. Someone lost power steering. Someone else lost a wing. Azzi lost count of how many times she nearly got rear-ended by a Haas.

It was hot. So hot. Her water bottle gave up somewhere around Lap 35. Her back felt like it was melting into the seat. Her hands ached from gripping the wheel so tight.

By Lap 47, she was back in second, chasing Paige down like it was the last lap of their lives. She caught glimpses of the lilac helmet under the streetlamps—Paige was driving like a woman possessed. Clean, relentless, perfect. And sweaty as hell, probably. They both were. Azzi could feel her sports bra plastered to her ribs, and she was almost certain the pink dye from her helmet had leaked onto her neck.

But god, it looked so good.

The hot pink shimmered under the lights, bold and defiant. She might’ve been half-dead from heatstroke, but at least she looked like a flaming dream barreling through Sector 3.

The final laps were survival. Paige held the lead. Azzi kept her distance, defending against Hamilton like her life depended on it. No risks. No unnecessary moves. Just bring it home.

And when the checkered flag finally waved, and Paige crossed the line first with Azzi right behind her, both girls screamed.

Azzi barely made it out of the car before collapsing onto a pit wall stool, yanking off her helmet with trembling fingers. Her ponytail was soaked, her suit stuck to her thighs like glue, her forearms aching from every snap of countersteer she’d needed in that ridiculous, ridiculous race.

She blinked sweat out of her eyes and laughed into the open air.

“What the actual hell was that?” she croaked to nobody in particular.

No one answered. Everyone was still trying to piece together how they survived.

Paige was hoisted onto shoulders by the team before Azzi even got her gloves off. She looked delirious with heat and joy and disbelief. Azzi couldn’t stop laughing. Or sweating.

They’d wanted a calm 1-2.

What they got was a three-act opera of disaster, heat, and brilliance—with a Ferrari double podium at the end.

Azzi leaned back against the garage wall, head tilted to the sky, lungs still burning.

She was going to need three light-years of vacation.

But at least the special helmets looked good.

–

The air was thick and loud and glittering—champagne mist floating in the heat, blinding camera flashes against dark sky, the scent of burned rubber mixing with sweat and something sweeter. Maybe adrenaline. Maybe awe.

Azzi stood on the second step of the Singapore Grand Prix podium, and she was staring. Unapologetically.

Paige was on the top step. Again.

The first time this happened, Jeddah, back in April, Azzi remembered looking at her like this too. Like the whole world had tilted slightly and Paige had ended up at the center of it, smiling, golden, the trophy in her hands an afterthought to the way she carried herself.

And now, here in Singapore, that feeling hadn’t dulled.

Paige stood in front of the massive LED screen, violet-and-orange lights bouncing off her damp skin, hair plastered to her forehead, her suit half unzipped to the waist. The way her chest rose and fell, the way the curve of her jaw caught the glint from the Rolex billboard behind her. It made Azzi dizzy, in the way you get dizzy from looking too long at something you’re not supposed to want in public.

And Azzi was staring. She knew it. So did every camera. She was going to be a slo-mo edit on TikTok in fifteen minutes.

She didn’t care.

Paige held the trophy in one hand, the neck of the champagne bottle in the other, grinning like she couldn’t believe she’d done it again. She looked down toward Azzi just once, eyes catching hers for the briefest second, soft and wild and shining.

Azzi exhaled through her nose and tried not to melt.

This girl had taken a win off her in the hardest, hottest race of the year. Sweated out a pole lap in a car that had no business being that fast through sector three. Danced through two Safety Cars, ten near-misses, and a pit stop that should’ve ruined the whole strategy. And she was standing there now like it had all been inevitable. Like it was just another Sunday.

Azzi wanted to say something. Something about how stupidly pretty she looked under the lights, or how she’d made this godforsaken night race feel like it was worth every aching muscle and ruined manicure. But her mouth stayed shut. There were microphones nearby. She remembered that much.

She was in public.

Damn.

Azzi blinked and looked away for a second too long, just to reset her thoughts. The crowd roared, drunk on chaos and confetti. The Ferrari anthem started to play. She closed her eyes, let the sweat slide down her neck, let the heat settle into her bones.

Her gaze drifted back. Just for one more second.

Paige Bueckers, victorious under a sky of light and noise, was grinning at something the third-place driver said. Probably nothing important. She turned her head slightly, and the shine on her cheekbone caught the edge of the camera flash.

Azzi felt her heart beat once, loud and low.

She was in love with a girl who looked like that under stadium lights. Who drove like that in a furnace. Who laughed like that even after forty-nine laps of hell. And the whole world could watch her look. She didn’t care.

There were worse things to be known for.

She was in love with Paige Bueckers.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #uconn wbb #uconnwbb #pazzi fics #dallas wings

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cassiemaebarnes · 1 month ago

Text

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 18 (final part)

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 3,068

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI

After a few hours of reading, you closed your book with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m bored. And hungry.”

Bucky just chuckled, closing his own book and looking over at you. “Alright. Where do you wanna go?”

You just hummed, then looked at him with a smile. “We should go somewhere nice. First official date as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “I know a place.”

He stood, grabbing your book from your lap, then reaching out his hand to help you up. You took it and stood, then laced your fingers with his as you made your way back to the car.

He opened the passenger door for you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in, leaning back and tossing the books back into the bag in the back seat.

The drive wasn’t long, just about twenty minutes, with soft music playing on the radio and your fingers still laced with his over the center console. You tried to guess where he was taking you, throwing out random names of restaurants and diners around the city, but he just smirked and shook his head each time.

When he finally pulled up to a charming, warmly lit restaurant tucked on a quiet street corner, you let out a delighted little gasp.

“This is perfect,” you said, already reaching for your door handle.

“Ah, ah,” Bucky scolded playfully, immediately getting out and circling the car.

You just smiled, heart fluttering a little as he opened it for you and held out his hand. You took it gladly, stepping out, and as soon as you were on your feet, he gently tucked your hand into the crook of his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmured, teasing.

He just smirked. “You bring it out of me.”

Inside, the hostess greeted you with a warm smile and led you to a cozy table near the back, the lighting soft and golden. Bucky pulled your chair out before you could even think to reach for it, then sat across from you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a fondness that made your cheeks warm.

You both scanned the menus for a few minutes before placing your orders, and once the waitress walked away, you both settled in comfortably, conversation flowing easily.

“You know,” you said, twirling your straw in your drink, “if you keep being this perfect, I might get used to it.”

Bucky grinned, leaning back in his seat, one arm resting over the back of the chair beside him. “That the worst thing that could happen?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Hmm…no. But it does raise the bar significantly for everyone else.”

He leaned forward a little, voice low and teasing. “Good. I don’t want anyone else to try.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, but your smile lingered as you rested your chin on your hand. “You know, I like this. Just…us. Normal.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Me too, doll.”

The food arrived not long after, and the conversation shifted from mission stories and random Avengers chaos to childhood memories and bucket list dreams. You laughed so hard at one of Bucky’s sarcastic remarks about Sam that you nearly choked on your water, and he looked so pleased with himself it only made you laugh harder.

By the time the plates were cleared, you felt full – not just from the food, but from the warmth of the night, the comfort of Bucky’s presence, the soft kind of happiness that didn’t need to be loud to be real.

And when the waitress asked if you wanted dessert, Bucky looked at you and asked, “You want something sweet?”

You smiled. “I already got you.”

He groaned at the cheesiness, but he was grinning like a fool.

“Alright, now you’re just trying to kill me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Okay but seriously,” you said, looking at the waitress and raising an eyebrow, “what do you have.”

She laughed softly before handing you a dessert menu, telling you she’d give you a few minutes and stepping away.

Bucky clutched his chest as if you’d wounded him, eyes wide with mock betrayal.

“You actually do want something sweet?” he gasped.

You grinned, totally playing along. “I do. I can’t help it. I’m craving something rich and chocolatey.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “Unbelievable. I give you my heart, and you throw me aside for dessert.”

You snorted. “Please, like you weren’t planning on stealing bites the second it shows up.”

He narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I like sweet things.”

Before you could reply, the waitress returned, and Bucky turned on the charm like a switch. “She’ll have the chocolate lava cake, please.”

You rested your chin on your hand and smiled at him. “You know me so well.”

“I do my best,” he said with a wink.

When the dessert arrived, you practically lit up, grabbing a spoon and diving in with a satisfied hum. “Oh, this is so good.”

You held out a spoonful to him. “C’mon, just one bite.”

He leaned back slightly, shaking his head with a half-smile. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”

You froze mid-spoon lift, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me?”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“You don’t like sweets?” You blinked at him in mock horror. “So you don’t like me?”

His grin turned sly. “Oh, I like you plenty. I can handle some sweetness.” He leaned forward slightly, voice low and teasing. “I’m just saving my dessert for later.”

You paused, caught completely off guard by the heat in his tone. Your brain short-circuited for a second, your cheeks heating as your spoon hovered in midair. But then you laughed, biting your lip and shaking your head.

“Wow,” you said under your breath. “Did not see that one coming.”

But inside, your thoughts were far less composed. The words replayed in your head on a loop, and suddenly, your legs felt a little weaker under the table.

You finished the dessert with a flurry of shared smiles and lingering glances, and when the waitress brought the check, Bucky was already reaching for his wallet.

“I can–” you started, but he was already slipping a card onto the table.

He gave you a look. “I’ve got it.”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “Good. Because I didn’t even bring my wallet.”

That got a real laugh out of him, head tilting back slightly. “Unbelievable.”

You just grinned smugly, pushing the empty plate toward the edge of the table. “What can I say? I like being spoiled.”

He leaned closer, lips curling into a soft smirk. “Good. I like spoiling you.”

And you couldn’t help it – your stomach flipped again, that light, happy flutter taking over your whole chest as you looked at him across the table.

The waitress came and took the check, then came back a moment later, setting it down with a smile. “All set. You two have a great night.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said with a nod as he stood, already moving around the table.

You started to push your chair back, but he was there before you could even touch it, gently sliding it out for you. You gave him a look as you stood, a smile tugging at your lips. “You really going for the perfect gentleman routine tonight, huh?”

He just offered his arm with a smirk. “Always, doll.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you toward the exit. He opened the restaurant door for you too, holding it until you stepped outside, then following close behind.

When you reached the car, he quickly jogged around to open the passenger door for you. “After you.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Careful, Barnes. If you keep this up, I might get used to it.”

He smirked. “Good. You should.”

The second you were buckled in, he shut your door and rounded the front to slide into the driver’s seat. He started the car, one hand on the wheel, the other settling comfortably on your thigh.

At first, it was casual – his thumb rubbing slow circles into your leggings. But then his hand started to drift. Just a little. Barely noticeable.

Except your stomach noticed. Immediately.

You glanced down, then shot him a look, grinning. “You know that’s illegal, right?”

He looked far too smug for someone who was definitely not watching the road as closely as he should’ve been. “What? My hand? It’s just resting.”

“Resting doesn’t involve slowly creeping up my thigh like that,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

His thumb moved just a little higher. “You sure? Feels pretty natural to me.”

You snorted, trying not to squirm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he added casually, “if you didn’t want me touching you, you wouldn’t be wearing these leggings. They’re criminal, doll.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Completely,” he said without missing a beat. “You wear them, I suffer. It’s a crime against me, really.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned your head back against the seat, trying to hide your smile – and how warm your skin was getting under his palm. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, flashing you a grin. “You looked too damn good crawling across that bed earlier. It’s burned into my brain now.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “You’re such a menace.”

He chuckled, voice low and rich. “You love it.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Unfortunately.”

He laughed again, and you felt his hand squeeze your thigh gently – still wandering dangerously close to territory that was definitely not rated for a public highway. But his grin stayed playful, teasing, never crossing the line.

And the whole ride back, the two of you kept trading jokes and flirty banter, your laughter filling the car, the heat between you simmering quietly – the kind of warmth that promised more later, once you were back behind closed doors.

By the time you pulled up to the compound, your face hurt from smiling and your stomach still fluttered every time Bucky’s hand moved just a little higher on your thigh.

He parked the car and turned off the engine, glancing over at you with that same teasing smirk he’d worn all night. “You good?”

You raised a brow. “You mean aside from being relentlessly harassed in the passenger seat?”

“Harassed?” he scoffed, feigning offense. “That was gentle affection.”

You snorted. “Your definition of gentle needs some serious revision.”

He only grinned more, unbuckling and hopping out. You reached for your handle, but – of course – he beat you to it, opening your door with a flourish and offering his hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you said with a curtsy of your head as you stepped out.

He shut the door behind you and leaned in. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You walked side by side into the compound, your steps slow, a bit lazy from the comfortable buzz of good food, warmth, and the lingering tension still dancing between you. The building was quiet – most of the team already turned in for the night. The low hum of lights and soft echo of your footsteps filled the halls as you headed toward his room.

The second you turned the corner toward his hallway, Bucky’s hand found your waist and pulled you in closer, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. “Still sweet?”

You glanced up at him, meeting those blue eyes with a challenge. “Why? You planning on testing that theory?”

His grin was slow and dangerous, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” you said, opening his door, stepping inside, and tugging him in by the front of his shirt, “let’s see.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and the second it did, Bucky was on you.

One hand stayed on your waist as his other came up and cupped your face as his lips met yours. His fingers slid back into your hair as the kiss deepened, and your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, your bodies pressing flush.

You walked backward blindly, lips never parting, until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere – your waist, your back, skimming the hem of your sweater and slipping underneath. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, warm and a little rough, his touch reverent and searching.

He picked you up effortlessly, laying you down on the bed as he climbed on and hovered over top of you. He used his knee to part your legs, then settled in between them as he leaned back down to you.

His lips crashed into yours again, more urgent now. He pulled your sweater up and over your head, tossing it aside without even looking, then leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses down your neck, taking his time like he had nowhere else to be but with you.

You gasped when he reached a sensitive spot near your collarbone, your hands tightening in his shirt before you started pulling it up. His red henley joined your sweater on the floor, and your fingers traced over the defined lines of his chest, the contrast of soft skin and firm muscle beneath your palms making your stomach flip.

His hand slipped underneath your back, unhooking your bra, then pulling it off of you.

His eyes dragged over you with quiet reverence, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the center of your chest.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, lips brushing over your skin with every word. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath catching as his kisses trailed lower – over your ribs, down your stomach – each one deliberate, slow, like he was savoring you.

“Still sweet?” he whispered again, his smirk returning as he glanced up at you, lips just above the waistband of your leggings.

You arched an eyebrow, challenging. “You tell me.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His fingers hooked into the band of your leggings, dragging them down achingly slow. “I plan on finding out,” he murmured, the heat in his voice sending a shiver through you. “Told you I was saving dessert for later.”

He kissed your hipbone, then lower, his voice rough with want as he added, “And I’ve been starving, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched again as he settled between your thighs, and then his mouth was on you – warm, purposeful, and utterly devastating.

You cried out, fingers threading through his hair, hips instinctively rolling toward him. He held you firm, one hand gripping your thigh as the other slid slowly up your side, grounding you.

“Mmm,” he hummed, wicked and pleased against your skin. “Knew it. Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You were already trembling, pleasure curling low in your belly, but that voice – his voice – was what unraveled you. He kept talking between kisses, every word more sinful than the last.

“Could spend all night right here, doll…tasting you, hearing those sounds…”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Let go for me baby.”

It didn’t take long.

And when he finally pulled himself back up over you, his mouth found yours again – slow, deep, dizzying – and when you tasted yourself on his tongue, your whole body lit up all over again.

And for the rest of the night, he made good on every promise his voice had made.

The soft hum of the alarm drifted through the room just after sunrise.

You didn’t move.

You were still curled against Bucky’s chest, your leg draped over his, your body tangled with his beneath the sheets. His arms were wrapped around you, protective even in sleep, one hand resting over the curve of your waist like it belonged there.

You felt him stir before the alarm clicked off – his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, laced with sleep.

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes still closed, “no it’s not. It’s too early to be morning.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound rumbled through his chest against your cheek. “Fair point.”

You both lay there in the stillness for a while, no rush, no expectations. Just the warmth of the covers, the quiet hum of the compound beyond the walls, and the comfort of being exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to look up at him. His hair was tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the soft look on his face when he met your gaze made your heart flutter.

“What?” you whispered, smiling.

He shook his head slightly. “Nothin’. Just…never thought I’d be waking up like this.”

You let your fingers drift lightly over his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Kind of crazy how fast everything changed.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but he looked at you with that rare kind of softness that was reserved only for you.

You tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and let your thoughts wander. It really was wild, how different everything felt now. How not long ago, he was the quiet, brooding guy in the corner, the one everyone called grumpy. The one who barely spoke to anyone.

And now?

Now he was the one who kept your toothbrush in his drawer. Who ordered your dessert without asking. Who kissed you like it was the only language he knew.

“Y’know,” you said softly, “you haven’t been that grumpy lately.”

He hummed, eyes closed again. “Don’t need to be. Not when I’ve got you.”

You felt your chest squeeze, your smile turning soft and full of something deeper.

“Guess the new girl fixed the grump,” you teased gently.

He smirked, eyes cracking open. “Nah. She just gave him something to smile about.”

You leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet – no rush, no pressure. Just love. Real and full and steady.

And as the morning light spilled gently through the curtains, you stayed right there in his arms, knowing that this wasn’t the end of your story.

It was just the beginning.

Masterlist

Thank you guys so much for the love on this series!!!! I appreciate you all so much! I loved writing this, but I decided it was time to wrap it up...I have so much more in store for you all though!

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat @iyskgd @ohdrey89 @death-in-love @herejustforbuckybarnes @whitewolfluvr @violetpassionfruit @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @silas-aeiou @avengemepercy @starstruckfirecat @yehfitoormera @ifilwtmfc @navs-bhat @buckysgirl-12 @comfitchaotic @youknownothingjohnwatson @rnurse-kole

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #marvel #avengers #grumpy #the new girl #cassiemaebarnes

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put-me-through-the-wall · 8 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 Down the Rabbit Hole 𝜗𝜚

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Work Count: 4.9k (I don't know what happened...)

Summary: Reader wanders a little too far off the path. Good thing such a nice older man came to help.

A/N: It's halloween y'all!! I freaking love halloween and all things spooky and scary. So I thought maybe I should write something really scary to fit the occasion. Okay so technically yesterday was halloween but better late than never. Let me know what you guys think. I don't think I have any smut out yet?? So please let me know any feedback or thoughts you have. I love you all so much!! 𝜗𝜚

Warnings: This story contain dark themes. Not to spoil but this one does contain DUBCON/NONCON elements, intoxicated reader, drugging, light bondage, kidnapping, forced impregnation. If you are not in the headspace the read this please scroll on. I will write some nicer things in the future.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

With a sigh you pull out your phone, the blue light illuminating your face in the dark night. Just to find you have no cell signal this far out, of course. You try calling a few people but not a single call would go through. A simple dial tone rang out much to your dismay. Leaning back against the bumper of your car, you can feel the heat radiating off your exposed engine. You look towards the propped open hood of your tired vehicle.

The hissing machinery creates a pillar of steam when mixing with the chilled October air. Your leg bounces nervously while your eyes scan the surrounding forest. There are no street lights, no houses, not even the sound of cars whizzing by on a nearby roadway. Just dark woods and the crickets chirping. You mentally curse yourself and your friends for convincing you to drive so far out on your own.

You spend a long twenty minutes going back and forth between trying to find service along the road way and seeking warmth in the shelter of your car. Your costume doesn't provide much cover against the autumn cold. Clad only in a restricting corset top, tiny ruffled shorts, fishnet stocking, and shiny white heels. Topped off with a pair of fuzzy bunny ears fixed to a headband and a little white tail attached right above your butt. It looked better in your mirror at home when you were imagining sitting in a hot crowded house party surrounded by familiar faces.

Your focus breaks from the car's owner manual when you hear a distant rumbling. You hop out of the driver's side seat and look to see a blinding set of headlights coming your way. As the lights come closer at a rapid speed you wave and step closer to the asphalt to catch the driver's attention.

Thankfully it begins to slow and rumbles to a stop a few feet short of your car. The driver kills the engine along with the annoyingly bright LEDs. Thet turn their hazard lights on, bathing the area in a blinking orange glow. You are stunned for a moment while your sight adjusts back to the dim night. You make out the shape of a large pickup truck through spotted vision. Its boxy silhouette shows a vehicle past its prime and out of style. You take that as a good sign thinking the owner must know something about taking care of cars.

The driver's side door creaks open and out comes a pair of boots dropping onto the roadside. When they slam the door you see a large shadow saunter towards you. Heavy steps crunch on the earth below.

"Thanks for stopping" You cross your exposed arms over your chest hoping they don't see the way you're shaking. You pretend like this isn't a total horror movie scene right now. Telling yourself the shivers are from the frigid air, not fear.

"You alright?" A thickly accented english voice asks. The figure finally reaches you. You have to crane your neck up to look him in the face, his broadness could swallow your quivering frame.

"Yeah, I'm fine. My car not so much" you gesture back to the front of your lifeless automobile. He looks over you and hums in understanding.

"I can take a look for you," He steps past and takes in the sight under your hood. “What happened?” He takes a moment to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt and scrunch up the sleeves.

“I don't know. I was just driving and then I heard some weird sounds then it started driving funny.” you attempt to explain.

“What kind of sounds?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug.

“Like a rattling, a pop, what?”

“If I am being completely honest I had the radio up kinda loud so I can’t really remember. I just know I heard something then it started to shake and slow down.”

You watch as he leans forward, large hands braced against the low bumper. "Do you have a flashlight?" his tone is flat, is he mad at you?

"Yeah," you pull your phone and click on the flashlight. You stand on the side of the car and try to hold it steady with both of your shaking hands.

"You can come a little closer," he looks up and smiles. "I don't bite"

You give a nervous chuckle and step around to the front of the car. Still careful to keep a good amount of distance from the stranger.

"Can you- here let me just," his large hand wraps around your wrist and gently draws your hand further out until you're almost bent over reaching across the space. "That's better."

He checks different areas, twisting and tapping on a few parts. Checking the levels of the various fluids. Occasionally repositioning the angle of your flashlight with a firm yet polite adjustment of your arm.

"Have you called anyone yet?" His gentle eyes look up from underneath his thick brow.

You hesitate for a moment considering the implication of your answer. He holds your stare as you try not to appear nervous. "Yes, I called roadside assistance but they won't be here for a while. They know I'm here though." You rush out a lie.

"Hm, yeah we're pretty out" he looks back at the machinery. He stands up straight, brushes his hands off on the thighs of his jeans. "Looks like you're not going anywhere."

Your stomach tightens and you pull back your flashlight leaving you both in the darkness.

"I can fix it but I'm going to need to go back to my place and grab some tools" He pulls the hood of your car down and slams it shut. "Or you can wait for the guy to get here. You'll be waiting for a while though"

You hold your phone tight in your palm feeling torn between trusting this stranger or going back to being stranded. "Um," it's hard to think with the constant waves of shivers going through you.

"Or you can stay here in the middle of the woods by yourself. Up to you," He pulls his keys from his pocket with a jingle and walks around you, back in the direction of his truck.

You look between your own car, the dark tree line, and the tall man getting further away.

"Okay!" You call to him. He turns and watches as you reach into your open car door to grab your purse and keys. You lock the door behind you and walk towards him.

You hear his door squeak open then his truck rev to life you. You quicken your pace to reach the passenger side, not wanting to be left alone here for another second. Before you can grab the handle he is reached over the long bench seat pushing to open from the inside.

"Glad you could make it," his cheeky smile causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners.

"Better than getting mauled by a bear" You haul yourself up and into the seat. The interior is still warm which allows you to relax a bit while your shiver subside. You take in the roomy cab of his truck. Nice leather seat, very clean, smells good. Surely he is just a kind older man wanting ti help out a stranded, clueless woman.

"You'd be alright. Bears normally hunt in the mornings. Bobcats on the other hand, that's what you've got to watch out for." He places his hand on the gear shifter, "Seatbelt," and nods down towards the unclipped buckle.

"Okay but first, can you promise you're not going to kidnap or kill me?" You stare him down as he holds a faint smile.

"I'm not going to kill you," he chuckles

"You see, that's exactly what a murderer would say," you are only half joking with that statement but buckle yourself in anyways.

"I guess you're going to have to trust me then" He focuses his eyes forward and pulls onto the road.

"I don't even know your name."

"I don't know yours either" he counters

"Fair enough," you consider it for a moment before telling him your name, and he tells you his.

"I don’t mean to be rude but, what's with the outfit?" he glanced your way for a moment. You don't miss the way his eyes trace down your figure.

"I'm a bunny, duh." You point to the fluffy ears fixed to your headband. His brows remains drawn in confusion. "It's halloween," you continue stating the obvious.

"Is it?" he finally puts it together. "My work has been hectic. It's easy to lose track of time. Heading to a party, then?" he asks.

"Was. I think I took a wrong turn a few miles back but I lost my cell signal so, I couldn’t get the map to load. Then my car died."

"That's some bad luck. Maybe you should look into getting a lucky rabbit's foot." He raises his eyebrows and chuckles.

"Ha ha," you respond humorlessly. "Look, the costume would've been a lot better with my friend. She's supposed to be a magician. Y'know like a magician pulls the white rabbit out of the hat."

"Right," he nods.

"Yeah, but it looks like I won't be making it tonight. I'm not too upset though. I'm not much of a party person."

"No?"

"No way, I'm a homebody. I hardly ever leave my house if I'm being honest. I work from home too so that keeps me pretty busy. Wow, sorry I didn’t mean to tell you my whole life story," you chuckle nervously.

"’S alright, I don’t mind. Your boyfriend doesn't take you out?" he asks.

"Boyfriend? No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Sorry, I just assumed. I mean, you're a pretty girl. Hard to believe you don't have someone to look after you."

"Oh, thanks" a bashful blush rises up your cheeks. "Like I said, I don't get out much. Not many opportunities to meet people. Which is part of the reason my friend gets so mad at me. I've canceled on her the past three times she has asked me to hang out. She had to beg me to come tonight. I kind of feel bad though. She's probably going to think I bailed again."

"When we get back to my place you can use my phone to give her a call if you'd like," he offered.

"Yeah, I probably should."

Looking out the windshield you can make out speckles of light ahead, breaking up the dense forest. John makes a final turn and you find yourself pulling up to a very nice cabin. Wood paneling lined the exterior framing several expansive windows which emit a warm yellow light behind the closed curtains. The glass panels stretch high to the sloped asymmetrical ceiling. The architecture looks straight out of the seventies.

"Wow, this is your place?" you ask in amazement. "What do you do for work?"

"I work for the government," he states simply before turning off the truck and exiting. He walks around to your side and opens your door. He offers his hand to you which you shyly take as you hop down from the elevated cab. "Your hands are cold," he gives your hand a small squeeze fully enveloping it in his palm. "Let's get you warmed up inside."

He ushers you up the driveway, his hand now transitioned to your lower back. You can't deny the way his touch makes your stomach flip. He opens the door and you step into the cozy home.

You are greeted by a vast living room. A long espresso colored leather sofa sits among matching chairs all facing towards a large stone fireplace. The space is washed in varying shades of warm browns and oranges. A beautiful thick rug lays across the glossy hardwood.

"Sit, let me get you a drink. Would you like some tea, coffee, a beer?"

"I'll have a coffee," with your confirmation he stepped through the living room to the connecting kitchen. Your eyes follow him as he disappears through the doorway. "Government job, huh? You must be very important." You step to one of the bookshelves that sit on either side of the fireplace. Scanning the many titles there.

"I guess you could say that." He laughs. "Do you take cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please." Your finger grazes the spines of the books. Many biographies and historical nonfiction among his collection sprinkled in with survival guides and warfare tactics.

"How about some Bailey's?"

"Sure,” you shrug. Maybe a little spiked coffee and make you relax a little.

He reappears with two steaming mugs in each hand. He offers one to you which you happily accept. Wrapping both hands around the cup, allowing the hot drink to unfreeze your fingers. He holds his gaze while he takes a sip and then releases a gravelly groan in satisfaction. You follow suit taking a sip, feeling the warmth descend in your throat and radiate in your chest.

"Not bad?"

"No, not at all, thank you,” you smile sweetly.

"How about a fire? Get you warmed up and then I'll go grab those tools, ay?" He doesn't allow you to answer before he sets his mug on the coffee table and kneels in front of the fireplace.

You sit on the couch and watch while he makes quick work of getting the fire started. It's not long until he nurses the little flame into a roaring fire. He grabs a few fresh logs to throw on top before getting up and taking a seat next to you.

"Feeling better?" He asks as grabs his drink once more and settles into the cushions, arm slung across the back of the couch behind you.

"Much" With your cup now half empty you begin to feel the alcohol go straight to your head. You aren't surprised though. You haven't eaten all day in order to fit into this strangling outfit.

"I like your costume, by the way. I don't think I said that earlier. Not sure if I would've stopped if you didn't look so cute" His hand reaches from behind you and flicks your artificial ears.

"Hey" You adjust the head piece back in place. "This was a lot of work to put together, I'll have you know." You attempt to convey your seriousness but can't help the giggle that escapes.

"Oh, I can tell." His hand slips down from the back cushion to brush across your bare shoulder. The light touch makes your skin erupt in a flurry of goosebumps. "You're still pretty cold, bunny. Let me get you something warmer to put on."

"I'm okay, really. I'll warm up." You take another long sip on your hot beverage. "I feel fine."

"I insist" He rises from the couch and politely holds a hand out for you.

You are hesitant for a moment but seeing the persistence settled on his face you accept. "Alright," you relent.

He leads you down a dim corridor to the last room on the right. He pushes open the cracked door to reveal his neat bedroom. Very much resembling the rest of the house. A giant perfectly made bed sits in the center of the clean area. Makes sense considering the large man that sleeps in it. A lone lamp illuminates the room giving it a hazy appearance. Or maybe that's just your clouded mind.

He steps past you towards his dresser and pulls open one of the drawers. He pulls out a large shirt then a pair of pajama pants and hands them to you. "Not sure how well these will fit but it'll be more comfortable, I'm sure"

"Too bad" You look down at the folded clothes in your hand. "Feels like a total waste of a costume."

His eyes scan down your body once more. "I don't think so" He walks past you towards the door. "I sure got a kick out of it" He smiles and turns to close the door on his way out.

"John," you rush out before he goes.

"Hm?"

"Can you, um-" You look over your shoulder at him. Still facing away from him. "Can you untie me?" gesturing to the lace up back to your corset.

"Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat. “I can do that" he takes measured steps towards you. As though a hunter may quietly stalk up to its prey.

You look forward again and stand up a little straighter when his warm hands rest on your shoulders. They slowly slide down your back and onto the dense fabric. Fingers trailing over the layer of ribbon and boning. Finally he reaches the large bow at the base of your back. You feel the ribbon unwind to hang limply. Edges skimming the back of your thighs.

His strong fingers wedge themselves in the gaps between the laces. Tugging each intersection with meticulous movements so as not to throw you off balance. Your hands rush to press the front of your corset to your chest when you feel it begin to slip. At last you can take a full breath.

Feeling his touch retreat after finishing the task you turn back towards him. Neck craning up to meet his eyes. The height difference was much more apparent from this close proximity.

"Thank you,” your voice coming out just over a whisper.

"It's no trouble" He matches your hushed tone.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. Maybe it was the drink, or the fact that you were touch starved, perhaps even the fact that it was halloween but you felt bold. Bold enough to release your hands and allow the undone corset to fall to the ground below.

Without a moment's hesitation John harshly grabs the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours as if thats the sign he’s been waiting for. Lips collide in a hot rush. His stong arms pull you flush against his broad frame. Deep groans rumble from his chest.

Your sluggish movements make you struggle to keep up with his hectic pace. Your hands sliding up his neck to tug at his cropped hair. One particular harsh tug draws a growl from him.

He walks you backwards across the room until the back of your tight clad legs meet the soft comforter. He releases his hold and you fall backwards onto the mattress.

He towers over you. His chest heaves with each breath as he stares you down. Your stomach flutters, unsure if it is due to excitement or fear. You begin scoot backwards up the bed but as you make your way towards the pillows his hand encircles one of your ankles.

"Not so fast little, bunny," he tugs your leg harshly and pulls you back towards him. He doesn't waste time as he dips his fingers into your tiny ruffled shorts yanking them down in one swift motion.

He climbs over you, wedging his thigh between your legs. His hand maneuvers around your lower back and behind your neck. He pulls you back into a heated kiss.

You feel the pressure from his muscular thigh press against you. You unconsciously grind your hips into his leg while he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. He assists in your movements as he grips your hips, rocking you back and forth.

"That's it, pretty," he leans down to mumble in your ear. "I can feel you soaking through those little panties," then giving your earlobe a nip.

Moans slip from you with each movement. Rutting pathetically, unable to stop yourself as you near closer to your edge. He dips down to your neck expertly finding your sensitive points. Biting your pulse then soothing it with his tongue. The friction from his jeans rubs against your little cotton underwear and fishnets.

"John, please," you whine, unsure of what you're asking.

"Go ahead sweet girl, cum for me." His powerful grip digging into your waist.

With his words of approval paired with his hot mouth moving along your throat, you begin to unwind. Tipping over the edge, your legs tightening around his own. The knot in your stomach finally snaps. Back arching into him and loud moans pouring from you. A rush of heat fills you and until you finally slump back into the bedding.

John loosened his hold around you. A hand coming up to move hair away from your face. "You're a dirty little girl, aren't you? Humping my leg to get off. Nasty thing, you are."

A blush of embarrassment rising across your already flushed face. The shame morphs back into lust as you feel a tightness reform in your stomach.

John sits back on his knees and begins to unbutton his shirt. Your eyes can't help but to land on the massive bulge formed in his pants. A thick outline straining against the restricting denim. He finishes stripping off his shirt revealing his burly chest. You sit up to run your hands down his bare skin. Leaving kisses along the line of hair leading from his chest into his happy trail.

Your hands skim lower to find the buckle of his belt. You make quick work unbuckling and unfastening of his jeans. Hurriedly yanking down the offending material just enough to give way to his tight boxers. Your mouth salivates at the sight of his hard cock straining through the thin material.

Before you can rip away the final layer he grabs your wrists. “Not so fast,” he chuckled. Gathering both your wrist into one of his hands easily he uses the other to swiftly pull his belt from it loops. He takes the belt and wraps it around your wrists, securing them tightly together.

“Needy girl,” he mumbles. His rough palms traced down your arms then along your waist. “Taking whatever you want,” his fingers skim along the pattern of your fishnets. “It’s my turn now, bunny,” once he reaches your still clothed center. Finger grip the threads of your tights and rip them open. Completely tearing the flimsy strands to fully expose your panties.

He slides his fingers across your sensitive clothed cunt making your hips thrust into him. “Oh, bunny. You’re soaked,” his eyes flick back up to meet yours. The black of his pupil now blown out almost completely consuming the previously blue iris.

He takes your bound wrists and pulls them over his head. Your arms now wrapped around his neck, your bare chest flush against his. He pulls you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips. Not bothered enough to fully undress he jerks down the waistband of his boxers. Allowing his thick cock to spring out. Fingers frantically pulling aside the drenched material of your panties, exposing your throbbing heat.

He grinds his hips up to meet yours. Sliding his cock easily through your wet folds.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as his head rubs against your sensitive clit. “Please, fuck me”

Needing no more prompting he pulls your hips back and lines himself up with your needy hole but not yet entering. “You want this?” He dips just the tip of his head in, teasing your dripping entrance.

“Yes, please,” you beg, looking at him through your lashes. You desperately try to grind your hips down but he holds you in place.

“What good manners you have,” he continues to tease and thrusts the tiniest movements, never fully entering.

“John, I can’t wait anymore, please, just- please. I need it. I-” Your string of pitiful begging is interrupted when he finally yanks your hips down. His length fills you completely in one smooth thrust. Your eyes roll back at the sensation as he fills you to the hilt.

He lets out a guttural moan once he is fully inside of you. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groans. His head dropped in the crook of your neck, biting the soft skin there. Mustache and stubble scratching along your collarbone. You yelp at the pain of his bite but he doesn't relent. Your pussy tightens around him as his teeth sink into the tender flesh.

His arms move from their grip on your hips and fully wrap around your back. He begins to thrust up into you. Not easing into the movement as he immediately drives his hips up at a brutal pace. As if he were unable to wait another second.

Unable to grip into anything with your bound hands, you find purchase digging your nails into the leather of the belt. Your head tipping back limply as you can only take his cruel ministrations.

“Is this what you wanted?” He grits out through his teeth, each word punctuated by his hips driving up into you. His cock pounds into your cervix making a flurry or stars burst behind your eyelids at every hit. “Is this what you’ve been needing? A good fucking?”

You mumble out a pathetic, “Mhm,” unable to fully process his words. His fingers dig into your shoulder and back. You are fully engulfed by this giant brute of a man.

“I know you do. I knew from the moment I saw you. Looking so sweet on the side of the road.” He chuckles darkly. Continuing to hold you tight against him he leans forward until your back hits the comforter. Your legs lock around his back while he holds your hips in place. The new angle has him pounding into your sweet spot over and over. The friction of his hair rubbing onto your clit creates the building of renewed heat in your stomach.

“You gonna cum again, pretty? Let me see you do it,” his thrusts slow from the frantic pace to a slower harder stroke. His arms lay on either side of your head while he studies your features. Hard length easing out of you slow enough for you to feel each ridge and vein. Then jerking his hip harshly back in.

Your head was feeling fuzzy. A drop of salvia trailed out of your lips and down your cheek. Your high was getting closer with each thrust. Eyelids fluttering shut as you feel the knot tighten in your stomach. So close to release. Your walls contract around him causing your legs to tighten, toes curling.

“Hey,” John snaps harshly. When he receives no response he gives you a light smack on the cheek. Hard enough to make your eyes pop open in shock. “Look at me, pretty girl. I need to see those eyes,” his words sound warm but he grips your jaw in place with a stern hold.

Your eyes flutter while you struggle to keep them focused on him. Coming closer to the edge. “Come on, you can do it. Don’t make you give you another smack. I don’t want to hit you, pretty girl. Don’t make me” his tone dripping in condensation. “That’s it, give it to me. I wanna see you come undone, bunny.”

Then you snap. A series of shockwaves ravages your tired body. Shooting sparks of electricity race through your limbs. Your unfocused eyes stayed fixed on him throughout your climax. Your back arches high into his chest. Fingers ball up tight, desperate for something to grip. Your mouth drop open agape in a silent cry. Tear form in the corners of your eyes threatening to spill from the over stimulation. His harsh movements not granting you mercy in your fraile state.

“God, I can feel you squeezing me. Oh, pretty girl, I'm gonna fill your sweet cunt,” he moans. Hips increase in pace as your tense muscle loosen in exhaustion.

“Wait-” You murmur, hardly able to get your words out. Only a string of incoherent mumblings follow. Your brain is completely clouded. You know you can’t let him finish inside. “Please, no,” you whimper. “Can’t”

“It’s gonna be okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’m gonna fill you up and maybe I’ll get you pregnant.” He says with a wicked smile. “You want to be my little house bunny? Fuck you until you get big and round. Walk around pregnant barefoot,”

Alarm bells ring in your ears but you aren’t able to fight against his strong hold. Your limbs remain weak. Useless to pull away from his embrace “Please” you whine, “I can’t”

“You can, bunny.” His thrusts grow erratic, losing their rhythm. “Gonna be such a pretty mommy,” His hand slipped underneath your head allowing thick fingers to tangle into your hair. His hands closing into a fist giving the strands a sharp tug. The other hand wanders down to your hips. Holding you firmly in place with a bruising grip.

With one final thrust he releases a loud, guttural groan. Teeth bared in exertion as he reaches his own climax. Cock pulsing inside of you, draining his seed into your weeping womb. All you can do is tighten your jaw as you attempt to push, kick, scream, anything but you just lie there. The faintest gasp leaves you when you feel his warm load pool inside of you.

“You made it so easy for me,” he laughs. “You just got in my truck. Walked into my house. Silly girl, you don’t even know me. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to talk to strangers.”

He gives a few more gentle pumps before pulling out completely. Leaving your aching cunt feeling empty. He leans back and stares down, watching him cum drip out of your still quivering cunt.

“You know, I put something in your drink. Took a little while to take, though. Got to you just in time I think. I was going to wait but you wanted it, didn’t you? I like seeing that dumb look in your eyes.” He grabs your jaw and moves your head back and forth while you stare blankly back at him.

“Couldn’t let a little bunny like you get away, could I?

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Masterlist

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#John price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x you #john price cod #call of duty #cod #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price smut #cod smut

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sunday-bug · 11 days ago

Text

Popping Cherry Blossoms

Pairing: 40's!Virgin!Bucky x Virgin!Girlfriend!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Content: mostly fluff, brief mentions of sex, virginity loss

Synopsis: Bucky and his girl sneak away from the Cherry Blossom Festival for some sweet alone time.

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for AA Spring Bingo; inspired by the song "Hold Her While You Can" by Stephen Sanchez

Prompt/Square: "Cherry blossom festival"/1

Card Number: AAS002

This is the first time you’ve travelled with his family, and you are a bit nervous. His mom and dad are both quiet folks, but you’ve always gotten along with Rebecca. You just really want to make a good impression. The drive from Brooklyn is a little over four hours long, and thankfully the weather is decent with a nice breeze. His parents put the top down as you get into D.C. proper, and Bucky helps you secure your scarf over your hair.

“Real nice day for this,” his dad says from the driver’s seat, looking out at the cherry blossoms in the distance.

“It certainly is,” his mom agrees, turning toward the three of you in the backseat. Rebecca is sitting in the middle, always the chaperone. “I’m glad your folks let you come along,” she says sweetly. “And I know Bucky is ecstatic.” You look at him and see his cheeks redden at his mom’s comment. Rebecca giggles in between you both.

“Here we are,” his dad murmurs, pulling into the hotel’s porte-cochère. Bucky opens his door and slides out, helping his sister and then you. You all stretch your legs, and Bucky sneakily brushes his knuckles up your bare arm.

“James, come help this young man with our bags,” his dad orders, nodding to the porter. Bucky smiles at you sweetly and walks to the trunk, pulling out the bags.

His parents check in to the hotel and you are led up to your conjoined rooms. One for you and Rebecca, and the other for Bucky and his parents. Your parents agreed to this trip on one condition: separate rooms, and his parents agreed heartily.

Your bags arrive at your respective rooms and you unpack your items into the wardrobe for your two night stay. You all plan to visit some landmarks in the area on your second day here. Becca flops down on the bed near the door, marking it as hers, which you’re glad for. You love looking out at the stars before you fall asleep. You pace the room a bit, checking your profile in the mirror and blotting your lipstick.

“You look beautiful as always,” Becca says, rolling her eyes. “He thinks you hung the moon, you know.”

You look away from the mirror and smile, smoothing your dress. “Thanks Becca.”

A soft knock raps on the conjoining door and Bucky’s perfect head of hair peeks through. “Are you ladies decent? We’re getting ready to walk down to the festival.” You giggle and ruffle his hair. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

You and Rebecca gather your handbags and help each other knot your scarves around your hair as the day was a bit breezy before stepping into the hallway to meet the other three. You all head down to the lobby and Bucky offers you his arm as you step onto the city sidewalk, directing you away from the street. His parents and Becca walk a few feet ahead of you, leading the way to the festival.

“My dad said we could break off once we get there and walk alone,” he says sweetly. You look up at him, the sun shining through his dark hair, and sneak a quick kiss on the cheek, wiping your lipstick off of his soft skin after.

“Destroying the evidence?” He teases.

“Something like that,” you chime.

“I’m glad you could come,” he leans down to whisper into your ear.

“Me too.”

You all walk in peace for several blocks. The sweet smell hits you before the sight of the actual trees does. The soft perfume of the pink flowers fills your nostrils and you take a deep breath in. The breeze is light enough that you take your scarf off and let the air blow through your curls. Bucky takes a breath and sighs. “They don’t smell as sweet as you,” he brushes against your hair and a shiver runs down your spine.

Becca walks back toward the two of you and hands Bucky some money. “Dad says don’t spend it all in one place and behave. Meet back at this spot in two hours.” Bucky laughs and takes the money from her before putting it in his wallet. You spy the photo he took of you at Christmas in the wallet and smile to yourself, your hand reaching up to touch the locket around your neck that contained a photo of him taken last summer. Becca skips away to join her parents and Bucky steers you across the street to walk under the blooming trees.

You walk arm in arm again, looking up at the perfect pink petals and at his profile. He catches you looking and smiles, his eyes and nose crinkling. “You’re going to be the reason I have wrinkles while I’m still young,” he jokes, kissing your forehead.

You giggle and look down at your Oxfords. “Well, you’re the reason I have creases in my shoes.”

“How do you reckon that?” He asks playfully.

You stop walking and grab his hand before reaching up to kiss his lips. As you break the chaste kiss, you look down at your shoes and his eyes follow, noticing the ever-growing crease in the leather from having to stand on your tiptoes to reach his lips. Bucky chuckles and nods.

“Then I hope you always have creases in your shoes,” he says, picking up a fallen twig of cherry blossom and handing it to you. You accept it gratefully.

“And I hope I have the privilege of seeing you with wrinkles,” you reply, smelling the flower.

“You will, doll. I promise you that.”

You keep walking down the street until you come upon a steaming cart that smells heavenly. Roman’s Roasted Nuts is printed on the side and you look up at Bucky with pleading eyes. He smirks and walks up to the cart, purchasing a small bag for you two to share. You find a park bench nearby and sit down as he opens the bag. He pulls out a pecan and offers it to you, which you gratefully accept. It’s hot, sweet, and delicious. “Thank you. I’m spoiled by you,” you giggle.

“My girl deserves it,” he says, kissing a bit of sugar from your lips. You blush at the continued PDA.

“Bucky…” you start, holding his hand in yours.

“Yes, darling?”

“I have the key to Becca and I’s room.”

He swallows and his eyes go wide. “You do?”

“Yes,” you whisper, taking it covertly from your cardigan pocket to show him.

“Are you sure?” He asks, rubbing your arm. You nod in response and stand up, waiting for him. “Well, we have,” you look down at your wristwatch, “one hour and thirteen minutes until we have to be back here.”

Bucky smirks at you and stands up, offering you his arm again as he looks around the crowd for a sign of his family. “They must be way down the road in the thick of it. Let’s go.”

You both rush back to the hotel, walking a little faster than necessary and not speaking much. You take your cardigan off as you get into the hotel, warmed from the walk back in the sun. Bucky takes it from you and carries it for you. The elevator operator takes you to your floor as you stand there like two kids about to get reprimanded by the principal even though you are both technically adults. Bucky takes the key from your cardigan pocket and unlocks your door slowly, sighing deeply.

“We don’t have to do this, Buck, if you don’t want to,” you assure him. He closes the door behind you both.

“Oh, sweetheart. I want to. Trust me,” he groans, walking toward you and pulling you in for a deep kiss. He tastes like toothpaste, roasted pecans, and sugar. You open your mouth and let him explore yours with his tongue. He breaks off suddenly, his pupils blown wide. “I just want you to be sure. And I don’t want it to be… bad,” he finally admits.

“I’m sure. And I’m sure it won’t be bad, love,” you say. “Let's give ourselves some grace. We’re both new to this,” you tease gently. “I love you. I want this with you. And only you.”

“I love you so much,” he whispers, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Should we get undressed?”

You nod and turn around, “Unzip me.” He unzips your dress and it falls to the floor, leaving you in your slip and undergarments. He’s seen you in your slip once before by accident when he was picking you up for school and forgot to knock on your bedroom door. You watch him as you remove your slip and hose, leaving you standing in your panties and bra. His eyes travel slowly from your breasts to your waist and legs and back up again. You walk to him slowly and start to unbutton his shirt. He timidly rests his hands on your bare waist and your skin prickles as you work his shirt off and over his broad shoulders until his chest is bare. You plant a small kiss over his heart and he shivers.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, running his hands up and over your bra. You feel his arousal press into your leg and look down. He starts to unbuckle his belt and you feel the first bit of real nerves flood into your body. This is really happening. Finally, but no - not finally… right on time. He pulls his trousers down and is left in his underwear.

“I think we’re supposed to put a towel down,” you murmur, walking quickly to the bathroom. “Rosemary in fifth period was talking about it. In case… ya know, anything happens.” Bucky just nods and watches you pull the bed covers back and lie the white towel in the center. “Should we get in bed, then?” You ask softly, playing with the clasp of your bra.

“Yes,” he stammers, watching as you unhook it and let it fall to the floor. The smallest noise escapes his throat at the sight of your bare breasts and it sends a wave of heat and pleasure to your core that you’ve never experienced at this caliber before. You’re suddenly both in bed under the covers and Bucky is hovering over you, kissing your lips and your neck desperately.

“I love you so much, doll. I’m going to marry you someday. I promise,” he murmurs, looking in your eyes.

“I love you, James,” you whisper.

You both work your underwear off and lie there for a moment, staring at each other. “Should I…?” Bucky trails off, not sure what to do next. You nod, encouraging him.

“It’s okay,” you say, playing with his hair. “Go ahead.”

He maneuvers himself into the right position and pushes into you ever so slowly.

“Oh my God,” he hisses. You bite your lip as your body accepts him with a stinging stretch. You make love for the first time together and it’s everything you thought it would be - sweet, sensual, a little awkward, and over fairly quickly. Afterwards, you lie next to each other under the covers for a few minutes and hold hands.

“That was incredible,” he admits with a soft laugh, kissing your lips. “Did it hurt, sweetheart?”

“It hurt a little bit, but it was nice,” you say, running your nails gently down his arm. “I’m glad we could be each other’s firsts.”

“First and last,” he corrects with a kiss to your hand. You both sit up and get dressed quickly. You check the clock on the wall and notice that you have twenty minutes to get back to the festival. Bucky picks up the towel and remakes the bed.

“Destroying the evidence?” You ask with a giggle.

“Something like that,” he remarks.

🌸

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #40s bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #aaspring #Spotify

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its-avalon-08 · 10 months ago

Text

kiss and tell (cs55)

(in honor of our fav smooth operator's birthday!!)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - friends with benefits, jealousy, comfort

It all started in Singapore. The city was electric that night, the lights from the Marina Bay Street Circuit casting a mesmerizing glow over the entire island. The race had been grueling, one of the most challenging of the season, but Carlos Sainz had come out on top, crossing the finish line first and claiming victory. The celebration that followed was nothing short of euphoric.

The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement as the night unfolded, but amidst all the chaos, Carlos only had eyes for one person—Y/N. She had been a part of the McLaren team for a while now, working closely with the drivers and crew, and over time, a comfortable camaraderie had developed between her and Carlos. There was always something more beneath the surface, though, an undercurrent of tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

But tonight, things felt different. The champagne was flowing, the atmosphere was light, and the barriers they usually kept firmly in place were starting to crumble.

Later that night, after the podium celebrations, the party had spilled over into one of the swanky hotels overlooking the Marina Bay. The drivers were mingling, the music was loud, and the drinks were even stronger. Y/N found herself at the bar, nursing a cocktail when Carlos approached, still riding the high of his win.

“Not gonna lie,” Carlos said, leaning against the bar with that trademark smirk of his, “seeing you out there cheering for me was the best part of the race.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, it wasn’t the adrenaline rush of winning or the thrill of outmaneuvering the other drivers? Just me?”

“Absolutely just you,” Carlos teased, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone. “You looked good today, Y/N. Real good.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar warmth that always crept up when Carlos started flirting. “Careful, Sainz, someone might think you’re trying to get me into trouble.”

Carlos chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as he studied her. “Trouble? Who, me? I’m as innocent as they come.”

“Right,” Y/N replied with a grin. “Innocent like you didn’t just race at breakneck speeds through the streets of Singapore.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Carlos shot back, his eyes locking onto hers, the playful banter doing little to hide the tension building between them.

They spent the next hour trading flirty remarks, each one drawing them closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing at the bar, caught up in a moment that felt like it had been building for months.

Finally, Carlos leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for cheering me on today.”

Y/N tilted her head, her heart racing at his proximity. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Carlos’s lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. “I have a few ideas. But I think we’d need a little more privacy.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the unspoken invitation hanging between them. She knew what he was suggesting, and she also knew she wanted it just as much. They had danced around this for too long—why not see where it led?

Without breaking eye contact, she downed the rest of her drink and set the glass on the bar. “Lead the way, Sainz.”

Carlos didn’t need any more encouragement. He took her hand, the heat of his touch sending a shiver down her spine, and led her through the crowd, away from the noise and the people. The tension was palpable, an electric current running between them as they made their way to the elevators.

When the doors slid shut, sealing them inside, the air became even thicker with anticipation. Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Y/N stepped closer, the proximity making her pulse race. “I think we’ve both wanted this for a while, don’t you?”

Carlos nodded, his hand brushing against her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Yeah, I have. But let’s keep it simple, okay? No strings, just…us, enjoying the moment.”

She hesitated for a split second, knowing that agreeing to this meant putting aside any hope for something more. But tonight, with Carlos looking at her like that, she was willing to take the risk. “No strings,” she agreed softly.

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, and Carlos wasted no time in pulling her out, his hand gripping hers tightly as they walked down the hallway to his room. The tension was almost unbearable by the time they reached the door. Carlos fumbled with the keycard, his usual steady hands slightly shaky with anticipation.

Once they were inside, the door barely clicked shut before Carlos had her pressed against it, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that left her breathless. The kiss was everything she had imagined—hot, desperate, and filled with months of pent-up tension.

Carlos’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Y/N responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a whirlwind of passion.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice rough with desire. “God, Y/N…this is exactly what I needed tonight.”

Y/N smiled, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Sainz.”

That night was the beginning of everything—and nothing. They had agreed it would be no strings attached, just something casual between two people who enjoyed each other’s company. But as the weeks went on, and the nights like this one became more frequent, it was clear that the feelings they had been trying to keep at bay were only growing stronger.

But Carlos was determined to keep things light, not wanting to ruin what they had with complications. He told himself over and over that this was enough, that he didn’t need more. But damn, he thought as he watched Y/N fall asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content, I’m in trouble. Because I think I’m falling for her.

And that was the one thing he was truly afraid of.

time skip

The days leading up to that night had been a rollercoaster of emotions for Y/N. Carlos had a habit of making offhand comments about relationships that cut deeper than she’d ever admit. They were subtle, sometimes even playful, but each one was like a small dagger to her heart.

It was just a few days ago when they were sitting in the McLaren hospitality area, surrounded by the usual crowd of drivers and team members. Daniel Ricciardo had been teasing Carlos about settling down, something about how the Spanish driver was getting too old to be a bachelor forever.

"So, Carlos," Daniel started, a mischievous grin on his face, "when are you going to finally settle down and stop breaking hearts left and right?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. "Settle down? Nah, mate, I’m not ready for all that. Relationships are too complicated. I’m enjoying life as it is."

Y/N, who was sitting across from him, felt her heart drop at his words. She masked it with a forced smile, pretending to focus on her coffee. Of course he isn’t ready, she thought, Why would he be? But underneath the casual demeanor, it hurt more than she could admit.

Carlos glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly when he noticed the way her eyes had dimmed. Fuck , Carlos, he thought to himself. Why do you keep saying this stuff? He hated seeing that look on her face, the one she tried so hard to hide.

But then, he did what he always did. He pushed those thoughts away, shoving his feelings deep down where they couldn’t betray him. It’s better this way. She deserves someone who can give her everything, not someone who’s constantly on the move, constantly putting himself first.

Yet, when he was alone, away from the noise of the paddock and the constant demands of racing, his thoughts always circled back to her. He would picture her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. It made his chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting. God, I love her. I’m so damn scared of how much I love her.

It wasn’t just the teasing from the other drivers, either. There were moments in between—when they were alone, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them. Like the time when they were sitting in the team garage late one night after everyone else had left. She was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and the silence between them was warm, comfortable.

Y/N had looked up at him then, her voice soft and filled with an emotion that made his heart race. "Do you ever think about the future, Carlos? About…what you want?"

He had stiffened slightly, the question pulling him out of the comfort of the moment. He knew what she was really asking, and it terrified him.

Carlos hesitated before responding, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. "I don’t think too far ahead. I’m just taking things as they come, you know? No need to complicate things."

He felt her deflate beside him, her silence saying more than words ever could. It was in moments like these that Carlos hated himself the most. Why can’t I just tell her? he thought, his mind screaming at him to say something, anything, to ease the hurt he knew he was causing. But instead, he just sat there, pretending everything was fine. She deserves better. I can’t give her what she needs. It’s safer this way.

But it wasn’t safer. Not for him, not for her. Every time he said something like that, he felt the distance between them grow a little wider, the connection that had always been so natural starting to strain under the weight of unspoken words and buried feelings.

They were friends with benefits, nothing more. At least, that's what they told themselves. Y/N knew she was in too deep; her feelings for Carlos ran far deeper than casual. But every time she tried to bring it up, Carlos would brush her off with a charming smile and a playful comment about how he wasn't ready for anything serious.

As the night progressed, someone suggested a game of spin the bottle. The group erupted in cheers and groans, the perfect mix of nerves and excitement. The bottle spun, pointing first to Y/N who blushed, much to everyone's amusement.

Then it was Y/N's turn. The bottle spun, clinking against the floor as it finally slowed down, the neck pointing directly at Lando. The room erupted in playful cheers and wolf whistles, while Carlos froze, his smile faltering just for a second.

Y/N glanced at Carlos, her heart skipping a beat, but he had already turned his attention away, a coldness settling into his features. She could see his jaw clenching, the muscle ticking angrily, but he said nothing.

Lando leaned in with his usual cheeky grin. "Guess it's us then," he said, his tone light and playful, trying to make the situation as un-awkward as possible.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding, but not for the reason everyone thought. As Lando's lips met hers, what was supposed to be a simple, friendly kiss quickly shifted. Lando, sensing the tension in the room, deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her closer.

The room fell silent, the air thick with a sudden intensity. Lando's kiss was anything but innocent—it was slow, deliberate, and filled with a surprising passion. Y/N's hands instinctively moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as she found herself kissing him back with equal fervor. She could feel Lando's heartbeat beneath her fingertips, the heat of his body against hers.

(a little carlos pov)

As Lando leaned in for the kiss, Carlos’s internal monologue went into overdrive. Don’t do it, don’t kiss her like that, don’t touch her like that. She’s mine, for fucks sake! Why can’t you see that?

He watched as Y/N responded to Lando’s kiss, her hands on Lando’s chest, their bodies too close for his liking. That should be me. I should be the one holding her like that, kissing her like that. But I’m the one who keeps pushing her away. This is my fault. I’m going to lose her, and it’s my own fucking fault.

The kiss went on longer than it should have, and with each passing second, Carlos felt his control slipping. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and jealousy swirling together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it’s tearing me apart. But I’m too scared to say it, and now I’m losing you.

(out of carlos pov)

Carlos watched, every muscle in his body tensing, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. The kiss was more than just a game now—it was a reminder of everything he was too afraid to claim.

When Y/N finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady. Lando kept his hand on the back of her neck for a moment longer, his thumb brushing against her skin as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Well, that was something," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t from Lando's touch. It was from the cold, icy glare she felt burning into her from across the room. She turned to Carlos, who was no longer just silent—he was seething. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of anger and something else, something deeper.

Carlos pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. He stood up, his expression cold and unreadable. "I'm going outside for some air," he muttered, storming out without another word.

Y/N felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She excused herself from the group, ignoring the curious glances, and followed Carlos outside. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Carlos was leaning against the side of the motorhome, his back to her, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Carlos," she called softly, but he didn’t turn around.

She moved closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's going on?"

Carlos finally turned to face her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that took her breath away. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "It was just a game, Carlos. It didn’t mean anything."

"Didn’t mean anything?" He repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure didn’t look that way."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asked, her voice rising in frustration. "You’re the one who said you weren’t ready for anything serious. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away!"

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his expression torn between anger and something else—something deeper. "You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for that?"

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then why, Carlos? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Because I’m scared!" Carlos exploded, the words ripping from him like a confession. "I’m scared of how much I care about you, how much I need you. I’m scared of what happens if I let myself love you and it all goes wrong!"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She had waited so long to hear those words, but now that she had, they were wrapped in so much pain and fear.

"I’m already in love with you, Carlos," she said softly, her voice trembling. "And it’s killing me that you don’t trust me enough to let me in."

Carlos closed his eyes, his face contorted in anguish. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N."

"Then don’t," she whispered, stepping closer until they were inches apart. "Don’t push me away anymore. Let me love you, Carlos. You don’t have to be scared."

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her as if trying to decide whether to take the leap. Then, with a shaky breath, he reached out, pulling her into his arms. His lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but friendly—passionate, desperate, and filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.

When they finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Y/N. I’m just…scared of how much."

She smiled through her tears, cupping his face in her hands. "Then be scared. But be with me. We’ll figure it out together."

Carlos nodded, his heart finally beginning to thaw. "Together," he repeated, sealing the promise with another kiss.

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itsnesss · 2 months ago

Text

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 | oliver bearman × fem!reader

summary | after months of tension, you finally give in and spend a passionate night with ollie, your brother esteban's friend and partner

warnings | ocon!reader, fluff, tension, smut, explicit content, first time, p in v, protected sex

word count | 2.6 k

🖇 more ob87 🖇 f1 masterlist

The buzz of the event filled the room, but you couldn't stop looking toward a dark corner, where Ollie was watching you. The smile on his face was subtle, almost imperceptible, but his gaze was clear: he wanted the night to be different—beyond formalities, beyond fake smiles and empty conversations. You both knew this moment belonged to you, even if you were surrounded by a crowd.

Esteban was engrossed in a conversation with other drivers, a talk about strategies and cars, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening between you and Ollie. It was more than just the friendship you both tried to maintain, something that had been quietly consuming you for months. The jokes, the stolen glances, the knowing smiles—all of it had created a tension that was hard to ignore.

You didn’t know exactly what to think. You knew things between you two shouldn’t go any further. You didn’t want to get Ollie in trouble with Esteban. After all, they shared a close relationship. But the truth was that for weeks, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

Ollie, for his part, seemed to be on the same wavelength. Despite his laid-back attitude and usual confident smile, you could tell how his gaze changed every time your eyes met—as if he were waiting for you to say something, as if inviting you to take one step further beyond what was only a surface-level friendship.

Finally, after a few minutes that felt like hours, your steps led you to him, waiting near the bar with a drink in his hand and a smile on his lips.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Ollie asked, his voice deep and soft, almost as if he already knew the answer. The sparkle in his eyes was unmistakable—the kind that only you two shared during these stolen moments among lights and crowds.

"So now you're a philosopher?" you joked, feeling the air between you two charge with electricity.

"I was just asking out of courtesy… though, to be honest, I’m thinking about something else." His tone was playful, but there was something deeper in his voice. Something that made your heart beat faster.

"And what would that be?" you said, trying to keep the conversation light, even though deep down you both knew exactly what he meant.

"I thought it might be more fun to get away from all this for a while," he said, his gaze fixed on yours. His tone grew more serious, and somehow, his words made your pulse quicken.

The words hung in the air for a moment, and before you could answer, Ollie took a step toward you—close enough that you could feel his presence throughout your entire body. Your gazes locked, and the space between you vanished in a silent breath.

The desire in his eyes was unmistakable, and you knew you couldn’t deny it any longer. Esteban couldn’t see you. No one else needed to know… but for some reason, you couldn’t resist the pull Ollie had on you.

Finally, you decided to be brave. "What do you have in mind?"

Ollie smiled, but it wasn’t a triumphant smile—it was a mix of desire and challenge. "A night with no rules. Just you and me. Away from all this."

You nodded without thinking twice. You both knew what that meant. There was no turning back.

The ride to the hotel was short, but the atmosphere in the car was heavy. Neither Ollie nor you spoke a single word while traveling. The streets flew by outside the window, but all you could think about was what was coming next. Your heart wouldn’t calm down, and the anticipation built a palpable tension between you.

When the car finally stopped in front of the hotel, Ollie looked at you, and that look you exchanged said more than a thousand words. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know the moment had arrived. You both knew what you wanted, and there was no hiding it anymore.

He took your hand firmly as you stepped out of the car, guiding you toward the hotel entrance with a confidence only he possessed. Every step toward the room felt like another challenge, but when the door finally closed behind you, everything else disappeared.

Ollie didn’t say anything at first, but his body moved toward yours slowly, almost as if he were measuring the distance between you.

His hands rested on your waist, and in that touch, there was more than just desire. It was a promise—a promise that tonight there would be no doubts, no insecurities. Just the two of you.

Then, without warning, his lips found yours in a hot, desperate kiss. The feelings repressed for so long finally exploded. The kisses grew deeper, more demanding, as if you both knew there was no turning back. The room around you vanished, and only the two of you existed.

Ollie touched you with a gentleness that contrasted with the urgency of his movements. His tongue explored yours while your hands roamed his chest, seeking the contact you had longed for over the months. There was no more room for silence between you—only skin on skin, ragged breaths, and an uncontrollable desire.

His hands slid down your back, moving to your hips as he pulled you closer. You could feel the heat of his body, his quickened breath, and that made you lose control. You knew there was no going back, but for some reason, you didn’t care.

The rush of the first kisses turned into something slower, more sensual. His caresses were like whispered promises, and each touch made the desire grow stronger and stronger. He looked at you intensely, as if he wanted to read every thought crossing your mind, and his face so close to yours only made your heart pound harder.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice was deep, almost hoarse, as if he were searching for something in you. In that moment, the world seemed to stop.

You nodded, almost speechless, while looking into his eyes, giving him the answer he already knew.

With a smooth motion, Ollie began to unbutton your blouse, his touch gentle but confident. Every piece of clothing that hit the floor heightened the tension between you, and without thinking, you began to do the same with his shirt. The desire overflowed as the clothes disappeared, and the contact between your bodies became inevitable.

Finally, when there was nothing left between you, Ollie lifted you up gently, carrying you to the bed with the same intensity that had marked every kiss and touch. He laid you down softly, his body on top of yours, never losing that closeness that drove you wild with desire.

Gently, he began to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that reached your shoulders. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every corner, and you felt wrapped in a sense of completeness you had never experienced before.

Your breathing quickened, and sighs turned into moans as Ollie continued exploring your body with kisses and caresses. Desire was about to explode, but he didn’t stop, as if he knew exactly how to drive you to the edge of madness.

He looked into your eyes, and his gaze spoke of passion, restrained desire, of a promise that could only be fulfilled in that moment. His words were a whisper, but they resonated strongly in your heart.

He moved to reach his nightstand, and you watched him search and pull out a condom.

"So, you knew this would happen tonight?" Ollie blushed immediately.

"A-ahh... n-no, I just thought that..."

"It's okay," you tried to reassure him, letting out a little laugh. "But just so you know, I wouldn’t have slept with you just like that."

"Yeah, of course…" He understood the joke, so he came closer to you. "But if you don't want to, it's okay... I won’t force you to do anything you don't want to…" Ollie’s tone had turned serious, his eyes searching yours for a sign of consent or doubt. In that moment, you knew that despite the passion that had led you here, he valued your well-being more than his own desire.

And that certainty, that sense of trust, made you decide. With a smile, you nodded, and your hands tangled with Ollie's.

"I want this, Ollie," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I want to do this with you."

His eyes lit up with a mix of joy and relief, and without another word, his lips found yours in a passionate kiss. The connection between you was palpable, and the world around you faded like mist under the sun.

Ollie moved with delicacy, his body caressing yours in a way that made every inch of you tremble with desire. His hands explored you with a mix of urgency and reverence, as if every curve was a new and thrilling discovery.

The heat of his touch spread across your skin, and his whispered praises made you feel desired and cherished in a way you had never felt before. Every touch was a promise, every look, a vow that this union was more than just physical.

"Are you ready?" he asked, as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you. In that instant, the room was filled with a palpable anticipation, and you knew there was no turning back.

You nodded, wordless, but with a smile that said it all. Ollie didn't waste another second. With a softness and passion that took your breath away, he began to enter you. Pleasure mixed with anticipation, and each movement made the desire grow to unimaginable levels.

The world seemed to disappear, and all that remained was the two of you, united in an endless, passionate embrace. Every motion, every caress, every sigh became part of a dance of passion without limits.

"You're perfect," Ollie whispered against your skin, as his movements became more intense, more demanding. And in that moment, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

"O-Ollie..." You couldn’t say anything else, the passion and pleasure had left you breathless. His movements grew faster, more intense. Desire was at its peak, and you could feel everything inside you about to explode.

"God..." Ollie moaned. "Is this okay?" His voice was full of passion and desire, but there was genuine concern in his words.

"Yes, keep going..." Your voice was barely a broken whisper, but Ollie heard it. His hands tightened around your hips, and his thrusts became more powerful.

"O-Ollie!" Pleasure consumed you, and you felt everything overflow. "I... I'm coming!"

"Yes, like that," Ollie replied breathlessly, his breathing ragged.

"Oh, Ollie!" you cried out as the orgasm completely took over you. Pleasure rushed through every inch of your body, and in that instant, you knew you had never felt anything so intense in your life.

Ollie kept moving inside you, with the same passion and desire that had defined every moment of that night. And when he finally reached his climax, his body tensed against yours, and a moan of pleasure escaped his lips.

You remained embraced for minutes that felt eternal, as if time had stopped in that moment of passion and connection. The beating of your hearts synchronized, and the slow breathing became the only sound in the room.

Finally, Ollie gently pulled out and lay beside you, his eyes finding yours with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. His smile was soft, as if he knew something had changed between you but wasn’t sure how to process it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern. The question wasn’t just about the act itself, but everything that had led to that moment.

You nodded, feeling a mixture of emotions inside. The passion was still present, but there was also a sense of emptiness, a question left hanging in the air.

"Yes," you finally answered. "I’m okay." The words came out with a certainty you didn’t completely feel, but they were the truth. In that moment, despite doubts and fears, you knew what you had shared was something special.

Ollie nodded, as if he understood more than what you had said. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, and his hands moved as if searching for the right words to express what he felt.

"I liked it," he broke the silence.

His confession caught you by surprise, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The truth was, you had liked it too—more than you had allowed yourself to imagine. But there was something more in his words, something that went beyond physical attraction.

"I liked it a lot," Ollie insisted, his voice full of emotion. "I liked everything. Every kiss, every touch. I liked how you looked at me when I undressed you. I liked how you trembled when I touched you." His words were a confession, an admission of something deeper than just desire.

His eyes met yours again, and in that moment, you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

"But it's not just that," he continued, his voice softer now. "I like you. Everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, the way you always know what to say at the right moment. I like you so much more than I ever thought possible."

His words fell into the silence of the room like drops of rain into a calm lake, creating ripples of emotion you couldn’t ignore.

"I think it’s obvious... but I really like you too." Your smile grew, and your body moved a little closer to his.

"Really?" Ollie asked, a spark of hope in his eyes.

"Yes," you nodded. "I like how you are, how you care about me, how you're always there when I need you. I like everything about you."

Ollie's smile widened as if he had received the greatest gift. Without another word, his arm gently wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his body mixed with yours, and the beat of his heart synchronized with yours.

"What do we do now?" he finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you. His voice was full of hope and a hint of nervousness.

"I don’t know," you admitted, feeling your heart beat a little faster. "But I think I should go to my room for now." You felt Ollie tense slightly.

"Everything’s okay, right?" You kissed him to make sure he didn’t think anything was wrong or that you were trying to run away.

You stood up, gathering your things and beginning to get dressed. "Have you seen my phone?" You looked around the bed and nightstand. "Ah! Here it is."

"Do you want me to walk you to your room?" Ollie asked, starting to get dressed too.

"No, it's okay." You turned on your phone to see more than ten missed calls from Esteban and several message notifications.

"God… Esteban going to kill me." You looked at Ollie, worried. He did the same when he found his phone, realizing Esteban had also tried to reach him.

"I think he’s going to kill both of us," Ollie tried to joke. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and left the room, but stopped when you heard Ollie.

"I love you," Ollie said shyly, his face red.

"Well... I love you too," you smiled and headed to your room. As you walked down the hallway, you felt a mix of emotions inside you—the thrill of what had happened that night, the worry about how to deal with Esteban, but above all, a sense of peace and happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time.

#🖇️ ollie bearman #oliver bearman x you #oliver bearman x reader #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #oliver bearman #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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