#Workout Intensity Tracking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinner-as-saint · 2 months ago

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You take the dark and carve me out a home

Bucky Barnes x New Avenger!Reader

Summary: Unwinding after a tough mission is not exactly easy. Especially not when you’re part of a group that is always, constantly under scrutiny. Which is why you were always extra hard on yourself whenever you felt like you made a mistake or let the team down in any way. Bucky was aware of this, he was aware of everything regarding you, and usually he gave you your space and within a day or two you’d get back to normal. But this time was different, he noticed. It had been a couple of days since your last mission and you were still in that weird, distant headspace. And Bucky needed you back, the whole team needed you back, but him more because… well, because he cared about you a lot more than he let on.

Themes: soft!dom!bucky, praise kink, angst, hurt/comfort, friends-to-lovers, fluff

“Where is she?”

Bucky demanded, walking in, looking around, and noticing immediately that you weren’t at the dinner table. The rest of the team looked like they’d just been done eating. Alexei was almost falling asleep in his seat already.

“I thought she was with you?” Ava squinted at Bucky.

Yelena added, “Don’t you two always work out together every night?”

Bucky frowned. “I know, I…” He paused to think. “I left the gym hours ago. She said she was gonna finish up and come find you guys.” He rolled his eyes at the realisation, “So she’s been in there alone for the past couple of hours and no one checked on her.”

“I did.” Bob said, always with that lost puppy dog look in his eyes. “I went to the gym earlier to get a workout in. But she glared at me, so I just kinda left, like, really quickly.”

“Relax, man.” John spoke, adding to Bucky’s irritation. “She’s probably still working out to get her mind off things. You know how she gets.”

Bucky sighed and walked away, leaving the rest of them in the kitchen. Damn it. He could’ve checked up on you too. But after his work out he had some calls to attend to, and deal with some things on behalf of the team. He’d totally lost track of time. Also, he genuinely didn’t think you’d stay in the gym for hours. He knew you worked out each day, sometimes twice a day. But lately, he was getting more and more worried watching you put your body through pain hours at a time.

He took the elevator to the floor the gym was on and walked in to find you with your boxing gloves on, the punching bag swinging gently in front of you. Your head was lowered, your back to him but he still saw the way your shoulders moved as you breathed quickly. Your skin glistened with sweat, and Bucky just knew you weren’t having a good night.

Again.

He needed to do something about that.

“Have mercy on that poor punching bag.” He said, keeping his eyes on you as you turned to face him. He realised he would never get used to it, that intense look in your eyes whenever you got into moods like these. The look that made most people run away from you. But not him. Never him. “Let’s go. You’re tired.”

“I’m not.” You were quick to argue. Always quick to argue. Then you took your fighting stance again, facing him rather than the punching bag, your fists up in the air. Ready to spar. “Come on. And don’t be gentle with me.”

“No.” He declined politely. “You’ve been here for hours. You need to shower, eat, and get some sleep. I can’t have you walking around looking like that anymore.” He stepped closer, your dark red gloves almost touching his chest. “I know you think you messed up on our last mission. But you didn’t. We made it out alive, all of us. Stop punishing yourself for things you didn’t do.”

You lowered your fists. Looking defeated. Bucky always saw right through you. “But I put us at risk. I didn’t wait for the signal,” You stated. “I could’ve gotten us all killed.”

“But you didn’t.” He said firmly. “Besides, one mistake doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the best out of all of us.” He sighed upon seeing how truly hard you could be on yourself. “Give yourself some grace.”

You hung your head again. Bucky wanted to hold you close and not let go until you felt better. And it killed him that he didn't know how to get you out of that dark, shadowy pit of guilt and disappointment. He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers cupping your face. “What’s going on with you? Where are you?” He whispered, “Come back to us.”

Come back to me.

You gave him a faint smile. Bucky had always been your safe place. With his dreamy blue and often tired eyes, and his Disney prince, perfect hair, and his charming smile. He was definitely your go-to person. You loved the rest of the team, but Bucky was special. He somehow always got it. With him, you never had to explicitly explain everything, he always just understood what you meant. He spoke your language.

You two had always been closer to each other than to the others. And while the others constantly teased you about the tension between you two, you never acted on it, nor did either of you ever deny it. Sure, flirty comments here and there were a regular thing. And you both cared deeply for one another, but you never talked about it in a serious way. Having the other there was always just… comfortable.

Bucky managed to get you out of the gym and sent you to your floor. He took the stairs to the kitchen again and made you a plate, full of your favourite things, and took it to your room. The door was unlocked and he could still hear you in the shower. He didn’t want to disturb you so he placed the plate on your bed and left.

–

Hours later, Bucky still couldn’t sleep. He’d received a text from you, you thanked him for bringing you food and said you were off to bed. But something was keeping him restless. He didn’t know what it was. He simply couldn’t stay still.

He quickly checked the cameras and was relieved to see the gym was empty. Which meant that you were up in your room. Which was a good thing, but something in his gut was telling him to go check up on you. Bucky got up immediately as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

He made his way to your floor again, the entire building was quiet. It was well past midnight and he said he’d just check on you. Nothing else. He would knock on your door and if you didn’t answer immediately, he would go back up to his room.

But something told him you were still awake. And if you were awake you were probably overthinking yourself to death, drowning in guilt and disappointment. Bucky sighed, waiting for the elevator to stop on your floor. That look in your eyes earlier in the gym was haunting him. He missed the spark in you. The brightness. That empty look… he wanted it gone.

Bucky found himself rethinking his actions once he was at your bedroom door. There was still silence, even on the other side. But he knocked twice, he had to.

He waited, a little embarrassed because what the hell would he say he was here for? That is, if you were still up.

He was still wondering what he would actually say when you opened the door quickly, as if you were waiting for him to show up.

Bucky took one look at you and your face, tear-stained and lips trembling as you tried to keep it all in, and he pulled you into his arms immediately. Walking in and shutting the door behind him, Bucky kept his arms securely around you.

Your breaths were shaky. Your body trembling with your quiet sobs.

“Hey, I’m here.” Bucky whispered, his lips pressed against your forehead. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay. I’m here.”

And somehow, being in his arms made the darkness go away gradually. Bucky’s scent, his body heat, the feeling of his strong arms around you, hearing his steady heartbeat, it calmed you down instantly.

“Come here,” He walked over to your bed, sat down on the edge and pulled you down onto his lap. He had hugged you many times before, but this felt different. Intimate. But natural. It felt like you belonged there in his arms.

You straddled his thighs, limbs wrapped around him like he was the only thing left in the world. Like he was all you had. Your face hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands running up and down your back and sides while he kept mumbling reassuring words in your ear. You felt safe.

“I’m sorry.” You said.

And your voice was so quiet and weak that it broke his heart. “Don’t be.” He quickly said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We all make mistakes, it’s okay.”

“I feel… inadequate.” You sniffled, pulling away to look him in the eyes. His ocean blue ones looked into your eyes with so much patience and warmth that it healed parts of you. “And empty,” You continued. “I feel like I’m not doing enough. Like I'm still not strong enough. Just not enough.”

“Hey,” He cupped your face in his hands. “Just ‘cause that’s what the voices are screaming at you, doesn’t mean it’s true. Okay? None of what you just said is true.” He said, sincerely. “None of it. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re fierce and kind. You boss most of us around, but you care so deeply and it shows.” His thumbs wiped your tears away. “You add so much to our team, don’t you see that? You’re one of the few people Bob is comfortable around. You and Ava make a deadly combo. You and Yelena keep everything in order. You and John work really well together when it comes to keeping us safe or protecting us during combat. You and Alexei, well, he loves you just as much as he loves Yelena.” Bucky listed, “And as for you and I, we’re simply the best duo there can be, aren’t we?” He sounded a little playful.

And it put a faint smile on your face. You sniffled, nodding slowly. “Just having a rough couple of days, I guess.”

It was more than just that, but Bucky only asked, “What do you need? And don’t say you need to box or spar, or anything. Clearly that’s not helping like it usually does.” He pointed out. “You wanna take a few days off and go somewhere to clear your head?”

You shook your head, whispering, “No. I like it here. It’s fine, I just… I don’t know.” You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can’t quite put it into words.”

“Try.” He said, “Take your time. I’m here, I’ll listen.”

You sighed again, unable to look him in the eyes as you spoke. “I just feel numb all the time. And it gets worse when I don’t do my job well. And now I’m struggling to just… feel something. I feel nothing all the time lately and I know it sounds like I’m whining about it but…” You took another deep breath, “It’s exhausting. It’s heavy. It’s not just numbness, it’s like I’m stagnant and I want to get out of… whatever this state is and I try, I try but something keeps dragging me down and keeping me in a chokehold right where it feels the heaviest. I wanna get out. Of my head, out of this weird headspace I’m in but nothing helps. Nothing works. I don’t know. I don’t know if that made sense, I’m just fucked up I guess.”

Chokehold. He knew that feeling all too well. “You’re not fucked up.” He said, “I know how it feels.”

“I know you do.” You finally met his eyes and the shadows disappeared gradually. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Buck.”

“What can I do to help?” He asked. It killed him to see you like this. You were here but also so distant. He wanted you back, for your own sake, but also because he missed having his best friend around.

“Make me feel something.” You said, softly like you were afraid someone else might hear. “Anything, please.”

“Oh, baby.” Something about the way you sounded so vulnerable, which was rare from you, made Bucky forget about everything else. He didn’t care, all he wanted to do was piece you back together. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, and leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, hands trailing down your body until he placed his hands on the curve of your ass and pulled you into him even more.

You gasped against his mouth, kissing him back slowly, melting into him. His metal hand came to rest on your exposed thigh, only then did you realise that in your PJ shorts really didn’t hide much. His cold fingers lazily grazed the crease between your hip and thigh, and it was all you could focus on in the moment, other than the heat of his mouth.

Bucky pulled away to whisper, “Just so you know, we can stop if you don’t want this,” before he kissed you hungrily again, his beard and his long, soft hair tickling your face. “We can go back to talking and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

“Please don’t stop.” You mumbled against his mouth. “I need this. I need you.”

“Okay,” He whispered, in between kisses, “I won’t stop, baby. I’ve got you,” He repeated. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. Okay?”

You pulled away from the kiss, teary eyed again. “I trust you, Buck.”

Bucky accepted the weight of that trust, he cupped your face and said softly, “I know, angel. I’m gonna take care of you. I promise.”

You could’ve sworn he used superhuman speed with how fast he flipped the two of you, tossing you down on your bed as he climbed on top of you. He carefully grabbed your hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly as he whispered, “I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t be.” You pleaded, looking up at him. His hair framed his face in a perfectly messy way. His body was warm above you. Bucky was always warmer than most people, you figured it was a supersoldier thing. “I don’t want gentle.”

He nodded. “Okay, angel. Remember, we can stop whenever you want to. Alright?”

“Yes.”

Bucky held your stare as he rapidly undid the buttons of your satin PJ top, and immediately diving in to take a nipple into his mouth once the top was open. Sucking, and biting until your back arched off the bed.

“Bucky…” You gasped, and moaned as he alternated between each breast while his hand slipped down to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs until you kicked it off yourself.

He pulled away to look at you, sprawled on the bed under him. Then he leaned in to whisper against your lips, “You don’t want gentle, huh? Well, you’re gonna be a good girl and do exactly as I say, okay? I need you to stop thinking, to stop calculating, and analysing, just listen to me. My voice and that’s it.”

He knew what it was like – that feeling of wanting someone to just tell you what to do. It didn’t have to be sexual like right now, but just the loss of control in a safe, consensual way. With someone you trust blindly. He knew it could heal, partly at least. So he knew exactly what you needed right now.

He kissed you roughly, taking what he wanted from your open, willing mouth before pulling away to look down at you with a dangerous, gorgeous smile on his lips. “You’re all mine now. You hear me?” He whispered against your mouth. “You’re my perfect girl. And my perfect girl doesn’t put herself down. She doesn’t think she's not good enough. She doesn’t think she’s done a bad job. She doesn’t think she’s fucked up. Because she’s not. She’s my good fucking girl, and she’s perfect. You hear me? You’re perfect.”

You gasped as he lazily ran his metal fingers down your wet folds.

“Look at you, such a good girl. Lying here so perfectly with your legs spread, just letting me touch you however I want.” He stated, grabbing your face in his other hand as he slid two metal fingers inside you. His voice was steady, controlled, and firm as he said, “This is how it’s gonna be from now on, okay? Whenever you need to be reminded how good you are, you come find me.” He slid his fingers deeper, pulling them out slowly in a way that he knew drove you insane, judging by the sounds you made. “Whenever the voices get too loud, you come find me.” He did it again. “Whenever it gets too dark, you come find me.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll fix it, baby. I always will. You don’t have to carry all that alone, I’ll help you. I’ve got you from now on, you get that? You’re not alone, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He had you coming all over his fingers in no time. He stroked you in all the right places and your body responded to each one of his lazy, deliberate strokes beautifully. You squirmed as he kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm.

“There’s my perfect girl,” He cooed, watching you squirm and whine under him. “You did so well,” He kissed your cheek, then the other, “You sound so perfect when you come.”

He pulled away for a brief moment, getting off of you and standing at the end of your bed, taking his t-shirt and sweatpants off but leaving his boxers, lowered just enough to free his erected cock.

He stood there, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it twice while he held your stare. “It’s all for you, angel. All for you and no one else.” He said, watching with a slight smirk as you looked down at his cock and bit your lower lip. “Are you gonna be my good girl and take it?”

You nodded quickly, “Yes.” Not even realising that all the prior shadowy thoughts had completely left your head. This was all you could focus on – him. Bucky. With his perfect body, and his beautiful hair, and his dreamy eyes. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.

Buckley climbed on top of you again. “Careful what you ask for, baby. Supersoldiers don’t get tired.” He sounded so cocky it made you only want him more just to prove him wrong.

“I want you, please,” You begged, looking up at him with those eyes that made him weak.

One of his hands found its way to your throat and he wrapped his fingers around it carefully as he stared into your eyes. “Nothing else holds my girl in a chokehold but me, you hear that? Nothing else has power over you, but me. And you,” He leaned in closer to make sure his point got across, “You are my good girl. You’re enough. You do a great job everyday. You’re stronger than all that’s trying to drag you down. And you’re louder than all the dark voices, you hear me?”

You nodded, the look in his eyes was so intense, so raw and sincere, and so shamelessly feral that you might’ve come undone right there if he asked you to.

“You will come for me like my good girl, won’t you, baby?” He asked, guiding the tip of his cock over to your clit and circling it, smearing his precum and your wetness around.

You whimpered at the sensation. So fucking good. You nodded rapidly, “Yes… please,” You begged.

“Of course you will,” Bucky chuckled, “Because you’re my perfect girl.” He teased you a bit more by just pressing the tip of his cock against your tight hole. Not pushing it in, just pressing ever so gently until you whined and clawed at his neck and shoulders, sliding your fingers into his ridiculously soft hair and tugging on it gently.

“Bucky, please.” You mumbled, “Please, please, please…”

“I know baby, I know.” He said, keeping his hand around your throat, pinning you down on your bed with it. “I’m here, I’ll make it feel good.” He whispered, before pushing his cock all the way inside you.

You gasped loudly at the same time as he groaned when he slid all the way in you. He remained still for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of your warmth around him. Your breath was shaky as you felt him fill you up and stretch you out so deliciously, snug, deep, and big inside you.

Bucky looked down at your face contorting in pleasure as he breathed heavily. Then he moved just a little, and the slightest friction made you whine even louder. “Does that feel good, baby? Is that cock good enough for my perfect girl? Hmm?”

“Yes…” You breathed, looking at his gorgeous face above you. Fuck, you could spend forever here under him. He felt so good.

“Look at that,” He said, “You’re tearing up already,” He pointed out, noticing the wetness in the corners of your eyes. “Feel good inside you, don’t I?” He teased, rolling his hips just the slightest bit in between your thighs.

You cried out in pleasure.

He tightened his grip around your throat slightly and said, “I know baby, I know it feels good. This is exactly what my good girl deserves.” He whispered. Then he said, “Now, keep your pretty eyes on me. I want you to watch me while I fuck you, okay?”

You nodded quickly, a tear escaping your eye already. Fuck, he felt so good.

Bucky let out a grunt as he started fucking into you hard and fast. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, holding your stare and telling you how good you felt.

You could only respond with moans and whimpers, which only made him fuck you harder.

He sped up into you, mumbling, “Knew you’d feel fucking amazing around me. ‘Cause you’re my perfect girl, aren’t you? Perfect, tight pussy as well.” He whispered, in a daze as he pounded into you. “You were fucking made for me.”

Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, you were burning. Bright and hot. Like the fucking sun. And he was giving it to you like you wanted it, hard, fast and raw.

His thrust was relentless, his weight on top of you felt too good. So good you never wanted him to pull out of you, so you raised your trembling legs and wrapped them around his hips.

He chuckled when you did that. “Yeah? Don’t want me to stop, do you?” He taunted. “Just want me to keep going, keep fucking my good girl how she likes it, huh?” He pressed the sides of your throat as he fucked deeper into you.

He watched as you got closer and closer to the edge. And just when you were right there… he stopped abruptly, and pulled out.

You gasped in shock.

“Oh what, you thought you could just come so easily?” He teased, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you around onto your stomach. “I tried to be nice and sweet to you, but that’s not what you want or need, is it, baby?” You moaned as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your lower back with one hand, while the other guided his cock over to your hole again. “You see? This is what you need.” He leaned over you to whisper into your ear, sliding back inside you as he said, “You wanted me to make you feel something, huh? Do you feel it now, baby?” He tugged on your pinned wrists, which made you whine in pain and pleasure. “You feel me inside you? Right where I belong, isn’t it?”

You nodded, rubbing your face against your dark, cool bed sheets. “Yes…”

He began fucking into you from behind, hard and fast. Mercilessly. Like he was claiming you. Marking his territory. Rough. Raw. The pleasure was overwhelming, building, and building, and building…

Until you couldn’t hold it back much longer…

“Come for me, angel.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “Be my good girl and come all over…”

You didn’t hear the rest. You came all over his cock with a loud moan, gasping and crying as he came right after you – filling you up with his cum as he did. You were gasping for air, and so was he. His body weight on top of you felt nice, his body heat felt nice. Everything was nice, light, and perfect.

He let go of your wrists and then you felt him kiss along your spine, gently. Softly. Like he hadn’t been fucking you like an animal just seconds ago. “You okay, baby?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “My pretty girl, so perfect for me.”

You were still catching your breath when Bucky lay beside you and pulled you into his arms. You immediately clung to his side.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered.

You sighed, with a faint smile forming on your face. Your cheek pressing against his damp chest. “Thank you, Buck.” Your mind was quiet, but in a good way. “I needed that.”

“I know.” He murmured, rubbing your back in that soothing way he always did.

But then, you still had one question. “How did you know when to come find me? I texted you I was going to bed.” How did he even know to come and check on you? How did he know you weren’t doing well at all?

A smirk, then he said, “I always know what my girl needs.”

You teased, “Your girl, huh?”

“You’ve always been my girl.”

—

a/n: [escapes my padded cell to throw this at your face]

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #thunderbolts #avenger!reader

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deepspace-scenarios · 1 month ago

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[scenario/drabble] Muscle Pain Relief

LIs react when you experience muscle aches from exercising. They tend to your pain and get just the tiniest bit side-tracked. Genre: fluff; Tw: suggestiveness (a lot of it)

SYLUS

"Really now? A trial class at the gym did this? I thought you'd be more resilient." Sylus smirks as you groan, his fingers pressing into a particularly stubborn knot between your shoulder blades.

You glare over your shoulder. "I am. I just got too ambitious and chose the advanced class,"

"Mhm." He flicks on a sleek massage device, its hum quickly soothing the pain, making you sigh and melt against the pleasant sensation.

The device stops.

He chuckles when you let out a disappointed whine. “Ambition comes at a cost. But I'll gladly help you repay it,”

His free hand massages your shoulder, then he traces the curve of your neck lightly with his finger, trailing near your collarbones.

The moment his finger dips under your collarbone, you hiss, jerking away from his touch- just to collide backwards into his chest.

“Does it hurt, or were you just… sensitive?" He asks, voice low and the slightest bit rougher.

“Hurts,"You grumble.

That workout did a number on your pectorals- you had no idea the chest muscle would be connected all the way to your stupid collarbone.

Sylus, on the other hand, seems to be having the time of his life.

You feel him press a kiss to your shoulder, then you neck-

“I'll take your word for it, Miss Hunter,"he says lightly, but with the way his breath fans across your skin and how his fingers trace feather-light circles at the skin below your collarbones, his free hand gripping your waist just a bit tighter- you know he has more on his mind. And so do you, because the air feels electrified, warm and dark with anticipated promises.

“Excuse you, Mr Physio," you fire back weakly, “This isn't the service I was promised,”

"Patience," he purrs, watching your frustration with amusement. "You will be granted everything you requested for… if you tell me everything that's going on in that pretty little head of yours right now,"

Your face flushes red. What an absolute, infuriating tease.

“I will... if you tell me what's on your mind too,”

“Negotiating now, kitten?” He says with a chuckle. “How about I show you?”

___

XAVIER

You all but collapse onto the bed after your shower, the accumulated fatigue from work and an intense stress-relief gym session feeling like a crate of sandbags on your shoulders.

You lie belly-down and prop your chin on your forearms, then immediately regretting the motion when you feel the muscle ache radiate through your upper back.

“Ow,” you mumble into the blanket under you.

Chirpy music comes to a halt when Xavier pauses his game, tossing his phone to one side.

“What's wrong?” He says, voice laced with concern.

You turn your head to look at him. “Just… the gym. No Wanderers to blame this time.”

"You pushed yourself hard today," Xavier murmurs, his palms warm against your sore shoulders. "It’s admirable… but let me ease the aftermath."

You go limp under his gentle touch, his thumbs circling the tension with just enough pressure. "Mmm… how are you this good at this?"

"Practice," he says innocently- but then his fingers dip under your shirt and inch up your back. "Though this… is purely self-indulgent."

“Xavi-”

“Hmm?” His hands smoothly trace your shoulder blades, following the groove until they're tracing down, all the way down to the small of your back.

Your breath hitches. He smiles, slow and knowing.

"Shh," he whispers, lips grazing your ear as he gently presses on sore muscles. "I will only ease your discomfort tonight. I won't get greedy. But once you’re recovered… I’ll show you other ways to relax after training,”

___

ZAYNE

Over dessert, you mentioned casually that your muscle pain onset was quicker than usual. Zayne nodded, and the night seemed to continue as usual.

That is, until you struggle to change into loungewear at home.

The act of taking your t-shirt off made your muscles protest, and once you wrestled it off, you picked a flannel, because to hell with anything that needed you to raise your arms higher than your shoulder.

Zayne, ever the observant lover, interrogated you for the odd choice of clothing.

A few moments later, you sit at the side of the bed while he kneels on the mattress behind you.

Zayne’s examination is brusque with efficiency- fingers prodding, joints tested. "Minor strain. Temporary pain is expected, but nothing crippling."

You pout. "Wow. Such clinical precision."

"I’m a surgeon, not a physio," he deadpans, but moves to retrieve a pain-relief cream anyway.

“May I-?” He asks softly, uncapping the bottle.

You nod, his question innocent and practical, but the implication of being under his watchful gaze as you unbutton your shirt makes your face heat up.

His touch is meticulous, smoothing the gel over your skin with unexpected tenderness.

Your heart skips, fluttering warmth spreading through your chest. It's nice when Zayne takes care of you like this.

And thank heavens you're not going through a cardiac assessment right now, because you'd be mortified at the stats- and Zayne would be equal parts amused and exasperated.

When you sigh, his fingers stutter. "…Does that hurt?"

"No," you murmur, locking eyes with him. "Feels good."

You see a familiar hunger seep into his eyes, and he looks away. "Don’t- don’t say it like that."

“What?” You ask coyly, tracing his jaw and feeling him lean subtly into your touch.

He exhales through his nose, calm, measured. Like he's trying to stop himself from unravelling.

He catches your hand and threads your fingers together. “At least let me take care of you first, before you continue with your mischief,”

Knowing Zayne, that in itself is both a permission and a promise.

___

RAFAYEL

It was a mistake to stretch, the familiar motion- or attempt at raising your arms high above your head.

You're now at the mercy of all the tight knots in your body drilling pain into your soul.

Rafayel, of course, notices immediately and ushers you into his room in a flurry of questions, prodding, and nuzzles (“my cutie deserves a spa treatment for training so hard today!”)

And so, here you are, in Rafayel's ornately decorated ensuite bathroom.

"Magnesium salt! Magic for muscles!" Rafayel says excitedly, dumping a suspicious amount into the steaming bath. "Trust me, Miss Bodyguard. I’m an artist- we invented suffering for our craft!"

Rafayel then drizzles lavender oil into the bath.

"This’ll make you glow like… like a bioluminescent jellyfish," he declares, pushing up the sleeve of his bathrobe and testing the water with his elbow.

Seeming satisfied, he offers you a hand. "Your magical healing bath awaits,"

You eye the water warily. "It won’t turn me purple, right?"

"Pfft. I wish it really did that. I'd even want to create a bath that gives you a beautiful iridescent glow, my cutie. But, until I figure out how to do that, it is only pleasantly scented mineral water,"

He guides you in, "Now relax.”

The moment you sink in, he gasps, "Wait-! I forgot something-”

Before you can turn your head, he’s shrugging off the bathrobe. And then you yelp- he joins you, towel barely clinging to his hips once he lowers himself into the bath behind you. "Raf- why are you in here?!"

"Can't forget me, your favourite fishie," He beams at you and splashes lazily. "…Also, it's easier to give you a massage this way."

His hand finds your shoulders, and as you melt into his gentle massages, you realise- he does have a knack for all things involving self-care and pampering, and he is never frugal about it when it comes to you.

___

CALEB

You know he rushed back from work once he saw you text him a few complaints about your aching muscles, because he’s still wearing the pressed white shirt that he usually layers under the colonel jacket. Normally, he’d change into a tee before heading home.

He’s seated you on the yoga mat, and you’re watching some home renovation show on the TV while Caleb manoeuvres your arms. A semi-permanent grimace is etched on your face from the sore muscle groups being recruited into unwanted movements.

“Focus, pipsqueak. Stop holding your breath,”

Caleb’s hands are firm, guiding you through stretches designed for fleet pilots to enhance post-mission recovery.

"Next part’s gonna hurt," he warns. "But it’ll help. Breathe through it."

You whimper as he presses into your shoulder deeper- and instantly, his grip loosens. "Too much?"

"Nuh-No, just… intense."

His ears redden at your breathy tone. "You- uh- gotta stop making those noises."

You grin at how flustered he looks. "Or what?"

“Or else,” He corrects, his expression morphing into one that foreshadows breathy whispers and heated touches that leave you shaking.

A hand tips your chin up, and his lips graze your earlobe.

“Or else- I won’t be able to hold back, and you won’t be able to handle it, not in your state,”

“Caleb- aha.. Ha, I know. I’m just- just kidding,” you breathe, cheeks bright red.

“Of course you are,” he says, voice low as he continues with the massage. “Now stay still for me.”

748 notes · View notes

papayainsectorone · 1 month ago

Text

You wanna help me stretch?

════════════════════════

inspired by this post @f1kenny121

summary: summer break is nearly over and training is starting again

content: 18+ !! nsfw, smut, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise, slight power play, soft dom!Lando, tears of pleasure, emotional intensity, explicit language, mutual desperation

word count: 4,1 k

pairing: lando norris x female!reader

════════════════════════

The late summer sun bleeds through the windows, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The house is too quiet. You’ve spent the whole day drifting from room to room, fingertips grazing along surfaces, pretending you weren’t just waiting for Lando to reappear.

Summer break is nearly over, and with the second half of the season looming, he's back to training—even if he hates every second of it. The workouts, the early mornings, the constant push to stay sharp—it’s not his favorite part. But he does it. Because he has to.

But now, standing in the doorway of the home gym, the silence pays off.

He doesn’t see you at first. He's seated on the workout bench, hunched slightly forward, three fingers gripped tightly in his other hand like he's stretching them out—or maybe nursing them. His brows are furrowed, mouth slack with focus. Sweat drips from his hairline down his neck, slicking his collarbones and tracing a line over the flex of his chest.

His thighs straddle the bench, solid and wide, every inch of him brimming with tension from disuse and the stubbornness to push through. You’ve seen him like this before—when he’s about to make a move, whether on track or in bed. This version of him, concentrated and messy, is your favorite.

You forget the words you meant to say. Something about a snack? Or that it’s too hot to be doing this? You can’t even clear your throat, let alone form a sentence. Your legs stay rooted to the floor. The air is thick. His skin glistens.

But it's not his skin that keeps you staring.

It’s his fingers.

The way they curl and flex as he stretches them, knuckles taut, tendons shifting beneath skin. He winces a little as he grips the middle three tighter, jaw ticking. You can’t tell if it’s pain or just pressure but it doesn’t matter. All you can think about is how those fingers would feel against your skin. Inside you. Around your throat. Holding you open.

Your mouth nearly waters.

You cross your legs, needing something—anything—to press against. It barely helps. You can feel your pulse between your thighs.

That’s when he notices you.

“I’m almost done, babe,” he says without much thought, voice low and casual. He glances down at his fingers, still working them slowly. The motion shouldn't feel intimate, but it does.

“Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he’s suddenly aware of what exactly you're staring at. His thumb strokes along the length of his middle finger, absentminded but devastating.

Your brain stutters back to life, though your voice is breathy when it comes out.

“Ma-maybe I’ll join you.”

His eyes flick up, wide, and for a second it’s like he stops breathing altogether. You take a step forward. Then another. You don’t break his gaze, even as it darkens with something heavier.

He drops his hand to his thigh, still spread wide around the bench, and watches you approach.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rougher now. “You wanna help me stretch?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” you say, voice light, almost innocent. “I think I would take a stretch.”

You hold his gaze, letting it drop ever so slowly—down his chest, to the gleam of sweat on his abdomen, and finally to where his fingers still rest against his thigh. His lips twitch at the corner, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.

You step over the bench and straddle it, knees brushing against his. The closeness makes your breath hitch, the warmth of his skin radiating straight into yours.

“Comfortable?” he murmurs.

“I could be.”

You both glance down at the same time—at his hand. His long, slick fingers. He flexes them again, slower now, deliberately. The movement makes your mouth part on instinct.

“Can’t stop staring,” he says, voice soft and dangerous. “Bet you’ve been thinking about them all day, haven’t you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. The way you shift in place, grinding subtly into the bench for friction, says it for you.

“Tell me,” he leans forward just slightly, voice just for you now, “what exactly do you want them to do, hmm?”

Your breath shudders. He lifts his hand and brings it to your knee—doesn’t even grip, just rests it there—and your whole body tenses.

“I—” Your eyes flick to his hand. “I don’t know.”

He grins. “You do know. Don´t be shy about it now.”

Then, without warning, he brings his fingers to your mouth.

“Open.”

You do. Obedient. Eager.

He slips two in, slowly, and you close your lips around them like you’ve been craving the taste. He groans low and under his breath but you catch it. You swirl your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken, his pupils blown wide as your mouth works him.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Look at you.”

You moan around them soft, needy and the sound makes his jaw clench. His hand tightens slightly where it rests on your knee.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked already, aren’t you?”

You nod, still sucking, your thighs clenching around the bench. He slowly pulls his fingers out, the sound slick and sinful.

“I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he says. “And you’re already falling apart.”

You lean in closer, desperate for more, but he just smirks.

“Patience,” he murmurs. “We’re just getting started.”

The air between you crackles, thick and heavy. His fingers are still glistening from your mouth when he slowly drops them to the bench, dragging them along the edge just beside your thigh—close enough to make you flinch, but not touch.

“I could make you come,” he says, almost conversational, “without ever fucking you.”

Your thighs twitch.

“Just these fingers,” he continues, lifting them again, letting you watch every lazy curl and flex. “Two inside, more if you’re greedy. Curl them just right. Thumb on your clit. I wouldn’t even need to move much, you’d do all the work for me.”

You swallow hard, your mouth dry again despite what just happened. You’re starting to breathe through your thighs, desperate for pressure. For anything.

“Poor baby,” he hums. “Already squirming. And I haven’t even touched you there yet.”

He reaches forward now, finally, hooking his hands under your thighs and tugging—slow, strong—until you're sliding forward, legs falling wider around his knees, straddling him open and shameless. The bench presses hard beneath you. The only thing grounding you.

You grip the sides of it to keep yourself upright, arching slightly back as he leans in, his face still maddeningly calm. Like he has all the time in the world.

“Such a good view like this,” he mutters, tugging at the hem of your shorts. “Look at you.”

You make a soft, breathless sound—half protest, half plea—but you lift your hips, let him peel the shorts down, and when he does, he curses.

“Fuck.”

His thumb brushes just barely over the soaked fabric of your underwear. He groans again, dragging the edge aside for a peek.

“Oh, baby… it’s so easy. I knew you were already this wet.”

The sound you make isn't even a moan—more like a gasp, a choke of arousal and embarrassment all in one.

He smiles, slow and sharp.

“You love it when I talk like this, don’t you?”

You nod, breath hitching again as he lifts one hand—that hand—and brings his thumb back to your mouth.

“Open.”

You part your lips again, greedier this time. He slides in with purpose now, pressing down on your tongue, keeping your mouth full while his other hand starts to move—slow, torturous circles against the inside of your thigh.

Not quite where you need him. Not yet.

You moan around his thumb, hips shifting involuntarily, trying to chase friction.

“Not yet,” he says, voice thick with control. “I’ll tell you when.”

And the worst part?

You want him to.

Your breath catches as his thumb presses down harder on your tongue. He watches the way your lips part, the way your jaw slackens around it, like he could read every desperate little thought spilling through your mind just by the way you take his touch.

“Bet you taste as good here,” he mutters, half to himself, then drags his thumb out, wet and glistening.

His other hand trails up—finally, finally—over the inside of your thigh. You feel the brush of his knuckles first, then the slight dip of his wrist as he moves in.

And then contact.

One slow stroke through your folds, slick and unbearably sensitive. You jolt at the first touch, head tipping back slightly, a broken sound slipping from your throat.

He groans softly. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”

You nod, barely breathing, back arching even further, hands gripping the bench behind you so tightly your knuckles go white.

He teases again just one finger, lazy and slow, tracing circles around your entrance without dipping in.

“You want it?” he asks, voice low and smug.

“Y-yes,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums like he’s considering it—like he hasn’t already decided what he’s going to do.

Then, slowly, he slides one finger in.

Your body clenches around it instantly, a shiver running through you at the stretch of it, even if it’s just one. His hand stills inside you, and your hips buck forward instinctively.

But he doesn’t move.

“Feel that?” he asks, leaning in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just one, and you’re already so tight.”

You whimper, trying to move your hips again, but his free hand comes down on your thigh—firm, steadying.

“No, baby,” he whispers. “You stay still. You let me have you like this.”

Then, torturously slow, he starts to move that finger—curling it up, dragging it out, then back in. Unhurried. Deep. Precise.

You’re already shaking.

He adds a second, and you cry out, hips rocking despite his grip. He doesn't stop you this time—he lets you ride his hand for a moment, lets you get just enough friction to start climbing toward that dizzying edge.

Then he stops.

Completely.

You gasp, body tense and twitching, your walls fluttering around nothing.

“Lando—please—”

“Not yet,” he says again, with a cruel smile. “You don’t get to come just because you want to.”

You groan, your head falling forward, forehead brushing against his shoulder. You're panting now, every muscle strung tight.

He leans in, kisses your cheek so softly it makes you ache.

“I’ll give you what you need,” he murmurs. “But not until you beg for it. Not until you’re so fucking desperate you can’t say anything else.”

Then—two fingers again—thrusting deep, curling hard into the spot that makes your vision blur.

But just as you start to unravel—

He pulls away.

“Please,” you whisper—voice cracking, small. “Lando, please, I need— I need to—”

He watches you fall apart on the edge of the sentence. Your chest rising and falling, thighs trembling around him, hips twitching as if your body’s trying to finish what he keeps denying.

“Need to what?” he asks, softly cruel. His fingers are still buried inside you, unmoving, just there—reminding you who’s in control.

You shake your head, helpless. “Please. Let me come. I can’t— I need it.”

A long pause.

Then he shifts. His other arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you forward until you’re straddling his thighs completely, chest to chest. You clutch at his shoulders for balance, breath fanning across his neck.

“Alright,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “You’ve been good.”

And then he moves.

His fingers curl up inside you again, that perfect rhythm returning like he never stopped. Deep and precise. Every stroke sends a sharp, blinding jolt through you. His palm presses against your clit now, every motion designed to undo you.

It doesn’t take long.

You’re already so close, your body trembling with the force of it, moaning shamelessly into his neck. Your hips grind down against his hand, chasing it, needing it.

And when you finally come, it rips through you like a wave—loud and messy, your body jerking, thighs clenching around his. He holds you through it, arm firm around your waist, keeping you grounded while you writhe and cry out against him.

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers stay inside. His thumb keeps circling. You flinch from the sensitivity, but he just shushes you, his voice all dark velvet now.

“Shh… I know, I know. But you can take it.”

You barely have time to process it before he starts moving again—deeper now, slower but relentless.

You squirm in his lap, trying to lift your hips, but his arm around your back tightens.

“Oh no, baby. Not done yet.”

You’re breathing in gasps now, mind foggy with overstimulation. His fingers drag over that same spot again, and your whole body jerks.

“You think you can take one more?” he asks, voice low and thick.

You don’t know what he means—another orgasm? Another finger?

But it doesn’t matter. You nod, frantic, clinging to him.

“Good girl,” he growls. “Open up for me.”

And then—a third finger presses against your entrance, joining the others slowly, stretching you further than before. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, head tipping back.

You’re full. Too full.

And still—you want more.

The third finger slides in slow—but it still punches the air right out of your lungs.

The stretch is too much. Too good. You collapse against him without even thinking, your body folding forward as your arms scramble to hold on to something—his shoulders, his chest, his neck. Anything to stop you from tipping over completely.

“Easy,” he murmurs, voice thick with arousal, the barest rasp curling around the word. “You feel that, baby?”

You nod barely, a choked sound falling from your lips that doesn’t resemble a word at all. Just a noise, raw and wrecked.

It goes straight through him.

Your head rests on his shoulder now, lips parted against his skin, and you're making sounds that have no place in the daylight. Unholy sounds—wet and breathy and trembling—moans that spill right into his ear, sending visible shudders down his spine.

He breathes out a curse and tightens his arm around your waist, anchoring you to him.

And then his thumb moves again.

A soft, slow drag over your clit, slick and maddening. Your whole body jerks, thighs twitching violently, but there’s nowhere to go—his hand between your legs, his body caging you in.

You try to close your thighs, instinctively trying to shield yourself from how much it is, but you can’t. Not with him there—his hips wide between yours, thighs bracketing you in place.

“Lando—fuck—Lando, I—” It’s barely a whisper, more like a sob.

You clutch at your own thighs now, hands fisting in your own skin, trying to ground yourself, to hold something through the crushing intensity—but nothing helps. Not when his fingers keep moving, deep and deliberate inside you, his thumb unrelenting.

You’re already there again. It crashes into you like your whole body is detonating from the inside out.

You go still—then trembling—hips stuttering, breath gone completely.

All you can do is whimper, face buried in his shoulder, thighs shaking around him, as your body clenches around his fingers and the high keeps going.

“That’s it,” he growls, voice right in your ear. “So fucking good. God, listen to you. Can’t even talk.”

You shake your head, still trying to breathe. Still feeling it. Still full.

And he hasn’t stopped.

You don’t even realize when he slips his fingers out—when that delicious, punishing stretch is suddenly gone. All you know is the cold shock of emptiness, and the warm, slow tease of him dragging his fingers through your folds instead. Light. Feather-soft. Too soft.

Your whole body twitches, hips trying to follow the sensation, to sink back onto him again—but there’s nothing to sink onto.

“Lando,” you gasp—voice barely there. Just air and heat.

You’re fully collapsed against him now, skin flushed and damp, face buried in his neck, breath stuttering against his pulse. Wrecked. Unraveled. His other hand strokes idly over your lower back, holding you there like you belong.

And those fingers—those fingers—are tormenting you.

They circle the rim of your entrance, slow and teasing, never pressing in. Just tracing, dragging through slick, rubbing softly through folds that are aching, twitching with the aftershocks of your last orgasm and the rising threat of the next.

You let out a broken, pleading noise that you can’t even name. Your whole body trembles against his.

He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, and it’s maddening gentle and cruel all at once.

Your only response is a shiver, a whimper that sounds like yes. He chuckles low in his throat, and you feel it vibrate against your skin.

“I think it is,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth along the side of your neck. “Look at you. Completely gone. Just because of my fingers.”

And then he kisses you there lazy kisses, open-mouthed and slow, just under your jaw, the kind that make your head spin all over again.

“You love being like this, don’t you?” Another kiss, this time higher, nearer to your ear. “Pressed against me, soaking my lap, crying for it.”

He dips his fingers again—just once, shallow, before pulling back and brushing over your clit once and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted, whimpering into his neck.

“Mm, yeah,” he groans softly, biting your shoulder. “You’ll beg for it again in a minute, won’t you?”

You nod, desperate. Wordless.

And still—he waits.

“Lando, it’s too much, I— I can’t,” you whisper, voice cracking at the edges, more breath than sound.

“I know,” he murmurs.

And still, he doesn’t stop.

He shifts with you like it’s easy, like he’s carried you this way a hundred times. One arm stays locked around your waist, guiding you as he lays you back gently on the narrow bench, body following yours. You're still clutching him, thighs spread and shaking, hips twitching at every brush of air.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers again, hovering over you, face barely an inch away. “Say the word.”

You don’t. You can’t. You’re too far gone, trembling under the weight of his body and the ache of his absence where you need him most.

He smiles—not smug, but soft. Like he knows every part of you now.

His lips press to yours. A gentle kiss, slow and unhurried, like you're not already soaking his lap and half-crying from how badly you need him. He kisses down your neck, tongue trailing, teeth grazing, then nibbles at the curve of your ear.

You gasp again, another moan escaping you, your body arching into his even without thinking.

Only then does he finally pull his hand up from between your legs, fingers soaked, dripping, glistening in the low light. He stares at them for a beat, breath catching.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark. “Look what you did.”

You can only watch him wide-eyed, panting, almost pleading.

Then he brings those fingers to his mouth.

And sucks them clean.

Slowly. One at a time. Licking each digit like he’s tasting dessert, groaning low in his throat. His tongue flicks at the base of his knuckles, and your thighs twitch again.

You’re dizzy watching him.

And when he’s done, he looks at you again eyes smoldering now, like he's barely holding himself together.

He reaches down, trailing his wet fingers across your lips.

“Open,” he whispers.

You do.

And he slips them in.

You suck greedily, tongue swirling around them, and it’s him who moans now deep and ragged, his hips dropping hard against yours, finally chasing friction.

The contact shocks a gasp from you both.

You feel it—him—hard and heavy through his shorts, grinding slowly into your soaked heat. The thin barrier does nothing. You feel every movement, every flex of his hips as he lets himself finally take what he needs.

“God, you feel that?” he growls, pulling his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down your chest as he ruts against you. “I’ve been holding back all fucking day.”

His forehead drops to yours, breathing hard.

You’re already so open to him, thighs still twitching, lips parted around the breath you can't catch—so when he finally shifts, tugging his shorts down just enough to free himself, it feels like the world holds its breath.

You certainly do.

And then he presses in.

There’s no warning. No teasing. Just one slow, thick glide of his cock between your folds, catching at your entrance—already so soaked, so ready for him—and then he pushes, hips firm and steady.

You gasp, legs falling wider as he sinks into you inch by inch.

He fills you so deeply it makes your back arch right off the bench, your nails digging into his arms, eyes fluttering shut with a choked moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked. “So tight—always so tight for me.”

He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, not moving—just feeling. Letting the stretch and fullness overwhelm you both. You shudder beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Then he pulls back. Slowly. Until just the tip is left inside.

And thrusts in again deep, deliberate, like he’s staking a claim.

You cry out, head rolling to the side, breath catching.

He finds his rhythm like it’s instinct—slow, firm strokes that rock your body against the bench, controlled but possessive. Every thrust feels like a promise. Like he wants to imprint himself inside you.

“This what you needed?” he murmurs, mouth at your jaw, one hand sliding up to cup your face as he drives into you again. “Needed me to fuck you like this slow and deep, where no one else can ever reach?”

You nod, whimpering, gripping at his back now, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

His forehead presses to yours, lips brushing yours between kisses and curses and panting breaths.

He groans again, slower now, hips dragging all the way out only to slam back in, grinding against your pelvis, his cock hitting every sensitive spot with devastating precision.

“Feel so good,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect like this, spread out for me, taking it all.”

You moan louder, hands tangled in his curls now, body arching into his, chasing every drag and press of his cock like it’s the only thing that matters.

His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his waist so he can sink even deeper if that was possible. The change in angle rips a cry from your throat.

He groans again, deep and low, like it’s killing him to hold back. But he does. For you.

You don’t know when the tears start.

It’s not from pain—never from that. It’s the pressure, the fullness, the way his cock keeps hitting that spot so deep inside you it turns pleasure into something unbearable, almost too much to hold.

You blink, and they fall—slow trails down your temples as you lie back on the bench, your body trembling, shuddering beneath him. His thrusts haven’t sped up still slow, still deep but they’ve gotten heavier, more deliberate, like every single one is meant to stay with you.

He sees it the second your lip quivers.

“Baby,” he breathes, the word catching in his throat.

He leans in immediately, brushing kisses to your cheeks, catching the tears with his lips as his hand comes up to cradle your face.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re okay. I promise. You’re doing so good for me.”

His voice—low, warm, soothing—makes your chest tighten in a different way, something emotional blooming beneath the tension coiling in your gut.

You’re close again. You can feel it. Your body’s trying to run from it, hips twitching, legs shaking, but there’s nowhere to go not when he’s pressed so deep inside you, holding you so gently even while he fucks you open.

“I know it’s a lot,” he murmurs, kissing your lips now, slow and careful. “You’re so full, huh? So fucking wet, clenching around me like you can’t help it.”

You cry out at that, sobbing into his mouth, your nails digging into his back again as your body tries to contain it this aching pressure, this need to fall apart one more time.

“I’ve got you,” he says again. “Let it go. Let me feel you.”

He shifts just slightly just enough and suddenly that perfect, devastating drag of his cock has you gasping, clenching around him so hard it’s instinct, involuntary.

“Oh my—Lando—fuck—”

“That’s it,” he growls, voice tight and trembling now, his own control slipping as your body contracts around him. “Fuck, baby—God, you’re milking me—”

It tips you over like a wave crashing into shore. Your orgasm rushes up through your spine, curling you forward into his chest as your thighs shake violently around his hips. Your whole body tenses, then breaks sobbing, gasping, your cries muffled against his neck.

And that’s all it takes.

He groans a sound so raw and desperate it vibrates against your heart and his hips slam forward one final time, grinding into you as he comes, thick and hot and deep, filling you completely.

“Fuck—fuck, baby—oh, shit,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “You feel so good—so fucking good—”

His whole body shudders above you, and he collapses into your chest, still inside you, holding you like you might disappear.

You're both breathing hard now, tangled together, soaking and shaking and quiet.

He kisses you again. Your cheek, your temple, your lips. Each one soft, reverent.

“You okay?” he whispers against your mouth, voice hoarse.

“I love you like this,” he says, breath still uneven. “Fucking ruined and mine.”

You're both still trembling, bodies sticky and flushed, tangled together on the narrow bench like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

His breathing slows against your skin. One arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, anchoring you, the other hand tangled in your hair as he presses slow kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw.

You smile—barely, weakly—still catching your breath. Your legs feel like they’ve melted.

And then, voice low and wrecked but laced with a tease, you whisper against his neck:

“Thanks for the stretch.”

He freezes for a second—then laughs. That warm, wrecked kind of laugh, breathless and totally undone.

“Jesus,” he groans into your hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #mclaren #mclaren x reader #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris smut #lando norris #f1 smut #𓊆papayainone𓊇

992 notes · View notes

rafeslvbug · 21 days ago

Text

introducing…pediatrician!rafe

back to basics!! (physical)

height: 6”3 at minimum, the type of height where he can be assertive if needed with other doctors, or appear gentle to patients if he kneels down. some of the boys he has as patients, always say they aspire to be like “doctor cameron” and the dads are always envious of his height, as men are.

age: early 30s. had to do years of training && education. considerably young in his respective field, but widely praised for his efficiency and ability.

build: works out daily. believes in keeping peak physical fitness to take care of his patients. scrubs fir too tightly over his muscles. could be prone to ripping. mothers often find themselves staring a bit too long at their kid’s doctor.

looks!! (specific)

arms: consistent with any !rafe au, he’s got massive arms. but this is because

- a: to carry patients if need be (though he works with children) - you never know when emergencies might come up,

- b: he finds that having bigger arms is more comforting for little children when he has to hold them

- c: has to handle hospital equipment that might be heavy, and he’s a gentleman so he’s always helping people carry equipment if he’s not busy.

pager && watch: his pager is forever on him, not that he has no life outside of work, just that he cares so much about his patients. he won’t hesitate to cancel a day off for the sake of his patients. his watch is of course because of how much rafe is invested in his fitness and health. needs it to track his workouts and steps etc. or he also likes how convenient it is, to access emails or messages etc.

personality

patient: eternally patient. during arguments. meltdowns. when the baby’s been crying all night. all calm words and gentle movements. never yells. controls his anger and doesn’t make huge outbursts. even when stressed (unless it reaches an extremely bad point - this is rare)

multi-tasking: can put the baby to sleep in one arm and type up an article/report with the other hand while in bed. listens to research podcasts while cooking dinner so he doesn’t have to find time to do it later. efficiency is key. his job is already time consuming, and he wants to make sure he has as much free time as possible.

attentive: rafe’s busy. he’s always working overtime or being called away because of an unexpected patient issue. but when he’s at home with you? his pager isn’t off..but it’s not on his person all the time. he’s able to maintain work-life balance and he’ll listen to everything you have to say about your day. he loves your daughter to bits, and frequently says she’s his, always checking up on her and making sure she’s healthy (as doctors habitually do)

job

specialist position: neonatologist - someone who mainly looks after premature babies’ development and intensive care for infants.

salary: $350,000+ (excluding bonuses and potential to increase)

reputation: young, but well respected. considered one of the best in his field in the hospital. always gets compliments from patients, and dedicated to his work.

likes

stress-free days without overtime. he lives for any ounce of free time, no matter how satisfied his job makes him. likes to be home, likes having time go on hikes or play with your baby.

getting called your baby’s father. he loves it when he gets to say he’s the dad, or when you call him the dad. even if he’s not biologically her dad, he’s the only one who’s been present. adopts her relatively quick.

picking your daughter up from daycare. loves the way her face lights up when she sees him, how she’ll run as fast as her little legs can take her and getting to scoop her up into the car.

when you come to him for help. whether it’s with your daughter or anything tbf. he loves helping, loves being the person you rely on.

dislikes

when you go to a different doctor for help with your daughter. if anything starts arguments it’s that. he wants to be the one to look after her, because it’s all he’s done since she was born. he thinks of himself as her father, and wants you to too. a father looks after his daughter.

patients who bring in their children for dumb reasons. a common cold? wasting his time because they act like they’ve never had a cold before. children in his care are in critical condition, not basic colds, and these people are usually insufferable because they force themselves to the top of his list of priorities.

your ex. never even met him, never even seen him. hates him. loves that he left in a way, because it means he could be in your life, but hates the man for what he put you through.

pet names

he gives you: baby, sweetheart, babygirl, honey, busy lady

you give him: doc, handsome, honey, baby, darling

what he’ll call your daughter: sweetie, pumpkin, little lady,

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angelaness · 2 months ago

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020525

Cycle Syncing 101: How to Stop Fighting Your Body and Start Flowing (🌚) With It

alright girls, gather ‘round. this is the full post i promised - the one about periods, moods, energy, and how to actually live in sync with your cycle instead of feeling like a chaotic mess every month. because once i started tracking and understanding my cycle… it changed everything. for real. my workouts, my eating, my planning, my self-talk all became softer, smarter, more strategic. so let's break it down.

your menstrual cycle has 4 main phases, and each one brings its own vibe, mood, superpowers, and kryptonite. when you know which phase you’re in, you stop blaming yourself and start working with your body, not against it. ready?

1. Menstrual Phase (Bleeding / Days 1–5ish)

Vibe: hibernation queen. inward. reflective.

Body: hormones (estrogen + progesterone) are at their lowest = low energy, fatigue, cramps, sensitivities.

Mind: introspective, quiet, intuitive. this is your “truth-telling” time.

What to do:

Exercise: restorative yoga, stretching, slow walks. if you need to skip your workout? skip it. your body is doing enough.

Food: iron-rich foods (spinach, lentils, beef, dark chocolate), warm meals like soups and stews. magnesium-rich snacks can help with cramps.

Routines: go slow. journal. say no to extra plans. light candles. wear comfy clothes. treat yourself like you're sacred.

Study/work: focus on review, reflecting on past tasks, journaling ideas. let your brain rest a bit—don’t force deep concentration.

Self-care: warm baths, heat pads, soft music, no loud people.

Mental tip: you’re bleeding out the past month. literally. let go of what didn’t serve you. Zdont feel guilty.

2. Follicular Phase (Post-period / Days 6–13ish)

Vibe: fresh start. springtime energy. main character in a coming-of-age film.

Body: estrogen rises. energy builds. skin glows. you feel light, optimistic, social.

Mind: creative, motivated, open to new ideas.

What to do:

Exercise: try something new—dance, pilates, running, gym sessions. you’ll feel strong and energetic.

Food: fresh and light—greens, fermented foods, seeds, citrus. boost that metabolism.

Routines: this is your reset phase. declutter. plan your week/month. start new habits. your brain wants structure right now.

Study/work: brainstorm, start new projects, prep for heavy tasks ahead. your memory and focus are sharper.

Self-care: vision boards, hair masks, cute outfits. say yes to life.

Mental tip: this is your most productive phase. take advantage but don’t overbook. pace yourself.

3. Ovulation Phase (Middle of Cycle / Days 14–16ish)

Vibe: glowing goddess. seductive. unstoppable.

Body: estrogen peaks, testosterone joins the party. libido spikes. you’re magnetic and bold.

Mind: communicative, charming, high-confidence. great time to network or confront someone (with love, of course).

What to do:

Exercise: go hard—HIIT, lifting, cardio, group workouts. you’ve got power and endurance.

Food: fiber-rich foods (quinoa, carrots, berries) and antioxidants. hydrate well.

Routines: do your “hard” things here—presentations, big meetings, social stuff, shooting your shot.

Study/work: speak, pitch, debate. you’ve got clarity + persuasion.

Self-care: romanticize yourself. take hot pics, go out, flirt with life.

Mental tip: your confidence is real. don’t downplay it. enjoy this phase but stay grounded.

4. Luteal Phase (Pre-period / Days 17–28ish)

Vibe: cozy but moody. nesting energy.

Body: progesterone rises after ovulation. if no pregnancy happens, hormones start to drop = PMS hits.

Mind: detail-focused, critical, sensitive. easily overstimulated.

What to do:

Exercise: lower the intensity. pilates, strength training, long walks. listen to your body.

Food: complex carbs (sweet potatoes, oats), calming teas, B6-rich foods (bananas, salmon). eat more often to manage cravings + blood sugar dips.

Routines: finish tasks. organize. clean your space. prep for your period like you’d prep for a storm—lovingly.

Study/work: editing, detail work, wrapping up loose ends. less is more.

Self-care: limit caffeine, go offline if needed, soothe your senses.

Mental tip: don’t trust every thought. the inner critic is loud but not always right. softness wins here.

General Tips:

Track your cycle: use apps like Clue, Flo, or just a paper calendar. know when each phase starts so you can plan smarter.

Plan around your phases: big goals in follicular/ovulation, rest + review in menstrual/luteal.

Cycle syncing ≠ perfection: life doesn’t always let you live like a hormone princess. do what you can. forgive what you can't.

Be kind to yourself: if your body is low-energy, that’s not laziness—it’s biology. honor it.

Final Thoughts:

nobody told us this. nobody said “hey, your whole system is a monthly pattern, learn the rhythm and life gets easier.” instead, we got shame, pain, and whispers. but no more. now we know better. and syncing your life to your cycle is not about being soft—it’s about being smart. strategic. in tune.

girlhood isn’t chaos, insanity, it’s coded. and when you read the code, you stop feeling like a mess and start feeling like magic.

if you made it this far, you’re already syncing, baby.

go be soft when you need, strong when it calls, and sacred always💕

#girlblogging #angelaness #diary entry #menstrual cycle #this is a girlblog #tips #motivation #girlblog aesthetic #wonyoungism #that girl #glow up #it girl #pink pilates princess

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angelicgirlmj · 10 months ago

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cultivating your hobbies to become that girl

as summer starts to end, i find my days a little emptier and im full of anticipation for the coming academic year. but the last thing i want to do is waste the last part of summer so now is the perfect time to cultivate or begin a new hobby, focusing on four areas to level up your body, skills, mind and passions! enjoy angels and i hope this gives you some inspiration.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

body

having a hobby that helps you reach your dream body, maintain a healthy lifestyle or just help with your mental health (as moving your body always does!) is such a good idea. the past few months my workout schedule has decreased due to the amount of schoolwork i have had and exam season so now is the perfect time for me to get more disciplined and build up a good workout scheme. my hobbies based around my body are pilates or yoga, both of which help me with my fitness goals. here are some more ideas/inspiration for some hobbies you could start:

‘hot girl walks’ - set a goal for your daily steps and go on walks everyday to help you achieve that.

running daily.

swimming daily.

tennis or badminton daily.

joining a sports club such as football or gymnastics.

dance - could be by yourself at home following dance workouts!

strength training.

starting a fitness challenge - such as a month long youtube challenge.

start making your own fitness content! film videos or write tutorials.

bike riding daily.

skills

finding a hobby that helps you develop/cultivate your skills is so important. mine personally is cooking/baking as it helps me focus on giving my body what it needs, becoming more independent and providing for those i love. here are some ideas/inspiration:

painting.

making your own clothes - sewing, knitting or crocheting.

gardening.

scrapbooking.

photography.

drawing.

writing - poetry, novels, articles or anything similar.

acting - helps with public speaking, confidence and making friends.

jewellery making.

chess or a similar intense mental game - cultivates your thinking skills and mind.

mind

finding a hobby that helps you mentally, especially if relevant to schoolwork or career plans is so helpful. mine is reading/engaging with literature as not only does it align with my academic work but also helps me with how i think, view the world and allows me to be more empathetic.

mindfulness/meditation.

learning to play an instrument.

writing/researching around your subjects.

budgeting - good way of keeping track of and understanding money even if you aren’t planning on doing anything economics based!

journalling or keeping a diary.

joining/starting a book club.

starting a studyblr, study youtube channel etc.

learning a new language.

tutoring someone - great way of helping yourself learn as well!

joining a debate team.

passions

finding a hobby around one of your passions is such a fun and unique way of engaging in things you enjoy. mine personally is visiting museums/areas of historical importance as i am so passionate about history.

visiting art galleries.

attending the theatre/cinema.

going to live music events.

visiting libraries/book shops - growing your wish list, finding new book inspo etc!

going to cooking classes, restaurants or cafes.

travelling to new areas (could be local or international) - perhaps to develop language skills, find places to hike etc.

attending lectures on subjects youre interested in.

watching documentaries or video essays.

starting a new course - i do several history courses, my most recent was on European empires!

making a blog, channel, instagram etc for a new hobby or interest.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ─────── thank you for reading angels! hopefully this will help us all on our hobby journeys and have given you ideas of hobbies to try or develop for the end of summer or just in general! love, m.

#becoming that girl #it girl energy #clean girl #girlblogging #girlhood #glow up #it girl #just girly things #pink pilates princess #pink aesthetic #pink blog #tumblr girls #cute #this is a girlblog #that girl

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raeniskaies · 1 year ago

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how to have motivation to workout ♡

you're reading this blog to stop procrastinating whenever you want to workout , or just get back on track in general. you are not alone as many others go through it too , but here I'll give you tips to avoid procrastination.

our plan : :

001 , push through

- in my eyes , procrastination is not a curse that randomly shows up in your life or something that pops up and runs away , it is something you bring up on yourself. let me explain it this way : :

imagine you are Sabrina , you love hanging out with your friends and playing with them. You stretch and study and read books in the morning everyday. One day , your best friend wakes you up early to go somewhere , meaning you forget to do your productive routine that day. Soon , one day of missing out of your productive deeds turns into a destructive habit. Eventually , you miss out on your routine and feel a sudden dread whenever you want to. That is procrastination.

It's okay to play with friends or watch a movie but don't let that get caught up in your life ! your routine should be like a ritual that you practise everyday , no matter the circumstances ! starting to do something once a day can slowly lead up to a repetitive habit whether that is lounging or being productive ! procrastination is just a re - embodiment of your actions.

002 , plan it all out

- don't workout or stretch or practise pilates by waking up and doing it at any time of day , depending on your mood. creating a repetitive habit means you need to do it at the same time of day for a scheduled time period. make sure to plan rest days to prevent burnouts !

003 , rest

- make sure to rest at least once a week to prevent burning out. remember that your muscles need to rest !!

004 , romanticize it

- romanticize moving your body to make it enjoyable ! listen to music , wear comfortable clothes , cute accessories , add candles - anything to make working out fun !

005 , find great workout channels // excercises

- find great workouts that aren't too // not intense enough for you ! find ones that work and are not just popular on tiktok !

♡ I extremely recommend hinafit for pilates , stretches and workouts !!

thank you for reading !

#raeniskaies #becoming that girl #wellness girl #wonyoungism #it girl #clean girl aesthetic #wonyoung #pink pilates girl #pink #pink pilates princess #pilates aesthetic #yoga pilates #pilatesworkout #guide #glow up #clean girl #procrastination #tips

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lokis-army-77 · 1 year ago

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Sweet Treat

older!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 3.4k

It's hot out and you see your older neighbor mowing his lawn. Lucky for you he invites you inside for a sweet treat.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f receiving), p in v, fingering, like the slightest amount of food play, 40s eddie, 20s reader, fem reader, just a bit of cum eating

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @lofaewrites, @emma-munson and @littlexdeaths

Masterlist

It was sweltering outside, like hell was no longer a fictional place made up by religion but real, and its flames had reached Hawkins. The sun beat down on you so intensely that you thought your skin was melting.

You berate yourself for thinking that taking a walk outside in the middle of summer would be anything but awful and yet you're here.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you finally made it back to your home, but instead of going straight inside something stopped you in your tracks.

Your neighbor, or your hot older neighbor, had started mowing. The sound of the motor roaring to life caught your attention, and the sight of the 45-year-old without his shirt on kept it.

The sun shining onto his sweat-soaked skin made him look ethereal, like a god on earth. It made your mouth water and your nerves vibrate.

He caught your eye a moment later and waved, you waved back and then made yourself look busy by checking your mailbox, nothing was there. You didn't want him to know you were gawking at him.

It must not have worked because as soon as the mower had turned on, it turned off and you heard your name being called in that deep timber.

You walk down your driveway, closer to where he sat on his machine.

"Hi, Mr. Munson," you greeted with a smile.

He sighs, "Thought I told you to call me Eddie."

You respond with a giggle, "I know, I just do it to aggravate you."

"Ah, so you think you're funny?"

"Oh, I know I am."

Eddie just chuckles at that, shaking his head.

Reaching a hand up, you wipe the sweat from your brow.

"Sure is hot."

"It is. You wanna come inside, I've got some cold water and a bit of butter pecan ice cream if you want any." He offers.

You wrinkle your nose, "Butter pecan? That's such an old man flavor."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. The only people who eat and enjoy butter pecan are over the age of 40." You enjoy the banter that usually flows between the two of you. It makes your stomach flutter and your knees weak.

He just rolls his eyes. "Well then, Sweetheart, I think I have just a bit of chocolate in the freezer with your name on it."

You finally walk up next to him as he stands from the mower. "Don't I just feel special."

Eddie looks at you smugly. “Ladies first.” He gestures for you to walk in front of him and you oblige.

There’s a swing to your hips that you hope catches his attention, especially with how much skin is exposed from the workout shorts you were wearing. You hear him cough, clearing his throat and you know it worked.

“Door’s unlocked,” he calls as you bound up the stairs.

Upon entering the house you’re hit with a blast of cold air. The AC was definitely turned down as far as it could go, it felt almost like a freezer.

Eddie enters only a moment after you, letting the door slam closed. He glides past you, a hand barely grazing our hip as he does. You follow him closely.

It's bright enough in the kitchen that he doesn't bother flipping the light on. He heads straight for the fridge.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in the flex of muscles as he bends to open the sliding freezer door. The way his arms bulge when he rummages through the depths had your mouth watering.

Giving a long sigh, Eddie stands up straight and turns to you with a pint of ice cream in hand.

“Looks like it's just old people ice cream if the princess is alright with that.”

“Oh, it's princess now?” You ask, taking a seat on the barstool next to the kitchen island.

Eddie shrugs, “Fits better since you're apparently too good for the best ice cream known to man.”

“I am not.”

He scrunches his face, you think it's cute. “I beg to differ.”

“I'm not, I'll eat your ice cream, no problem.”

“So you aren't going to complain that it's for old people?” He asks, settling at the counter next to you.

“Just open the carton.” You give his arm a slight shove.

He does as you say and pushes it closer to you before offering a spoon.

You take it and thank him before scooping a tiny bit of the sweet treat out. It's cold on your tongue and you hate to admit it but it was good.

“S'good isn't it?”

“Eh, it's okay.” You say, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right.

Taking another scoop, this time you bring the spoon slowly into your mouth, lapping up the ice cream in a more sensual manner as you make eye contact with the other man. Just barely, you can see his pupils dilate taking you in.

“You’ve got a little-” Eddie makes a vague gesture to the corner of his mouth.

Giggling a bit, you fein ignorance of the ice cream you let collect at the corner of your mouth. “Here?” you ask as you wipe at the opposite side.

And just as you thought he would, Eddie reaches over and smoothes his thumb over your lip, collecting what was there. Your breath hitches when he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean. The sight of his tongue wetting the digit and the glisten of saliva in the light had your legs clenching.

You want him to do it again.

So, with another bite of ice cream, you make what you’re doing more obvious, letting the spoon paint the white treat over your lips. You know what it must look like, salacious and borderline inappropriate if your mind was in the gutter, which is where you know Eddie’s is at that moment.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, “Fuck-” He’s surging toward you before you can even comprehend it. Soft, plump lips connect with yours. You freeze in shock for just a moment, then you kiss him back.

The spoon in your hand drops to the counter, rattling loudly. You reach your arms around his neck and pull him into you. Eddie slips his tongue between your lips and lets out a groan. He tastes like butter pecan and something you can’t quite place, something you can only describe as Eddie.

You can’t get enough and just when you start to wrestle your tongue against his, he pulls away and creates a space between the two of you.

A hand rubs over his face and he sight. “We can’t be doing this.” His tone is reluctant.

Furrowing your brows, you ask, “Why not?”

Eddie looks at you and flits his eyes from your kiss-swollen lips to the dismayed expression in your eyes. “Are you serious? I’m too old for you.”

“Last I checked, 45 wasn’t that old.”

“Sweetheart, I have tattoos older than you.” He shakes his head.

“Eddie, I’m a grown adult who knows what she wants and to put it frankly, you have been at the top of that list for quite some time.” You pause to examine his expression. His brow is cross and he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Is it my consent that you need? Because you have it.”

“God, this is probably a bad idea,” he whispers to himself and then he's on you once more. His large hands squeeze at your waist until they find their way under the fabric of your tee. Your own hands cling to his shoulders, keeping yourself balanced so you don’t fall off the bar stool.

Eddie bites your lip, tugging it lightly when he pulls away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you. How long I’ve wanted to have my hands on you, to feel you.” He says, breathless.

He kisses down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and a tingle wherever his lips meet your skin.

“Eddie-” You moan.

“Hum?”

“I want you to do more than kiss me.”

That stops him in his tracks. He pulls away for a second time and you can’t help the whimper it brings out of you.

“You’re sure?”

As much as you were grateful for his concern, it was really getting in the way of you trying to have him fuck the daylights out of you.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You pull him in for a deep kiss before whispering against his lips, “So, are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to take matters into my own hands?”

The smirk he gives you is cocky. “C’mere, Sweetheart.” He grabs at you, pulls you from the stool, and moves you to the island countertop. He wastes no time in ridding you of your shirt and bra.

His tongue licks a long, wet line from the side of your neck down to the elastic waistband of your shorts.

Slowly but surely, he begins to pull the fabric down Your legs. He stops in surprise when He sees you aren't wearing anything underneath.

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest. “Did you know this would happen, Sweetheart?” He left an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Hum? Plan to seduce me with those short fucking shorts only to not have any panties on?”

Shaking your head you mumble out “No.”

“It sure does look like it, princess.” Eddie teases you with his fingers, using them to spread you open gently. His eyes glaze over with lust. “Fuck, baby… so pretty and wet for me.”

The sudden rush of arousal washes over you, leaving your skin flushed and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

He leaves wet kisses all over the sensitive skin, moving from your apex to your thigh, right where the artery was. Taking the plush meat there into his mouth, he sucked, soothing his tongue over where his teeth bit down gently. There was no doubt a mark would be there when he pulled away.

You watch him, elbows planted on the counter to prop yourself up. Just looking at him makes your heart beat faster.

“Eddie,” you moan as you widen your legs.

He hums against you as he sucks his way back to your center. With lidded eyes, he looks up at you just as his mouth attaches to your clit.

Choking out a gasp, you let your head fall back between your shoulders.

Eddie’s hands wrap around the back of your legs, gripping them firmly and guiding them over his shoulders. The noises coming from where he was connected to you had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He'd only just started but it felt like with every even suck and precise lick of his tongue, You were melting into a puddle around him.

Soon your arms became weak and you had to lay flat. Your hands had a mind of their own as your body writhes under Eddie's expert mouth. His hair quickly fell from the loose knot that kept it out of his face when you ran your hands through it.

You could tell Eddie liked it too much, hips bucking into nothing When you tugged on the salt and pepper strands. His moans sent vibrations through you.

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie- you feel so good,” you can't help but babble when you feel two thick fingers begin to penetrate your entrance.

There's an audible pop when he releases you from his mouth. “Yeah? Imagine how good my cock's gonna feel, Sweetheart.” He removes your legs from his shoulders as he begins to stand.

Tilting your head, you gaze at him. Following down his nose, over his wet lips, down along the tattoo of a sneak that started at his shoulder and curled down his bicep. With him closer now, you could see more of those tattoos littering his skin and the trail of hair that led from his navel down.

You clench around his fingers at the thought of whatever was hiding behind those basketball shorts. You wanted it, needed it, inside of you.

Eddie's fingers massaged into you, the calloused pads pushing into your soft insides. “Right there!” You pant when he pushes into a particularly sensitive spot. “Right there! Don't stop!”

He doesn't, he keeps a strong steady pace with his fingers hitting the mark every single time. It had your toes curling and your head swirling with pleasure.

Unknowingly, you clamped your hand over your mouth as you began to moan.

Eddie pushes your hand away. “Don't cover those pretty moans, wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

Nodding, you keep your hands away. Occupying one by gripping your breast and the other, slipping it down to massage over your clit.

The added stimulation makes your legs snap shut and your body goes ridged. You were hurled over the edge so fast that your vision was almost white.

Eddie kept his fingers pumping into you despite the added obstacle. You could hear the wet sound growing louder as your body shook with release and your lungs cried out.

“That's it, princess, give it all to me.”

“Eddie-” you cry out to him. “Feels- ah fuck, I feel so good.”

He hums in approval.

“You make me feel so good.”

Eddie pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt and licks them clean. “God, you're delicious. Put that ice cream to shame.”

He pulls you by your hips down the counter, closer to him, and places a firm kiss on your lips. You'd never liked the taste of yourself before but that salty tangy mixed with the sweetness of Eddie's tongue had you melting and wanting for more.

You want to feel him inside of you. No, it's not a want, it's a need. A need so strong you think you might cry if you don't have I'm in the next five seconds.

Pulling away, you give Eddie a look. One so filled with lust and longing, you know he won't be able to resist.

“What is it, princess?” He asks, moving back in to kiss marks on your neck.

Your fingers tug on his hair and you sigh. “I need-”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me.” The buck of your hips punctuated every word.

“S'that right, Sweetheart? Need me to use this pretty cunt?”

You groaned, nodding excitedly when he started backing up. As he did so, he knocked over what was left of the ice cream. It was melted now and its contents flowed onto the counter.

Eddie smirked as he took the carton and instead of sitting it back up, he poured it onto your skin. The splashes of the now liquid dessert were cold on your hot skin. He gives you a salacious wink before lapping up what he had tipped onto you.

“Eddie!” You gasp, surprised by his actions.

He paced you no mind, cleaning the stickiness from your skin, and pulled back. Acting as though nothing had happened, he began tugging at the drawstring of his shorts.

The outline of his cock was impressive, you had always imagined it would be the biggest you'd ever had. And as his shorts and boxers fell from his hips down his toned legs, you were proven right.

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sick of him. Long and thick and stood at attention. Your eyes flicked from the flushed tip of his cock to his eyes and then back down again a few times before he chucked. Asking “See something you like?”

“Yeah…” you were breathless just looking at it.

Anticipation begins to build, your heart beating faster as he lined himself up. Your legs spread wider, letting Eddie nestle in. He gives the sensitive skin a tap with his cock before sliding it through your slick folds.

“Ready, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

As he enters, there's a slight pain. He's thicker than anything you've ever taken and the new stretch has you burning. He isn't even halfway inside before you start shaking and mewling in ecstasy.

Eddie's fingers have your hips in an iron grip. He looks out a long moan once he bottoms out. There is the sensation of being filled to your absolute max.

Your walls are contracting around him, trying To pull him in deeper.

“Fuck. That's it, baby, taking me so well. So proud of you.”

You keen into his praise. Hips bucking and back arching.

“Need more,” you plead and he obliges, rocking his hips into you, starting slow before going into an almost inhuman speed. pleasure is all that you feel, all that you know in this moment.

With every thrust, you saw Eddie lose just a little more self-control until he was feral, pounding into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Feel so fucking good baby. Yeah, that's right, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it? God dammit.” He'd lost his filter, saying anything and everything that came to his mind.

You were loving it. No man had ever been so vocal with you before and it was such a turn-on to hear every grunt, moan, and whimper.

There's a flutter in your stomach that you know all too well. You're balancing on the edge and are so close to toppling over.

“Eddie. Eddie. Eddie!” You've run out of words, all you can manage to say is his name. It's like a prayer on your lips.

“I know, Sweetheart.” He tuts, voice out of breath. “Can feel you squeezing me. God, you’re so fucking tight.” His fingers grip your hips harder. “Need you to cum for my baby, can you do that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say as his thrusts continue, finally giving you that last little nudge you need to fall.

With eyes rolling back in your head and a ringing in your ears, you cum. Harder than you ever had before. You're so lost in the feeling that you can't hear yourself screaming rapture. Every feeling is intense like hitting a raw nerve but it's so enjoyable.

Eddie's thrusts slow to a stop before he reluctantly pulls from your warmth and tugs himself to completion. You can feel the warm ropes quickly cooling on your stomach and breasts when you finally come back to reality.

“God dammit.” Eddie rasps.

You can't help but laugh, “My thoughts exactly.”

Fixing your eyes on your stomach. You take a finger and collect Eddie's cum onto it. He watches you with wide eyes as you bring the finger to your mouth. It's not your favorite taste but you moan nonetheless.

“Thanks for the sweet treat, Mr. Munson.” Your face heats up over what you've said.

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at you before giving you a fond look. Even though you were spread out on his kitchen counter covered in drying cum, you'd never felt more comfortable. You can see when Eddie hesitates ever-so-slightly before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It was sweet, you thought. You nod giving him the go-ahead.

He pulls you up by the hand you give him and his mouth is on you in a tender kiss. Much too tender for what you had both finished doing.

His hands massage into the sides of your face and neck and your own slide into his hair, tugging the fallen strands at the nape of his neck.

When he pulls away, you follow him hot wanting his lips to leave yours. He gives you a quick peck before stepping back.

You pout but he soothes you. “I'll be back. Gonna get a cloth to clean you up.”

It only takes him a moment to return to you, warm rag in hand. It feels nice to have all the sweat and other fluids wiped from your skin, it feels even nicer with Eddie the one doing it.

A yawn escapes you when he’s finally done and helps you off the counter.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Yea-” You were cut off by another big yawn, it brings involuntary tears to your eyes. Rubbing your eyes, you sigh, “I guess I better get home.” Bending down, you reach for your clothes that had made a home on the floor.

“Or,” Eddie stops you, “You could stay here.”

The statement was more of a question with his hopeful look and light tone.

You can’t help the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good. Now leave those there, I have something more comfortable you can wear.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older eddie munson

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i99zhuo · 1 year ago

Note

A routine inspired by thewizardliz ? She has skin care hair care routine reads motivating books

How to live like thewizardliz 🧚🏼‍♀️🪄⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ quit your lazy girl era!

This is a guide on daily routines inspired by Thewizardliz! This routine is perfect to stop being lazy and pathetic and finally start taking care of yourself!

content list (routines):

morning

study

workout

shower + self care

night

(_ _ ) . . z Z⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨ :★: ୧ ∗ ˖࣪ ໒꒱ ˚₊·

✸ ꒰ morning routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧼 First things first, after you wake up make sure to drink water to boost your metabolism throughout the day! Also, create a mind movie so you can watch it everyday after you wake up.

Now, take your journal and start writing about your dream, ideal higher self, ask yourself questions like ‘What reality do i want to create?´ 'Who do i look up to?’ ‘What is the behavior I need to change about myself?’ ‘What's a new habit that I would like to create?’ ‘What is a thing I can focus on right now?’. After we have in mind who we want to become, it's important that every little decision you make today is centered to achieve your goals, and become your dream self. You can listen to a podcast while doing this so you get motivation!

💶 Then, head to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror and start repeating positive affirmations, such as ‘I am so beautiful’ or ‘My hair looks so pretty today’, even if you don't believe it, having a positive mindset is going to help us to stay in track with our goals!

Take care of your teeth, Liz says that our smile is one of the most important things in a person, and one of the key things that is going to make you more attractive! so, make sure to brush your teeth, floss, clean your tongue, etc.

🛣 Liz has a rather simple skincare routine, since her skin is so sensitive, it only consists of using a foam cleanser, moisturizer and eye cream to help with her eye bags.

Next step is to research and find our own personal clothing and makeup style, find out your body type, personal color, face shape, etc. It doesn't matter if you have to mix multiple styles that already exist to make your own! The most important thing is to feel comfortable while wearing those clothes or having that type of makeup on your face.

🏔 Liz doesn't like to force herself to have breakfast, she just dont eat if she's not hungry, however if you are hungry rather than focusing on calories focus on how nutritious your meal is. Whatsoever if you are not hungry and you are not going to eat, make sure to always take your vitamins and supplements!

✸ ꒰ study routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Yes, it's time to drink a little more water!

⛰ Liz doesn't have a settled study routine but, it's important to spend our time wisely, if you can finish an assignment way before the time it's due, DO IT! Also, she emphasized that knowledge leads to confidence. If you put effort in your studies, every little thing in your life will slowly fall into place.

✸ ꒰ workout routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

First, set healthy goals, like toning up your body or building muscle, try not to make ‘just being skinny’ your goal.

🧩 second, don't measure yourself with a scale or measuring tape and focus on how you look in the mirror, are you satisfied? if you are then you are done with the intense workout routine!

Liz goes to the gym and has her own personal training program, but here’s some kind of exercises she recommends; weight training, pilates and dancing with her main focus being toning up her abs and butt.

🏄‍♀️ Remember to drink water and that consistency is more important than perfection, go at your own pace, it doesn't matter if you can't do a 2 hour workout and look snatched in 3 days and you can only do a 5 minute workout, every little effort adds up!

✸ ꒰ shower and self care routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

Before showering, do dry brushing to exfoliate your skin and increase circulation (1-2 times per week). Then use shampoo and conditioner, research to find the best one for you, what may help others won't help you. Liz also uses a hair mask 1 to 2 times per week to get that shiny silk hair.

🎾 After showering take some time to shape and pluck your eyebrows depending on your face shape and what impression you want to give!

Liz uses face masks 1 to 2 times per week to cleansing her face deeply, then she does her skincare. After applying all the products do a lymphatic massage on your face and neck, you can also cool down your face with massagers or cold spoons for an extra depuff.

🍾 For self care, you can journal again, search for shadow work prompts, think of what things you should unlearn and relearn and don't forget to practice gratitude. Or you can take time to clean your room or house, you deserve to have a clean safe place!

Oh! and don't forget to drink water again.

✸ ꒰ night routine ꒱⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

🧃 Time for dinner! (only if you are not full yet), again, make sure to focus on nutrients rather than calories. Don't forget to drink a glass of water with your dinner. You can watch a documentary while eating to keep gaining even more knowledge.

Now, do your oral hygiene routine again. Also, put on eyelash conditioner and serum to wake up with perfect lashes! Then wear a silk cap or do a protective hairstyle to protect your hair from getting damaged while you're sleeping.

🍵 Then get in bed and drink a cup of tea with collagen to start relaxing your body. and it's finally time to manifest! watch your mind movie again and use your most useful method (affirming visualizing, subliminals, etc.), don't forget to ask god, the universe or whatever you believe in for signals and help!

Afterwards, you can read an inspirational book like ‘atomic habits’ or ‘the art of thinking clearly’ to keep nourishing your brain. keep a reachable goal like reading 5 pages everyday and then decide if you want to continue reading or not.

🥬 Before sleeping listen to a guided meditation, liz have one to be more confident and one to attract money, choose one that aligns with your goals!

Finally fall asleep in a healthy sleeping position, Liz sleeps in her back looking at the roof, but you can choose your favorite position, don't forget to get a pillow that fits the position (example: tall and lofty pillow -> for sleeping on your side)

🍈 Good night!

Woah second request done!! hope you liked this one was pretty fun to do and I might add some of these things in my own personal routine so I don't fall back into laziness, anyways how about you guys??

toodlezzzz!1!!!!!

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readwritealldayallnight · 8 months ago

Text

A Stranger is a Friend You Haven’t Met Yet…

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 2.5k words

warnings/tags: brief allusions to m masturbation

He should have known it would start pouring.

It had been that kind of day after all. More like than kind of week if the Lieutenant was being honest with himself. They’d been stuck on base for well over a month now, doing what felt to him like absolutely bloody nothing. He knew that wasn’t the case. Periods of lull happened from time to time in this career, they were still training diligently, gathering intel, running simulations, but Simon was becoming antsy.

As the days of not seeing any active combat turned into weeks, Ghost had gone through more packs of smokes than he cared to keep track of. He was itching for something to do, something that got his blood pumping and adrenaline coursing through his veins, in a way he couldn’t achieve through an intense workout or sparring session. His Captain was noticing his demeanour as well. Which in hindsight, was likely why the older man had tossed Ghost a set of keys late one evening after a particularly drab day. He’d told his Lieutenant to get some air, advising him to try and return before the soft pitter patter of raindrops that had steadily been falling all day turned into a proper storm. He sent him on his way, not without cautioning him against getting any scratches.

“On me or the bike, sir?” Ghost had teased the Captain, thanking him with a nod of his head as he accepted the motorcycle’s keys. But now an hour later, those soft raindrops had indeed began to increase in frequency, the wind equally picking up speed, whipping the drops across his helmet to and fro as he sped down any open stretch of road he came across. It’d already been dark out when he’d left base with the feeling of a roaring engine underneath him, but it was now becoming increasingly difficult to see through the visor of his helmet.

Most roads around the base were empty and desolate, considering there wasn’t much else in the area for a few klicks, and so Ghost found himself thankful for the sparse streetlights that began to appear as he ventured closer towards the city. He was still in a fairly quiet area, especially combined with the time of night and weather, and so as he began considering turning around and cutting his ride short, Ghost was especially surprised to spot what appeared to be a lone figure standing under one of those lamp posts.

Not just some figure, but a girl.

Ghost blinked twice, unsure if he was imagining things. But she was still standing there, soaked to the bone and frantically poking shivering fingers at a cell phone. His bike slowed down as he approached her, acting almost on instinct, without considering what he was going to do. He just saw her and immediately knew he was going to do something.

She jumped in surprise as the loud bike approached, gaze lifting from the phone in her hands and landing on the source of the rumbling noise. Ghost planted a foot on the ground, leaving enough space between them as to hopefully not frighten her any further than he might have already, but close enough to see her properly through the rain. And when her gaze lifted to the visor of his helmet and locked eyes with him, he swears his heart stopped beating right then and there.

You were quite the sight to behold. Hair dripping as if you’d just dunked your hair under water, strands sticking to your face and neck, clothes completely soaked through, any exposed flesh was covered in goose bumps and your entire body was shivering. Your makeup was smudged slightly around your eyes, your lips were parted in surprise and you gave out the tiniest little “Oh!” upon his approach. You were nothing short of mesmerizing. What were you doing out here all alone?

“Y’alright?” Ghost has to half shout to be heard over the roaring of the engine and the steady falling of the rain. He watches you blink through the raindrops clinging to your eyelashes and he has to bite back the urge to rip his helmet off and lick the drops sliding down your face. Christ what the fuck is wrong with him?? Where did that come from??

“I- I’m lost! I’ve been trying to call for a cab, but-” you’re cut off by a small gasp of displeasure as a cold gust of wind hits you. “Reception out here isn’t working!” You shout back to him. Ghost finds himself momentarily mortified by the movement he felt in his pants in reaction to the noise you just made, but he pushes those thoughts aside and glances around him.

“How’d you end up out here? S’not safe!” He for some reason finds himself displeased with the idea of you walking up and down this desolate stretch of road, late at night, getting yourself sick in this weather you aren’t even properly dressed for. You’re nothing short of a vision on legs, who would allow you to be out here by yourself like this? You open your mouth as if to answer him, but Ghost shakes his head, having already made up his mind. “Where you tryin’ to get to?”

“Was supposed to get dropped off at The Morris. Didn’t realize there was more than one…” you tell him sheepishly, glancing down at your shoes as if you’re the one who should be embarrassed that the cabbie dropped you off at some dingy old pub by the same name as your hotel, and left you in the pouring rain when you clearly didn’t look sure of yourself. Ghost decides then and there that he does not like to see you looking so upset and down on yourself, especially if there’s anything he can do about it. He’s planting his other foot down on the ground now, pulling his helmet off his head and thrusting it in your direction in the blink of an eye.

“S’not far from here. Hop on, I’ll take ya.” He says, holding the helmet out to you as he adjusts the black surgical mask he’d donned beforehand. He is momentarily thankful he switched masks out at the last minute. He’s never cared whether his usual Ghost masks intimidate anyone before, that’s kind of the point of them. But for you, being approached late at night in the dark by a large strange man on a motorcycle offering you a ride, he’s grateful that you’re looking into his eyes rather than through his usual mask. Still, he can sense the hesitation rolling off of you. You’re obviously in a predicament, and this stranger is your new best hope, but you’re still cautious. Good girl, he thinks to himself. “Can’t just leave ya out here, love. Wouldn’t be right of me.” He cringes internally at his use of the nickname, but he watches as your gaze drops to the helmet in his still extended hand. “You’ve my word, I’ll keep ya safe.”

At that, you look up into his eyes again, and you must see something there that appeases whatever part of you still wants to deny a stranger, because your small hand slips the phone into your back pocket before both hands each out to grasp the helmet, a small sheepish smile on your face.

“I don’t know, my mother always said not to take rides from strangers…” You said, pushing the wet strands of hair away from your face as best as you could. Wait, were you teasing him now? He can’t help the small surprised chuckle that slips past his lips.

“Well,” he replies, watching as you don the helmet and attempt to adjust the chin strap. Your fingers have gone numb from the cold and are shaking, struggling to complete your task. He extends a hand out gently in offering, raising an eyebrow as well, before you nod in approval. His own hands reach out to grab onto the straps, careful not to pinch your skin in the process. “My mum always said that a stranger was a friend you hadn’t met yet.” He actually could remember his mum saying that to him once as a small boy. A rare happy memory that was still nestled in the deep recesses of Ghost’s subconscious.

“Thanks.” You answer as he retracts his hands reluctantly. “Suppose if I knew your name we wouldn’t be strangers anymore.”

Ghost can’t help but to freeze momentarily at that. You’re asking for his name. His name. For some reason he cannot name at the second, he doesn’t want you to call him Ghost. Something about it feels unnatural to the moment that’s happening before him. However, he isn’t about to utter the name Simon. He can’t even remember the last time someone called him by his first name, it might’ve been Price ages ago. The rain is still pouring down on your both, wind whipping you from all sides, and so in a split second, Ghost decides to say:

“Riley. Name’s Riley.” And to his utter amazement, you smile up at him after that. A beautiful, genuine, earth-shattering smile. All because of his name?? He has to actively fight to listen past the beating of his own heart to hear you offer him your name. And it’s a sound that etches itself into his memory right then and there.

As much as he wants to stand here forever just gazing at you, he wants to get you out of this weather more. Again, without really thinking about it, Ghost is slipping his leather jacket off and insists on slipping it onto your frame, mentioning something about the roads being slippery and not wanting you to get road rash. When you tell him you’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, he helps direct you in how to sit behind him, showing you where to hold onto him with your delicate hands around his midsection. Ghost is glad you’re behind him and can’t see the way his face has gone beet red at the feeling of your touch. He’s telling you to hold on tight, knowing he’s going to be driving half the speed he normally would without such precious cargo in tow.

The ride isn’t a very long one, and Ghost finds himself wishing he could have a word with whatever cabbie left you out there like that when it was this easy to drop you off where you were meant to be. But as he approaches your destination, his mind begins to wander. What are you doing out here? A pretty little bird like yourself shouldn’t be alone to begin with, and there isn’t anything out here for tourists or sightseers. This area really is predominantly just the military base and its few surrounding businesses before reaching the next city.

Are you staying at the hotel near base because you’re visiting someone there? A boyfriend or a husband? He doesn’t find it likely, considering he found you by yourself and you were trying to get in contact with a cab rather than someone you may know around here. Still, the thought of there being someone in your life leaves a bad taste in Ghost’s mouth, though he knows it is wholly unjustified.

As the bike slows down in front of your hotel and settles under an awning, allowing temporary reprieve from the rain, Ghost finds himself stepping off first to help you with your descent. He wordlessly helps unfasten the helmet and gently slips it off your head, hearing your sweet little laugh as you brush back the hair that got messy on the ride, slipping off his jacket and handing it back to him. Now you’re gazing up at him and Ghost isn’t sure what to say or do but he finds himself, more than anything, grateful that he was the one to find you tonight, knowing that he got you here safe and sound.

“I really can’t thank you enough. I’m not sure how long I’d been standing there, but I might just get feeling back in my toes by the end of the night now.” You mention with a small giggle at the end, yet another sound that Ghost finds himself wanting to memorize forever.

He opens his mouth in an attempt to wave you off. It really wasn’t a big deal in the end, if anything you gave him a purpose tonight. He goes to tell you as much, but then your small hand is reaching up, landing on his bicep in what feels like a hot iron touching his muscle directly, before you whisper to him:

“You’re a good man, Riley.”

With a gentle squeeze to his arm, and one last soft smile, you’re turning around and walking through the front doors, leaving a 6’4” mountain of a man frozen in place and face burning hot as it ever has.

He’s back at base within the hour, and has already replayed every moment of your interaction over and over in his mind, that by the time he’s in the shower and has his fist wrapped around his steel hard cock, he feels like he can still hear your laugh, still feel your delicate touch on his skin. He reminds himself that there’s no way any of these chumps on base are the reason you’re around, none of these men were there for you tonight when you needed them, but he was. That’s what Simon reminds himself as he stokes his thumb over his tip, spreading the drops of precome up and down his shaft, imagining that it’s your hand instead. That’s what he tells himself to ensure he feels guilt free as he thinks of you calling him ‘a good man’, as he spills over his hand in record time, your name choking in the back of his throat, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

The next morning as he’s sitting next to Soap for the morning briefing, he can’t stop thinking of you. It’s bittersweet to think that he will never see you again, but at the same time, he can forever keep last nights events as a treasured memory for himself, keeping it tucked away for when he needed it. He’s never going to share that story with anyone, not Soap, not the Captain, not even his journal will be hearing of you. He wants you all to himself in his mind only. Hell, he very well might have imagined you last night for all he knows, an illusion his mind created to entertain him, even for just a short period. He’s hardly listening to the Scot yapping next to him about some new translator finally arriving, rolling his eyes when he hears him whine that he hopes it’s ‘a bonnie lass this time’.

“You’ll do well to mind yourself Sergeant.” Price says to Soap, not bothering to look up from the papers he’s going through. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of her for a long feckin’ time now.”

“So it is a lass??” Soap asks with no attempt to hide his excitement.

“Last time I checked, yes, I’m still a ‘lass’.” Comes a new voice from the doorway. Everyone’s gazes have snapped towards the newest figure to enter the briefing room. Everyone’s but Ghost. Because he recognizes that voice.

It’s you.

Part 2 Part 3

#call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost cod #ghost fic #readwritealldayallnight

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xoxojuyo · 6 months ago

Text

Out of reach pt. II - jungkook

𐙚 pairing lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count 1,6K words

𐙚 warnings jungkook is older than reader, even tough on mention of ages, kissing, CHEATING, reader is aware and feels guilt

Hope you enjoy 🤍✨ pt. I

You adjusted your oversized hoodie as you and Wonyoung stepped into the trendy café, the smell of roasted coffee beans filling the air. Fresh from your Pilates class, both were glowing with a post-workout flush.

“So, this weekend, we’re going, right?” Wonyoung asked, scrolling through pictures of Kelingking Beach on her phone.

“Definitely,” you replied. “I need the ocean breeze. It’s been too long since we had a proper getaway.”

As you approached the counter, a familiar voice from behind caught you off guard.

“y/n?”

You froze. Your eyes darted toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood there, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. He looked effortlessly stylish in a black oversized t shirt, black washed out black jeans and baseball cap.

“Hi,” he said tentatively, his tone soft, almost careful. “How have you been?”

You felt your chest tighten. Without a word, you turned your back to him, focusing on the menu board as though it held the secrets of the universe.

Wonyoung, sensing the tension, whispered, “Is that… him? The guy from the flight?”

You gave a terse nod, biting your lip.

Once you had your coffees, you sat by the window. Wonyoung leaned in, curiosity brimming. “So… what’s the deal? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You sighed, staring at the swirling foam in your cup. “It’s just… seeing him brings it all back. I was confused at first, thinking maybe I misread everything. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He acted like he cared, but he was just playing with me the whole time.”

Your mind flashed back to your flight together—the stolen glances, the laughter, the way he’d leaned in just a little too close. For a moment, it had felt like you were the only two people in the world. And then, the crushing blow of his confession: I have a girlfriend.

The neon glow of the bar lights bathed the room in shades of pink and blue. You clinked your martini glass with Wonyoung’s, the gin warming your chest as you let yourself get lost in the music.

“Eunju, who are you texting?” Wonyoung teased.

“My guy,” Eunju replied with a grin. “He’s here with his friends. Mind if they join us?”

“Sure,” the girls chimed in unison.

Minutes later, Eunju waved over a group of guys. Your smile faltered when you saw him—Jungkook.

“Seriously?” You muttered under your breath.

He caught your eye and gave a small nod, but you avoided his gaze, focusing on your drink. Jungkook, however, didn’t seem deterred, attempting small talk every chance he got.

Finally, needing a moment to yourself, you grabbed your pack of cigarettes and headed to the terrace. The cool night air did little to soothe your nerves.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I know I hurt you. I understand why you’re avoiding me.”

You exhaled a plume of smoke, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said, turning to go.

“Do you love her?” The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned back to face you.

“I thought I did,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I thought that once I got back to my routine, I’d feel guilty. That it was just a moment of weakness for a beautiful girl.”

Your breath hitched.

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about how incomplete I felt. How little I knew you but wanted to know more. To kiss you again.”

Jungkook stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. Your breath intensified as the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you on the terrace.

Without a word, he reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, his voice low and vulnerable.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. His lips were warm, soft, and impossibly gentle, yet there was a tension beneath the surface—an urgency that spoke of longing and regret.

You froze for a split second, your mind racing, the thought of what you were doing was tremendously evil. But then something inside you gave way, it just felt so good, not just his lips felt good, but the controversy of the act, the forbiddeness of your relationship, so you kissed him back. It was like a dam breaking, all the pent-up emotions from your short-lived story on the plane pouring out in that moment.

Jungkook’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that made your knees weaken. His other hand rested lightly on your waist, pulling you closer, as if afraid you might slip away again.

The kiss deepened, growing more passionate with each passing second. His tongue caressing yours, his teeth biting your lower lip, the exchange of saliva getting more intense. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as though he was trying to make up for everything, like he promised.

The cool night air contrasted sharply with the heat between you, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both were breathless, your foreheads nearly touching, his lips swollen and slightly tinted with your red lipstick. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But you couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind a whirl of confusion, desire, and the painful knowledge of everything that had brought them to this point.

“This isn’t fair,” you said looking at him straight to the eyes. “For neither of us, your girlfriend and me.”

His eyes went from ecstatic to disillusioned, “I understand…”

After that night at the bar, everything changed. Jungkook had insisted on taking you home, his insistence both polite and protective. Before you left his car, he handed you his phone, asking softly, “Your number?”

You hesitated, guilt swirling in your chest. But there was something in his gaze—vulnerability, longing—that you couldn’t resist. You typed in your number, sealing a fate you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Since then, you had been talking on KakaoTalk every day. Your conversations were casual at first—simple exchanges about how your days went or what you were doing. But over time, the messages grew longer, more intimate. He’d send pictures of his meals, ask you about your favorite songs, and even shared silly anecdotes from his day.

You felt guilty, of course. Horribly guilty. Every time his name popped up on your screen, you thought about the girl he was betraying. But you couldn’t deny how much you looked forward to those chats, how comforting it was to talk to him, how utterly magnetic he was.

When you mentioned to Wonyoung that you had invited him to dinner at your grandfather’s restaurant—a Michelin-starred culinary gem—she didn’t hold back.

“You’re awful, y/n,” she said bluntly. “You’re helping him cheat.”

“I know,” you muttered, staring at your phone.

“But…” Wonyoung softened. “I know how much you like him. Just… think everything through, okay? Before this gets too serious. You’re not just playing with fire—you’re bathing in it.”

The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft golden lighting that illuminated the intricate woodwork and glass displays of your grandfather’s creations. You had reserved a private table, tucked away in a corner overlooking the city skyline.

You chose a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure but fell elegantly to your knees, paired with simple gold jewelry and black heels. Jungkook arrived in a tailored navy suit, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone. He looked effortlessly stunning, and the sight of him made your pulse quicken.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he pulled out your chair, his voice low and sincere.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, taking your seat.

The dinner began with a series of amuse-bouches, each more exquisite than the last. You watched as Jungkook tried each dish with curiosity and delight, his reactions varying from wide-eyed amazement to playful critiques.

“This one,” he said, pointing to a delicate scallop dish. “Is almost too pretty to eat. But I’ll make the sacrifice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the main courses arrived—perfectly seared Wagyu steak for him, a delicate truffle risotto for you—your conversation turned lighthearted. He teased you about your inability to drink espresso without sugar, and you teased him back about his obsession with perfectly symmetrical food plating.

But then, as dessert arrived—a stunning mille-feuille with caramelized apples—Jungkook’s tone shifted.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “About my relationship.”

You set down your fork, your stomach twisting.

“My relationship… it didn’t start naturally,” he admitted. “My father is a well-known lawyer, and he works closely with a famous politician. They would joke for years about how their youngest children should date. Eventually, they arranged a meeting for us.”

You stayed silent, watching as he struggled to put his thoughts into words.

“At first, I thought I liked her. She’s a good woman, everything someone could ask for. I convinced myself that I loved her. It was easy. It felt… safe.”

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“But then I met you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“For the first time, I questioned everything. You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling—excitement, curiosity, passion. You’ve made me realize how much I’ve been settling.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a flicker of hope—small, fragile, but undeniable. Maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t impossible after all.

@taekritimin123 @futuristicenemychaos @jnghs

#bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #smut

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gojoux · 1 year ago

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『 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo is absolutely enamoured by you, even from the smallest thing you do, he’s always there to compliment you.

· CW: 5.2k // Fluff. Slight hurt/comfort. A bit suggestive. Being Gojo’s girlfriend means having a whipped boyfriend.

When you’re training by yourself.

You took a deep breath as you adopted your fighting stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised and ready. Focusing your cursed energy to enhance your physical prowess, you began your training regimen, flowing through the intricate movements you had practiced countless times before. Your body twisted and turned gracefully as you performed each strike and kick with perfect form, having honed your skills through years of diligent work.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you moved through the rigorous routine, not allowing yourself to slow down. With each punch, you visualize an enemy being struck down. With each kick, you imagined yourself growing stronger and more agile. The exertion left your muscles burning, but you pushed through, determined to improve.

After finishing the last set, you finally allowed yourself a moment of rest, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A sense of satisfaction washed over you at having completed such an intense workout. You knew all that effort was making you a better sorcerer.

“Look at you go,” a whistle was heard behind you.

You turned to see Gojo walking up, an admiring grin on his face. Even with his eyes obscured, you could tell he was looking you over appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Just trying to stay in shape.”

“You kidding? You’re in incredible shape!” he said. “The way you moved was like watching poetry in motion.”

You smiled, flattered by his high praise, and happy to have your efforts recognized. As one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers alive, compliments from Gojo meant a lot.

“I still have a long way to go before I’m anywhere near your level.”

“Of course,” he grins cheekily.

“But your dedication to training is really paying off, you know? Just look at how toned your arms are now,” he emphasized his point by gently grasping your arm, squeezing your bicep.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away.

He laughed playfully. “What? I can’t help but admire my girlfriend’s incredible physique.”

You shook your head in amusement. Only Gojo would be shameless enough to fawn so openly over your body. But his compliments, as ridiculous as they were, filled you with motivation. Knowing he was watching and supporting your efforts spurred you to work even harder.

“Alright, lover boy, as much as I’d love to hear more about how attractive you find my sweaty post-workout look, I need to get cleaned up.”

“Need someone to wash your back?” he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a pointed look.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said, raising his hands.

You gathered your things and started heading towards the showers. As expected, Gojo fell into step beside you, seemingly not done singing your praises yet.

“In all seriousness, you’re really good. I mean it,” he continued earnestly.

Warmth rushed through you with his heartfelt words. “Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “But honestly, it’s not anything extraordinary, stop complimenting me too much over that.”

“Heh, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied. “My girlfriend’s a total badass who’s only getting more incredible every day. What can I say, I’ve got an eye for talent,” he added with a cocky wink.

You laughed, giving him a light shove. “You’re too much.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, smiling up at his handsome face. “Yeah, I really do.”

When you’re on your mission.

The dark alley was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cramped passageway. Your footsteps were light and cautious as you scanned the area, senses on high alert. You were tracking a cursed spirit that had been terrorizing this neighborhood, attacking innocent civilians.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, it was your duty to stop threats like this.

Up ahead, you spotted your target—a grotesque, hulking creature with twisted features and elongated claws. It had a young woman pinned against the alley wall, ready to strike. With no time to lose, you leaped into action.

“Hey! Over here, ugly!” you shouted, firing off a blast of cursed energy to get its attention. The creature turned with an angry roar as you placed yourself between it and the cowering woman. Adopting a fighting stance, you are prepared to take it head-on.

The cursed spirit charged, swiping at you with ruthless force. But you were ready. With agile movements, you dodged and weaved, avoiding its attacks while looking for an opening. When you saw your chance, you struck—aiming your cursed technique at its chest sending it stumbling back.

Not letting up, you pressed your assault, pummeling the creature with your attacks. It tried to fight back but was no match for your superior speed and skill. With a final, devastating blow, you landed the finishing move, obliterating the cursed spirit in an explosion of energy.

Panting, you turned to check on the woman you had rescued. “Are you alright?” you asked gently to calm her down.

She stared at you with gratitude. “Th-thank you! You saved me!”

You smiled warmly, helping her to her feet. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

After escorting her from the alley, you headed off to report your completed mission, satisfied at having eliminated the threat and protected an innocent life.

As you walked, a familiar voice suddenly spoke up behind you.

“Great moves back there,” he grins, walking towards you with his hand in his pocket. Looks like he got it easy on his task.

You turned to see Gojo beaming at you proudly. “When I felt that burst of energy, I knew it had to be you kicking some cursed spirit booty. And I was right.”

You laughed at his dramatic phrasing. “All in a day’s work. I’m just glad I got there in time.”

“Let me guess, you finished earlier and spied on me ‘kicking cursed spirit’s booty’,” you crossed your arms playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“Yeah, it was a good show.”

Gojo stepped closer, gazing down at you admiringly. “It’s also that compassion that makes you such an amazing sorcerer,” he said. “You’re always focused on protecting people, even at great risk to yourself.”

His tone turned a bit calmer. “Watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like that… it scares me sometimes.” He gently caressed your cheek. “But it’s also one of the things I love most about you. Your drive to help others.”

You placed your hand over his, touched by his heartfelt words. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep people safe. I just have to.”

He smiled. “I know. And you do it with such skill too. The way you took down that cursed spirit was awesome. Your technique control has gotten better.”

“High praise coming from the strongest sorcerer around.”

“I’m just being honest here. You would’ve given me a run for my money, I bet."

You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is and take me on sometime?” you challenged playfully.

A devious grin crossed his face. “Is that a date? You know I love any excuse to get handsy with you.”

You laughed, giving him a light shove. Even after a tiring day, he could always lift your spirits.

“Maybe later,” you said, taking his hand. “For now, how about lunch? Fighting cursed spirits really works up an appetite.”

“It’s a date then!” he instantly entwined his fingers with yours. As you walked off together, he added, “You take my breath away, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Aww, aren’t you my own personal hype man?” you teased.

“Always!” he declared with his usual wide grin.

When you’re dressed up for a date.

“Satoru, can you come here for a second?” you called out from your bedroom.

“Be right there!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Gojo stepped into the doorway, a signature grin on his face. “What’s up?”

You turned to him with a shy smile. “I just finished getting ready for our date tonight. Wanted to get your opinion on the outfit before we head out.”

It was your anniversary, and Gojo was taking you somewhere nice. You had agonized over what to wear, trying on ten different dresses before finally settling on the dress you’re wearing right now with delicate jewelry and heels to complete the elegant look.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses as he took in your appearance. “Wow…” he breathed, staring openly. “You look… beautiful.”

Your face heats up at his praise. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely stunning,” he affirmed, moving closer. His hands came to rest on your waist, head tilting as if to see you better from all angles. “This dress is perfect on you. It hugs your body just right.”

One hand slid sensuously down your side to emphasize his point. You hold his hand still with flushed laughter. “Down. boy. Keep it PG for now,” you chided playfully.

He held up his hands in acquiescence, though the desire in his gaze was palpable. “PG. Got it. I’m just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend’s breathtaking beauty.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but his compliments made your heart flutter.

“The way the fabric drapes over your body…” he continued to admire you, “It’s like each detail was designed to accentuate your natural assets.” His voice dropped an octave. “Truly mouthwatering.”

“Satoru!” You swat his chest this time from embarrassment.

He grinned unrepentantly. “What? Can you blame me for being so captivated by you? You’re a vision right now. I’ve got the hottest date in town tonight, that’s for sure.”

You smiled, mollified by his sincerity beneath the teasing remarks. No one could make you feel as special and desired as Gojo.

“Think you can control yourself through dinner at least?” You asked archly.

He laughed. “I make no promises. But I’ll do my best to keep public groping to a minimum,” he replied with a wink.

Taking your hand, he led you downstairs and out the door, ever the gentleman. As you slid into the car though, his composure momentarily slipped.

“You look unbelievable in that dress,” he blurted, eyeing you up and down. “The things I want to do…”

He trailed off with an exaggerated groan. You dissolved into laughter, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. Only Gojo could be so simultaneously sweet and shameless.

Dinner was an intimate, romantic affair. Gojo was on his best behavior, focused entirely on you. His compliments came often, praising everything from your smile to your witty banter. By dessert, you were practically glowing under his constant stream of adoration.

“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” He murmured, grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “Because you are dazzling, baby. I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You bite your lip, smile stretching wide. No matter how many times he said it, those words never got old.

The ride home was charged with anticipation. Gojo’s hands, so well behaved earlier, now roamed your body eagerly. Your pulse quickened as desire ignited.

Once inside, his control broke entirely. You found yourself pressed against the foyer wall, his mouth hot on your throat.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night,” he rasped into your skin. “This dress should be illegal… even the way you walk in it got me feeling hazy.”

You sighed blissfully as his lips and hands explored. When Gojo wanted you, he made sure you felt cherished, beautiful, and desired. It was intoxicating.

Later, lying enveloped in his arms, he nuzzled into your hair. “Have I mentioned you look sexy as hell in that dress?”

“Only about a hundred times tonight.”

“Well let’s make it a hundred and one,” he replied, rolling you beneath him to properly worship every tantalizing detail.

No matter the occasion, Gojo never failed to make you feel like a goddess. His passion and praise knew no bounds.

When you failed your mission.

The cursed spirit’s claws tore through flesh and bone before you could react. The young boy’s scream pierced the air, then suddenly went silent as his broken body hit the ground. Shock rooted you in place for a critical moment before rage took over. With a cry, you unleashed the full force of your power, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant.

But it was too late. The child was gone, his sightless eyes accusing you of failure. Sinking to your knees, anguish crashed through you in waves. You were supposed to protect him. Instead, your hesitation had cost an innocent life.

By the time Gojo arrived, you were numb with grief. He assessed the situation swiftly before kneeling and enveloping you in his arms. You collapsed against his chest, finally releasing the tears you had been holding back.

He didn’t speak, just held you close and let you cry. There was no judgment in his embrace, only compassion. So you wept bitterly for the life lost, for your mistake, for the cruelty of this world.

When the torrent finally passed, Gojo gently wiped the moisture from your cheeks. “Talk to me,” he said simply.

Haltingly, you explained what happened. The guilt was a crushing weight on your heart.

“I should have been faster. I could have saved him,” you choked out.

Gojo gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me. This was not your fault.” His voice brooked no argument. “You didn’t hesitate from incompetence or cowardice. It was empathy. You saw a scared child and your first instinct was to protect, not attack. That compassion is what makes you an amazing sorcerer.”

You shook your head bitterly. “A lot of good it did him.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Gojo said sadly. “As much as we try, we can’t prevent every tragedy. What matters is that you care so deeply, that you refuse to harden your heart, even when it hurts this much.”

You wanted to believe him, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, a constant reminder of your failure.

Sensing your doubt, Gojo took your hands in his. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Don’t let this make you afraid to keep caring. There are so many people out there who need that compassion.”

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “This pain… means your humanity is still intact. That’s something to be proud of.”

A sob caught in your throat as you clutched his uniform jacket, anchoring yourself in his steadfast strength. The grief was still raw and raging, but his words lit a faint glow in the dark. Not of absolution, but of hope. That you could keep fighting and caring, without losing yourself.

“I��ve got you,” he murmured. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”

The next few days were filled with more tears, self-doubt and sleepless nights. But Gojo remained your constant companion, providing reassurance when the shadows loomed.

His praise never wavered. Each time you began slipping back into despair, he was there with an uplifting word.

Slowly, the light began to return to your eyes. Gojo’s unrelenting positivity and belief in you provided a lifeline to cling to. He reminded you of your own strength, even when you doubted it.

Not long after that day, Gojo took you out to dinner. Upon returning home, he presented you with a single white lily.

“This is to honor that boy’s memory,” he explained. “But also to show you that beautiful things can still grow, even from tragic circumstances.”

You accepted the flower, eyes stinging with bittersweet tears. Looking up at Gojo, you found no trace of pity there, only love.

“Thank you,” you whispered, for this gesture, and for everything he had done to see you through the darkness.

He kissed your forehead tenderly. “You never have to go through anything alone. I’m always here.”

Clutching the lily close, you rested your head against Gojo’s heart.

When you’re happy.

You stared down at the official letter, reading the words over and over. You have been chosen by a revered sorcerer in Hokkaido for a mission that requires your skill. Better yet, you have always admired this sorcerer.

One in a million opportunity. It makes you feel special to have someone notice you to the point they requested for you because they need your skill. Just maybe, you’d have the opportunity to be trained by that sorcerer to improve yourself.

Hands shaking, you looked up at Gojo, seeing his face lit up with a brilliant smile. In an instant, you were swept off your feet as he spun you joyfully around the room. You clung to him, dizzy with euphoria.

When he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m such a proud boyfriend,” he said. “All that hard training paid off, huh?”

Happy tears pricked your eyes. Having Gojo’s wholehearted support and belief in your abilities meant everything.

You can’t help but pull him down into a fierce, grateful kiss. His arms immediately enveloped you, lips curving into a smile against your mouth. When you finally broke for air, foreheads touching, the depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away.

In the weeks that followed, Gojo went out of his way to celebrate your accomplishment at every opportunity.

There were bouquet deliveries to your door, with notes reading:

“To the future best jujutsu sorcerer!”

Gifts would arrive filled with your favorite treats:

“For my hardworking girlfriend who deserves something sweet!”

Even when you were curled up on the sofa, just spending a quiet night, he would randomly take your hand and announce:

“I’m the luckiest guy alive to be with you.”

His little displays of pride and support never failed to make you smile. Gojo genuinely reveled in your success as if it were his own. Your joy brought him joy, a sentiment you fully reciprocated.

On the morning you were to start the intensive program, Gojo made you a lavish breakfast in bed. As you ate, he detailed an elaborate training regimen to prepare you for the challenges ahead.

“And I’ll be your personal sparring partner of course. Have to keep those combat skills razor sharp!” He grinned. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You laughed. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

His expression turned serious then. Taking your hand, he met your eyes earnestly. “You’re going to do amazing things, I just know it. And I can’t wait to stand back and watch you shine.”

Emotion clogged your throat. No matter how far you go in this field, Gojo will always be your biggest supporter.

“As cheesy as it sounds... as long as you’re by my side, I know I can handle anything,” you told him with a rather bashful smile.

He smiled softly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

Leaning in, he kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, his usual cocky smirk was firmly back in place.

“Now finish up. Time to go show off why you’re the badass jujutsu sorcerer they’re lucky to have!”

When you’re sick.

A violent cough wracked your body as you huddled under the blankets, trying in vain to get warm. Your head was pounding, your throat raw, and your limbs heavy with fatigue. The flu had hit you hard and fast, leaving you miserable and bedridden.

A light knock at the door heralded Gojo’s arrival. He poked his head in, his usual playful grin replaced by a look of concern.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You offered a weak smile. “Been better,” you croaked out before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Gojo rubbed your back soothingly until the spasms passed. “Sounds nasty. Let me get you some water.”

He returned swiftly, helping prop you up to take small sips. The liquid soothed your inflamed throat but did little for the chills wracking your body.

Noticing your shivers, Gojo piled on more blankets and slid in behind you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body enveloped you, finally easing some of the shudders. You sank gratefully into his embrace.

“There we go, just rest,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking your hair. You sighed, comforted by his presence.

Gojo wasn't usually one for tender quiet moments. His boundless energy and shameless mouth tended to dominate any interaction. But now, he was the picture of care and concern—keeping his touch light, his voice quiet and soothing.

You were moved by this rare glimpse of his gentle side. Having someone see you like this—sweaty, sick and pathetic—would normally make you self-conscious. But with Gojo, you felt safe letting your guard down completely.

“Sorry you have to see me like this,” you mumbled.

He tilted your chin up. “Nonsense. You’re beautiful no matter what.” His thumb lightly caressed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to be vulnerable.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and not from the fever. Even wrecked by illness, he could still make you feel cherished.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whispered.

He grinned. “I ask myself that every day.” Dipping his head, he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “Now, hush. No more talking, just rest.”

You settled against him once more, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart. Time passed in a haze of fitful sleep and coughing fits, but Gojo stayed dutifully by your side.

When the chills returned, he bundled you uptight, acting as your own personal furnace. He patiently fed you soup and medicine, made sure you were hydrated, and kept the tissues handy.

True to form, he also kept up a constant stream of praise and encouragement.

“There’s my tough girl, fighting this nasty bug off.”

“Even under all those blankets, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Look at you powering through these coughs like a champ!”

His little comments never failed to make you smile. Only Gojo could find something positive even in your current state.

After two days of attentive care, your fever finally broke. The aches and fatigue gradually receded until you were able to sit up without assistance.

Gojo beamed at you. “There she is! Knew you could kick this flu’s butt.”

Taking your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and his eyes shone with affection. “I’m so proud of you for pushing through this. You’re strong.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

He waved it off. “I just gave you a nudge. You did all the hard work.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed at you earnestly. “Never doubt your strength, or hide your struggles from me, okay? Ask me anything, I’ll give them all to you.”

You nodded, heart brimming with love for this man.

When you’re annoyed at him.

“Satoru, I swear if you don’t stop messing around I’m going to—argh!” you yelled in exasperation.

The infuriating man just laughed, dancing easily out of your reach as you swiped at him. He had been pestering you all morning with juvenile pranks and teasing remarks, fraying your last nerve.

“Aww, is someone a wittle gwumpy today?” he taunted in a baby voice.

You saw red. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground. Caught off guard for once, he landed hard on his back with a grunt. You pinned him in place with your body weight, glaring down at him.

“Call me grumpy one more time and I’ll show you just how nasty my mood is,” you growled.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

“Well, damn, baby. I love it when you get feisty with me,” he purred. His hands came up to grip your hips suggestively.

You swatted them away in irritation. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still mad at you.”

Rolling off him, you crossed your arms with a huff. Gojo sat up, smile fading.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for riling you up too much,” he grins. “Didn’t realize you were actually that annoyed with me.”

Your anger deflated at the apology. He may act like a brat sometimes, but Gojo is always quick to make amends when he crosses a line—well, only for you, at least. (Don’t tell Geto and Utahime about this!)

With a sigh, you uncrossed your arms. “It’s fine. I overreacted too.” Glancing over at him sheepishly, you added, “And I know I’ve been… prickly lately. The stress has just put me in a bad mood.”

Between juggling studying, missions, and training, you had been spread thin. Gojo’s antics had been the last straw.

He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve realized you needed me to dial it down and help you decompress.”

Leaning into him, you gave a tired smile. “Well, tackling you did feel pretty therapeutic, actually.”

Gojo’s laughter rumbled against you. “See? Violence solves everything!” he joked, squeezing you playfully.

You push his chest slightly, but couldn’t help chuckling too. Only Gojo could vex you one minute and make you laugh the next.

He pressed a conciliatory kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, why don’t you go take a nice long bath to relax while I make us dinner?”

The offer was extremely tempting after the high-stress week you’d had.

“That does sound really nice,” you admitted. “But you don’t have to cook, I’m sure I could throw something—”

He held up a hand. “Nope, you just focus on unwinding. Doctor Gojo’s orders.”

The mental image of him in a doctor’s coat and nothing else briefly distracted you. At your silence, he grinned knowingly. “I’ll take that as an agreement to my plan.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and stretched. “Fine, you win this round.”

“I always do,” he retorted cockily.

True to his word, Gojo prepared a delicious meal while you soaked in the tub. The aromas wafting in from the kitchen made your stomach rumble eagerly.

By the time you made it downstairs, the table was set with your favorites. Gojo greeted you with a flourishing bow.

“For the lovely lady, a feast fit for a queen.”

You laughed at his antics, touched by the effort. Over dinner he kept the conversation light, making you laugh recounting silly stories. For the first time all week, you felt your tension finally easing.

Later, as you lounged together on the couch, Gojo spoke up softly. “Feeling more relaxed now?”

You nodded, snuggling closer. “Definitely. Thank you for all this, it was just what I needed.”

Strong arms wrapped securely around you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even when you get grumpy and violent with me,” he added teasingly.

You groaned. “Ugh, I’m sorry for tackling you like that.”

“What do you mean? I loved it,” he said, weirdly eager about it. “Seeing you all fired up and feisty was incredibly hot.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You know you love me,” he shot back smugly.

Rolling your eyes, you stretched up to kiss him. “Hmm, you’re right.”

He just loves everything about you.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Gojo’s voice boomed across the crowded hall, quieting the others in this luxurious restaurant he took you on a date with after high school graduation.

“Thank you. Now I know speeches aren’t usually allowed during meals, but I convinced the manager here to let me have the floor for a few minutes.” He flashed his most charming grin. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets to proudly proclaim the love of his life to a crowd.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled you up to stand up with him. Taking both your hands, he continued earnestly.

“This person right here is the most incredible human being I’ve ever met. Smart, strong, kind-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful.”

Murmurs spread through the hall listening raptly. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the public praise. Trust Gojo to be so shamelessly romantic.

He went on, tone utterly sincere beneath the dramatics. “Her passion for helping others inspires me daily. The way she fights with skill and compassion in equal measure is a marvel to watch.”

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I could spend hours listing all the reasons she amazes me, which is why I wrote it down.” Winking, he unfurled the lengthy scroll with a flourish, clearing his throat.

“Ahem… ‘The top 100 things I love about my girlfriend, revised edition’. Reason one…”

Your jaw dropped as he proceeded to read the entire list out loud to the captive audience.

It was mortifying. It was ridiculous.

It was so utterly Gojo.

As he extolled your praises, you buried your flaming face in his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” you mumbled against his suit.

He just chuckled and kept reading. “Reason 37, The way she scrunches her nose at me when I tell a bad joke…”

Despite your embarrassment, warmth blossomed in your chest. Trust Gojo to turn a simple dinner into a grand spectacle of devotion.

When he finally finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and grinned down at you. “Of course, the list could go on forever. But I think I’ve sufficiently made my point.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he said loud enough for all to hear, “You are the love of my life. My soulmate. My one and only.” Then he brought his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate kiss.

Catcalls and applause erupted from the watching audience you (and him) don’t even know. But you were deaf to it all, lost in Gojo’s embrace.

When you broke for air, faces still inches apart, he murmured, “I’ll spend every day finding new reasons to love you.”

Emotion clogged your throat. You had gotten used to his easy affection and endless praise over the time. But this loud, public proclamation was on another level entirely.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your feelings laid as bare as his.

Ignoring the continued hoots and chatter around you, Gojo lifted you effortlessly in his arms.

“Now then, I believe we have some private celebrating to do,” he purred suggestively in your ear.

“You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” You laugh in happiness.

“I can think of a few ideas,” he replied with a sly wink.

As he carried you out of the hall, you shook your head in amusement. Life with Gojo was never boring, that was for sure.

In between chaotic battles and daily life responsibilities, your relationship has grown into something truly profound. A partnership built on unwavering trust, passion, and laughter.

Gojo adored you loudly and unapologetically, just as you loved him.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Also writing this as a practice dump for my upcoming English creative writing competition lol

1K notes · View notes

delusionsofgrandeur13 · 3 months ago

Text

stay cool it’s just a kiss—

oh, why you gotta be so talkative?

college trackstar!wally west x reader

a sequel to this fic

18+ content, MDNI.

readers can expect: hijinks in both the shower and locker room, an undefined relationship. wally being a lovable ass.

your heart pounds as you wait for the shot to go off, your mantra banging out a steady beat in your thoughts in comparison.

runfastrunfastrunfastrunfastrunfastthey’reallwatchingrunfastfasterthanthemrunfastfasterthanthepeoplebehindyourunfastrunfastrunfastrunfastrunfastrunfast—

it plays out the same way it always does, your body in high alert while your brain defaults itself down to its most basic level of function: move.

it’s just practice, but races are always the same in your mind, no matter the time or place. it’s probably bad to always put the pressure on yourself like you do, but, who cares if it helps you run the way you do?

wally whoops, yelling the name of a different girl in position next to you at the blocks. he cheers her on before the race has even begun, clapping loudly.

suddenly the stream of your thoughts breaks like they’re hit by a bomb, fractured, exploding and ping-ponging to every different part of your brain.

there’s no way.

a burning feeling makes its way into your chest, burrowing in under your ribcage to settle next to your heart.

what the fuck is he doing?

the shot goes off, and you burst into a sprint, the wind whistling in your ears as you pass the girls you’re racing, feet flying beneath you.

you hear some of the other guys cheering, coach exclaiming with his hand on his head in disbelief.

you run past the finish, slowing and stumbling into a jog, a walk. you turn in surprise, the rest of the girls still sprinting towards you.

wally laughs, and it’s all you can hear: a smug cackle that seeps into your skin and pisses you off.

“10.58,” coach yells out, and the team erupts into shocked sounds and chatter. another girl pats you on the back, smiling warmly at you.

it takes a second to remember you’re at practice.

you do the cool down stretches with the team, refusing to look towards wally or the storage shed.

coach dismisses everyone, but you linger, watching everyone walk out. you still feel weird. not right. that nasty little burning feeling is still sitting pretty in your chest, and you intend to sweat it out.

your shoes hit the ground, the rough pounding unbelievably therapeutic.

you run sixteen laps around the track, or four miles if you’re counting, the spring sun harsh when you’re under it that long.

you wipe sweat from your forehead, stalking towards your bag. you sling it over your shoulder, trudging to the locker room on tingly legs.

you walk in, a little surprised it’s still open. coach is pretty quick to leave after thursday afternoon practices, citing poker night. usually he has someone lock up for him, but the locker rooms and surrounding hallways are like a ghost town.

you look sweaty, properly worked out, your face flushed and the muscles in your legs in high definition from such an intensive workout.

your shorts have ridden up, and when you close the locker room door behind you, locking it, the glimpse he gets of your ass sends all his blood straight to his cock.

he steps out from where he’d been standing, bracing for when you turn back around.

“shit, wally!” you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping your bag in surprise.

“sorry, sorry,” he smiles, not looking the least bit apologetic. he stoops down, folding his long frame to pick up your bag for you. you snatch it from him, sliding it back over your shoulder.

“what are you doing in here, anyways?”

“waiting for you.” he replies, simply. he leans against a bank of lockers, crossing his arms as he watches you.

“creep.” you say, spitting the word at him. he shrugs, his eyes twinkling.

“some would say, yeah.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing.

“that's not a good thing, west.”

“never said so, babe.”

you sigh, about to walk past him. you must be too tired to wipe your expression, because he stops you.

“what, gorgeous? what’sa matter?”

you stop in front of him, looking up into his ridiculously blue eyes.

you couldn’t bear to let him know that around lap 9 you realized what you were so upset over. it’d be too embarrassing.

“c’mon, please? talk to me.” he says, tentatively placing a hand on your waist. his thumb rubs reassuring circles on your still burning hot skin, and it feels like all the tension in your body is slowly sapped by his touch.

you sigh, resigning yourself to it. he’s not gonna let up unless you say something.

“why were you cheering for her?” you ask, cringing at yourself. you feel like a turtle on its belly, weaknesses out for the world to see. for one particular redheaded boy to see.

“‘cause i knew you’d respond well to a little motivation, quicksilver,” he says, smirking.

you blink at him.

“and you did.”

you stand rooted to the spot, mouth agape.

“you’re the worst, wally. i can’t believe you!” you snap, shoving his hand off as you walk towards your locker. you throw your track bag in, about to grab the stuff for your shower when you feel him behind you. you whirl around, fire in your eyes.

“you are so annoying!” you say, poking him in the chest for emphasis.

wally’s matching your look, but his has a different undertone.

“do something about it then, babe.” he says, his voice going deeper as he runs his eyes up and down your body. you’re hit with the realization that your underwear is soaked, and you roll your eyes, stepping closer.

“just shut the fuck up, west.”

he nods, happily, meeting you halfway when you rush in to press your lips on his.

you’re nothing but fire, heat barely contained under the surface of your skin as you mash your mouth to his. your tongues intertwine, dancing in a fight for dominance. you bite his lip, and he smacks your ass with a firm hand. you feel his smile as he kisses you, his body melding into yours as you press into him.

his aggressively hard cock presses into your hip, the length of it positively mouthwatering.

you tug at his hair, running your hands past the shorn sides to grip into the mane pluming across the top of his head down to his neck.

he moans into your mouth, and you pull away, yanking his shorts down.

you drop to sit on the low bench running against the lockers, pulling him so he stands between your open legs.

he brushes your sweaty hair out of your face as you tug his boxers down, his at-attention cock springing free.

it bobs, twitching as he watches you bite your lips. the hair it’s rooted in is a little darker than the hair on his head, freckles sprinkled across it, the tip a mesmerizing shade of pink.

a bead of pre glistens in the harsh fluorescent light and you swear your mouth waters.

you pump your hands over the length of it, moaning around it as you pull him further into your mouth.

“unbelievable,” he says, his eyelids fluttering. you brace your hands on his hips, his tip touching the back of your throat, but he pats your hand, shaking his head.

“gonna make me finish, pretty girl.”

you pull him out of your mouth, pumping the wet mixture of your spit and his pre over his tip, the shaft.

“and?”

you blink, and he’s maneuvered the two of you, spinning so that you’re in front of him, facing away. he pulls your shirt until your tits are exposed, bouncing as they snap out of the constraints of your bra. his hands are pulled to them like magnets, kneading and teasing your nipples as he suckles on your neck, grinding his cock into your ass.

“and maybe i’m not done with you yet,” wally says, gritting the words out. he pulls your bottoms down, and they fall around your ankles, your underwear stuck midthigh.

he presses a hand onto your back, and you bend down, touching your toes.

wally swallows hard at the view, your heart-shaped ass facing up at him. he slots himself at your entrance, and you wiggle your hips to pull it in further, earning a groan from wally.

“oh, just like that, pretty girl, that’s right,” wally says, mumbling and hissing as you sink down onto his cock. his eyes are closed, the look on his face worshipful.

he lets you take your pleasure, his hands steady on your hips as you rock back and forth. his eyes are glued to the connection between you two, the way his cock looks as it’s disappearing deep into you.

“use me, babe,” wally grits out, and you take him on his word, pulling forward to slam him back into the lockers. the stinging of his back just adds to the building pleasure, and you hook your hands onto the back of his thighs to better brace yourself.

you’re relentless, your feet planted as you slam your ass onto his cock again and again, wally’s groans just fueling the fire you feel threatening you burn you up as pleasure ignites all over your body.

you’ve been eerily quiet, like you’re depriving him of his favorite sounds on purpose, but now you’re panting, moaning and gasping as you clench around him.

“walls, i’m—”

your eyes roll back, and you lose the end of that sentence into pleasure as you shake against him, his arms swooping in to pull you upright. wally supports you, your back to his front, his hand snaking around your side to rub your clit.

your body racks with tremors as he pulses his fingers against the little bud at the crest of your pussy, your breathing labored as you lean against him.

“good job, baby,” he says, voice soft in your ear. “took me so well, i knew you could.”

the praise makes you shiver, his hands running up and down your torso as he tries to memorize the way you feel pressed into him like this.

you’re in a daze, exhausted and overwrought, pleasure still pulsing through your nervous system. you’re vaguely aware of wally pulling your shirt and bra over your head, slipping your shoes off, your shorts and underwear after. he piles them on the bench together, setting his clothes next to yours.

wally picks you up like you’re as light as a feather, slinging you over one shoulder like nothing.

you gasp, surprised, and pound a fist into his shoulder.

“what are you doing??” you ask, and he replies with quick slap on your ass, not bothering to respond.

he walks you to the shower, carefully setting you back onto your feet and standing in front of you. he turns on the water, blocking you from the cold spray as it warms up, kissing your neck.

he squirts a huge pile of body wash into his hand, lathering it with the water until it’s a soapy mess.

he runs his hands over your arms, your neck, your armpits, your chest, dutifully washing away the sweat, the tension from your body, even crouching to get your legs as he leaves no square inch of you unwashed.

he quickly washes himself, and once he’s rinsed, he turns back to you, pull you in for a kiss.

it’s not long before he’s hard again, and you wrap your hand around his length as you suck on his bottom lip, pumping hard. you twist your wrist as you pull up, and he’s moaning into your mouth, kissing you harder.

his hips buck him further into your hand, and he grabs your wrist, making you let go.

“not yet,” wally murmurs into your mouth, and you nod, cupping his face with your hands while you kiss him.

“not still mad, are you?” he asks, and you break the kiss, sighing as you settle into his embrace, leaning your head onto his chest.

“no, wally.”

“good.” he replies, his tone positively gleeful. it causes a giggle to rise in your throat, and you smile up at him. his cheeks turn red, and you blink, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“‘cause you’re my little quicksilver, huh? so fast, aren’t you?” he says, recovering.

you nod, and he kisses you sloppily, water mingling with spit as you breathe each other in, slick skin pressed together. he nudges a knee between your thighs, and you rock your hips, grinding your pussy on his freckled skin.

“faster than you,” you moan out, and the incredulous look on his face makes you cackle.

“never,” wally says, walking you backwards. he picks you up again, pressing you against the wall.

you smile at him lazily, hooking your ankles around his back.

“need more already?” you ask, your fingers lacing through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“with you, it seems like i can’t get enough,” he replies, hoping you’ll be just sleepy enough that you won’t put too much stock into his words. he needs to bide his time. get his act together.

wally slots himself at your entrance, the wet warmth that hits his tip already threatening him to go overboard. he holds his breath, seating himself to the hilt, watching you close your eyes.

he keeps the pace light, but he feels his speed starting to course through his muscles as he calls to it, using it to snap his hips into yours.

your mouth falls open, your eyebrows furrowing, and he knows he’s got you again, sliding his hand up your thigh until his thumb hits your clit, vibrating against it. your eyes are squeezed shut, but his body is a blur, his whole being moving to give you pleasure as quickly as (in)humanly possible.

you sob as he pulls you to the edge again, your whole body shaking as he holds you against the shower tile.

“west,” you moan out, barely able to form words still. “so good, please—,” you cry, pleading like wally wouldn’t give you everything and more without you having to ask.

and he does, coming inside of you as you come apart around his cock, the physical evidence of your combined pleasure obvious in the white ring of fluid on his shaft.

you fall into him, and he slips himself out before setting your feet back onto the ground, stretching his arm out. his elbow had begun to ache from the awkward position, muscle mass and endurance no match for an old break.

you pass him your towel to use after you finish drying off, a content smile washing your features in a glow. he has to fight the urge to ask to keep it, using it to dry himself off instead.

he watches you get dressed, apply deodorant, a spritz of perfume.

wally can’t look away, admiring your still-drying hair, the way your sweats and tank top hug your figure, feet in a pair of comfy post-practice slides.

luckily, wally had a new change of clothes in his own locker, a fresh team t-shirt that shows off his muscular torso, fighting to stay together over his shoulders and biceps.

you make sure everything’s to rights: bag in locker, wally in clothes, shower off, soap in locker.

you turn to him and nod, and have to swallow down your surprise at the look in his eyes.

his pupils are huge, his gaze full of warmth. but oddly enough, he says nothing, just smiles at you.

wally holds out an arm to you, and you loop your hand up to hold onto his bicep. you’d seen the way he was nursing his elbow earlier, and you weren’t about to put more stress on it.

he glances to the locker bank you’d fucked him against as he walks you out, his head whipping around for a double take. the locker he’d been leaning against had a dent the size of his back in the door.

he blinks, his eyebrow cocking. how the fuck had you done that?

did you..

no. wally smiles to himself, shaking his head.

there was no way you had super strength.

post divider courtesy of: @enchanthings-a !!!

･:*+..:+

this fic is dedicated to mimi’s old track elbow and vee’s dented lockers.

to my girls @yeet-ya-chickenstrips and @cottage-worm you were the lifeblood of this fic and i can’t wait to see what kind of idea y’all help me come up with next. thank you so so much.

･:*+..:+

also a/n..

disclaimer: the comic panels used above are for the fact that he has a mullet. wally is 15 in those comics but he is college aged and in his 20s in this fic. i in no way endorse writing or reading explicit sexual content about minors and again, absolutely promise i used those pics solely for the fact that he has a specific hair cut. if anyone wants to find me other comic panels where he’s mulleted and over eighteen, be my guest 🤍

･:*+..:+

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