#THIS is as bad as it’s going to get and just hang in there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seospicybin · 2 days

Text

BAD IDEA, RIGHT?

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Your ex, Chan, makes a return to his social media with a thirst trap. Horny and bored, you decide to see him for the sole reason of getting your physical needs fulfilled. However, as the night goes, you start to wonder if seeing him tonight is a bad idea. (14,4k words)

Author's note: Yes, it's inspired by that one Olivia Rodrigo song.

Talking to your ex is a bad idea, right?

You've been considering whether to slide into his DM or not, commenting on his Instastory which is a video of him exercising half naked, exposing his toned upper half body in all its glory.

It's been two years after the breakup and he didn't post anything on his social media until today, it's like he knows you're bored and horny.

It's unclear whether it's him or it's your uterus talking, but he looks hotter, sexier, and bigger than the last time you saw him. Although you must admit that he's always been attractive to you, except that his attractiveness is on a whole 'nother level now and it makes you wonder why you let this man go in the first place.

In your defense, Chan is not a terrible ex, he decided to break up with you because he was leaving to study abroad and thought the long-distance relationship would be hard and mentally draining for both of you.

You acted like it didn't hurt you but when you came home that night, you cried so hard that your pillow got drenched in tears. You didn't want to break up with him because he's a great guy who happens to be great in bed too, not only because he has the most delicious cock you've ever had but he also knows how to put it to a good use. Simply put, you were so devastated thinking that you'd never find a man like him again.

And you know what? You were right. You tried dating a few times but nothing comes close to what you had with Chan. Also, can't two people reconnect?

Before you get to change your mind again, you decide to hit the like button and send a short message in his DM.

Hey, there. You type into the message box, adding a smiling emoji at the end to make it sound casual but friendly at the same time.

There's no reply or a sign that he's read your message, you figure he must be busy on a Saturday morning, he could be having another session at the gym or having breakfast, or... yeah, it could be him ignoring your messages.

Slightly hangover from hanging out with your friends last night, you slump down your bed and close your eyes to get another few minutes of sleep.

You wake up an hour later with more than a dozen notifications on your phone, they're mostly your friends sending photos they took of you last night. You groan when you see a couple of work emails and do not think twice to skip them. There are some texts from friends and then, there it is, a reply from Chan.

Well, hello, there!

It's been ages.

How are you?

You check the time and his replies came about fifteen minutes ago, there's a possibility that he's still on his phone and he'll respond faster this time.

Never been better.

How about you?

Looking fine as ever, I see.

You add the eyes emoji before hitting the send button and drop your phone onto the bed, it's a bit risky but a compliment never hurt. Besides, who doesn't like getting a compliment?

The thought that Chan is probably waiting for your reply in those fifteen minutes amuses you but pfft... that's just your wishful thinking.

As you wait for his response, you're checking the photos your friends sent you. You check them one by one, deleting the ones that you don't like and saving the good ones where you look flattering.

An idea pops into your head as you go through your gallery: a plan. First, you choose a photo of you that shows your whole look last night, dressed in a blue mini dress and strappy heels with your hair up, tied in a messy bun, in other words, you looked hot and you felt like it when your friend took the picture.

You upload it as your Instagram story and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You're sure as hell he'll see your new post, then he'll get curious and open it, and Wowza!

Chan thinks he can be the only one posting a thirst trap on a Saturday morning, huh?

It only takes a minute for the thirst trap to do its job, you smirk at the notifications and see Chan's username on the top.

Me? He adds three flustered emojis to it.

Nah. I'm not.

But you...

You look beautiful as always.

Is it even allowed to look that beautiful?

A year of being single makes you weak at the slightest chance of romance, you catch yourself smiling to yourself in the mirror. You slap yourself to get ahold of yourself, reminding yourself that he could say that just to—

A notification pops up and it shows that Chan liked and reacted to your Instagram story with the hearts eyes emoji. Fuck! You just caught yourself smiling again. but what can you do? You're just a girl who is lonely and in need of some loving touch.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and think about what to reply to him.

And you...

Is it even allowed to have that much of muscles?

Someone, please close the gym!

You look good nonetheless, Chris.

But seriously, close the gym! You add a laughing emoji to keep it playful.

You patiently wait for his reply but your patience only lasts for twenty minutes until he makes you wait longer for his reply and you slump on the bed again.

It's time for plan number two!

The thirst trap worked to pique his interest and you have to come up with something that shows you're a hot commodity, you don't waste your time chasing boys, they chase you. That way, Chan will respond to your message faster.

So here comes plan number two, you take another trip to your gallery, scrolling through photos from last night, and find the perfect photo. It's a picture of you and one of your male friends, you're standing side by side, holding your drinks together and smiling to the camera. There's enough friendliness in there to show that you're close with this guy but also, not that close. You don't know how to explain it, but you know it'll work.

You wait a few more minutes to add it to your Instagram story, not forgetting to tag your friend which is the best part of it. If anyone checks his account, they'll see a model with blue eyes, just the perfect guy to make certain someone is jealous.

You're devilishly laughing as you hit the post button and wait until it is successfully uploaded. You check to see the final result and smile in satisfaction.

Okay, maybe you were too haste and didn't do your calculation right because morning has turned into afternoon and Chan hasn't replied to you. Not only did he make you wait, but you also wasted three hours of your day staring at the ceiling with the phone resting on your chest.

At this point, you should've given up and maybe it's true, he only replied just to be friendly, nothing more. You fling your phone across the bed out of spite and get up, planning to wash him away from your head with a hot shower.

Against the loud sound of the hairdryer, you hear your phone chimes and you turn it off to check whether you're imagining it chimes or not.

You hate how quickly you forget how upset you were a while ago after seeing your phone light up with new notifications.

I'm sorry for replying late.

I was busy moving some stuff.

Do you have time?

And you hate it more that he can easily get your hopes up again. You figure it's time he tastes his own medicine, you put your phone away and leave him on read. You'll reply later when you feel like it, or never. Who knows?

You continue drying your hair but the constant hum of the hairdryer makes you unable to hear your thoughts, especially one that stops you from going to your phone again as it chimes with a new notification. It only takes twenty minutes for you to cave into the temptation.

I don't know about you but all these chats, they're not enough.

Can we video call instead?

It takes you not even a minute to say yes to him. You make a run to your closet and change your clothes, picking up a white top with a low neckline, ditching the bra, and pairing it with denim shorts.

Chan doesn't give you a minute to choose the setting of the video call, your phone rings as you try to make the bed as best as you can and sit with your back against the headboard of the bed.

The phone keeps ringing but you need to check your hair in the mirror again to finally accept the video call. A second later, Chan's face appears on your phone screen, and from his damp hair, it seems like he's just taken a shower too.

"Hey," he greets you as he brushes his curls with his hand.

"You look a little wet, Chris," you tease with a sly smile.

Chan moves, changing his sitting position and revealing himself in a bathrobe with his chest all exposed. Intentional or not, you must admit that's quite a show!

"I was feeling hot so I took a quick shower," he answers with a grin.

"Feeling hot, huh?" You tease again.

"I am now," he playfully responds, flashing you a sly smile and lip bite.

The two of you just stare at each other through the screen and it's getting too much for you with how intense his eyes are.

"So, where are you now?"

"I'm actually in the city," he shortly replies.

"Oh? You're back!" You gasp but hold yourself back from continuing the sentence and ask if he's back for good. The most important thing is he's confirmed his location, all you need to find out next is if he's up to do no good with you.

"Kind of," he vaguely answers.

"Kind of..." you teasingly repeat his words and then giggle.

Chan grins and rests his back against a pillow, it's unclear if he's sitting on the bed or the sofa, "Oh, how I missed that," he says.

You take a pillow and put it on your lap as something to hold on to, "Missed what?"

"Your sweet smiles and cute giggles," he shortly answers like he's been waiting for you to ask him that.

"Oh, stop it, Chris!" You respond, getting a little flustered that you melt onto your pillow. You may as well lie down on your stomach and put the pillow under your chest, "You're getting good at lying, huh?"

"Yeah. Nah. Just a little bit," he jokingly says, then bursts into laughter that his dimples sunken deep into his cheeks.

And oh, you missed his dimpled smiles and his sonorous laughter too, but you're not going to tell him that, maybe not now, or ever.

To avoid it escalating really quickly, you shift the conversation elsewhere. You prop a hand under your chin and tilt your head to the side while the other hand steadily holds your phone far enough from your face.

"So, what are you doing now?"

"Staring at your face," he answers, a half smirk decorating his rectangular face.

"Just my face?" You jokingly ask with a flirty lip bite.

"Everything else too," he adds, catching his eyes flicking down for a second then smirks.

You act oblivious to the fact that with the way you lie on your stomach, you're offering him a view of your cleavage and he would be stupid if he missed the sign.

"What I meant is what are you doing in the city? Is it for work or...?"

"I need to sort a few things," he vaguely explains.

It's obvious that he's keeping the details from you and you have to respect that, he's not your boyfriend and even if he is, he's not obligated to tell you everything. Including the possibility that he came here to see his new girlfriend, perhaps?

"Oh? So, all business, no pleasure?" You joke with a light chuckle, hiding your true intention to know whether he's seeing anyone or not.

"I'm free tonight and I was hoping that we could meet," He says, shattering the negative thoughts that rush through your head.

Now, that gets you thinking if he's coming here to see you and you get that fluttering feeling in your stomach, or it could be your uterus ovulating as you speak, either way, you like it.

"Tonight?" You ask, acting like you already have a plan for tonight.

"Yes. Or do you already have plans for tonight?"

The act always works, gosh, you should consider to start a career as an actor, "Not really, but uh... where do you want us to meet?"

"There's a nice bar in the hotel I'm staying in. We can have a drink or two," he replies, then licks his lips and makes them appear wet and fuller, tantalizing you to kiss them.

Despite you feeling like screaming and jumping on the bed, you remain coy about it, reminding yourself to not sound eager but show enough enthusiasm.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, tilting your head to the other way and saying, "Hotel bar has better drinks so... yeah, I'd love a drink or two."

A triumphant smile rises on his face and it's cute that he lets it show, making you feel a lot of things in a few seconds.

"I'll see you there, I mean, here at 8?"

You tug your middle finger between your teeth and flash him a seductive smile, "Okay."

"I'll DM you the address."

"Okay," you mutter again while staring at him through the screen on your phone.

"See you tonight then," he says, touching his lips and rubbing the lower lip with his long, dainty finger.

"Can't wait to meet you," he adds.

Instead of answering him, you let out a giggle and sit up on the bed. You flip your hair to the back and just stare at him for a minute without saying anything.

"See you tonight, Chris," you finally reply, making sure to call his name with a low, sultry voice and a sly smile.

Without hesitation, you hang up first and let out a long sigh after. It's just a video call but Gosh! It feels like a foreplay already.

You give yourself a moment to compose yourself before execute plan number three: Dressed to fucking impress. To be honest, you don't even bother with the 'impress' part, you just want to fuck.

See? Talking to him is not a bad idea after all.

The sound of your high heels constantly tapping the marble floor as you walk echoes in the hotel lobby, you're unsure of how to inform him that you've arrived just a few minutes late from the appointed time.

You take your phone out of your purse and are about to compose a message when you catch him holding his hand up at you from the second floor.

You wave your hand back at him and make your way to the stairs, climbing each step with caution because it would embarrassing if you tripped. But looking at Chan waiting for you at the top of the stairs makes it feel like you're living a scene out of a movie.

Even with his signature all-black look, it doesn't make him less princely. He looks dreamy with crinkles in his eyes and a charming smile on his face.

He offers his hand when you're only a couple of steps away from him. You take it and let him guide you on the last steps of the stairs. His grip is firm as you remember and he still has his favorite chain bracelet around his wrist.

"You look gorgeous," he doesn't say it in a dramatic, hyperbolic way but he softly whispers it to you before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek, so close to the corner of your mouth.

The night has just begun but he's already succeeded in making you quietly hold your breath. You put on a smile for him and coyly say, "You look stunning in black as... always."

He laughs and it feels like to see and hear it in person, like you can feel the warmth that his laughs emit.

"Want to have dinner first?" He asks.

"I've had dinner," you answer.

The truth is, you barely had dinner because you were too nervous to eat anything but you did eat a nutrition bar in the taxi.

"This way to the bar then?" He offers his arm at you like a true gentleman.

"Lead the way, sir!" You say as you link your arm around him.

It's only a short walk from the hotel lobby to the bar Chan mentioned, the interior is rather luxurious, leather seats with a live jazz performance. He mutters something to the hostess, probably where he prefers to sit and she nods in response.

"This way, please!" She says with a polite smile, walking like a feline creature in her tight skirt and silk blouse.

You glance to the side to see if Chan is looking at the pretty hostess in front of him, but you find him staring at you instead.

"Is there something on my face?" You ask in slight panic, afraid that you have something in your teeth but he feels bad to tell you.

"No," he simply answers.

"This way, sir, ma'am," the hostess says, gesturing to the booth she chooses for the two of you, a little hidden in the corner of the bar to provide some privacy.

Chan gently places his hand on the small of your back and lets you take a seat first. You have a seat in the middle of the curved sofa and he sits right next to you.

"Can we order drinks right away?" Chan asks as he puts his phone on the table.

"Sure," the hostess answers, slightly bending down to hear him talk clearly, "What would you like to have, sir?"

"I'll have the... Boulevardier," he eloquently says with a slight French accent.

"Excellent choice, sir!" She comments, she then turns her head at you to take your order, "How about you, ma'am?"

Things have been feeling a little surreal for these past few hours your brain is struggling to keep up, you want to be cool and confidently answer the fanciable hostess but it takes you a longer time to process a simple question like that.

"I'd love a daiquiri, please!" You answer, ignoring the fact that it takes you a minute to come up with it.

"Can I recommend you with the Hemingway special? It's a daiquiri with a splash of sweet grapefruit juice and Maraschino liqueur," she eloquently explains, proving that she's not only hired because of her look.

"That sounds amazing. I'd love that," you say with an impressed smile.

After confirming your orders, the hostess left the booth and it's just the two of you now in this nice yet slightly erotic setting of the bar.

"That's a nice dress," he suddenly compliments as he's looking at your face, not at your dress.

The dress goes to your midthigh, it's white and tight enough to showcase your curve. It's long-sleeved but the sweetheart neckline exposed just the right amount of skin. You've been saving it for a special occasion and considering that you haven't met him for two years, you reckon it's time to wear it.

"Just something I had, you know, lying around," you playfully answer.

The drinks come not long after and Chan waits until the server leaves to initiate a toast with you. Your drink is in a glass with a thin stem so you carefully lift it with your fingers.

"Cheers!" You mutter in unison and clink your glasses together.

The first round of drinks went with a conversation that consisted of basic questions. He asks you about work, family, life in general, and everything in between. You must admit that your life is kind of boring but it's nice to know that he wanted to catch up on your life updates.

It's a little disappointing though that he doesn't ask anything about your love life or whether you're seeing anyone or not.

When you deem that you're on the verge of oversharing, you stop talking and shift the focus to him.

"What about you? What are you working on at the moment?" You curiously ask, putting down your drink on the table and leaving one last sip on the fragile-looking glass.

"I'm working on a lot of things right now. From a lot of places too," he answers.

"So, you've been traveling a lot," you remark.

"Yes."

That says something about his relationship status and unless he has learned how to be in a long-distance relationship, then it means he's not seeing anyone right now. Even if he is, there's a big chance that it's noncommittal.

This calls for a celebration so you pick up your drink and drain every last drop of it, delightfully gasping once you swallow it.

"Round 2?" Chan offers.

"Yes."

Now that you've made up your mind about it and from the subtle signals he's sending you so far, it's safe to say that he's up to do no good with you. You smooth down the hem of your dress and flip your hair to the back, preparing yourself to execute plan number four: Make your intention known.

As much as you feel tempted to say 'Chris, let's fuck!' right to his face, you decide not to be haste and go with a more convenient, acceptable way. You plan to be forthright about your intention what you want and if he wanted the same too so the two of you can skip the formalities and go straight to the fucking.

"Chris, I have something to tell you," you say to him.

He positions his body slightly turns to the side to face you and softly smiles, "You can tell me."

You've mustered up the courage and have the words prepared in your head only for the moment to be ruined by your phone ringing in your purse.

"Fuck..." you quietly mutter to yourself, you could sense your courage shrinking inside you.

The phone has stopped ringing but you grab your purse on the space next to you and pull it out to check the caller. A new text message appears on your screen.

Call me. It's urgent. Your friend wrote in her text along with multiple red exclamation marks.

It seems rather urgent, you put on an apologetic smile at Chan and say, "I'm sorry but do you mind if I make a quick call?"

"Not at all," Chan says with an easy smile.

You take your phone with you as you get up from the sofa, leaving the booth at the same time the waiter comes with your second round of drinks.

Finding the way to the restroom, you hit the call button as you enter and stand in front of the sinks, waiting for your friend to pick up while checking for your hair and make-up in the mirror.

"What's the urgency?" You say the second you hear the call being picked up.

"I need to borrow your laptop. Mine is suddenly frozen and I can't reboot it," your friend answers in a rather distressed tone.

Knowing that it's not the kind of urgent you imagined in your head, you let out a sigh of relief and then say, "Yes, yes you can use my laptop."

"I'm already in the elevator to your floor."

"You have the code to my apartment and I'm sure you know where I put my laptop," you calmly tell her, putting the strands of hair to the side and carefully dabbing the skin under your eyes.

"Wait. You're not home?"

"I'm not and I'm not taking any more questions," you immediately stop her before she gets too nosy.

"Don't call me for the rest of the night. Bye!" You don't wait for a response and quickly hang up.

On the way back to your booth, you see Chan enjoying the jazz performance on the stage, tapping his foot against the floor. You didn't notice the way he sat until now, his legs spread open, he's slightly slumped and his long arm rests along the edge of the sofa, plus he left the top three buttons on his shirt open.

Chan looks so hot simply by sitting like that and you're sure you've seen much hotter men but you really can't remember when.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and slide into the booth again, then slowly sit on the sofa, leaving a gap between you and him.

"Here's your drink," he says, handing the glass to you with such caution.

"Thank you!" You mutter your gratitude.

You're glad that you're taking the recommendation because the Hemingway Daiquiri tastes so refreshing, it's sweet and sour, certainly an upscale from the classic daiquiri.

"I hope the call wasn't something bad," he says to you.

You lick your lips after taking a sip, "Oh, no. It was my friend. She needs to borrow something," you spare him from the details.

It takes a minute to remember where you left the conversation and when you finally recall, you need to take more time to prepare yourself again. You immediately take another sip to quicken the process of building up your courage.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He suddenly comes up with an unexpected request.

Your throat burns from accidentally swallowing your alcohol too fast and you can feel your eyes get teary as well.

"Sure," you manage to answer.

Somehow the gap you purposely put between you and him disappears, he sits so close to you that his knee bumps into yours.

"I've been stalking your Instagram page," he shares with a shy smile.

You snort because he makes it seem like it's an embarrassing thing to say, but you doubt if that's true, he could be saying that to make you feel flattered.

"As far as I can recall, you've been abandoning your account until today," you say, hardly believing his so-called secret.

"That's because I'm using a fake Instagram account," he simply answers.

You snort again and roll your eyes at him, "Yeah, sure."

Chan smirks and picks up his phone, he opens Instagram to show the fake Instagram account he made and it only has one following, you.

"Do you believe me now?"

It's hard to stay calm when you find out that the guy who broke your heart two years ago has secretly been keeping up with you through your social media. You're happy but a part of you is still in denial.

"I mean... why not use your own Instagram?" you ask out of pure curiosity because it's not like you'd mistake this as a sign that he wants to get back with you. You're not that naive nor delusional.

"Then you would know that I regret breaking up with you," he casually answers like he didn't just reveal something profound.

You look at him to check if he's just messing with you and you would know if he's lying cause he's bad at it, but nope, he's telling the truth.

"And you would know that I've been struggling to get over you," he continues with glints filling his doe eyes.

There's an alarm going off in your chest, it's coming from the heart and it's telling you to be cautious, potential heartbreak lies ahead. You get reminded that you came here not to confront your feelings, you came here to get fucked, hopefully hard.

"And I guess you posted your boxing video for a purpose?" You ask with your eyebrow raised at him.

"Well..." he shrugs and slyly grins, "it worked, didn't it?"

As expected, this man has so many tricks up his sleeves. Better be careful as he puts all of his attention on you, his arm slowly makes its way around your shoulder and his hand is playing with your hair.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No comment," You smirk and take a small sip of your drink.

Chan lets out a laugh, the sonorous one and the kind that makes his eyes form two crescents. He takes a sip of his Boulevardier which is an upscale version of negroni.

"I've been wondering why you stayed single for so long," he says with an underlying tone, implying that he's actually asking you the reason why. Also confirmed his secret stalking behavior.

"It's not that long," you reply, crossing your legs together as you flash him a sly smile.

"A year, isn't it?" He asks.

You groan and roll your eyes at him, "You really are a stalker."

"You can tell me," he playfully elbows your side.

"No. It's a secret," you refuse to share.

"I shared my secret with you and it's only fair if you share yours with me."

"First of all, I didn't ask for your secret," you defend yourself while holding your drink close to your mouth.

He leans to your side, offering his ear at you as he says, "You can whisper it to me."

He means to know the answer anyway so you lean into his ear and cover the side of your mouth, then whisper, "All the guys I've met, they don't have a big cock like yours."

That's a way to get his attention and escalate the tension between the two of you. You pull away with a devilish smirk dancing on your face.

You glance down at his crotch and ask, "Is it still as big as I remember?"

"If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," he plays coy about it and you find it extremely attractive.

Noticing that you've drained your drink, Chan waves his hand to get the two of you another round of drinks. Obviously, you don't want it to end when things have just started to warm up.

He looks at you and then glances down, showing his hand snaking its way to your thigh.

"Have I told you that it's a nice dress?"

"I don't mind hearing it one more time," you respond with a cheeky smile.

He shoots you a big grin while he's playing with the hem of your dress, feeling the fabric between his fingers.

"It's a nice dress," he compliments, then leans in close so that you can feel his warm breath brush your cheek as he adds, "And I want to take it off of you tonight."

You place your hand on his hand that rests on your thigh and play with his bracelet, "if you're lucky, you'll get to do it," you poke fun at him.

You can audibly hear his laugh in your ear as he leans in closer his nose pokes your cheek, "We're even now."

The third drinks bring the tension higher as the two of you relax from every sip and the gap between your bodies gradually disappears.

Chan has his eyes on you all the time, it's overwhelming at times but you like the way he looks at you like an animal who has his eyes on its prey and you like seeing the confliction in his eyes on whether he should eat you whole or play with his food first.

There's so much chemistry and tension here, plus the alcohol, you're only waiting for the light to turn bright green, really.

He gently brushes your hair to the side and keeps it there so he can plant a kiss on the skin behind your ear, knowing that it's your sensitive part of body.

"You change your perfume?"

"Yes," you manage to remain calm despite the proximity and the way he constantly rubs your thigh with his knuckle.

He drags his lips to your ear and asks, "What is it called?"

You lick your lips and make him wait for your answer, "I believe it's called Good Girl Gone Bad."

He tilts his head to the side and looks at you right in the eyes, wide and dark with lust, "How bad?"

You grab the collar of his shirt and tug at it, "If you're lucky, you'll get to find out," you get back at him again.

As he bursts out laughing with his eyes closed, you follow your intrusive thought to cup his jaw with your hand and laugh along.

"That's two to one," you remind him.

He stops laughing only to fondly smile at you, "Remind me how I broke up with you."

"For a start, you acted like an absolute jerk that day," you half-jokingly say.

The truth is it wasn't the breakup that hurt you the most, it's the post-break-up and his total absence from your life, he didn't call or text, or even send a pity email after that day. It felt as if he didn't want you in his life anymore.

Fuck. How did you get here again? Forced to face your feelings. Time to shift the talk.

"It's getting late, don't you think?"

Chan immediately reaches for his phone on the table to check the time, "It's 10.51."

"Oh," you plainly respond and finish you drink.

"Can I have your new numbers?" He suddenly asks.

You put down your glass on the table and answer, "I still have the same phone numbers."

"Yeah but I lost my phone at the airport and had to get a new one, lost all of my contacts," he explains like he knew you thought about how he didn't call you earlier.

Chan hands you his phone so you can enter your phone numbers and hand it back to him once you've finished. He hits the call button instead of saving it first and your phone rings a second later.

"Come on. Pick it up!" He tells you.

You obey him, accepting his phone call even though he's sitting next to you, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's future Chris calling," he says with a mix of foolish and sexy grin, you don't know how but he does it so well.

Curious to see where this talk is going, you decide to play along with him, "If you are really from the future, can you tell me the lottery numbers for this week?"

"I... can't tell you that."

"I'm hanging up," you joke.

"But I can tell you something else."

"Not interested," you put away your phone from your ear.

He glares at you, forcing you to continue playing along with him, "Hear me first!"

"Okay, I'm listening," you say with a dramatic eye roll.

"Future Chris says you need to go to hotel room number 103 tonight."

"Uhm... why?"

"You have to go there if you want to get lucky," he says with his tongue slightly poking out on one corner of his mouth.

"Still not interested," you poke fun, pretending to hang up the phone again.

"You'll regret it," he teases.

"I doubt that," you say with your nose scrunched at him.

Chan gets a little annoyed now, you can tell by the way he has his tongue poking his cheek and the fed-up grin on his face.

"Don't you want to get lucky tonight and find out about..." he pauses as he reaches for the pendant of your necklace and turns it over in his fingers, "the thing you're curious of."

This is it then, your intention matched his intention and the light has turned bright green. You take his hand and put it down onto your lap, then you slide your hand into his palm, "Okay."

"Okay," He says, holding your hand in his then brings it close to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

As you're waiting for the elevator to arrive, Chan steadily places his hand on the arch of your back and lingers there until the elevator chimes open.

He lets you get in first and you choose to stand on the side, close to the panel full of numbers of the hotel floors and he reaches for it to push the number to his floor.

Should you consider yourself lucky that the elevator is empty? Should you be nervous because you're starting to feel like a prey being locked with its predator inside a small, enclosed space?

No words are being exchanged as the two of you locked in a gaze, but he speaks so much through his eyes, they're fiery, filled with so much want, so much need, and ultimately, desire.

After that much teasing, flirting, alcohol, chemistry, and tension, you've been wondering how the two of you managed to not kiss each other already.

It seems like he's about to make it happen as he comes closer to you, putting his hands on the handlebar and caging you in between. Slowly, he brings his hand close to your face and carefully puts away the strands of hair covering your face to the side, then tucks it behind your ear.

In this proximity, you can see how plush his lips are, how soft and full they are, and it's getting too hard to try to ignore. You look at him, telling him how much you want to kiss him through your eyes and deliberately blink to give him the unspoken permission to kiss you.

The heating moment gets interrupted by the sound of the elevator chimes open and a group of people gets in from the fourth floor.

"Excuse me," a man says as he reaches for the panel to press the number to his floor.

With his hand on your back again, Chan protectively guides you to take a step forward and stands behind you, he puts his arm around your waist with his hand resting on your abdomen.

There's a low chatter going on from the other corner of the elevator but the absence of silence doesn't make it less tense as Chan buries his nose in your hair, you can feel every breath he inhales on the nape of your neck. It feels hot and cold at the same time, making you tingling inside.

He then presses his mouth to your ear and softly whispers, "You're still using the same shampoo, mmh?" His lips graze your ear as he speaks.

Chan puts his other arm on you and quietly, pulls you closer until your back meets his chest, that way you can feel him behind you and his body heat that slowly melts you from the inside.

Quietly, he slides his hand down to the curve of your ass cheek and then gently squeezes the flesh.

"My God, this body..." he whispers with his breath tickles your body, "Makes me want to ruin you so much."

Is it wrong that you don't even want to hide it anymore? You want everyone in the elevator to hear what he just said to you and for a split second, you want Chan to fuck you right there and let everyone watches.

However, Chan suddenly lets go of you and you pout at the sudden loss of contact. Then you notice that the little screen above the panel shows that the elevator is about to stop on the 10th floor.

When it chimes open, you make your way out with Chan trails behind you. None of you look back but keep walking ahead with his hand resting on the arch of your back again, leading you to where his room is. His hand goes lower and lower the further you walk through the hotel corridor.

"This way," he says, guiding your body to take the left corridor.

Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and roughly pulls you with him until he hits his back against the wall, then crashes his mouth on you.

This is not your shared first kiss but this is somehow better than that. The feeling of your lips finally reunited in a rapturous kiss especially when you've been craving it oh, there's nothing like it!

Chan kisses you so hard, so deep, so passionately that you have a hard time returning it to him and breathing becomes a second priority to you.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he mutters when he lets go of the kiss.

Still gasping for air, you nod and say, "Me too."

To your surprise, he turns you over and has you pinned against the wall this time, he pushes his body against yours as he seeks to be as close to you as possible until there's no inch of gap left between your bodies.

When he deems that you need to breathe, he lets go of your lips only to kiss you on your neck and you tip your head to the side to give him the free access. You let out a low moan as his teeth faintly scrape the skin.

His hands run amok, feeling you all over and touching you through your clothes, eventually his hand cups your breast in his. He kisses your lips again only to distract you from his hand trying to pull down the front of your dress and after a few tries, he manages to send your breast spilling which he wastes no time to take it in his mouth.

"Oh..." The moan just slipped out of your mouth and you hurriedly press your lips together to shut yourself up, aware that you're in a hotel corridor and the hotel guests might hear it, oh and also, someone may walk in on you making out in the hotel corridor.

He leaves your breast wet with his saliva when he lets go and goes straight to kiss you again, putting his weight against you and hoisting your leg around him.

It's getting hard to stay quiet as he starts to dry hump you, you can feel the friction of his clothed erection on you, big and bulging, highly arousing.

Hearing footsteps coming, he hurriedly fixes your dress and takes your hand, this time, leading you right to his hotel room. He swiftly unlocks the door with his keycard and pushes the door inward.

"Come in," he softly mutters, keeping the door open to let you in.

Once you're both inside, the obscenity continues. Nothing is stopping you from coming at each other and ripping each other's clothes. Your dress is the first to go then his shirts, they're lying on the carpeted floor now.

As you lips continuously latch with his, Chan swiftly unbuckles his belt and zips open his fly, he pulls his erection out of its confine.

Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hand and puts it around his hardening member. You gasp at how hot it feels in your hand, how hard it is that you can feel the veins coiling around his length.

He pulls away and looks down to see your hand holding his cock, "Is it as big as you remember?"

You suck air through your teeth and then say, "I'm not sure."

You start to slowly pump his length in your hand and look up at him, "but there's a way I can know for sure."

His eyebrow raised in question, "You do?"

"Uh-huh," you answer, leaning in to kiss him.

From his lips, you begin a trail of kisses to his neck and his chest next, then down to his sculpted abs until your knees hit the carpeted floor.

Something about kneeling in front of him and he's looking down on you with a mix of excitement and anticipation in his eyes arousing you in a whole new way.

In return, you look back at him, innocently blinking your eyes at him all the while your hand keeps stroking his cock in front of you.

"Can I?" You ask him with your thumb softly rubbing the tip of his cock.

He puts his hands in your hair, brushing your hair and gathering them in the back of your head, making a makeshift ponytail with his hand, "Yes."

Without looking away from him, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, then slowly, you take him in your mouth. You take him little by little and give yourself time to adjust yourself to his size which you think is somewhat bigger than you remember.

Wanting to impress him, you push yourself to take more of him but you're too haste and his cock hits the back of your throat so fast, triggering your gag reflex. You immediately pull away before you embarrass yourself more and look away as you let out a cough.

"Still too big for me," You say with a shy chuckle.

Chan places his hand on your cheek and tenderly caresses it, "Too big for you, mmh?"

You nod with your puppy eyes at him.

"But you're taking it so well," he coos, now wiping your chin with his thumb.

You wrap your hand around his cock again and slowly pump it, "Yeah?"

"Yes," he mutters with a soft smile.

The truth is you're not a big fan of giving blow jobs and you're not very confident in your skill, but he remains sweet and patient with you and you believe it's because he knows.

Chan makes you feel safe and comfortable enough to make you want to do it again.

"Let me just..." you don't finish your sentence but do it all over again.

You remind yourself to take it slow, regulate your breathing, and keep calm, it's even better if you can try to enjoy doing it.

To compensate for the rest that you can't take in your mouth, you use your hand and alternate between sucking and licking.

"See? You're taking me so well," he softly mutters, delicately tucking your hair behind your ear.

It doesn't take long for you to find your rhythm and slowly enjoying yourself giving him head, you're even humming in pleasure with your mouth full of him.

Seeing his reactions and hearing the lewd noises coming out of your mouth, encourages you to keep going despite your jaws getting tired and your knees are hurting from kneeling too long.

In between his low moans, he manages to mutter sweet nothings to you.

"Oh, that pretty mouth!"

"You're just too good."

"Oh... Too good at this!"

After a few minutes though, you sense that you needed a break so you slowly pull out and replace your mouth with your hand.

"You like that?"

"Very much," he answers without a beat.

He offers his hand to help you get up from the floor and pulls you close, hoisting your body against him knowing that you're probably tired from kneeling too long.

"You're getting too good, it's dangerous," he whispers to you with both hands cupping your ass cheeks.

You giggle and let him have your lips in him again, you're opening your mouth for him so he can kiss you deeper while he hoists you higher until your feet are lifted off the floor.

Chan carries you to the bed and gently lays you down on the bed, he removes his jeans first before joining you, lying next to you on the bed.

He brushes your hair away from your face and presses a kiss on your lips, "So, is it as big as you remember?"

You tangle your hand in his soft curls, "Jury's still out," you answer with a sly smile.

Chan glares at you as a grin slowly blossoms on his face, he offers his arm as your pillow and then pulls you closer to him, that way, he can comfortably plant his lips on yours again.

As he keeps you busy with his kisses, his hand is making its way down south and not stopping until it lands on your clothed cunt. He smirks against your lips the second he slips his fingers under, meeting your wetness.

"That wet for me, mmh?" He murmurs.

You coyly shrug and shoot him a smirk just to provoke him.

"Well, I'm honored," he says with his fingers tracing your folds and running it up and down your slit.

When he starts playing with your clit, you know you no long can keep your cool anymore. The cold that comes from the metal of his chain bracelet adds a different sensation to the hot and wetness of your cunt.

"Goodness..." you breathlessly gasp as he inserts his finger into you.

"I know you can take one more," he mutters with his mouth pressed to your ear, then proceeds to add another digit.

His two long fingers are inside you now, pumping them in and out of you, and curls them to find that spot that makes you—

"Chris! Oh, fuck!" You curse and grip his shoulder hard enough your nails dug into the skin.

He's enjoying it from the way his head hovers above you and peacefully observing your face, wanting to see all of your reactions to his delightful assault.

He has his mouth sucking on your breast now and the other is being fondled by his other hand, the other hand is busy making a mess out of you.

You're squirming on the bed with your waist upheld in the air and shamelessly arching your back at him, seeking more of him inside you.

Chan knows when to stop, he teases you enough to prepare you for what comes next. He slows down his hand motions and slowly pulls them out. He doesn't let go yet but keeps his hand inside your underwear, playing with your clit.

A moment later, he draws his hand out of your underwear and rubs his fingers coated with your arousal on his lips, "Taste yourself on me," he says.

Seeing his lips wet with your essence is rather arousing and you don't hesitate at all to kiss him, tasting yourself on him. The kiss feels exceptionally kinky and you thought you couldn't be more aroused than this.

Without letting go of the kiss, he hovers above you and props his elbows against the mattress, "Are you still on the pills?"

You swallow air before answering, "Yeah."

He places a sweet peck on your lips then looks at you, "Is it okay if we do it without protection?"

Maybe deep down you know you can trust him and it wouldn't be the first time you're doing it with him without a layer of protection so you find it easy to agree to it and nod.

"Okay," you say, also providing him a verbal consent.

He smiles at you and lowers his mouth on you again, he continues the kisses down your front. His hands tugging at the elastic band of your underwear and pulling it down as he continues the kisses down to your legs.

The bed quakes as Chan gets off the bed and he's just standing there, looking at you and your naked body for his eyes to lust on. You catch him inhaling and exhaling air like he's overwhelmed by what he's seeing.

"You're so beautiful," he mutters with a delightful sigh.

It would be the only normal response to get flustered under his lustful eyes, you look away from him and say, "Just get in here, Chris!"

He surprises you by jumping onto the bed, making the bed quakes once more and he immediately puts his lips on yours again.

"Turn over for me," he softly whispers to you ear.

Without saying a word, you obey him, turning over on the bed and getting on your fours, kneeling with your hands propped against the mattress in front of you.

Chan positions himself behind you and then with so much care, he puts all of your hair away onto one shoulder so he can place kisses on your back. His hands freely roam around your body.

In your opinion, Chan has the most attractive pair of hands, it's warm and firm with veins snaking on the back of his hand, and of course, long fingers that know how to find your most sensitive spot. Now, they're on you, going all over you and feeling you all over.

"I almost forgot how soft you are," he murmurs.

He then brings his hands to your chest to play with your mounds, he hums in pleasure as he sees your breasts mold perfectly in his hands.

"Like they were made just for me," he sighs.

It's like his attractiveness and his big cock aren't enough, Chan has to have a smart mouth too, a mouth that knows what to say and how to say it.

Then again, you're just a girl and you're prone to sugary sweet words like that. You look over your shoulder and smile at him, not expecting that he's going to capture your lips in a kiss.

He slides one hand down to your throbbing cunt again, making sure it's wet enough for him to penetrate. He gently pushes you to the front so he can aim his cock at your entrance and then slowly, he guides you to take him in.

"Oh... ah..." you moan, crumpling the sheet underneath you.

And you almost forget how big he is until he's inside you and you get so high that you blank out, you're there on all fours and merely just a vessel.

Not giving you another minute to adjust, Chan moves back and pulls his cock out only to push it deeper inside you. He then wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly while you're flailing against him like a rag doll.

"You feel so good," he whispers, his breath is hot and heavy in your ear, "So fucking tight around me."

He brings his hand down to rub your clit, adding gentle pressure as he's circling on it.

"I'm going to move, okay?" He says to you with a slobbering kiss on your shoulder.

Unable to form a coherent answer, you repeatedly nod in answer.

The sploshing sound of his fingers incessantly rubbing your clit intensify along with the pace of his thrusting. Chan either has his lips on your lips or plants them on your shoulder, either way, he does it to muffle his groans.

This is what happens when his hand and his cock joint forces, you find yourself on the brink of orgasm when all you've been doing is filling the room with your high-pitched moans.

"Oh, I'm cumming," you whine, holding onto the sheet as waves of pleasure surging all over you.

Chan slows down but does not stop thrusting into you, he kisses your neck and shoulder as you relish your orgasm. He keeps you close with his slung across your chest.

"Chris?" You breathlessly call his name.

"Yes, baby?" He answers your call and you guess the pet name unintentionally slipped out of his mouth.

Not going to lie, it gets you fluttering to hear him call you baby. You curve your arm around his neck and bring his head close to kiss him.

After a while, you start to doubt that the fluttering feeling came from Chan calling you with a pet name. You think it's because you're getting your second orgasm.

"What should I do, Chris?" You whine against his mouth

He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a concerned look, "Huh?" Chan confusingly asks.

"I'm about to cum again," you shamelessly admit.

Chan lets out a low chuckle and presses a kiss on your lips, "Then let's cum together, yeah?" he simply resolves.

He draws you close to him until your back hits his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you to hold you steady as he adds more speed to his thrust.

"Chris, oh..." you moan while holding onto his forearm.

His hands slithering around, one hand squeezing on your breast and the other wrapped around your neck. His mouth nests in the crook of your neck, grunting in pleasure and at times, sucking on your skin to muffle his noises.

"Oh, you keep clenching, baby," he mutters, followed by a broken moan.

That is probably because his cock is deep inside you, it's engorging and pulsating, filling you whole and continuously rubbing against your velvety walls, making the knot in your stomach tighten with each passing second.

Getting weak on the knees, you collapse onto the bed and Chan hurriedly holds you by the waist as he maintains the pace.

"I'm close, I'm close," you tell him repeatedly with one side of your face pressed against the bed.

Chan groans as he pushes his cock as shallowly as possible inside you, "Almost there," he says through his gritted teeth.

The previous orgasm makes you more sensitive than before and you can't hold yourself back anymore so you slowly let go and let the pleasure take over you once more.

Meanwhile, Chan hovers behind you and takes your hands, he holds them by the wrists then pin them against the bed as he restlessly thrusts into you to chase his high.

"Want me to cum inside you?" He asks, still thoughtful as you remember

"Uh-huh, yeah," you manage to answer even with your brain close to short-circuit.

Getting the permission is all he needed to get to his release. Then moment he finally come undone, he lets out a hoarse yet the most beautiful moan you ever heard, then lets himself lay on top of you.

A moment passes in contented silence and Chan presses a long kiss on the nape of your neck, then softly asks, "Are you okay?"

Not getting an answer, he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face to check it himself, "Did I go too rough on you?" He asks again with a slight concern.

You allow yourself to take a few more seconds to gain your composure and instead of answering, you foolishly grin at him and say, "That was so fucking good."

In response, Chan brightly smiles then pecks your lips, "No, but seriously, are you okay?"

You nod at him, "I'm okay."

After hearing your confirmation, he lets out a sigh of relief and then kisses you again, longer than the previous one.

"Sweet break?"

You don't expect him to say that after a long time, you smile and nod, "Sweet break."

Sweet break is something you used to say to each other when you need to take a break from something by eating something sweet. Like now, for instance, you and him taking a break from sex to order something sweet from the room service.

"Bad news is the kitchen is closed" Chan announces the second you come out of the bathroom.

It would be bothersome to put on your dress so you put on Chan's shirt instead, buttoning it as you join him on the sofa, "And the good news?"

He opens the food cover to show you what he got from the room service, "They're still serving desserts," he says with a grin.

The two of you huddle together around the plates of desserts and eating them on the sofa, filling the room with the sounds of your chewing and the dessert spoon scraping the plate.

It's fascinating to watch Chan casually eat his chocolate cake like he didn't just fuck the brains out of you a while ago. You let out a low chuckle and get back to your crepes.

"What's so funny?" He asks, catching you quietly chuckling to yourself.

"Nothing," you answer with a shrug.

He glares at you and decides to invade your plate with his fork, stabbing at the sliced banana and then shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey, eat your own dessert," you scold him but let him collect more bananas from your plate.

"But you don't like bananas," he says in between his chews.

"I don't like bananas but that doesn't mean I can't eat them," you say, but proceed to put the bananas to the side of the plate.

"I'm eating it for you so you only eat what you like," he says with a proud grin.

It's endearing that he still remembers little things like this. The sweet break, your dislike toward a certain and even how many of his fingers you like to have inside you. You can't help but wonder if he remembers other things too. His feelings for you, perhaps?

"Want to order another one?"

The two of you shared and finished the last plate together, even though you feel like you can have another plate, you refuse the offer.

He puts the plates away to the side of the room and returns to the sofa, lifting your legs before he sits next to you and then puts your legs on his lap.

"What's that café with the salted caramel cookies?" He suddenly asks.

"The one with butternut latte?" You ask back to check.

He gently puts his hand on your shoulder and plays with your hair, "Is it still open?"

Damn. He even still remembers that one café you regularly visited when the two of you were still dating.

"Yes," you answer with a smile.

"Man. Those are the best cookies!" he sighs with his fingertips lightly rubbing your thigh.

"I mean, we can go there tomorrow if you want," you casually say or you hope it sounds casual, it's a friendly offer.

He stops playing with your hand and cups your jaw, "I would love to," he says.

From the way his smile slowly dims, you sense a 'but' coming. Oh no, you sense a regret coming. You shouldn't have offered it in the first place.

"But I have to leave tomorrow," he says.

"Oh?" You try to remain unbothered and keep your facial expression in check, "Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yeah. I have to take care of a few things back home," he explains.

By back home, he means Australia and he'll fly out tomorrow, and probably for good. You hate that you get sad like it would be the first he's done it to you.

He holds you by the chin and slowly brings your head close to place a chaste kiss on your lips, it's so tender that you feel a tug at your chest.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he sincerely says with his eyes wide and shining for you.

This is where you start losing the objective of why you're here, you came here to solely get fucked, not expecting anything but his cock inside you.

Time to put some sense into your head and laugh it off, "Oh, my God, Chris!" You gasp out loud.

His forehead wrinkles in question, "What?"

"Yes, we can fuck again, no need to try so hard," you say with a sassy eye roll.

Learning that he's being pranked, he squints his eyes at you with his tongue pokes his cheek. While clutching his chest, he says, "Gosh, I thought—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you shut him up with a kiss because you don't want to keep talking about your feelings or get reminded of how things were when you were still together. You kiss him because you want to forget.

"You thought what?" You ask as you sit on his lap.

He licks his lips and shakes his head, "Nothing."

He's more than glad to have you sitting on his lap as it allows him to hold you close. His hands trail the sides of your body until they eventually land on your ass and then eagerly fondle them in his hands. Catching you off guard, he lands a slap on your ass cheek.

"Chris!" You shriek, abruptly stop kissing him, "That stings!"

"Can't help it," he innocently says while laughing and then pulls you close to kiss you again before you scold him more.

As a safety measure, you take his hands from your ass and fold them together on his chest but he takes it to his advantage, he finds another playground for his lewd hands.

Doesn't want to waste time unbuttoning it, he slips his hand under your shirt to fondle your breast, circling his fingers around your nipple before pinching at it.

He then lifts your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool night air, and wastes no time to bury his head in between your mounds. He then pulls the shirt down and hides himself in it, acting like a toddler by purposely placing ticklish kisses on you to make you laugh

"Stop playing," you scold him with your hand tangled in his curls, "Let's go to bed, mmh?"

Chan pops his head out through the opening of the shirt and looks at you, "Kiss me first," he demands.

How can you say no when he looks at you with fondness in his eyes and a smile on his face? You fulfill his wish and place a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

"Can we go now?" You say the second you pull away from the kiss.

"Okay," he obliges.

He gets out of your shirt first and you get off his lap next, then starts walking toward the bedroom when Chan suddenly comes from behind you and hoists you up, looking unbothered carrying you on his shoulder.

"To the bed!" He announces, then slaps the back of your thigh.

"Chris!" You scold again but you can't do anything about it as you hang upside-down on his back.

The bed is already a mess and it seems like it's going to get even messier with the way Chan constantly has you pinned under him. He kisses your lips, softly yet hungrily like devouring an ice cream.

Aware that he has taken his turn, Chan doesn't complain when you flip him over and take it over from him. You're straddling him, rubbing his cock between your slit while he's unbuttoning your shirt open.

You find yourself wet for him again in no time and his cock is as hard as you need it to be, maybe this is why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are always horny for each other.

You let out a low, long moan the whole time you lower yourself on him and a seductive chuckle slips out of your mouth the second he's fully buried inside you.

When you look down at him, you find him staring at you with his mouth agape. You slyly smile and place both of your hands on his glorious pecs, "Have you always been this big?"

Chan licks his lips and rests his hands on your thighs, "And have you always been this tight?" He asks back instead of answering.

Being on top gives you the freedom to set a pace you prefer and switch positions as you like, more importantly, you can fully enjoy every bit of it. But it's working because Chan is such a great partner, he lets you have full control and lets you take your time.

If not using his hands to touch you all over, he has his hands folded under his head and quietly enjoying watching you fucking him.

"If you keep clenching around me like that, I might cum too fast," he tells you.

"I'm okay with that," you calmly respond.

To tease him more, you purposely keep clenching around him and rolling your hips in circular motions. Somehow you stop focusing on getting your high and start thinking about how to please him more.

"Oh," he loudly groans and his hand grips at your waist, "You're bad!"

You giggle in response while continuing to roll your hips back and forth in painstakingly slow motion.

"Oh, you're really, really bad," he says with ragged breath.

The sex may not be as hard or as intense as the previous one but it's just as good, even better. Maybe it's the unwavering eye contact, maybe it's the way he hisses every time you tease him, or the way he trusts you to make him feel good.

Whatever it is, you feel like sharing an intimate moment with him and you can't lie, it feels special.

"Are you close?" You ask because you're very close to your climax.

"I've been waiting for you to ask me that," he hastily answers, still able to joke in a heating moment like this.

You take him along with you to the edge and not stopping until the two of you come to your release, you keep moving at a sloppy pace to ride out the high.

Chan pulls you close, forcing you to lower yourself onto his body and accidentally sending his cock to slip out. You don't mind it at first but you can feel his hot cum dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.

You break the kiss and mutter in panic, "It's dripping."

"I'll put it back in," he simply responds, reaching down for his cock and slowly pushes it back into you.

Now that it's resolved, he puts his arms around you again and pulls you even closer until your bodies mold into one another, then kisses you more.

Without looking and breaking the kiss, he pulls the duvet and covers both of your bodies with it, ready to end the night with your bodies still connected.

"Have I told you this?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

He looks at you with his brown eyes that looks like a nice cup of cocoa, comforting and warm.

"I miss you," he ever softly says.

There he goes again, making you debate whether you came here for the sex or to try to rekindle old sparks with him. But in all honesty, it feels good to know that the yearning goes both ways.

For once, you let your heart answer it for you.

"I miss you too, Chris," you mutter back with a smile.

And now you start debating if seeing him tonight is indeed a bad idea.

There's a wet, squelching sound when you first come to your senses the next morning, you feel like sleeping for another hour or two but you also feel the urge to check what that noise is all about.

You force open your eyes and find out right away the source of that wet, squelching sound, it's coming from Chan and he has his mouth latched to your breast.

"Morning, Chris," you croak as you brush your hair away from your face.

He lets go of your breast with a loud pop and looks at you, "Did I wake you?"

"Not really," you answer, putting your hand in his fluffy bedhead.

"I'm sorry," he says but not looking like it.

"Are you? Sorry?" You jokingly say and lay back on your pillow.

He slyly grins and shifts his focus back to playing with your mounds. He holds your breast up and uses his slick tongue to tease your nipple, alternating between licking and sucking.

It's normal to feel horny in the morning and, you find yourself already wet under there, you guess Chan has been helping himself while you were still sleeping.

Chan's head hangs above your chest and you can see how much he's enjoying your breasts, playing with them like a toddler, he even makes noises as he fills his mouth with your ample flesh.

"Aren't you leaving today? Shouldn't we get up and shower?" You mutter, softly scratching his scalp as you talk.

He sucks at your breast so hard and pulls it before letting it go, grinning as he is satisfied with what he just did.

"My flight is in the afternoon," he says.

"And I'd better go so you can pack—"

"But I already ordered breakfast," he whines like a fussy child.

"Well, we can shower first."

"They'll send breakfast at 8," he shares with a wild grin.

You turn your head to check the time on the clock hanging on the wall, "But it's hardly 7."

"Exactly!" He exclaims.

"Exactly what?" You ask in genuine confusion.

He buries his head in your neck and whispers, "We have an hour before breakfast."

Despite catching on to his intention, you decide to act dumb, "And?"

"And..." he inhales your scent before hovering above you, "I'll have my breakfast first."

He winks at you then goes under the duvet, and settles himself between your legs to have his so-called breakfast and it only makes sense that it progresses to intercourse.

Morning sex offers different things, it's the quiet, the peace, the slivers of morning sun shining through the cracks of the curtains, doing it with a refreshed mind and body, it's also the best way to start the day.

It's even better when you get to be a pillow princess, you just lay back and let Chan do all the handwork. He has your legs locked around his waist as he thrusts into you at a slow yet steady pace and in every thrust, he makes you feel every inch of his length rubbing against your walls.

"This is just great," he says with his face pressed to the side of your head.

"Mmh, what?" You respond as best as you can.

"I don't have to do cardio today," he says with a low chuckle.

This is your favorite kind of sex, do it by not taking it too seriously. Because in your opinion, other than it should be comfortable for the individuals involved, sex should be fun.

You kiss his open mouth and drag your lips down to his neck, then plant your mouth on his skin, sucking at it hard enough to form a hickey on it.

"What's that about?" He's rather dumbfounded instead of annoyed.

"Just trying to make it fair," you coyly say as you point to the blossoming mark he made on your breast.

"Yeah, okay," he says in defeat.

As much as you don't want the sex to end, it eventually ends but in a rather explosive, euphoric way. You feel like you've just been given another chance at life after that last orgasm.

"Who needs coffee, huh?" You sigh as you blankly stare at the ceiling.

It's a rhetorical question but Chan decides to respond to it anyway, "Not me, apparently."

Then you remember that he indeed doesn't drink nor need coffee to function, "Not you, apparently," you correct your earlier remark.

Chan carefully lowers himself on top of you and hastily kisses you, both of your teeth almost colliding.

"Thought I was still dreaming when I woke up next to you," he says, coming with another sentimental remark that evokes something deep within you.

You decide to push it further down and keep it there by saying, "Ugh. It's too early for that," you groan.

Chan weakly chuckles with his head nestled in your neck and just like the universe knows you need the distraction, the knocking comes on the door and it must be the breakfast.

You gently pat his head and say, "Now, go get my coffee!"

The morning continues with a quiet breakfast, it's obvious the reason why, the two of you burnt so many calories last night and need a reload.

Then there's the shower and you strongly refuse to share with him or else, it'll take much time. But Chan has an even stronger will and joins you anyway.

This is another reason why sex with him feels exceptional, the two of you are the same insatiable creatures.

The two of you dressed in silence and at times, catch him watching you, instead of feeling shy, you give him a proper show, bending down and wriggling your ass as you put your underwear on.

Chan enjoys every bit of it, he grins and bites his lips, tempted to come up at you, and goes at it again, but sadly, time is running out.

It's here, this is where it's going to end and you never know when you'll see him again, and that's even if you're still able to. You can only hope that he doesn't see how much you want him to stay.

"This is it then," you say, standing right in front of him in the foyer.

He takes your hand, loosely lacing his fingers with yours, "Can I still text you?"

"Sure," you answer.

"How about phone calls?"

"Booty calls only," you jokingly say.

He smiles and takes a step closer to you, you can almost see every moment the two of you shared last night flashes in his eyes, and it's achingly beautiful.

"Can I kiss you before you leave?"

You plan to make the goodbye as brief and as painless as possible but you don't want to risk losing the opportunity to make it a not-so-sad ending. But if you have to be honest, you simply want to kiss him.

"Okay," you agree with a nod.

You put your arms around his shoulders and let your body molds into him as he holds you close, you tilt your head up and close your eyes.

The moment your lips make contact, your heart bursts open and there's no way of stopping your feelings flow out of it so you let them be. You let him feel your pain, your yearning, and ultimately, your feelings for him that you try so hard to conceal, and then slowly, you pull away from the kiss before they fight their way out of your heart.

It's possible that Chan feels it too, that the kiss feels intimate, the kiss feels emotional, and a little close to the heart. He pulls you into a hug that lasts for a long time as if he tries to convey some unspoken messages too.

"No need to send me off," you tell him, not wanting to make it sadder than it already is.

Chan walks you to the door with his hand on the small of your back and then keeps it open for the final goodbye. You stand facing him and say, "Goodb—"

He puts his finger on your lips to stop you from finishing your sentence, "I'll see you when I see you."

That sounds like he indirectly promises you that one day, he'll come and see you again, and surprisingly, it only makes you uneasy.

You put on a smile and try another way to say goodbye, "Have a safe flight, Chris."

As you get into the back of the taxi, you get these familiar feelings and unfortunately, they're not the good kind. You feel like you went through the same thing before, you feel angry, you feel sad, and lost, and you feel this tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe. Then it hits you that it feels exactly like that day he broke up with you, this is the feeling of heartbreak.

In the end, you got your physical needs at the price of having to face your feelings and it all comes down to one conclusion: seeing him was a bad idea.

ONE MONTH LATER

It's like you're trapped in an endless loop, it's the weekend and you're lying on your bed, horny and bored.

Your phone is blaring with notifications and messages, you check and skim through them, they're from your friends or some other miscellaneous, you couldn't care less.

In other words, they're not the notifications you've been anticipating.

Chan has been diligently contacting you, sometimes he texted and when he's not, he calls you late at night because apparently, he's always busy during the day. The point is he always contact you by any means of communication.

However, for these past few days, it's been total radio silence. He's not even looking at the pictures you specifically posted to thirst-trap him. If only he knows how much time and energy you've spent just to get a single flattering shot of yourself. Ugh!

As you're about to spiral down, your phone dings and you consider ignoring it to spare you from getting disappointed all over again.

After a moment though, you cave in. You unlock your phone and get greeted by the very notification you've been dying to get.

What you doin'?

Busy running around in my head? He wrote a corny message and added a crying laughing emoji.

A week of no contact and that's the first thing he said? You scoff in disbelief and just stare at the messages, you've learned to make him wait for your reply and use the time to think of witty, flirty answers to his messages.

Am I running with clothes on or naked? You playfully ask back, giggling as you type it.

I think you know the answer. He wrote back with a winking emoji.

Let's hope I don't catch a cold then. You jokingly write in response.

You should stop cause it does things to me.

One minute he's corny, one minute he's cute, and the rest of the time? Hot, confident, and flirty, and you eat those shit up.

Things like what? You reply.

Like this. He wrote along with a picture.

Intrigued, you hurriedly click open the attachment and it's a picture he took of him in the mirror, wearing nothing but his white underwear. Your eyes feast on his glorious Greek God body, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders, and eventually your eyes flick down to the bulge inside his underwear.

In all honestly, it's the first thing that catches your eye because it's so fucking big and the underwear does nothing but enhance the shape and the size.

All of a sudden, you feel thirsty, literally and figuratively, and Chan knows how to make you keep swallowing air by sending you another picture.

The picture is of the same setting but in a rather different position, he's sitting on a chair, slightly slumped with his legs spread wide open and his hand holding his bulge.

Wish it was your hand.

Did he take a class on how to take good thirst traps and nudes? Because damn! Two pictures are enough to make you feel like an animal in heat.

Can I have it in my mouth instead?

Want to have you in my mouth.

Being straightforward mixed with the drooling emoji always works but what really does it is the one magic word: Please?

A minute later, there's no reply from him but your phone rings, he's calling you and you scramble to sit on the bed. You take a deep breath first before hitting the accept call button.

"Hello?"

"Gosh, I want you so much," He suddenly says, no greetings or small talk first. He goes straight to what he wants and you kind of dig that.

You giggle into the phone and playfully ask, "How much?"

"So fucking much," he emphasizes every word and lets out a heavy sigh after.

"Come and maybe I'll give it to you," you seductively say while playing with the lint on your denim shorts, "Maybe."

He chuckles and then jokingly says, "I'm on my way."

"Don't make me wait long," you play along with him but secretly wish that it's true.

You hear rustles from his end of the phone call and think he's probably calling you while lying on his bed but then, you hear the sound of bustling streets and car horns and—

"You're not really on the way, right?" You nervously ask, twisting the loose thread around your index finger.

"I told you, I'm coming," he coyly says.

Your heart skips a beat but he could be anywhere, he could be driving to work or you know, in a taxi in... Australia. Right?

"Chris..." you meekly call him.

"Yes?"

"Are you in the city?" You ask to confirm his location.

"Suprise!" He exclaims followed by a series of giggles.

Yes, you secretly wish that he was coming, but not now but not now and maybe, not ever because the last time you saw each other, things didn't end well for you.

So seeing him tonight is a bad idea, right?

"Why didn't you—" You don't know how to word it without sounding like you're not grateful for his surprise.

"I want to see you," he says, cutting through your silence, "Do you want to see me too?"

What should you do? You don't want him to come but at the same time, you want him to come. Oh, God, this is so confusing!

You want to lie so badly but your heart won't let you, "I want to see you," you openly admit.

"I'm coming so wait for me, yeah?" He softly mutters.

"Okay," you weakly reply.

"I'll see you in a bit," he says with a smile that you can hear through the phone.

"See you."

The second you hang up the call, you start pacing back and forth in your room. He'll be here anytime soon and it'll be just like that night all over again.

You almost jump when the knock comes on the door and you slowly walk to the door, just standing there with your hand on the knob, debating if you should ignore him and pretend you're not home.

The knocks come again and reflexively, you turn the knob and pull the door open.

There he is in a white shirt and blue jeans, the simplest way of dressing yet somehow, it looks incredibly stunning on him.

"Hi," he says with a sweet grin on his face.

His hair is slightly tousled, he smells incredible and those dimples have the power to make you soften around him almost immediately, they're your kryptonite.

"Hi," you say back, lingering by the doorway.

"Brought you wine," he says, showing the bottle of red wine in his hand.

You tilt your head to the side and fight the urge to jump at him and climb him like a tree.

"That's so nice of you," you say with a smile.

"Can I come in?" He asks, gesturing his head toward the inside of your apartment.

But it's a bad idea, right?

However, you find yourself nodding and you step aside, "You may come in."

Chan steps inside and you close the door behind you after. The second you turn around, he pushes you to the wall and crashes his lips against yours.

And you know what? Fuck it! It's fine.

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monstersflashlight · 2 days

Text

Commission for monster fucker anonymous!

Request: Human is chubby trans masc uses he/him with a pussy/hole/cunt. Human very happily takes a job where he is a breeding hole for monster science studies. It's like a hole in the wall where only his bottom half is on show and his top half is hidden so he can hide his face. The monsters take turns using him till he passes out or gives up. In the end he is offered a full time job as a breeding hole. He can't get pregnant but it doesn't stop monsters from trying.

The hole in the wall

Orc x minotaur x werewolf x chubby trans masc!reader || free use, breeding, cum playing, lowkey dirty talk, glory hole

When they offered you a good pay at the science lab for a job that seemed too easy, you agreed immediately. They were trying to understand the mating cycles of different monsters and they needed human subjects in the control group. Seemed easy, seemed like a great pay for very little effort. You were 100% on with it, already thinking what would you do with the money.

“This is your station.” The researcher pointed to a padded hole in a wall. A literal hole in a wall.

“Wha-what?” You asked, confused. Maybe you should have paid a bit more attention to your friend when he explained the details.

“Yeah, we don’t want the monsters to get distracted with other parts of your anatomy, so you are supposed to get your torso in there, so your hole is the only thing they can fuck out here. Didn’t they tell you this in the interview?” She asks, as confused as you.

“I didn’t go through the interview… Your head researcher recommended me.” You didn’t tell her you agreed too fast to listen to the specifics, your brain already filled with possible scenarios involving your soft body and a hard, hard monster.

You didn’t tell her you were more than happy to be fucked by monsters. It was a special kink of yours, and you never found the moment to act on your fantasies. You had been a bit too self-conscious about your body, but this seemed like a great opportunity to get what you wanted without thinking too much about it.

“Well, you have to get in there and I’ll tie your extremities, then prep you for the monsters.” She explained as you inspected the padded space. It seemed big enough, but it might be a tight fit over your soft tummy and fat ass. But well, at least the ass would be on the outside of it. You had to bite your tongue not to laugh at your silly thoughts.

“Are they sentient?” You asked. You didn’t really mind if they were feral, but it would be good to know beforehand, just in case.

She kept checking some stuff on the wall as she wrote down some things on her tablet, not minding you at all. “Yeah, they are volunteers. Each clan or pack sent their own prime specimens.”

Nervousness was not your best friend in this scenario, you felt jittery with excitement and anticipation, and a soft dose of eagerness underlying those. “What are they?” You finally asked, wanting to know what exactly you were against today.

You didn’t really mind what kind of monsters they were, but the curiosity was making you jump on your feet. You hoped there was at least one werewolf there, you wanted to feel the knot so bad it would make you look stupid if you said it out loud. So you didn’t.

“Let me check.” She looked through some papers and choked a little trying to hide a laugh. “Well, I hope you are ready. Your group includes a minotaur, an orc and a werewolf.” Oh fuck. Not only a werewolf, but two of the other biggest species of monsters. You sent a silent thanks to your friend for setting you up on this job. You were going to get paid to get your sexual fantasies fulfilled, how wild was that?

You tried to act nonchalant so she wouldn’t know how turned on you were already. “Oh… Okay.” Your voice broke in the middle and you flushed, embarrassed. Your insides turned into jelly.

“Get inside and I’ll get you ready.” She instructed.

You got naked and positioned yourself on your back, legs hanging out and back against the padded table inside the hole. There was enough space for you to move, and it felt airy and comfortable. Your arms were free and there was a red button close to you in case something went wrong. That made you feel a bit better, even though you knew you wouldn’t press it. You wanted this more than you needed air. Your need and horniness making your brain felt like it was filled with cotton candy.

It was a weird feeling to have your lower half across the wall, but not in a bad way. You felt the anticipation building up, heat pooling in your lower abdomen. She tied your legs up against the wall, your body almost in a 90º angle. You felt completely exposed as she inspected your genitals as she explained the breeding procedure. You didn’t hear half of it, too focused on her moving around and poking at your skin. After that, you felt a splash of cold lube against your boy-cunt, the researcher mumbled a soft “sorry” when you jumped a bit. She worked it over your hole until you felt slippery and wet.

The medical technicalities should have made you feel weird, but they turned you on even more. When she said her goodbyes and told you to press the red button if you had any problems you were so ready to be breed that your brain was swimming in need.

And then there was silence. Your nervousness grew, and you wriggled your ass trying to find a more comfortable position, but your tied legs stopped you. You heard the footsteps before someone said: “Look at that… He has a great ass, fuck.” Next thing you knew, there were rough, furry hands groping your ass. The werewolf. Fuck, that was hot. You covered your mouth to muffle the groans. Not seeing whoever was touching you adding to your arousal.

That same hand that groped your ass, ran a set of very pointy nails down your crack, the threat of danger making you shiver, your legs shaking against the restrains holding them up. He spanked you lightly as someone else chuckled. You could feel your soft flesh moving as the werewolf played with your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and blowing warm air over your hole.

You moaned loudly around your hand, thinking there was no way the heard, but he did it again. The laugh they let out was enough sign of it. Fuck, you forgot about super-hearing. “Such a pretty hole. We are going to have so much fun with you, little human.” You had to bite your lip to refrain telling them you weren’t little, but a picture of a monster appeared in your brain and you stopped. You were probably small compared to them, they were so big… Shit, you didn’t even know you had a size kink. Another day, another unlocked kink.

“I call dibs!” A deep voice called out, making you press your hand to your mouth harder to stop a giggle escaping. There was some kind of struggle and you tried to imagine them fighting over who got to fuck you first. They were so eager to fuck you, it was the best ego booster. All your self-consciousness about your soft tummy or big ass disappeared as they bickered about who got to fuck your cunt first.

“Dude! That’s not cool. I wanted to go first.” He sounded pouty and you wanted to see them so bad. But at the same time, some part of you was excited that they couldn’t see you. It turned you on to know you were just a hole for them, and they were going to use you as they pleased. Fuck. Why was that so hot? “Okay, but I’m second,” he finally said with a very fake sigh.

“Sure, sure… Just let me taste him first.” You jumped against your restrains when a rough big tongue made contact with your gaping hole. You cried out and heard the responding chuckles across the wall. “He’s a screamer, this is going to be great.” A hand grabbed your hips and pushed up, appearing at your side of the hole. The orc. The pale green skin looked so pretty against your soft tummy.

Images of monster porn appeared in your brain as you felt the first poke of his fingers. He went right in with two, making you arch your back and shake your legs, trying to get away from the invasion. His green hand held you still, pushing your hip down as he continued his attack on your hole until you were about to cum, groans and moans escaping your mouth.

“That’s it. He’s so ready, his insides are so fucking soft and warm. He’s so damn tight. Look at him guys, look at this hole.” The orc retracted his fingers and opened you up for the other two to see. You heard their appreciative hums and grunts, your whole body flushed with embarrassment. You were tied and exposed, completely at their mercy, and good goddess if that wasn’t exciting. “I hope you are ready, little human, I’m not going to be careful.”

That’s all the heads up you got before his dick was pressing into you in one hard thrust. His big balls hit your ass as he set a punishing pace, grabbing your hips and fucking you against his dick, using you like you were just a fleshlight for him. He didn’t stop even when you came once, twice. He kept fucking you and grunting as your tight hole gripped his length like a vice. He told you how good you felt around him, how full he was going to make you. It was such a turn on you came a third time as the first shoot of his come hit your insides.

He pulled away rapidly. You felt his cum leaking out, your hole gaping at the emptiness. You whined and they shushed you. “Don’t worry, human, more is coming.” You felt the tip of a new dick in your abused hole, bigger than the orc’s. “Ready or not, I’m going to ruin your cunt.” The minotaur voice was gravelly and growly, making you shiver as he pushed the tip of his dick against your leaking hole.

He probed at your entrance for a few seconds before pushing inside in one hard thrust. You had to push your hands to the wall over you to not hit your head with the force of his thrusts, your tummy jiggling as he screwed you. He was restless, his dick was so big you could feel it touching ever single part of you, a tiny bump against your abdomen making you see stars.

He told you how good your human cunt was, how pretty stretched around his dick, how good you’d look full of him, full of his cum. You whined and threshed, oversensitive as he fucked a few more orgasms out of you. When you felt him shooting inside of you, it felt like molten lava. It was so warm and there was so much of it, you didn’t know a monster could cum so fucking much. A bump formed in your abdomen, and it stayed there even when he pulled out. You tentatively pushed down with your hand, blushing as you heard the gushing sound of cum dripping to the floor.

Their groans made you blush harder. “His hole is gaping, fill him up. He has such an eager cunt, I want to go again.” The minotaur said, making the other two hum in agreement.

“You can have another turn later, now it’s my turn,” the werewolf said as you felt his dick slipping inside you. You felt so full, your insides messy and your hole so tender pleasure and pain mixed with every thrust. He didn’t give you a resting second, he fucked you like he didn’t care about you. You guessed he didn’t, for them you were just a breeding hole.

You thought you were full before, but the second the werewolf knot started to swell inside of you, your brain short-circuited. You couldn’t hear anything apart from your rapid heartbeat as he pushed it inside, stretching you so wide and so harshly you felt your consciousness slipping.

Next thing you knew, the orc dick was being shoved inside of you around. The amount of cum inside of you mixed with your own juices created a slurping sound that was deafening to your ears, even through the space between your wide hips and the hole in the wall.

They joked between them and talked about how good your cunt was, how pretty and puffy it looked as they pushed their cum inside over and over. You felt like a messy glazed donut. It was almost disgusting, if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Your brain was unable to focus anymore, you could only feel the come inside of you gushing out as more was pushed in. The filthy symphony of your ravishment.

They fucked you one after the other over and over, it was a never-ending bacchanal and you were the center of it.

When your brain was completely shut down and your drool was creating a tiny pool, a beep beep sound alerted you that it finished. The breeding period was over. You made it. They booed and grunted in disappointment, but your poor abused hole gave a soft twitch.

“Good job, human hole.” One of them lightly caressed your ass as the other pushed some of the cum leaking out back inside and softly told you: “Hope to see you around.” You sighed happily, brain non functioning as you heard them walking away.

You barely remembered the researcher coming back to get you, telling you the results of the day and getting your bank account. Two days later you got a call. The lab offered you a permanent position as their breeding hole.

Apparently the group of monsters talked so well about your boy-cunt that everyone else at the facility wanted to give it a go. To give you a go. The lab usually asked for different humans in each trial, but they would make an exception for you. You would be the perfect breeding hole for the monsters to spend some of their extra energy, a free human hole for them to use as they pleased.

You said yes.

Remember you can comission me, the info is here.

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its-avalon-08 · 16 hours

Note

can u pls do a super cute one of lando x y/n. where lando has a breakdown after a bad race and he thinks hes untalented and y/n makes all the voices in his head go away

make them go away (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, self-hatred, self-doubt, alot of fluff at the end, comfort, y/n is an angel

The tension in the McLaren garage was thicker than the Monaco air itself. Y/N stood shoulder to shoulder with the engineers, her eyes glued to the TV screen showing Lando in the lead. His papaya orange car, a blur against the azure background, sliced through the chicane with practiced ease.

"Norris is on fire today!" boomed the commentator's voice over the loudspeakers. "He's pulled a three-second gap on Leclerc, and it looks like he might just take the win here in Monte Carlo!"

Y/N's heart thumped a frantic rhythm against her ribs. A nervous smile stretched across her face as Lando entered the infamous tunnel section. This was always a tricky part of the track, even for seasoned drivers.

Suddenly, the image on the screen flickered. A staticky burst filled the air, then a sickening screech of metal on asphalt. Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. On the screen, Lando's car was a crumpled mess, careening off the barrier and coming to a halt against the wall.

The garage erupted in a cacophony of shouts and gasps. Y/N felt the blood drain from her face. The commentators' voices, once booming with excitement, were now laced with concern.

"Oh dear, that's a nasty crash for Lando Norris! We're getting reports that he's unharmed, but the car is definitely out. A heartbreaking end to what was looking like a dominant race for the young Brit."

The radio crackled to life, Lando's voice a raw mix of anger and frustration. "This is fucking bullshit! What the fuck happened?! The fucking car gave away. What the fuck was that?!" Static filled the air for a moment, then Lando's voice returned, even angrier. "Come on, guys, I could've won that!"

The radio fell silent, but the tension in the garage remained. A few minutes later, Lando emerged from the cockpit, his helmet still on. He stalked towards Y/N, a dark cloud hanging over his face. He pulled her into a brief, almost desperate hug, his body taut with suppressed emotion.

"I'm okay," he muttered into her hair, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N squeezed him back, her heart aching for him. She knew the frustration, the disappointment gnawing at him. Before she could say anything, Lando pulled away and stormed off towards the back of the garage, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Y/N watched him go, a silent plea on her lips – a plea for him to let go of the anger, to allow the disappointment to wash over him, and know that she was there, by his side, every step of the way.

lando's internal monologue

Helmet off, the world swam in and out of focus through a haze of tears and anger. My gloves clawed at the damp air, a silent scream trapped in my throat. It was right there. The damn win. Every fiber of my being knew it, felt it on the edge of my fingertips. Then, nothing. Just the sickening crunch of metal, the world twisting upside down, and the taste of bitter, metallic defeat.

I slumped against the stack of tires, the sting of failure a physical weight pressing down on me. It's always the same story, isn't it? Get my hopes up, let everyone believe, then throw it all away in a stupid mistake. Maybe it's not a mistake. Maybe it's the truth finally rearing its ugly head.

I'm not good enough.

Everyone talks about talent, about potential. But what if it's all a lie? What if I'm just a fraud, a pretender who lucked his way into this seat? Maybe I fooled everyone – the team, the fans, even myself. Now the luck's run out, and I'm left with nothing but the wreckage of my own ambition.

Look at me. Curled up in a corner like a beaten dog, tears staining my cheeks like a child. This isn't the Lando Norris they see on the podium, the one spraying champagne and basking in the glory. This is the real me, the one who crumbles under pressure, who cracks when the going gets tough.

What a joke.

Every corner, every gear shift, haunted by a thousand doubts. Was I too aggressive? Did I brake too late? The questions swarm in my head, each one a fresh jab of self-criticism. Maybe Ricciardo was right all along. Maybe I don't belong here, in this high-octane world of champions and legends.

The pressure… it's a suffocating weight on my chest. The weight of expectation, of living up to a name that seems to grow bigger with every race. Every win feels like a borrowed time, every good result a fluke waiting to be exposed.

I don't deserve this seat. Don't deserve the team, the sponsors, the fans who roar my name. They deserve a champion, someone who can deliver, who can bring home the trophy. Not a broken mess like me, drowning in a sea of self-doubt.

But what now? How do I pick up the pieces from this shattered dream? How do I face everyone again, knowing I let them down? The future stretches before me, a bleak and uncertain road. Maybe it's time to step aside, to let someone with real talent take the wheel. Maybe that's the only way to silence the voice that keeps whispering – you're not good enough, Lando. You never were.

Y/N followed Lando with a worried frown, her heart twisting with every heavy step he took. He disappeared into a secluded corner of the garage, his back slamming against a stack of tires. A muffled sob escaped him, quickly followed by another, then another. Y/N didn't hesitate. She pushed past a crate and knelt beside him, her hand hovering tentatively over his shoulder.

"Lando," she called softly, her voice barely a whisper above the murmurs of the debriefing team.

He flinched at the sound, his entire body shaking. He ripped off his helmet, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and eyes filled with a raw, painful vulnerability.

"I should've won," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "It was right there, Y/N. I had it, and I messed up. Everything. Every stupid corner, every gear shift…" His voice trailed off, replaced by a ragged breath.

Y/N cupped his face in her hands, her touch gentle but firm. "Hey," she said, her voice laced with an unwavering strength. "Look at me."

Lando met her gaze, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "I'm not good enough, am I? I keep letting everyone down. The team, the fans… you."

"No!" Y/N's voice rose, cutting through his self-deprecating spiral. "Don't you dare say that. This doesn't define you, Lando. One race, one mistake, doesn't erase all the talent, all the hard work you've put in."

He scoffed, a humorless sound. "Talent? Maybe I was just lucky all along. A fluke. Now the luck's run out, and I'm left with nothing."

"Stop it!" Y/N's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and love. "Those voices in your head, they're lying. You hear me? Lying! You are talented, Lando Norris. One of the most talented drivers on the grid. This doesn't change that."

He leaned into her touch, a flicker of doubt battling with the storm of negativity in his eyes. Y/N continued, her voice a soothing balm against his self-destruction.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Lando. Even the best. But you, you get back up. You learn from it, come back stronger. That's who you are. That's the Lando I know and love."

A tear escaped his eye, tracing a warm path down his cheek. He blinked it away, a flicker of something akin to hope replacing the despair. He leaned his forehead against hers, seeking solace in her unwavering belief.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. "You wouldn't have to," she whispered. "We're in this together, every win, every crash, every doubt. We face them together, okay?"

He nodded, a shaky breath escaping his lips. In the dimly lit corner of the garage, surrounded by the wreckage of his dream race, Y/N became his anchor, her love the only voice that could silence the storm raging inside him. The road ahead might be filled with uncertainty, but with her by his side, Lando knew he could weather any storm.

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scuderiahoney · 2 days

Text

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 8

summary: end of semester celebrations, graduation shenanigans, and the final family dinner of the year. 7.5k words

warnings: alcohol, mild suggestive content, graduation :( , one mention of hypothetical murder for hire

Oscar’s expecting an interrogation the second he steps onto the bus, which is exactly why he sits himself down next to Alex. Alex, seemingly not expecting this, blinks widely at him, half a croissant hanging from his mouth. Oscar smiles.

“That’s my seat,” George says, nudging Oscar’s shoulder from the aisle.

Oscar gives him his best sheepish look. “Sorry, there weren’t many seats left, so I just… sat down.”

Alex elbows him. “There’s two seats right there!”

Oscar looks a few rows back and winces. Since when do Max and Lando not sit next to each other on the bus? It’s usually the two of them, Charles and Carlos in the seats in front of them. This is definitely on purpose. He swallows tightly and turns to George.

“Please,” he says, laying on the pouting thick. “Just this once?”

George looks back a few rows and laughs. “Gotta get it over with at some point, mate.”

Oscar rolls his eyes at his teammate and slips out of the seat. George and Alex laugh as he walks away. He trudges back towards Max and Lando and the empty seats, wishing someone would just take pity on him.

Lando grins brightly and pats the seat next to him. “Osc! Saved you a seat!”

George is probably right. It’ll be better to get it over with, anyways.

They let him sweat for a while. The whole bus ride to the airport, the walk through security, the wait to get in the plane- the conversation never strays from the game or hockey or classes. Neither of them bring you up. Oscar’s pretty sure they’re lulling him into a false sense of security.

It’s only when he’s on the plane, somehow stuck between the two of them, that it finally happens. The plane is halfway through liftoff, and Max turns to him, closing the window shade, a sly smile on his face, and Oscar just knows.

“So, Oscar,” Max says, and Oscar can already feel the tips of his ears going red. “What are your intentions with Bunny?”

In the row behind them, Charles and Carlos are giggling. Oscar slumps down in his seat. This is going to be the longest flight of his life.

…..

You worry about Oscar the whole morning after you drop them off, and the whole journey home. You get to have your own interrogation on the plane, courtesy of Lily, though you’re sure it’s not as intense as Oscar’s dealing with. Lily just wants to know when it happened, and if he’s treating you well, and when you knew you liked him, and if it’s nice to have everyone know now, and-

“How’s the sex?” She asks, whispered, and you choke on your ginger ale.

“Lily!” You hiss, eyes darting around the cabin. “We’re in public!”

The two of you burst into laughter, and you nearly knock over your drink. Luckily, the disruption of it seems to move Lily away from the subject, and eventually, your face stops feeling so hot. That is, until you get off the plane and head for the parking lot.

Logan had volunteered to pick both of you up, and you spot his car easily. Not only because it’s recognizable, but because of the two figures leaning against the side of it- Alex and Oscar, waiting with eager smiles. Lily grins and nudges your side.

“He survived,” she says. “And they let him pick you up. That’s a good sign, huh?”

You nod, and when you’re within arms reach you’re happy to let him wrap you up in a tight hug. You can feel the way he presses his face against the top of your head and takes a deep breath. You’re not sure you should admit how much you missed him- you might sound crazy. You’d seen him hours ago. But really, the past few weeks have been so hectic that this feels like finally coming home.

“How bad was it?” You ask, squished next to him in the backseat. Lily’s on your other side, while Alex took shotgun and is yapping away at Logan.

“Well, they haven’t contracted Carlos to murder me yet, I don’t think, so, overall I’d call it a success,” he says, shrugging. “It wasn’t that bad, really. They just care about you a lot.”

You nod in understanding and lean into him. “Well. I’m just glad I got you back in one piece.”

The drama comes when Logan pulls up in front of your apartment building, and both you and Oscar climb out. The freshman leans out his window, brows furrowed.

“I’ve got strict instructions,” he says, voice timid, “to drop you off here and bring Oscar back to the house. Team meeting.”

You groan and roll your eyes, fighting the urge to stomp your foot. “Team meeting, right after the championship? Let me guess, captain’s orders?”

Logan shrugs. You know why Max is doing this- he’s trying to keep Oscar from staying at your place. It’s stupid. He and Lando are already starting to get on your nerves.

“We’re adults, Logan,” you grumble, shaking your head. “They are not my brothers, let alone my parents, and-“

“Hey, it’s okay,” Oscar says, and you whip your head to look at him, eyes wide. He shoots you a wink, and you try and figure out where he’s going with this. “Just let me help carry up her luggage, and then I’ll come back down. It’d be rude if I didn’t.”

And Logan, all southern American charm and a gentleman at heart, shrugs and nods. “Yeah. Good point.”

“Perfect,” Oscar says, hauling your suitcase out of the trunk of the car.

You swing your backpack over your shoulder and swipe to open the front door. Oscar steps inside, and you follow him in a hurry. In the passenger seat and backseat of the car, Lily and Alex are already laughing.

“You’re not leaving, right?” You ask, turning to Oscar.

He gives you a bewildered look. “Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

He kisses you in the elevator on the way up to your apartment, National Championship hat turned backwards on his head, his hands on your hips. When the doors open, he drags your suitcase down the hall to your apartment for you and drops it on the floor in the entryway. You take your shoes and jacket off and sigh, pouting at him.

“I am gross,” you mutter. “Between the bar and the hangover and the airplane…”

Oscar laughs and reaches for your hand, heading towards the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up, then.”

“Oh!” You say, face heating up. “Together?”

He turns over his shoulder, a soft grin on his face, cheeks pink already. “If you want?”

You nod eagerly. “I want.”

…..

“Logan,” Alex says carefully, nudging his teammate’s shoulder. “Mate. Um. He’s not coming back down.”

Logan turns to Alex and blinks, and then his eyes go wide. “Shit.”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Lily adds from the backseat. “They’re probably already-“

“Don’t make it worse,” Logan whines, putting the car into drive. “Oh, Max is gonna kill me.”

Alex snorts. “Max knew that was never going to work,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s just playing a little bit of mind games with Oscar. He’ll chill out soon, don’t worry.”

“And in the meantime,” Lily adds, “maybe just try and stay out of the middle of it.”

…..

The last few weeks of school seem to fly by. Normally, you’re excited for summer, but you can feel the days slipping out of your hands and find yourself desperate to hold on. You cherish every moment, from family dinners with the whole team even though the season is done, to the end of season sports banquet that you get to be Oscar’s official date for, to the date nights with Oscar that leave you grinning from ear to ear. It all makes you wildly happy.

You spend a lot of time at the house with them once Max and Lando finally calm down about the two of you dating. Max still gives Oscar a dirty look when you both come downstairs together in the mornings sometimes, but you always shoot him a glare back and he settles down. They’re coming around to it, you think. They like Oscar, after all.

You spend most of finals week camped out at their kitchen table, studying like and. They all rotate in and out- you quiz Lando on his vocab for one exam, edit one of Charles’ essays for him, and watch over Max’s shoulder as he submits a PowerPoint for a final project. Oscar’s there anytime you are, sitting next to you, supplying you with snacks and water and words of affirmation. He’s your calm in a storm, your steady anchor. You’re beyond thankful for him, and you tell him every chance you get. He always says it right back.

You finish your last final of the year on a Wednesday, and you head over to the house nearly immediately afterwards. It’s strangely quiet- almost everyone is out taking exams or doing last minute studying. But Oscar’s there, waiting on the same couch the two of you shared on that snow day months ago, and you can’t help but smile.

“Hi, baby,” he says softly, opening his arms wide for you. “All done?”

You nod, crawl onto the couch, and bury yourself against his chest, relishing in the way he wraps his arms so tightly around you. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and you feel your face heat up. When he laughs, you hide yourself in the crook of his neck and sigh. He rubs his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion, and you feel the last bits of stress drain from your body.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks, his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Sleepy,” you mumble.

Your head slips lower to rest against the firm plane of his chest. His arms are strong around you. You could stay here forever, you think, wrapped up in him, breathing him in.

“Take a nap?” He suggests, fingers brushing against your cheek. “I’ll wake you if anything important happens.”

“Mm,” you hum. He doesn’t have to suggest it twice- you were already thinking about it. “Yeah. Okay. You’re comfy.”

He laughs, the sound of it rumbling against your ear. “So are you.”

It’s easy to let yourself fall asleep. You feel safe here, head against his chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breaths. He’s warm underneath you, around you, like the sun on a summer day. You feel him kiss your forehead just before the whole world falls away, and you fall asleep with a smile on your lips.

You wake up a little later to Oscar shushing someone, followed by hushed voices. Max and Lando, whispering, a note of teasing to their voices-

“You picked the living room to take a nap,” Lando hisses, “and then expected us to not wake you up?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Oscar retorts, his hand brushing up and down your back. “She came in from her last exam and she was exhausted, so.”

Max makes a little noise that sounds vaguely like approval. “Well. At least he’s taking care of her, no?”

You can practically hear Oscar roll his eyes. “Well, she is my girlfriend, so.”

“We should do something when she wakes up,” Lando says, and you should really just open your eyes but you can’t find the energy. Ten more minutes, maybe. “Grab dinner or something.”

“We could get takeout and take it to the park,” Oscar suggests. “It’s a nice day.”

Max hisses softly. “The park by the athletics building? Um. She doesn’t- we don’t usually-“

Right. They think you still hate the park. They’re used to taking the long way around to get to class or restaurants or anything because of your refusal to walk by the soccer fields. Max is trying to look out for you all over again, like he always does.

You open one eye and say, quietly, “the park sounds nice. Give me ten more minutes.”

Beneath you, Oscar’s chest rumbles with laughter. Max and Lando break into wide, happy grins and nod in agreement. When they walk away, Oscar leans down and kisses your forehead, promising to wake you up in ten minutes. You nod, too.

…..

The guys throw a party that Friday night, because it’s tradition, at this point. Exams are done, classes are long over, and the seemingly endless summer stretches ahead. There are burgers that Max grilled on the counter next to the Jell-O shots Charles made. You’re playing a game with some of them when Oscar joins you.

“Oh, you do not want to be over here right now,” Charles says in a warning tone, as Oscar wraps one arm around your waist.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder and hums. Max gives the two of you a side eyed glare, and you roll your eyes. Oscar’s a little more bold when he’s had a few drinks, a little more willing to engage in PDA. You’re definitely not complaining. You lean back against his chest and sigh happily.

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one,” Carlos says, and the group falls quiet. “Never have I ever… had sex in this house.”

Half the group laughs. Everyone who lives in the house takes a sip, and so do you. You see Max’s hand fly out of his pocket from the corner of your eye, and hear the resulting smack when he hits Oscar on the back of the head. You splutter and nearly drop your drink as your boyfriend hisses behind you.

“Max!” You scold, eyes wide as you look at him.

“He was smirking,” Max says.

You turn and find that Max is telling the truth- your usually level headed boyfriend looks quite proud of himself. You fight a laugh and roll your eyes instead.

“I never said it was with Oscar.”

Oscar makes a confused noise. Max reaches out again and swats the back of your head this time. You duck and bury your head against Oscar’s chest, bracing your arms over your head for protection.

“Dunno why you’re hiding in my shirt, if-“ Oscar starts.

“Okay, obviously it was you,” you interrupt.

He hums again and wraps his arms around you protectively. “Okay. Hide all you want, then.”

“You do not hit women,” you hear Charles say, and then you hear the sound of what you can only assume is his hand hitting the back of Max’s head.

Max yelps. You open one eye just in time to watch him swat at Charles. Carlos, seemingly satisfied with the drama he’s created, takes his cup and walks away. Oscar reaches a hand into the fray to try and break Max and Charles’ bickering up, but he gives up nearly immediately.

“Wanna go outside?” He asks, quietly, lips against your temple.

You nod. He tucks you under his arm and leads you onto the back deck, where it’s quieter. The spring air is only slightly chilly, despite the late hour. When you shiver slightly, Oscar pulls you closer as he heads over to the porch swing. You settle in comfortably next to him.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all night,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder.

He nods. “I know. Last party of the year. It’s their graduation party.”

You know he’s talking about Max and Lando. You’ve been glued to their sides all night, basically, shifting from one to the other. You’d played a round of beer pong with Lando, a round of flip cup with Max, had found yourself wedged on the couch with them as they debated hockey strategy, three shots deep and incoherent.

“You could have hung out with us too,” you say, elbowing him lightly.

“I just figured…” he shrugs. “They’ve been your friends for years. And they’re leaving. I thought, maybe it’d be nice to have one more night for the three of you to just be… the college kids. The hockey players and their adopt-ee.”

In less than 24 hours, Lando and Max will don caps and gowns, and walk across the stage, and you’ll be in the stands cheering so, so loud. Max will be off to a new city. So will Lando. They’ll be far, far away. Your chest feels tight, all of the sudden. When you turn to look at Oscar, his face is a blur through your tears.

His face softens. “I know, baby.”

He pulls you into his chest protectively as the tears start to roll down your face. He’s here. You’re both staying the summer. You’ll still have George and Alex, too, and the other teammates you’ve befriended along the way. But Lando, that bright eyed, sleepy hockey player who took you under his wing, and Max, your brash but affectionate pseudo older brother, will be gone. Off to bigger and better things.

“I’m gonna miss them,” you admit, throat feeling tight. “Do you think they’ll miss me? Or will they just… forget?”

Oscar lets out a pained noise. His lips brush against the crown of your head. “Oh, baby, no.”

Before you can say anything else, you hear the back door swing open. “Piastri,” Max says, in a warning tone. “What did you do?”

“You want me to tell him?” He asks, quietly.

You nod.

Oscar pulls away only slightly. “Just a little sad,” he says, and you sniffle. “You know. Things are changing. People are graduating. And leaving.”

Max strides over in a couple steps. You turn away from Oscar’s chest to blink up at your friend. There’s a pained look on his face. The door opens again, and Lando’s there, taking in the scene with wide eyes. You sniffle softly. Oscar kisses your forehead and pulls away.

“I’ll be inside if you need anything, okay?” He says.

You nod again. He gets up, and you fight the urge to break down and sob for only a moment. Then Max is there, sitting down on one side of the swing and pulling you under his arm. Lando, seeming to have figured out what’s going on, makes his way over too and sits on the other side. You let out a shaky sigh and tuck your legs up onto the swing, arms around your knees.

“I haven’t done this without you guys,” you say, the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Not since… since freshman year. I can’t-“

“You can,” Lando says, squeezing your shoulder. “But you won’t have to. There’s these crazy inventions called phones-“

Max reaches over and smacks the back of his head, too, and that makes a laugh slip past your lips. Lando winces, rubbing at his scalp, though he doesn’t retaliate. Max squeezes your other shoulder reassuringly.

“What Lando is trying to say,” Max says, “is that we are not abandoning you, and we’re not going to forget about you, and you’re going to have a great last year of school and then go do amazing things, yes?”

You sigh. “Should’ve taken summer classes and fast-tracked college and graduated with you guys.”

“What, and miss out on senior year with your star hockey player boyfriend?” Lando teases. You roll your eyes and jab a finger into his side. “Ow. Come on, you know I’m right.”

“You know, I am the one who convinced Oscar to come here,” Max says, raising his pointer finger. “So really, I get the credit for this. I brought you a very good boyfriend.”

You know he’s right- you’ve heard it from Oscar. That he’d quit hockey before Seb sent Max to talk to him. You wonder a lot what that conversation was like, but it’s not for you to know the details. You just know that Oscar saw something he could trust in Max, and Max saw potential in Oscar.

You blink back at him, something warming in your chest. “You do like him.”

Max scoffs, shaking his head. “Of course I do. I was very upset for him when you said you had a boyfriend, because I knew if he’d have just told you how he felt-“

“You knew?” You interrupt, eyes wide. “You knew he had feelings for me and you-“

“Bunny, it was obvious to everyone other than the two of you,” Lando drawls, and you elbow him, earning a yelp. “You were both head over heels for each other.”

“Honestly, it was a relief once you told us he was your boyfriend,” Max says. “We were rooting for the two of you. Just had to give him the right amount of crap about it. You’re our friend, we’re protective, it’s what we do.”

You laugh at that, letting your head fall back against the swing. The house is a blur through your tears, and you blink to clear your vision. The lights are low in the kitchen, and there’s music pouring out of the closed door. You can see the dining room table through the window, where Oscar’s sitting, laughing with Charles.

“Do you remember,” you say, quietly, “the first time I came over here?”

Lando hums. “We couldn’t find a table in the library so I convinced you to come over to work on the project.”

“God, who gave us a ride?” You ask, brows furrowed. “Logan wasn’t here-“

Lando shakes his head. “It was Seb. Back when he was still assistant coach. I gave him the sob story because you were on crutches.”

You laugh at that. “And we worked on the project and I met everyone in the house, because-“

“Because Lando finally brought a friend home!” Max says, reaching over to jostle Lando’s shoulder. “And we were all so proud.”

Lando groans and drops his head back. Max laughs, his shoulder bumping against yours. You close your eyes. In the backyard, the first of the crickets are chirping. You run a finger over the seam of your jeans.

“You’ll be okay,” Lando says, quietly. You sniffle. “And if you’re not, we’re just a phone call away.”

“And a long flight,” you point out. “Or drive.”

“But we would make the flight, or the drive,” Max says, softly. “You know that.”

You take a steadying breath. “I’m so proud of you guys, you know that?”

“Oh, come on, don’t make us cry now,” Max says. He leans over to rest his head against yours. “But we are proud of you too.”

You sniffle and smile. You wipe some of the tears from your eyes. Inside, you can see your boyfriend, chatting with Alex and Lily. You’ll be okay. You won’t be alone. But it’ll be different. Different and weird and new, and sometimes that’s alright. After all, this had been different and new once, too. All those years ago, at that kitchen table, when Lando was across from you trying to write. Max had popped his head into the room and cocked his head at you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” He’d asked.

“Yes,” Lando had answered for you, before you could even open your mouth.

It had only been the beginning.

You drag the two of them into the kitchen with you, and you pour cheap tequila into plastic cups one more time. You hand them off and raise your glass.

“To new beginnings,” you say, tapping your glass against theirs.

They echo the statement with bright smiles on their faces. You take the shots, and then they wrap you up in a bone crushing group hug. Just a phone call away. You can live with that.

…..

Oscar’s the one to drag you upstairs at the end of the night. You’re not drunk anymore, faded to a light buzz by the time everyone left, but you’re exhausted and that doesn’t help. You both get ready for bed, and then you tumble onto the mattress, sighing happily. Oscar does the same, turning onto his side to face you. He’s in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and you don’t even try to hide the way your eyes scan his torso. When you look back at his face, he’s giggling teasingly.

“Shut up,” you grumble, reaching out to drag your finger against his collarbone. “You’re hot, you can’t blame me.”

You feel more than hear the way his breath hitches in his chest. Then he reaches across the bed towards you, his hand landing on your hip. You yelp when he pulls you in close, only settling once he has your leg tucked over his waist. You trace a line from his chest to behind his ear, your fingers sinking into his hair, and you relish in the way it makes him shiver.

“You’re hot, too,” he mumbles, and you feel your face heat up, unable to keep from grinning. “And cute. And funny, and-“

“Shut up,” you groan, leaning into him to bury your face in his chest. “You cheeseball.”

He giggles again, hand coming up to cup the back of your neck and hold you close. “But I’m your cheeseball.”

You groan, softly, but you nod against his skin anyways, because really, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s yours. No matter how absolutely cheesy he gets, he’s yours, and you wouldn’t trade that for the world.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Mine.”

He pulls your face away from his chest, then, so he can drag you into a searing, melting kiss, one that sets your nerves on fire and leaves you breathless. In the time since you started dating, Oscar’s figured out exactly how to take you apart, how to get you to go from bashful and sweet to gasping for air in a matter of seconds. You’d call it unfair if it wasn’t for the fact that it makes him the same way.

You run your hands through his hair as he rolls over and holds himself above you, one hand running down to keep your knee hooked around his waist. He slips his tongue into your mouth, hot and insistent, and you let yourself sink into the feeling.

He pulls away just slightly a few seconds later, while you’re arching your back, and he brushes his lips against your when he speaks. “You’re my favorite part of this year, you know,” he says.

You let out an involuntary whine and open your eyes to blink up at him, eyes already pricking with tears. “Oscar,” you whine, pouting dramatically. “You can’t just say that, you’re gonna make me cry.”

He laughs light and nips at the swell of your lower lip. “But I mean it. You mean the world to me.”

Your chest grows tight. “You mean the world to me, too,” you say, tracing a finger over his cheek and pressing it into one of his dimples. “More than you’ll ever understand.”

You mean it. You could tell him a million times over and you don’t think he’d get it. Oscar and the others credit you with pulling him out of his shell, but the way he supports you goes light years beyond that. You think of the brochure on your kitchen counter, your plans for the summer, the way he holds your hand through any tough decision or study session or anything in between, and you wish you could really tell him how much it means, how much you care for him, how much you lo-

You’ve been avoiding saying it in your head, because you’ve been afraid it’ll slip out in real life. But maybe, just maybe-

“I love you,” he says, before you can even form the words.

Now the tears really do form, now your chest feels so tight in the best way, now you know what they mean when they say lovestruck. There’s a light in his eyes that makes you feel so warm from the inside out. To know and be known. To hold his hand and have him hold on tightly to you.

“I love you,” you echo back, and the grin that lights up his face feels like sunshine on your own face.

He kisses you, then, again and again, and he takes you apart the way he knows best, and the two of you say I love you a million more times. When you start to fall asleep later, you’re wrapped up in his arms, limbs boneless, pleasure sated. You smile at the way he drags his lips against your neck, at the way you can feel his smile.

“I love you,” he says, one more time, as you close your eyes.

“I love you,” you say back, just to feel his smile grow.

You wake up the next morning to someone pounding on his bedroom door. Your mouth tastes awful and dry, your hair is a mess, and you’re held against his chest, face stuck to his skin. It’s mildly to moderately uncomfortable, except that it’s Oscar and he loves you and you love him and-

“If you’re not up in 5 seconds we’re coming in-“ George calls out.

“No!” Both you and Oscar yell at the exact same second, suddenly wide awake.

You sit up on reflex, then yelp at the realization that both of you are completely naked, and that you definitely didn’t lock the bedroom door the night before. You scramble to hold the blankets over your chest as Oscar groans beneath you.

“We’re awake,” you call out, rolling your eyes when you hear Alex laughing. “Don’t come in.”

“What’s the matter?” Alex calls out. He fakes a gasp of horror. “You two aren’t…”

Oscar cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. “Fuck off, we’ll be down in… ten minutes,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“We can’t be late,” George calls out. You fight a giggle as Oscar attempts to pull you back down against his chest. “It’s graduation day, you know.”

Oscar’s almost got you back down on the bed, but when George says it, you scramble back up. Your boyfriend groans and drops his arms, and when you turn to look he’s already got a pout on his face. It’s graduation day. You need to get ready and get dressed and get there early enough to get a good seat and-

“We’re up,” you call out, untangling yourself from the comforter. “Promise.”

You hear them walk away and breathe a sigh of relief. Oscar does, too. But when you start to climb out of the bed, he lets out a soft noise of confusion, one that makes you turn and look at him with confusion of your own.

“It’s only 8:00 am,” he says, voice soft and sleep riddled. “We have plenty of time.”

You shake your head. “We need to take showers and eat breakfast and I have to run home to get my dress.” You sigh. “And I refuse to be late.”

Oscar groans and shakes his head. His eyes never leave you as you slip out of the bed. He raises his brows as the blankets fall away, though, and he reaches a hand up to prop behind his head. You roll your eyes, though you can feel your body heating up under his gaze.

“We don’t have time for funny business,” you scold, and he blinks innocently up at you. “I mean it, Osc.”

“M’not doing anything, baby,” he insists, pouting slightly. “Just admiring the view.”

You give him a discerning glare. “You’re trying to get me back in bed and it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Would it usually?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

He laughs at that, bright and airy and full of- love, you realize. Full of love, and your chest twists, heart skipping a beat. There are butterflies in your stomach as he smiles at you, his cheeks rosy red.

“You gonna get up?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “M’comfy. Gonna stay in bed a little longer.”

You shrug and turn away, taking a few steps towards the bathroom. “Alright, fine. Guess I’ll have to shower all by myself.”

He only hesitates for a second before you hear him make a mad scramble to follow after you. His laughter echoes around you under the spray of the shower a few minutes later, and you can’t help but follow suit.

…..

You’re ready for graduation with plenty of time to spare, waving the seniors off from the house when they head over early to line up. You cry while they walk away, Max and Lando shoving each other on the sidewalk, Carlos and Charles with bright grins on their faces. You’re not sure the tears stop the whole entirety of the graduation after that, from you and Oscar finding seats, to the speeches, to all of them walking across the stage, to the caps sailing high in the air. You wipe them away just seconds before you meet back up with everyone, because as emotional as you are, this is a happy day. You keep your hand wrapped tightly in Oscar’s though.

They’re easy to find out on the lawn outside the auditorium. They’re surrounded by teammates in jerseys and other hockey gear. Lando spots you first and pulls you in for an enthusiastic hug, and Max follows suit. You fight back a fresh wave of tears, squeezing Oscar’s fingers in yours. He echoes the motion back to you, and you feel grounded, safe, cared for.

When they pull away, you pinch both of their cheeks. “I’m so proud of you two.”

Max grins widely. “We’re proud of you, too, Bunny.”

You start to tear up all over again. The hug that Max hauls all of you into- Oscar included- knocks his cap off his head and into your hands, sends Lando’s honor cords askew, and makes Oscar yelp. You’re crushed in the middle of it, laughing. You hear Charles say something and feel him bump into your shoulder. It’s not long before a giant huddle forms.

“What is it?” Carlos asks, his hand knocking against the top of your head.

“We are proud,” Max says, happily. “Of everyone.” Max smiles and pats the top of yours and Oscar’s heads with open hands. Then he pulls away, rising up on his tiptoes to try and see above the crowd. “Okay, everyone, time to celebrate. Follow me!”

You end up at the rink, because really, there’s nowhere else you’d expect to be than here. Max hands out skates to family and friends who don’t have their own while the players suit up. Tomorrow, they’ll empty their cubbies out for the summer, some of them, for the last time. But today…

You reach for a pair of skates. Max looks up, eyes wide.

“I’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he smiles softly. “One last skate, yeah?”

He lets out a breath through pursed lips. “Yeah. Hey, Piastri!” He calls out, and Oscar looks up from the bench where he’s tying his skates. “She wants to skate. You don’t let go of her the entire time, okay?”

You groan. “Max-“

“Aye aye, captain,” Oscar says, giving him a mock salute.

Max rolls his eyes affectionately before he exchanges a glance with you. “It won’t be long and they will be saying that to him, and he will see how it feels.”

At first, you brush the comment off as Max’s typical playful banter. You take a pair of skates in your size and join Oscar on the bench to lace them up. He loops his arm through yours to help you out onto the ice. Lando’s already out, skating around with his sister. Someone has given his friend Martin the aux cord, and he’s starting up a playlist. It’s been a while since you’ve skated, so you’re very grateful for the support Oscar gives as you get out on the ice. It comes back quickly, though, and he grins as he watches you grow more confident.

He’s a good teacher, a good leader. You turn Max’s comment over in your head again as the two of you do a couple laps around the rink, waving at Lando and dodging younger siblings who tear across the ice. Oscar keeps his arm linked with yours, and you lean into his warmth.

He’d make a good captain. Charles had said that, once, before you and Oscar were even close to being a thing. He has captain energy, as Lando puts it- some people are just meant for it. He’s calm, cool, collected, but he has a big heart, too. And you’ve gotten a front row seat to the way he’s opened up over the past year- he could help others do it, too. You can’t think of a better fit, really.

You slow down and turn to look up at your boyfriend. The song that’s playing is poppy and bright. Across the ice, Max is chasing Charles while Charles’ brothers laugh.

“So. When were you gonna tell me, Cap?” You ask, raising your brows at him.

He sighs. “How did you even…”

“Max made a comment when you saluted him,” you say. You’re grinning at him. “So it’s true then? They asked you be captain? Osc, come on! This is exciting!”

He wrinkles his nose. “I haven’t said yes yet. He and Charles talked to me yesterday and… I wanted to think about it. I wanted to talk to you about it. I just…”

You nod in understanding and slip your hand down to wrap it in his, squeezing softly. A bit of the tension drains from his shoulders. You lean in slightly and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Then let’s find a time, and we’ll talk through it,” you say with a smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great captain. But whatever you choose, I’ll support you.”

He lets out a slow breath. “Thanks, baby.”

He keeps his hold on your hand and pulls you across the ice to where the rest of your friends are. Max grins wide when he sees you coming, and Lando’s face follows suit. One last time on the ice. One last day to be a team. Last, last, last, and yet- it feels oddly hopeful. Oscar takes your hand and spins you in a circle on the ice as your friends laugh and tease and joke around you, and you can’t help but join in on the joy. You lean in to kiss him, and he returns it eagerly, hands cupping your cheeks, smiling into the kiss.

There’s a loud noise, and you both pull away, startled. You wobble a bit on the ice, and your knee twinges, just slightly, but Oscar catches you. Maybe Max was right, after all. You look up and see Max, grinning, and behind him… the ice maintenance guy is driving the Zamboni out onto the rink. The one they use at games, the one they pile a bunch of kids on between periods, the one you’ve been begging for a ride on since your freshman year. Oscar’s laughing behind you while Lily skates your way, a wide grin on her face.

“About time,” you say to Max when he helps you climb up a few minutes later.

He grins. “Couldn’t graduate before I fulfilled that last wish, huh?”

It’s not as thrilling of a ride as you’d thought it would be, years ago, watching it from your very first game. But your friends are all watching, and Lily is next to you, and Oscar waves excitedly when you go past him, and that makes it better than you could’ve ever imagined.

…..

Max makes one last family dinner before he moves out, even though you offer to cook instead, and even after Charles suggests ordering takeout. You think he wants this for himself. One last chance to cook a meal for his friends, his family, really. You can understand that.

Most of the team have gone home for the summer already, and it ends up just being the guys who live in the house- Max, Lando, Charles, Alex, George, and Oscar, plus you and Lily, of course. You help set the table and make sure everyone has drinks, while Oscar chops up a salad and makes Lando go sit down in the living room before he hurts himself with one of the knives.

You all sit down together one last time, sunlight streaming into the dining room. Max brings the food in, and behind him, Charles comes in with arms full of gift bags, one for each of you.

“One last gift from your team captains,” he says, winking when he sets your bag down in front of you.

Lando gets his open first- a candle that smells like your college town, or at least it claims to on the label. So he can remember home wherever he goes. He grins and breathes it in deep. For Alex and George, it’s matching aprons, with the requirement that they continue family dinners next year. You miss Lily’s gift in the process of pulling your own out of the bag, which is shortly followed by tears filling your eyes.

It’s a large frame- a collage, painstakingly put together. It’s full of photos from throughout the year, ticket stubs and bits of receipts from family dinner grocery runs. At the center, larger than all the others, there’s a photo- you have no idea who took it, even, or that it had been taken at all. It’s from the night they won the championship, at the bar. You’re tucked under Oscar’s arm, surrounded by Max, Lando, Charles and Carlos, shot glasses in your hands. Post bar kiss, pre celebratory shot, and the smiles on everyone’s lips make you feel warm and fuzzy. As much as they’d acted like they didn’t approve, you can see the joy right there on their faces, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just because of the championship win.

“Oh, wow. Thanks, guys,” you mumble, as Oscar helps wipe away your tears. “This is…”

“We actually all helped with that one,” Max says, gesturing around the table. “Figured it was about time we made one for you.”

You lean heavily into Oscar’s shoulder and let the tears flow as you look at every single picture. Every single moment, captured and glued down here. You’re going to keep it forever, you already know it.

You glance over at Oscar’s bag and spot a jersey, a perfect replica of the ones they wear in the games. It’s got his number on it, and his name. He flips it over and you spot the C on the chest. Captain. He’d decided to accept after the two of you talked, but it makes you so happy to see it in stitching, permanent. To have it be official.

“That one’s for you to keep,” Max says, pointing at the jersey. “Separate from your game ones, so you can keep it nice.”

“Thanks, guys,” Oscar says, sounding a bit awestruck.

“Bunny is definitely going to steal that,” Alex says.

You glare at him, but he’s probably right. It does look cozy.

The food is getting cold on the table, so Max urges everyone to eat, even as you’re all still wiping away tears. The meal does look delicious, though, so you dig in.

“You know, I never asked,” Max says, gesturing towards you. “You said you interviewed for a job for the summer. Did you get it?”

“You didn’t tell them?” Oscar asks, surprised.

“It was exam week, and then graduation,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “Figured I’d tell them when things quieted down.” You grin widely and turn back to Max. Oscar squeezes your hand under the table. “I did get the job. I’m gonna help run a kids camp,” you explain. Max raises his brows. You add, “a soccer camp. And maybe coach one of the intermediate teams in the fall.”

The brochure Oscar had handed you weeks ago had been enticing, the interview even more so, and the tour of the nearby facilities had made your mind up. They’d offered you the job, and you’d accepted happily- a reason to stay in town for the summer, to get to spend time with Oscar, and a connection to the sport you loved so dearly. Getting to help others find their love for it, too. You’re so excited you can barely stop smiling about it.

Lando, who’s sitting next to you, leans over to wrap you up in a hug. Max stands up and comes around the table to do the same. You know they understand more than anyone how much this means to you, how much you’ve missed soccer, how much this feels like a step in the right direction.

Well. They understand it more than anyone, except maybe Oscar, who’s still holding tightly to your hand, a grin on his face. He’d almost quit hockey for good. He’d almost lost his sport, too. But he didn’t, and he’s here, at family dinner with you, and you’ve never been happier. You love him, and he loves you. He leans over to kiss your temple, and for once, nobody says anything about it.

There are moving boxes in the hallway. In just a few short days, Max, Lando, and Charles will be gone, their bedrooms empty, their voices missing from the cacophony of the house. For once, you don’t feel the need to cling to all of them, to dig your heels in the sand and beg for someone to freeze time. If you’d have frozen this year before it even began, you’d have never met Oscar.

Every ending is a beginning, too. After all, energy is neither created or destroyed, it just changes form. And objects in motion tend to stay in motion. You’d learned that months ago, with Oscar’s help, in physics class. Now you’re here, witnessing it. Max is off to his new team. Lando is off to a new job in a new city. Oscar’s got a team to lead, a new role to take on, a large set of shoes to fill, but you know he’ll be amazing at it. You can’t wait to see where the next year takes all of you.

The energy is always there. Sometimes it’s just about finding it again.

And you?

You’re just getting started.

…..

warning: long author’s note incoming:

hi everyone! just wanted to say a HUGE thank you for sticking with me & this series. i hope you’ve enjoyed it, and i hope i’ve given them all a satisfying ending. when i started this fic i had no idea it would end up being this long, or that it would take this long to finish, or that so many people would care so much about it!! i appreciate all the love & support i’ve gotten, especially in the past few weeks which have been a bit rough for me.

the series is now finished, but please, feel free to send me messages if you’ve still got questions or comments on the story! i’m definitely open to a few blurbs ab them here or there (a couple people asked what the lore for the pic of max & the broken door would be, so that might be a blurb topic!) overall, though, i hope you’ve all enjoyed, and that you continue to stick around! thank you again for EVERYTHING!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11 @tsireyasgf @si1ver06 @scopeiguess

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ynscrazylife · 2 days

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seekers get stitches (poly!marauders x slytherin!seeker!reader)

In your opinion, the Marauders are arseholes. They were tolerable as first years, even as second years, but was they grew up, they only got more annoying as their pranks got bigger and bigger. It doesn’t help that they seem to hate all Slytherins, which is the house you belong to. You understand that yes, many of the students have given the house a bad name, but it’s not all of you! Yet somehow, you frequently ended up on the unfortunate end of many of their pranks.

Now, you’ve had the chance to stand up to them, being the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch Team this season. James is the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, giving the Marauders even more of a reason to dislike you. James and Sirius even go as far as to hang around during your team’s practice time, booing you or making jokes at your expense from the stands.

Well, it’s the semi-finals. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Whoever wins this will go up against Ravenclaw for this year’s Quidditch Cup. Everyone is talking about this game — Remus even put his book down to pay attention. Both teams’ chasers have been scouring points, but the crowd’s eyes are locked onto you and James. You can feel hundreds of stares lasered on your back as you race around the pitch. When you finally spot the golden blur of the snitch, you don’t think twice before racing towards it. James follows you and soon, you’re quite literally neck and neck.

“Just give up now, Y/LN! You’re not gonna catch it,” James yells over the wind.

His words vaguely register in your mind, but you don’t pay attention. Everything is riding on this. You’ll either return to the common room as your house’s hero to pat on the back or their villain to torment.

“What, no comeback?” James prods.

You grunt, stretching your hands out. The snitch’s wings flutter against your fingertips. You lean forward as far as possible, one shaky hand remaining on the broom, you’re so close.

But so is James. His hand joins yours. Curse his tall stature, you think. It’s just not fair!

You swear you’re about to have it in your hand when—a bludger beams your shoulder, knocking you sideways and directly into James. The snitch flies away as the both of you fall, tumbling straight towards the ground. Lights out.

When you open your eyes, you find the faces of a couple friends staring back down at you. They tell you that you’re in the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident, with a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and a broken ankle. Madame Pomfrey used a spell to set your shoulder, but you still need to stay in bed and take potions for your injuries, requiring a longer stay here.

“Who caught the snitch?” You ask, the memories hazy.

“I did.”

You turn your head, only to see James Potter lying in the bed next to you. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are sitting by him and they wave. James’ nose, arm, and leg are all bandaged up.

“Caught it right before you knocked into me,” James elaborates.

Your stomach churns, realizing why only your friends are here and not your team. You lost the game for them, they must be disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, unsure of what you’re supposed to say to that.

“Don’t be, it’s the bludger’s fault. James is just being difficult,” Remus says, waving his hand. Out of the three of them, he’s definitely the nicest.

As the days go on, Sirius and Remus are there every day. Your friends aren’t. They visit a couple more times, then they stop. They’re busy, they have classes, you understand. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Oftentimes, you end up accidentally listening to the Marauders’ conversations. James gives Sirius and Remus his plans for pranks, the other two update them on what’s going on around the castle.

They visit a lot.

One afternoon, you wake up from a nap to find them visiting again, though, and talking about you.

“Isn’t it weird that her friends barely visit her?”

“Haven’t seen her team around either. Thought Slytherins cared about their own.”

“Must suck for her.”

“Yeah.”

Your nap wasn’t particularly good, with the uncomfortable mattress and scratchy sheets. You open your eyes, frowning at the trio, in a bad mood. “You know, I don’t need your pity,” you say.

Three heads snap towards you, all looking like deer in headlights (you have no clue that for James, it’s truer than you think).

“It’s not - we’re not pitying you. It’s, uh, empathy,” Sirius rushes to cover them.

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh,” you say, not believing him. You shake your head, tired of lying in this bed and being in pain and having the three of them sit next to you day after day after day. You decide you’re done here, your arm’s in a sling, your ankle’s almost 100% healed, it’s fine.

You throw the blanket aside, standing up, only to stumble. It’s not your ankle, it’s your head. Damn concussion.

“Woah, woah,” Remus says, both him and Sirius getting up to approach you. “You should sit back down.”

“I’m fine,” you say stubbornly, taking a couple more unbalanced steps only for Sirius to grasp at your arm.

“Come on, don’t make us tell Pomfrey on you, it’d really hurt my reputation,” Sirius says, smiling.

You snatch your arm away, anger flaring up. “Like I give a bloody hell about your reputation!” You exclaim.

“Hey, what’s the problem?” Sirius asks, putting his hands up.

“My problem? You guys are the ones who have a problem with me! You’re always asses to me, then you talk about me behind my back . . . I don’t even see why you care where I go or what I do. I’m a Slytherin, remember?” You say.

That quiets the Marauders. They’re not sure how to respond because, well, you’re right. Slytherins are easy to hate, so they hate them.

“Y/L/N, back in bed.”

Crap. It’s Pomfrey. You sigh and do what he says. The Marauders don’t say anything else.

After a couple more days, James is out of the hospital wing, managing to talk Pomfrey into releasing him. You’re still stuck there, as the concussion’s giving you trouble.

It’s lonely without their chatter. As much as they annoy you, you miss it. You miss them. Just a little bit. When they’re not hating on Slytherins, they’re . . . Nice. Fun.

It’s just your luck that they come around again, to visit you.

“Hey,” James says, Remus and Sirius behind you.

You huff. “Hi,” you say, making a tight line with your lips. What are they doing here? They don’t care.

“We wanted to see how you were doing and, uh, talk, if we can?” Remus says, politely smiling at you.

“If it’s more bullshit on pitying me—” you start.

“It’s not. We don’t like Slytherins, okay?” Sirius says, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to you. James and Remus follow.

You take a breath and stare, waiting for the explanation.

“A lot of them believe in all the Death Eater shit,” James says.

“But not all,” you point out.

James nods. “Not all. But we’re pranksters. We prank Slytherins because it’s easy. We also prank other houses but you’re right, we like to target Slytherins. There’s no reason for that other than that we can. It’s-it’s easy to not like them. To convince ourselves that they deserve it. For you, it was easy to . . . To not like you, either. Quidditch rivalry, right? But you have a point. We shouldn’t . . . We shouldn’t be so, ah, mean to all of them. The ones who aren’t into the Death Eater shit,” he explains.

You’re a bit surprised, a bit suspicious. Is this really the truth?

“Not so easy to convince yourself anymore, is it?” You ask.

“No, it’s not,” Sirius affirms.

“We brought cards,” Remus offers, taking a deck out of his pockets. “Figured you were pretty bored in here.”

“Prove it to me that you’re being honest, then I’ll think about playing cards with you,” you say, putting on a brave face. You have no clue that if they’ll actually do it or not.

But they agree to your terms. They start being real, not targeting random Slytherins. They stop being mean.

Eventually, you do agree to play cards with them. You’re almost out of the hospital wing, too. In fact, it’s your last night there, you’ve just beat them all in the game, when you decide to ask them why. What compelled them to come seek you out after James got out of the hospital wing, if not just feeling bad?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asks, grinning. “We’ve all fallen for you, love.”

That sparks the start of something new for the four of you.

#marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders angst #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders #harry potter fan fiction #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders fanfiction

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tonycries · 46 minutes

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Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too.

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room.

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this.

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle.

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already.

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked.

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them.

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious.

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

A weighty beat passes. One. Two.

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this?

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What?

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face.

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity.

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better.

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word.

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually.

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth.

“Out.”

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now.

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?”

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him.

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but.

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw.

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar.

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal.

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away.

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan.

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his.

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this.

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth.

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended.

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast.

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers.

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants.

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth.

And Gojo keeps going.

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily.

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good.

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?”

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs.

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit.

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous.

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together.

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute.

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone.

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife.

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch.

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly.

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance.

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you.

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there.

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least.

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.”

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear.

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side.

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?”

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him.

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find-

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted.

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles.

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are.

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices.

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper.

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you.

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes.

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his.

“Clean that room up.”

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie.

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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poppy-metal · 2 days

Note

fail marriage when ur hella ovulating and you’re lonely and you miss him and you’re only separated, he’s still your husband really, so you call art. you tell him,”we don’t need to work anything out today. we don’t even have to talk. i just want to feel you. i miss touching you. i’m lonely. hang up if you’re coming over.”

you hear the line go dead and ring in your ear. you smile softly. he’s still your art. he still answers your call within one ring. he still wants you without thinking. he still needs you without caring what it means or if it will hurt him. you feel bad, guilty, but you feel so good to have him. when he knocks on your door, that special rap, you’re already waiting and open it. he spills through it, sweeping you up in his arms, embracing you before he even thinks about anything sexual.

“i love you.”

he says it without meaning to.

“i love you.”

and it goes on like that. neither one of you can leave the others confession unsatisfied, unrequited. as you kissed with tongue and entire mouth, as you shed layer after layer of clothes and struggled around each other into the bedroom of your tiny apartment (normally, art was furious you lived here at all, furious you felt you should have to pay for yourself. he would pay for a bigger place, begged you to get somewhere in a safer part of town on his dime, but you wouldn’t hear it. quietly and graciously, you denied him more of you.) as you tugged and clawed and groaned and entered each other you chanted your mantra. i love you. all that shit that broke you up, none of it mattered tonight. none of it. you were his and he was yours and tonight, nothing would change that. i love you, the only true thing in the world, just for one night. and another night. and another and another and another.

u want me dead......

Its so evil of her too, it's like shes testing to see if it really is true that he wants her that badly - if he'll let her use him and hurt him by giving him her body but not her heart - art has always wanted to be a martyr for those he loves, always lets his love abuse him - and its sick you'd do that to him when you remember how he'd brought it up in therapy, back when you'd tried therapy together, how he felt like he was never good enough, but he was kind of addicted to that feeling - because its what kept him chasing for more, more, more, even if he suffered.

you'd never wanted to make your husband suffer. never in your whole time together had you wanted to inflict pain. but maybe thats where you went wrong with eachother. each of you unwilling to inflict pain on the other, unwilling to take risks, to dig your claws in, to demand things and hurt and be loud and messy and raw.

you want to hurt him now. you want to take his love and abuse it, put it to the test, push its limits to see how strong it really is - its why you walked away in the first place. nothing was gonna change between you without carnage. you'd both suffered too long in the silence of your quiet wanting for anything else to bring you back together.

you dont know how long you plan to drag it on for - how long you'll keep pushing and pushing him. until he breaks, maybe?

you're getting close to that point when you invite him over - allow him to touch you and pour confessions into your lips - but you keep your own lips tightly sealed. even if you echo it back everytime in your head, when he kisses down your body, between your legs and you almost say it, almost gasp it when his tongue rolls your hot clit in his mouth. the words are on the tip of your lips, ready to pitch over when he makes you cum around his fingers knuckle deep inside you - you're grateful when he licks into your mouth before they flow out - moan against him instead as you shatter apart in his arms, clenching and clenching around him.

"there, baby, there. cum for me - you're so beautiful, fuck - i missed this. i miss you, i love you -" and you kiss him this time, to shut him up.

your body wants his. it wants to take his cock inside her and wrap legs around him and never let him go - you want to kiss between his legs, suck him between your lips and worship him back with long pulls of your throat - you want to sink down on him, feel him stretch you out - you want him to take you roughly, push you back and yank your legs apart and growl and snarl at you for leaving him. fuck you with punishing snaps of his as he reminds you why you're meant for eachother.

but he gasps, "please. let me-"

and you come back to yourself. make yourself go cold instead of melting warm.

you push him away again, pretending the wounded fawn look he gives, he's always been such an open bleeding wound, doesn't affect you.

"you should go." you tell him instead.

you hear him inhale sharply. see suprise, and loss, and hurt and, most startilingly - anger, flash in his blue eyes. they darken. you swallow, your breath catching as you watch eachother.

he clenches his jaw. he obviously wants to push back. but he just looks away, and jerks his chin in a nod. dejected - "yeah, okay."

you deflate.

you dont look up when you hear the door close. empty fucking apartment. you'll probably cry yourself to sleep at night.

and tomorrow you'll be back to pushing. always pushing. something has to give, eventually.

#ask #frens <3 #mwahahahahahahahahaha #reader might be the most toxic of them all #failmarriage au #art donaldson x reader

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lowkeyren · 2 days

Text

drunk words, sober thoughts!

in which — “taking your boss home after he gets drunk for the nth time this week” wasn’t in your job description; but as emotions run high, would you still choose to resist his advances?

pairing — aventurine x gn!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — wc: 2.1k, consumption of alcohol (aven is drunk), he’s so down bad for u its not even funny anymore, topaz + jade cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated! please enjoy <3

the persistent ringing of your phone jolts you awake, pulling you from the depths of sleep. groggily, you reach out, fingertips searching for the source of the disturbance amidst the darkness of the room.

with a grunt of frustration, you finally locate your phone on the bedside table. your eyes squint against the harsh glow of the screen, revealing topaz's name flashing insistently.

"hello..?" you answered, your voice thick with drowsiness.

"hey friend, sorry to wake you." topaz said, quickly getting to the point, "aventurine's getting wasted at the tavern here. can you come get him?"

you rub your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "aren’t you at the tavern too? why can't you do it instead..." you don't mean to sound rude, but anyone's mood would sour if they were woken up in the middle of their slumber, right?

(and please just give me one night of peace, you want to add on)

but working as aventurine's secretary means there's barely ever any peace; you are constantly living a chaotic life, exhausted by his endless and, even more annoyingly, unpredictable shenanigans. maybe you shouldn’t have taken the position, but the pay and the view of his infuriatingly handsome face makes it all worthwhile.

topaz sighs. "trust me, i tried. but his stubborn ass is refusing to leave, i can't get through to him no matter what."

in the background, you hear your boss call out to you, “mmmh [name]... c'meeere” his words slurred from the effects of alcohol. it's clear he's drunk; way too drunk actually. is he that far gone? you aren’t even there.

it wasn't the first time he’s gotten this drunk, in fact he’s been drinking every other day lately —much to your concern. "alright, i'll be there soon." you reply, fully aware that his drunken antics would inevitably lead to a splitting headache.

"thanks. he's in pretty bad shape." topaz adds just as another slurred whine of your name cuts through the background. “...ugh, and please come quick” she hangs up before you can respond. you sigh again, throwing off the covers, and quickly dressing yourself before making your way to the tavern.

it looks like your night’s just getting started, because this is just another reminder of how taxing it is to clean up after your endearingly troublesome boss.

as you step through the entrance of the tavern, your eyes scan the crowded space until they land on aventurine. he’s slumped over the counter, his head resting on his folded arms, and an array of empty glasses scattered around him. you notice topaz isn't beside him, and just as you reach for your phone, a notification pops up from her.

"jade called, i have to go." fantastic, now you're stuck playing babysitter to your incredibly drunk boss all on your own. isn’t this just adding insult to injury..? you put your phone down, and make your way over to the counter, mentally bracing yourself for what’s to come.

aventurine, whose cheeks are flushing from too many glasses of ale, immediately perks up when he catches sight of you. his posture shifts slightly, a clumsy attempt to straighten up. despite his dishevelled appearance and obvious inebriation, a sloppy grin spreads across his face; his usually sharp eyes now hazy, but his gaze remains unwavering.

“sir, it's time to go home. you’ve had enough for tonight.” you say firmly, your expression deadpan, the exhaustion in your system weighing heavily on you. “sweetheart... *hic* i missed youuuu," he slurs, words drawn out and muddled, the alcohol coating his tongue with each syllable.

aventurine’s bleary eyes struggling to focus as they fix themselves on you, it’s evident he has it much worse tonight. “mmh sweetheart, have i ever told you just how gorgeous you are?" his words linger in the air; though your expression remains indifferent, you can feel a subtle heat rising up your neck.

you hate how he has this effect on you, it shouldn't stir such feelings, especially given his role as your boss. though no matter the amount of times he effortlessly (re: shamelessly) slips endearments into your conversations, you can still sense the warmth bubbling up inside you —much to your dismay.

“yes sir, for the fourth time this week. and don’t try to distract me—” before you can finish, aventurine stumbles forward and envelops you in a tight embrace, the overpowering smell of alcohol engulfing your senses. his lips inches away from your ear, the proximity borders on suffocating in its allure; he rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck, stirring a rush of conflicting emotions within you.

you hadn’t had anything to drink tonight, so why are you feeling hazy, your head swirling with jumbled-up thoughts, and your body unexpectedly warming up? you fight to maintain your composure as aventurine holds you close, his grip unyielding.

“ahem… sir please release me immediately. ” you manage to say, your voice trembling slightly, cringing at your own words as it didn’t come out as stern as you had hoped.

aventurine seems to hesitate for a moment, his grip loosening ever so slightly, but he doesn't let go completely. “no… no sir, i’m not your sir” he mumbles, his words muffled against your shoulder.

two weeks ago, you would've redirected his attention firmly, steering clear of any personal entanglements that could complicate your working relationship. two weeks ago, you would’ve dismissed any hint of intimacy, and suppressed the flicker of attraction beneath layers of practicality and duty.

now, however, your resolve falters as you stand enveloped in his embrace. the logical arguments that once guided your actions seem distant and irrelevant compared to the raw, magnetic pull of his presence.

in the face of his vulnerability, your defenses too crumble, leaving you grappling with conflicting impulses and unspoken desires —so you decide to indulge just this once.

“aventurine. there, happy?” you can feel his heart racing against yours, a syncopated rhythm that mirrors the tangle of emotions swirling within you. the line between professionalism and lovers has always been blurred between you. but now as his arms encircle you and his warmth seeps into your skin, it seems near impossible to define.

perhaps, all along, it was his intention for that line to fade away, to be erased completely.

he doesn’t respond with words, but instead holds you tighter, as if seeking solace in your presence. his name escapes your lips in a soft murmur, “kakavasha…?” the sound of your voice rings in his ear, lingering in the air like a whispered prayer.

he seems to delight in the way you utter his name, evident by how he savours each syllable like a rare delicacy. you take his silence as your cue to continue, clearing your throat, “unfortunately the chauffeur is unable to make it at this hour, so i will—”

he cuts you off by releasing you from his grasp, yet keeps you ensconced in his arms, ensuring you face him directly. in the dim light, you finally get to see his flawless features up close for the first time tonight.

“i love you.” his words hang in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless.

he stares into your eyes, a whirlwind of emotions surge within you. caught off guard, you let out a chuckle, unsure if his words are genuine or if he’s merely attempting to charm his way out of a situation again.

“i bet you tell everyone that.” you shoot him an unimpressed look.

he pauses for a moment, his hands finding a comfortable place on your back before pulling you closer to him. “i do.” he nods in confirmation, his gaze steady on yours.

“i tell everyone that i love you.”

your heart skips a beat, actually no, you think you stopped breathing the moment those words left his mouth. does he know how much he tugs at your heartstrings? though you can’t help but wonder if he'll regret everything when he sobers up tomorrow.

“aventurine, you’re drunk.” you say softly as you divert your gaze. "yes, and you’re everything i’ve ever wanted." he moves his free hand up to gently cup your cheek, eagerly waiting for the moment the room stops spinning so he can focus on your face again.

the world around you collapses the instant your eyes meet him again, it feels like he's baring his soul to you, grounding you with his touch, his presence. you gently place your hand over his that rests on your cheek, your voice barely above a whisper. "let's get you home first, and we can talk about this when you're sober."

“alright sweetheart, whatever you say...” he drawls out with a tipsy cadence, punctuated by his tightening hold on your back. you huff out in feign annoyance before grabbing his hand and dragging him out the tavern.

you navigate through the night with a very drunk aventurine leaning heavily against your side, his arm draped around your shoulder for support. “ugh you’re impossible when you’re drunk…” you chide with a playful roll of your eyes, half-supporting, and half-dragging him along. “please be reminded to give me a raise when this is over.”

aventurine’s occasional laughter punctuates through the quiet night, drawing the attention of a few late-night pedestrians who smile knowingly at the scene. and you swear you caught a glimpse of silver-white hair as you pass by an alley, maybe the lack of sleep is really taking a toll on you.

“you’re lucky you have a pretty face to make up for all this mess you’re dragging me through.” you remark subconsciously, only to be interrupted by him abruptly stopping in his tracks. he looks at you with a sheepish grin, cheeks still flushed.

“…you think i'm pretty?”

you jab at him, maybe you should give him a few more while you have the chance. after all, he probably won't remember any of this tomorrow, right?

okay maybe aventurine wasn’t lying when he said he tells everyone that he loves you. (and apparently “everyone” includes his coworkers too)

the constant dinging of your phone makes you seriously consider launching it out the nearest window. you open the group chat and stare incredulously at the avalanche of texts flooding your screen.

[topaz sent an attachment]

seems like you weren’t hallucinating last night, topaz really was there —and she managed to snap a picture of you and aventurine.

“topaz?? i thought you had an emergency with jade”

“nah lol, jade was in on it”

“hope you had a great night dear, and make sure to let us know what happened~”

“you guys are menaces i swear!!!!”

before you can gather your thoughts, a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you gently against his solid chest. you tense up, part of you wanting to melt into his hold; and despite your better judgement, you instinctively lean into him.

"so, what's the deal with you getting plastered every night?" you tease, momentarily forgetting about the texts as you turn your focus to aventurine.

“what else other than drowning out my sorrows over you, sweetheart.” he quips, sneaking a quick peck on your cheek, which you dodge just in time.

“seriously? all those drinks were because you thought i wasn't into you?"

“hmm, yeah pretty much so.” he admits, truly his shamelessness knows no bounds.

“then i guess it’s about time you learn how to handle your losses.” you jest, nudging him as he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “there’s no need. i'll still tell you that i love you tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that until you finally let yourself believe it."

aventurine will wait for the day you accept him, more than just your boss; he will wait for the day you whisper those three words, not just into his ear, but into the very depths of his heart. he will be there, patiently, until the day your soul finally speaks the truth that his heart has always known.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

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persevereforahappyending · 2 days

Text

A Legacies Secret |3|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Talks of injuries

Word Count: 3.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Run away with me?” you asked, staring into Tara’s eyes as she leaned in for a kiss.

“No,” Tara giggled, playfully shoving you.

“Why not?” you sighed, flopping back onto Tara’s bed.

“Cause I don’t want to be a high school drop out?” Tara draped herself over you, looking down at you with a loving smile.

“Ugh, fine, I guess that’s reasonable,” you grumbled, pouting up at her as you ran a hand through her hair.

Tara sucked in a breath, instantly wincing in pain, her hand went to her stomach, but she quickly pulled it away when the pain worsened. She tried to push herself up but quickly lowered herself back down when every movement sent waves of pain through her entire body. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the unfamiliar lighting. She looked around seeing blank white walls, a thin white sheet over her, and a hospital bed. She scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember what happened, she reached up feeling an oxygen tube around her nose.

She got flashes of bleeding out on the floor, a knife through her hand. She looked down to see her left hand bandaged up. She closed her eyes, feeling her leg snap, she winced at just the memory. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed the large black boot on her right leg. Then she saw it, the white mask, black cloak, she remembered getting the call, it had been Ghostface. Her heart rate picked up again, she ignored the pain as she pushed herself further up on the pillow. She whipped her head around, her eyes darting all over the room, only stopping when they landed on your sleeping figure.

She couldn’t help but give a small smile at you. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes as the attack fully came back to her. The only comfort she had was seeing you by her side, safe and sound. Part of her felt bad but the other part of her wanted to laugh at your position. You were curled up, one leg hanging off the chair, the other draped over the armrest, and the top half of your body curled in, so your head was resting on the back of the chair.

She relaxed back into the pillow, her heartbeat slowing back down. She never took her eyes off you though. Her mind went back to the dream she woke up from. It was a memory, it was the last time you spent the night, just two days ago. You always asked Tara to run away with you, ever since she turned eighteen. The two of you had plans to leave when Tara graduated but then she got held back a year, delaying your plans a year. She knew you didn’t mind, truly, but you still always asked to run away. Tara loved it, she loved knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. Tara just didn’t want to be a dropout before she ran away with you.

Tara laid her head on her pillow, just staring at you, you always looked so peaceful sleeping, even in a very uncomfortable position. You suddenly shot up, bracing yourself in the chair so you didn’t fall off. Your eyes instantly went to Tara, your eyes filled with tears as you let out a shaky breath. Tara could only describe the look on your face as one of relief, she had no idea how long she had been out and couldn’t begin to imagine what you had been going through this whole time. If you had been attacked and Tara was the one waiting by your bedside she surely would have been going out of her mind.

“You’re okay,” you sobbed. You were instantly out of the chair and at Tara’s side. You reached up to touch her but hesitated, your hand freezing just as you were about to graze her hair.

Tara gave a small nod, realizing you were terrified of hurting her. “It’s okay,” she rasped out.

Your hand gently caressed her cheek. You leaned in, resting your forehead against hers. Your eyes were pinched shut but tears still managed to spill out of them. Tara let out a shaky breath, trying to contain her own sobs, she reached up with her good hand, resting it on the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered in between sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Tara tightened her grip on you, quietly shushing you. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She wanted to offer you any comfort she could give, she was making sure you felt her, that you heard her, that you knew she was there, and she was okay.

When you finally pulled away from her you quickly wiped your eyes, sniffling a little. You cleared your throat as you walked across the room, Tara’s heartbeat spiked for a second until she realized you were just going to the sink. Her eyes never left you as you filled a glass with water and instantly went back to her side, you handed her the glass of water and then dragged the chair you had been sleeping in next to her bedside. She took a few sips, the water instantly soothing her dry throat.

Tara looked down at your hand resting on her bed, she could feel your fingers barely grazing her leg through the blanket. She started to move her hand to hold your hand but stopped when she realized her hand was bandaged. She furrowed her brow, opening her mouth to ask you to move to her other side but the words died on her lips when she looked up, seeing your eyes not on her in the moment but on the door. She quickly shut her mouth, she couldn’t help but smile at your determined look, as if you were daring someone to walk through that door.

When you took your eyes off the door and looked back at her, she was still staring at you. You tilted your head, giving her the same soft look you always gave her, it was a complete 180 from the glare you had been giving the door. “What?” you asked softly.

Tara shook her head, blinking away the tears that had started to form. “I love you,” is all she said.

You smiled, for the first time since Tara woke up, you looked like you did any other day. If she didn’t know better, she would say you and her were just sitting on her couch about to watch a movie. “I love you too,” you reached up, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “Do you want me to text your friends?”

Tara opened her mouth ready to say yes but stopped. She couldn’t explain why she stopped. She loved her friends; she had known all of them pretty much her entire life. She couldn’t imagine any of them hurting her, couldn’t imagine that any of them would dress up like a psycho and attack her. There was a part of her that told her not to trust anyone though. Tara might not have remembered Stab too well, but she knew the story of the original Ghostface killings, Sidney’s boyfriend had been the killer, she had trusted him, and he ended up being the one to attack her and kill her friends. The truth was, anyone could be a killer.

The only person she didn’t doubt for a second was you. Maybe it was stupid and naïve but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind about you, she knew you’d never hurt her. And if anyone ever asked her about it, she’d say that you sitting there by her bedside completely guilt ridden over just not being there was proof enough. She saw you beating yourself up, blaming yourself, and it was all for something you had nothing to do with, for something couldn’t have controlled or prevented. As much as Tara had wanted you to come over that night, she was now glad you had work, she would never have forgiven herself if you had been there and you had gotten hurt trying to protect her.

“Not yet,” Tara finally decided on. “I’ll text them later. I’m not ready for all of them. I just want to sit here with you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. You tucked more strands of her hair that had gotten loose behind her ear. You didn’t even question Tara’s decision to not contact her friends yet, not that she ever thought you’d question her wanting to spend more alone time with you.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

Tara looked down at herself, her eyes focusing on the large boot on her foot before trailing up to her hand. She lifted her hand off the bed, turning it over, it was covered in a wrap, but Tara could still see the knife sticking through it. “It hurts,” she said but it came out as more of a whimper.

“Do you want me to get the nurse? Maybe they can give you more drugs or up the dosage?” you were already moving to stand up.

“No.” Tara reached across her body with her good hand but didn’t have to strain herself before you noticed and were sitting back down. “I’m okay.” You didn’t look convinced. “Really, I think no matter what, I’m going to feel it at least a little bit.”

“Okay,” you whispered, dropping your eyes to the floor as you stared intensely at your clasped hands in your lap. “I should have been there,” you whispered. If you weren’t seated so close to Tara, she would have missed it.

“No,” she shook her head. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I should have just left work and come to you when you called.”

“You would have gotten fired.”

“But maybe you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” You looked up at her, your eyes filled with tears once again. “I’m always there,” your voice cracked. “I should have been there.”

“Stop it,” Tara said, trying to keep her voice determined but it was hard with the tears she felt filling her eyes again as well. “Stop, please, you’re not allowed to blame yourself. I refuse to let you blame yourself. You didn’t cause this, you had nothing to do with this.” You buried your head in your hands but nodded, nonetheless.

After a little while you had turned on the TV and flipped through channels until Tara finally agreed to a channel that was showing some reruns. Tara wanted her laptop so she could watch whatever she wanted but that would mean asking you to go get it and she didn’t want you to leave. Tara watched you out of the side of her eye as you watched the TV, you had moved the side table over and pushed your chair against the bed. You had your arm propped up on the bed, absentmindedly playing with Tara’s hair. You were at an awkward angle and as much as Tara wanted you to, you couldn’t lay in bed next to her with her injuries, so this was the closest the two of you could get for the moment.

There was a long creak as someone opened the door to the hospital room without knocking. Tara’s eyes widened, she sat up in bed, ignoring the pain that shot through her. You were on your feet in seconds, glaring at the door, ready to attack whoever was entering.

Tara relaxed when she saw sheriff Hicks walk through the door, her eyes glued to her notepad. You were still tense, slowly relaxing as Judy put down her notepad and looked up at the two of you. Her mouth hung open, a greeting at the tip of her tongue, her eyes went from Tara, to you, to the door behind her, and back to Tara.

“I’m sorry!” Judy said sincerely. “I should have knocked. I was so caught up finishing up my notes,” she looked down at her notepad, flipping through pages as she rambled. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Judy looked back up at Tara. “There is an officer right outside your room,” she pointed back to the door. “No one is getting in here unless they’re authorized.”

“Thank you,” Tara whispered. She flicked a glance at you to see you slowly lowering yourself back into the chair. “Sorry, we’re just a little jumpy after…”

“You don’t need to explain,” Judy said softly, walking up to the side of the bed. She reached down, grabbed Tara’s hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to see you awake.” Judy gave her a soft smile.

Judy was one of a kind, she was a little embarrassing at times and Tara and Amber certainly loved to pick on Wes in a loving way because of it. Judy was the most loving parent around though, the only other parent that seemed to love her kids as much as Judy loved Wes was Mindy and Chad’s mom. Whenever the kids went over to Judy’s house, even now as teenagers, she always made baked goods before she left for work or as soon as she got back.

Tara knew her sister got into a lot of trouble with Judy, Tara was glad Judy never held Sam’s actions against her though. Judy wasn’t a fan of Tara’s mother either, Tara always tried to hide her home issues, but Judy always seemed to know. There were so many times after Sam left and their mom got drunk or went away on long business trips that Judy insisted Tara spend the night and she always made sure Tara never went hungry, whether it was inviting her over for dinner or dropping by with a casserole or something she insisted she had so much fun making dinner she just had to make a second one. Judy never drew attention to what she was doing, she never pressed Tara to talk about it, the few times she did Tara had shut down completely, after that Judy settled for silently helping anyway she could.

Judy also wasn’t the biggest fan of you. She never directly came out and said anything, she knew deep down she didn’t have any right, but there were little comments here and there when Tara started dating you. Judy would always give a tight-lipped smile and her voice went even higher than usual when you were around or when Tara and yours relationship was brought up. When Tara first told Wes she had kissed you, Judy had overheard and made a comment about you being too old for her. Tara had just rolled her eyes saying you were only two years older, technically closer to three, but Tara wasn’t going to get into that with Judy. Judy had dropped it, but it was always obvious she didn’t approve of your relationship.

“I was wondering if you were up for answering some questions?” Judy asked softly.

“She just woke up,” you snapped. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trying to catch the psycho that did this?”

You were glaring at Judy, but she just gave you a sympathetic look. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said softly. “If you aren’t up for it, I can come back,” Judy looked at Tara.

Tara wanted to tell Judy she was tired and to come back later, she had no desire to relive what happened to her. She didn’t think she’d want to relive it later in the day or the next day either so she might as well just get it over with.

“Can Y/N stay?” Tara asked, looking at you. You smiled softly, resting a hand on her arm as you lightly rubbed it.

“Of course,” Judy answered, glancing at you before pulling up a chair of her own. She was near the hospital bed, her back to the door, the perfect spot to look at Tara as they spoke.

“Can you tell me about your night?” Judy asked, flipping open her notepad to a new page. “What you did, anything and everything, just talk, anything can be important.”

Tara nodded, looking at you before she took a deep breath as best as she could. “I was making dinner and called Y/N. They were at work and their boss yelled at them to hang up,” she started.

“What did you talk about?” your eyes flicked to Judy, but you didn’t say anything, you just kept your hand on Tara’s arm, trying to bring her comfort in anyway.

“I was trying to convince her to blow off work,” Tara admitted, blushing lightly. She glanced at you to see a small smile on your own face, but it was quickly shadowed in sadness and guilt. “We talked about graduation, me going to college, us moving out of this town.” Tara shrugged, “Normal stuff.”

Judy nodded, writing a couple things in her notepad. “And after you got off the phone?”

“I was texting Amber, wanted to see if she wanted to watch some movies.” Tara furrowed her brow, shaking her head. “It wasn’t Amber,” she whispered, staring at a spot at the end of the bed. “The phone started ringing.”

“Your phone?” Judy asked but her voice sounded muffled.

Tara shook her head. “Landline,” she said mindlessly. “It was some guy.” She could swear she heard you suck in a breath, but she didn��t turn to look at you. “Said he knew my mom. Figured he was just a new boyfriend,” she shrugged with an eyeroll. “He asked me my favorite movie; I didn’t think anything of it until he specifically started talking to me about Stab.”

“What about it?”

“He asked me if I remembered the opening and then started telling me about the opening kill scene, a girl home alone who answers an unknown number and starts talking to the killer.” Tears slowly started to fill her eyes. “Just like me,” she whispered.

“We can stop if you want,” Judy’s voice came again, this time accompanied by a soft hand resting on her uninjured arm.

“I texted Amber,” Tara continued, shaking her head. “It wasn’t Amber.” She continued shaking her head, the tears slowly began to fall. “He-he-he started quizzing me on Stab.” Tara’s breathing started to become heavy, she was gasping more, the walls were closing in on her. “He-he-he-” she was gasping, her eyes wide as she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Breath,” your voice cut through. Tara tried to focus on your voice, hearing you softly whispering to her. Tara felt a puff of air enter her and she slowly started to be able to breath again. “There you go,” you whispered. Tara’s eyes found yours only to see you standing up, one hand resting on her shoulder while the other held her inhaler to her mouth.

“Thanks,” she whispered, taking the inhaler from you with her good hand.

You let out a shaky breath and slowly lowered yourself back down into your chair. Tara blinked a few times, taking another hit of her inhaler before she set it down at her side, making sure to keep her fingers around it.

“Why don’t we stop for now,” Judy said as she began to stand up from her chair.

“No,” Tara said, giving Judy a determined look. “No, I can do this.” Judy looked from Tara to you then back to Tara before slowly lowering herself back down. “I got a question wrong, and he said he was going to kill Amber. I ran to the door, intending to help her but he was there,” she continued, jumping back right where she left off.

“That’s how he got in?”

Tara shook her head. “No, I got the door closed and locked it. I made sure the system was armed when I called the police but…” Tara’s eyes went wide, the little robotic voice going back and forth saying armed and disarmed filling her mind.

“What?” you asked softly, giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Tara turned to you, focusing on your red rimmed eyes, full of nothing but love and concern for her. “He disarmed the system.”

“What?” your face went white.

“We went back and forth. As soon as I armed the system, he would disarm it. He could have gotten in at any time,” she sobbed. “He just wanted to fuck with me!”

Tara was sobbing uncontrollably but you were sitting at her bedside in a second, wrapping your arms around her, making sure to be mindful of her injuries. Tara didn’t care about her injuries, she buried her head in your neck, throwing both her arms around you and pulled you as tightly as she could against herself.

“Sorry,” Tara mumbled, wiping her eyes once she pulled away from you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Judy said, standing up from her chair again. She looked over her notepad before flipping it closed and tucking it back in her pocket. “I think we’re good. Thank you.” She gave Tara a pat on the arm before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Tara reached for her phone, opening her messages but her thumb hovered over Amber’s name. “What’s wrong?” you asked, looking at her with worry.

“Amber’s phone was cloned, I can’t know if I’m texting her when I text her,” Tara answered. She scrolled a little further down, selecting Wes’s name. She shot Wes a quick text saying she was awake. Judy was a professional, but Tara was sure Wes had heard about the attack and was just waiting to hear from her or to question his mom.

Not a second later her phone buzzed, showing Wes had already messaged back. “Wes and the others are on their way,” she said.

You nodded, before scooting your chair up further so you could rest your arm around her head. Tara leaned into you, relaxing as you gently played with her hair. She tried to focus on the TV again as she waited for her friends to arrive. Her mind was plagued by who she could trust, why she was targeted, which of her friends potentially did this to her. Whoever did this knew her alarm system, they were either very skilled with technology and could hack into her system or this was someone she trusted.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream v #scream 5 #a legacies secret

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