tojbnuy · 2 days ago
Text
little halloween drabble!! 🎃 ps: toji is definitely the type of dad to cut into every piece of candy megumi got before letting him eat it. (likes reblogs always appreciated <3)
Tumblr media
“right go on buddy go knock.”
toji watched as his son waddled towards the door ahead of him. he had to admit megumi looked really fucking cute. he had been going on and on about dressing up as mario for halloween so toji had done what any good dad would do and he bought him the full costume. the kid even had a fake mustache stuck to his upper lip.
“and remember to say please and thank you megs okay?”
“yes daddy i know.” megumi replied with a little too much sass in his tone.
his little fist knocked a couple times on the door until it opened and then there was. you. toji was a bit too focused on laughing at his sons costume that he hadn’t realised someone dressed up as bat-woman had opened the door. toji himself was dressed up as batman (if you could call keeping the batman mask atop his head dressing up). you were matching. and you were fucking gorgeous. toji was busy taking in your long bare legs when he heard the sudden screech leave you at the sight of his son.
“oh don’t you look adorable!!”
he was definitely gonna buy megumi some pizza on the way back after this.
“uh thank you. trick or treat?”
“hold on let me grab my bowl of candy.”
toji couldn’t help but stare at the rest of you as you turned your back on them. you returned with a massive pumpkin shaped bowl full to the brim with sweets and wrapped cakes.
“go on honey take as much as you like.”
and megumi did not take that sentence lightly. toji scoffed as his son grabbed as much as his chubby hands could carry and stuffed it into his bucket, all the while you grinned and cooed at the boy infront of you.
“does daddy want some?”
toji looked at you and the smirk on your face at your little question.
“nah i’m good thank you.”
just as megumi was about to turn back to his dad toji reminded him, “say thank you baby.”
“thank you baby.” megumi very confidently turned to you and said and you had all but melted. you were in a fit of giggles now as toji held a palm up to his face. megumi looked up at his dad wondering what the commotion was about.
“sorry about that.”
“no you’re good, that’s just made my night.”
you were just staring at each other now, neither of you wanting to break away without saying something more.
“hey we’re matching.” and there was something about your smile. he couldn’t get enough.
“yeah i realised.”
god what should he say. he didn’t want to just ask for your number he was clearly older than you.
“haven’t seen you around here before you new?”
“yeah i uh moved in last week.”
he watched every word come out of your pink painted lips. watched as you tucked a strand of black hair behind your ear.
“daddy why are you staring?”
that got another laugh out of you as you ruffled little megumis hair. there was a small hue of pink now dusting your cheeks however.
“nothing brat. well i’ll see you around then.”
“yeah hopefully.” and with one last smile and wave at megumi you closed your front door and toji was left standing there staring at your closed door and wondering if and when would be the next time he saw you.
“do you love her?”
“what??”
“you keep staring at her it’s weird.”
“i’ll be eating your candy when we get home.”
a/n : ty for 370 followers 🫂 !!!!
1K notes · View notes
thewickedjazzy · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Special Level: "DPーONE HOLE" for Kinktober.
♡PHASE 2: gojo & dazai x afab! reader. *nsfw audio⬇⬇*
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Synopsis: sandwiched between dazai and gojo, you didn't see it coming when they proposed to share a single hole.
Warnings: ņsfw, mdni, smųt with plot, double penetration, size kink, mild degrading kink, voyeurism, reader has a female anatomy, orgasm control, oral sex, rough sex, praise kink, mild psychological manipulation, masturbation, ovulation, pet names used: angel, sweetheart...etc.
Word count & a/n: 3.9k, okay this took me 3 days to write no joke- a special thank you and a kiss to my sweet bbg rem @remlionheart for helping me out writing this part, i don't know what i would've done without her xx.
READ: PHASE 1: geto & chuuya x afab! reader.
Tumblr media
“no way... it’s not gonna fit!” you exclaim, wide-eyed as you take in the two men standing before you, both packing unbelievably huge cocks,
“oh, we’ll make it fit,” the brunet purrs with a sick smirk curling into his lips. are they serious? you nearly passed out last time when it was with geto and chuuya—and that wasn’t even in the same hole.
you shift slightly, feeling a twinge of nervous excitement as they exchange a deranged knowing look. no way they're actually about to try this—double penetration in one hole?
you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this situation. uh, well, you need to rewind a few hours…
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
“you’re going to miss the after-party if you don’t hurry up!” suguru’s voice comes from the other side of the opulent hotel suite door. he stands there sighing and rolling his eyes as he adjusts his tailored dark grey suit that complements your dress perfectly.
“i know!” you bite back, desperately fumbling with the zipper on your dress. the more you pulled, the more it seemed determined to stick in place. well, you didn't expect less from a sleek, form-fitting black dress that falls to just above the knee with a deep v-neck and a backless design.
you huff in frustration feeling your face heat up. why was it always so much more complicated when it was your turn to shine? you could practically hear the chatter of geto and chuuya outside, and yet here you were, trapped in a battle with a stubborn zipper for the second time
the door cracks open, and geto pokes his head in with a pitiful smirk already forming. behind him stands chuuya, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. given that he’s a good head shorter, he practically has to lean up to get a look around geto's shoulder.
“need help?” geto asks, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. classic.
“oh, totally fine! just a… minor uh..malfunction,” you lie, completely ignoring the way your hands are still locked in a losing tug-of-war with the dress. they don't need to know how close you were to waving a white flag.
geto tilts his head, obviously not convinced, but before he can offer again, a crewmember flags them down from the hallway, urgently needing both of them. geto sighs looking a bit hesitant as they’re called away, and you can hear chuuya muttering something about “never a damn break.”
“okay, but shout if you need someone to rescue you,” geto calls chucking over his shoulder as they head off.
you nod, giving an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up while praying the dress will cooperate. once they’re gone, you turn back to the mirror, wrestling with the zipper once more and muttering in frustration. just as you’re about to give up, a pair of warm hands appear on your back, gently tugging the zipper up with ease.
“thank god you’re here,” you sigh in relief, not even bothering to check who’s behind you, assuming it’s someone from wardrobe.
“i was just about to say the same thing,” comes a voice, too close, and way too amused.
you freeze...oh no, that voice!
“g-gojo!” you falter, finally twisting around to see his saccharine shitty grin.
“i... um... thanks? but i didn’t know i was getting a personal stylist??” you reply, pink hue colouring your already flustered face.
“well, I do charge by the hour.” he says, raising an eyebrow with that all-too-smug grin.
is he serious right now?
you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. “yeah? i’ll make sure you work for every cent.”
“here you go! all zipped up and ready to go.” he pats your shoulders gently.
as you check yourself in the mirror, you hear gojo muttering under his breath, “now, where the hell is my bag of bandages?”
needless to say that the suicidal freak is trying to negotiate his way onto the rooftop by slipping a hotel staff member a crisp 100 yen bill. “just let me through, and I won’t mention how you’re the staff's designated crack dealer, alright?”
with that, he strides confidently down the corridor, only to collide with chuuya, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed chatting with geto with a sceptical expression on his face.
“who the hell let you back here?” the redhead barks, glaring at dazai not bothering to hide his frustration.
“uh who the hell let you wear that outfit?” the brunet retorts, taking in chuuya's ensemble, a sharp tuxedo that is a true work of art, complete with a black satin lapel that gleams in the light. beneath it lies a deep crimson shirt, and of course, no look is complete without his stylish new fedora, adding the perfect finishing touches. “did you lose a bet? now, shut up, i’m looking for someone.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
once you’re finally ready, you and the four hotties head up to the hotel rooftop for the after-party. the view of the city skyline is breathtaking, with all the lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. needless to say that the vibe up there is so lively, you can practically feel the energy bustling around you. everyone's laughing, chatting, and the clinking of glasses fills your ears with the upbeat music that makes you want to dance.
you spot some of the cast, all dressed to the nines, mingling and celebrating the movie premiere like it was the best night of their lives. it’s hard not to feel a little caught up in the excitement yourself.
as the night goes on, you’re hanging back in a quieter corner of the rooftop, drink in hand, watching gojo and dazai do their usual routine, with the white-haired freak launching into his jujutsu tales about being the “strongest sorcerer in history” to anyone who’ll lend an ear. he’s practically flexing at this point, not that anyone asked about his sorcery skills—but that doesn’t seem to stop him.
as for dazai, well, he's in his own world of smooth-talking, tossing just the right lines to make every woman he chats with laugh like he's the funniest guy in the room, nodding along to gojo’s wild stories as if he’s actually been there, backing him up with just enough charm and sly touches on the arm or shoulder to keep his female audience wrapped around his finger.
it goes without saying, that geto and chuuya are just standing there, looking like they’re about five seconds from yanking them by the collars and dragging them away.
“keep them in check,” you hear the redhead mutter to suguru, who rolls his eyes in agreement.
“hey, do you wanna get a drink?” the brunet suddenly suggests, sidling up to you with a playful glint in his eyes, and as usual, gojo is right beside him, grinning like a cat who just caught a mouse.
“oh, i-i don’t think i should,” you hadn’t planned to drink tonight, especially since you were ovulating and wanted to stay clear-headed. but the glimmer of pleading in their eyes makes it hard to resist.
“oh, c’monnn! just one drink?” gojo pleads, leaning closer and brushing his fingertips on yours. “it’ll be fun.”
with a sigh, you relent, knowing they won’t let it go easily. “finnne, just one.”
oh, agreeing to this was a crucial mistake—not because you're getting drunk, but because you're literally a giggling mess, flirting right back with them more than usual. with the increase in estrogen, making your skin feel more sensitive, and you can’t help but notice how the fabric hugs your curves perfectly, leaving you feeling uncharacteristically sexy. every playful touch and cheeky comment from the two men sends your heart racing, as if it’s the first time anyone has ever admired you like this.
you finish your glass, you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, the effects of the alcohol hitting you faster than you expected. the two men's playful banter becomes way more extreme, you find their hands roaming your body in tandem, too shamelessly.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
the brunet brat chuckles lowly snapping you out of your thoughts as he leans in closer until his long slender fingers slide between your slick folds, parting them as he plunges two digits deep into your sweet soaked hole. “oh, see? pretty sure it will fit,” he coos, spreading his fingers inside you just enough to draw another desperate moan from your throat. “you’re already making it easier with how wet you are.”
your back arches againts your will as your head lolls back, mouth falling open in delight. and you can clearly hear your pulse racing in your chest as he keeps his fingers inside you, curling and spreading them while keeping his gaze fixed on your pouty face.
“just relax, yeah?” dazai whispers, pressing his palm against your chest to guide you back onto the soft, white blanket, relaxing your tensed body.
to the side, gojo leans back into the leather couch across the room, his own gaze heavy-lidded with arousal as he strokes his cock in long, slow, lewd motions, eyes completely locked on the way you writhe beneath dazai's touch. the six eyes man whore is absolutely shameless, letting every inch of his thick length slide through his hand as he watches you with a smug grin spreading across his face. “fuck yeah, look at you,” his voice drops an octave.“already fucked out, and we haven’t even fucked you yet.”
your gaze flickers to gojo, watching as he tightens his grip around his deliciously lengthy cock, hand moving in slow, teasing strokes, you bite back a whimper and tugging at the brunet's sleeve as some sort of a plea. as soon as the sorcerer catches your stare, he chuckles darkly picking up the pace and rubbing his seed-soaked tip with his thumb, little blue-tinted veins running up and down his cock, a shade dangerously close to his own hungry eyes.
you should be ashamed of how much your mouth starts to water, saliva pooling and connecting the roof of your mouth to the pad of your tongue.
“getting all wet just from my fingers?… how are you gonna handle both of us?” his fingers continue their sedulous rhythm as he stretches you open, a rushing river of slickness pooling with every teasing thrust of his digits. he pulls his fingers out only to plunge them back in again, spreading them inside you, relishing in the way your walls flutter and clench around him. “It’s like you were made for us”
“dazai,” gojo calls, from across the room, “go faster, yeah? look at how desperate they are.”
without hesitation, the brunet speeds up, curling his fingers deep inside your gummy walls, soft thumb rubbing your abused clit firmly, sending shockwaves of dopamine across your brain. you can feel it build rapidly, hips rocking salaciously against his fingers, feeling the sex loaded air pressing down on your chest, as he works you closer and closer to your release. but just as you’re about to tip over, the brat pulls his fingers out, leaving you trembling and on the brink. you mentally curse him, more tears filling your eyes as you look up at him, lips wet and pouty, parted in a desperate, wordless plea.
“oh? you want us to make you come?” gojo chuckles, voice almost mocking you pathetically as he stands up and strides over to loom over you with that infuriatingly smug grin. “then kiss me,” he leans down, face so close that you can feel his minty breath ghosting over your lips.
you know better than to listen to him, but desperation consumes you as you silently mourn the loss of your neglected release, you shift, reaching up to capture his lips, loud heartbeats drowning out your hearing. but just as you’re about to press your mouth to his, you hit an invisible barrier, his infinity keeping you just millimetres from him. he chuckles darkly, watching the frustration build up in your eyes as you let out an exasperated whimper, practically aching to close the gap.
“that’s not fair!” you cry in desperation as you press harder against the invisible barrier, lips hovering so close but unable to reach him.
gojo’s sick smirk only widens. “life’s not fair, sweetheart,” he drawls sultrily, “but maybe if you let us both fuck you…” he lets the sentence hang out in the sex charged air between you both, his glances over at dazai with an amused grin.
“oh, c’mon, angel. that look in your eyes is begging for more. you know you want us to fill you until you can’t take it anymore.” the burnet's hand tilt your chin slightly so that you're facing him, his other hand still on your thighs, fingers idly trace patterns on your sensitive skin, keeping you needy like a bitch in heat.
“please,” you whisper as you try to push again though his invisible barrier but to avail, fuck it! you need to taste him to feel his sweet lips on yours, “please, i need it—i need both of you.” your voice cracking, dignity slipping as you look from one to the other, unable to resist any more teasing.
the white-haired freak hums in satisfaction, and as soon as his infinity is turned off, you find both your lips pressed together, tasting your shared breath, and oh god the taste of him makes you melt drawing out sounds from you that you didn’t know you could make. his tongue sweeps against yours, coaxing you into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that leaves you dizzy.
just as you’re sinking into him, lost in his sweet taste, dazai's firm hand cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him with a look that leaves no room for patience. his mouth is on you before you can take a breath, teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging, then his tongue slides in, leaving a slick trail of spit that mixes with gojo’s. a needy groan rumbling from his throat as you part your legs even wider, inviting him to slip between your inner thighs.
dazai’s hands settle firmly on your waist, fingers digging in as he lifts you effortlessly, guiding you until you’re straddling him, pillowy thighs spread around his hips. he shifts, positioning himself so his achy tip is bumping your clit, until he reaches right between your inner folds, running the meat of his shaft along the length of your soaked pussy. you lean in to tast the faint salt of his skin, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. a shuddered breath escapes him as the soft warmth of your heated cunt welcomes his length, angry tip nudges into you, slipping past that tender threshold.
“oh fuck baby mngh..suck me in like that, fuck yeahh,” he growls as you sink down to drive his delicious cock into the deepest parts of your sex, inch by fucking inch, your cunt already fully lubed up with all your sweet juices. the world around you fades, leaving only the exquisite sensation of being filled by dazai’s meaty cock.
and just when you think that you're already too full of dazai, you feel gojo's strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, slowly pushing deep within you, his girth sliding alongside the brunet's and into your ruined hole, filling you to the brim in a luscious stretch.
“oh—fuhhh-ck ’toruuu, it’s too much—too much!” you gasp, voice breaking as your body struggles for a few seconds to take them both, a sweet ache blossoming within you as they thrust deeper, cunt instinctively clenching around both their cocks, as if trying to pull them in, to take them impossibly deeper.
“fuckk! you feel incredible. mmngh yeahh just a little more, sweetheart… you can take it.” the sorcerer groans against the shell of your ears while palming both of your breasts from behind, you never imagined taking one of them, leave alone both of them together, every inch of your now-stretched cunt is filled to the brink, and yet craving more, even as it borders on unbearable.
“shh, you’re doing so well,” dazai’s voice came through softly, lips brushing delicate kisses along your collarbone. “just breathe, angel… i’ve got you.” his words are meant to soothe you, but you’re too spent in that moment—utterly lost, trembling as their cocks drives you to the edge of your own universe.
obscene noises mingling together as gojo fists a hand in your hair, tugging your head back and exposing your throat for his hungry lips. his other hand presses firmly on your back, pushing you down until your belly meets the solid warmth of dazai beneath you. the brunet's arms circle your waist, holding you steady, each of them guiding your trembling body into a perfect arch, pushing you to take them fully. so that they can bottom out inside you.
“fuck shit- shit shit feels so good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you feel around him.
“see? you're taking us so well haahh you should cut out the nonsense next time mghh” saturo lets out a throaty hybrid noise, a lewd mix between an amused laugh and a deep moan.
incoherent curses slipping past your wet lips as saturo prods and pinches the sensitive skin around your nipples. it's too much, the pleasure is too much, the pain is too much, the lewd squelch of your sexes as they slip in and out of you, feeling your orgasm build up again.
“mmuph yes please fuuuck don't stop ’m clos-e” your pleading whimpers betray you, just like your body does filled with hormonal lust pooling right into your core.
“fuck oh fu-ck keep squeezing me like that- ah” “hngh yes angel cum all over our cocks”
their voices blur together, indistinguishable as they both sound the same, each word flows into the next. and all you hear is the wet plap plap plap of their balls slapping against your sensitive skin.
you bounce back on their hardened lengths, finally riding out your sweet release. both men moan in unison at the sight of your lewd expression—eyes rolling back, tongue slipping from your mouth as drool and tears streak down your mascara-smudged cheeks, oh, such a beautiful sight to see, body flushed and trembling with sweat trickling down the valley of your breasts.
they’ve ruined you quite literally and turned you into thisーa wrecked mess, quivering each time their thick lengths press against every sensitive spot. with broken cries spilling from your bruised lips, they angle their hips just right, hitting your g-spot over and over.
as their hands glide down to press against the bulge in your lower belly, a wave of intense pleasure unfurls through you, stealing your breath and lighting up every nerve in a blinding crescendo. your vision blurs, flashes of light dancing behind your eyelids as if a galaxy has burst open within you, stars scattering and colliding in the depth of your being.
your juices gush against gojo's firm thighs and dazai's abdomen, soaking them in a glistening sheen under the low hotel lighting. both of them follow suit feeling how your walls flutter and tighten around them so perfectly, two loads of thick, hot cum paint your insides pearly white—the milky liquid reaching deep to your womb, though some of it inevitably leaks out, trickling down from your velvet walls.
once they pull out, they gently place you on the feathery pillows, but not before glancing one last time at your absolutely wrecked and dripping pussy, dripping with their mixed essence. they settle beside you, both of them relaxing into the plush bedding, they take deep breathes trying to calm down from their own high as they cast affectionate glances your way, ensuring you're comfortable and cared for after such an intense release.
“hey, are you okay, baby?” gojo is the first to ask, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, “did we go too far?”
then dazai leans closer, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “you did well, angel, but we want to make sure you’re feeling good. do you need some water or anything?”
“just... hold me for a bit.”
you never would have guessed they could be this gentle, let alone attentive. you’d always imagined this would be wild and chaotic, maybe even a bit reckless, but here they were, treating you like you're the most precious thing in the world.
“of course, angel,” dazai replies softly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer to his heaving chest. “we’ve got you.”
gojo follows, chuckling softly as his fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin. “if you need anything else, baby, just say it. we’re here to take care of you.”
you close your eyes, nestled between them, you never thought that you'd feel this safe and cared for as they whisper sweet nothings, ensuring you know just how much you’re adored.
Tumblr media
TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @whiteelove @dottedhalfnotes @victoria1676 @ghostedwriting @a-trashbag @bakedpotato12 @ambervanth @sakui1 @iams0up @osamucide @lighthoonie @chuuyascumsock @vernasce-blogs @v1rtualdr3am5 @akyria-shyn @dazaistn @meowpmzai @ilikematcha
845 notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 1 day ago
Text
Meant to be His
Day 30 → Innocence Kink 💋 CEO!Lando Norris
Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent, breeding, and manipulation
Kinktober Masterlist
Tumblr media
Lando leans back in his sleek, black leather chair, eyes glued to the door of his office. It’s been like this for months now. You waltz in every morning, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of him, completely unaware that he’s one wrong word away from losing it.
He tightens his grip on his Montblanc pen, watching you through the glass wall as you flutter about the office, bow in your hair, soft pink dress neatly pressed, kitten heels clicking softly against the marble floors. Innocent. Always so damn innocent.
He’s sure it’s an act. It has to be.
“Mr. Norris, do you need anything else before your meeting at two?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts like it’s nothing, and the soft, sweet tone of it only aggravates him further.
Lando exhales sharply, spinning his chair back to face his computer, pretending to check an email that he isn’t actually reading. “No. I’m fine.”
There’s a pause. You’re still standing there, he can feel it. His jaw tightens. She’s waiting for something, but what? An opportunity to toy with him again, no doubt. He glances up, catching your eyes.
“You sure? You seem tense,” you ask, that genuine concern on your face so perfectly played. You look so innocent. But Lando doesn’t buy it. Not anymore.
“I’m sure,” he says flatly, forcing his voice to stay calm. You smile, nodding before heading out of his office, your perfume trailing behind like some kind of torture. Sweet, light, impossible to ignore.
His eyes follow you as you return to your desk, and for the life of him, Lando can’t figure out how you do it. How you manage to walk around here, day after day, pretending like none of it affects you. The looks, the way he tenses up every time you’re near, the way his pulse races when you lean over his desk just a little too close to hand him a file.
You. Must. Know.
But you carry on, head buried in textbooks between calls, your fingers skimming through pages of what looks like accounting formulas while you answer emails. How the hell does someone focus on their studies while managing the workload he throws at you? And always with that ridiculous little bow in your hair. It drives him insane.
His phone buzzes, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glances down.
Max: Dinner tonight?
Lando ignores the text. He can’t think about dinner right now. His attention is on you, watching the way your lips move when you hum softly to yourself, tapping away at your keyboard. Do you know what you’re doing? Do you have any idea?
No, of course you do. You’ve got him right where you want him — second-guessing everything. Lando feels his frustration simmering, the tight knot of control he keeps around his emotions starting to fray. He’s built his career on maintaining composure, being the one who’s always a step ahead, but this — you — are throwing him off balance.
He hates that.
“Hey.” His voice cuts through the stillness, sharp. He doesn’t know what he’s about to say, but he’s tired of staying silent. “Can you come in here for a second?”
You look up, slightly startled, and he watches as you smooth down your dress before stepping into his office. The door closes with a soft click behind you.
“Yes, Mr. Norris?”
He doesn’t respond immediately, eyes narrowing as he watches you. His thumb taps rhythmically on the arm of his chair, thoughts racing. Your tone is so polite, so professional, as if you’re not in the slightest aware of the mess you’ve made of him.
“That report — did you finish it?”
Your head tilts slightly, confused. “Yes, I emailed it to you this morning. Did you need something else added?”
“No.” Lando pauses, his eyes lingering on the bow in your hair. It's small, white, and so out of place in this cold, polished world of corporate dominance. Yet you wear it like it belongs. It makes him irrationally angry, but he can’t say why. “I got it. You can go.”
There’s that pause again, your eyes searching his face for something, but you don’t push. You never push. Instead, you nod politely and turn to leave, but something inside him snaps.
“Why do you do that?” His voice is harsher than he intends, but he doesn’t care.
You turn slowly, brows furrowed. “Do what?”
“That.” He gestures vaguely toward you, frustration bubbling over. “You walk around here like nothing bothers you. Always … smiling. Always so damn-” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He doesn’t want to say it, but it’s on the tip of his tongue. Innocent. Always so damn innocent. He grits his teeth instead. “Forget it.”
You blink, clearly taken aback. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”
The sincerity in your voice almost makes him feel guilty. Almost. But no, this is part of it, isn’t it? You play this innocent card so well, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to him. He stands abruptly, crossing the room in two quick strides until he’s standing in front of you.
“Wrong?” His voice lowers, eyes burning into yours. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
You look up at him, wide-eyed, still confused. “Then what-”
“You can go.” He cuts you off, voice tight, jaw clenched. “Get back to work.”
Your lips part as if to say something, but you close them again, giving him one last glance before nodding and stepping out of his office. The second the door closes, Lando exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair.
He’s losing control. He never loses control. Not like this. He doesn’t lose sleep over things he can’t have. That’s not who he is. But you — you’re making him unravel.
He moves back to his desk, his eyes once again finding you through the glass. You’ve already gone back to work like nothing happened, typing away, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him. How can you be so unaware?
Lando clenches his fists, determination settling in his chest. No, you’re not unaware. You can’t be. You’ve been playing this game for months, testing him, pushing him to the edge, making him question everything he’s built. But if this is a game, it’s one he’s determined to win.
This ends soon.
Whatever you’re doing — whether you’re aware of it or not — Lando is done letting it get to him. He’s done letting you have the upper hand.
It’s time to do something about it.
***
The morning sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lando’s office as he sits behind his desk, trying to drown himself in spreadsheets and stock analyses. But his focus wavers every few minutes, his eyes drifting toward your desk, watching you chew absentmindedly on the end of a pen while scrolling through emails. The quiet hum of the office is nothing more than white noise, and no matter how hard he tries, you’re there. In his head. In his line of sight.
He rubs the bridge of his nose, frustrated, trying to get a grip. Yesterday’s conversation replays in his mind, your wide-eyed confusion, the softness of your voice, the bow in your hair. He told himself he’d put an end to it, but now, here you are again, all cute dresses and innocence, as if you haven’t been driving him insane for months.
Then, he sees it.
You’ve unwrapped a lollipop, the plastic crackling softly as you slide it into your mouth, your lips closing around the candy in a way that feels intentional. Lando’s stomach tightens. His jaw clenches as he watches the slow swirl of your tongue around the stick. He knows he should look away, that he’s letting himself spiral, but his eyes stay locked on you. You’re concentrating on your screen, tapping at the keyboard, entirely oblivious to the effect you’re having on him.
He shifts in his chair, feeling the sudden constriction in his pants, the tightness unbearable. His breath comes harder, shallow. He balls his fists on the desk, eyes narrowing. That’s it. He’s had enough.
He stands abruptly, the chair scraping behind him. His body moves before his mind catches up, the determination settling into his steps as he crosses the office in long, forceful strides. He doesn’t even bother knocking. He doesn’t need to. He owns this place.
“Come into my office,” he says, voice low, tight.
You look up, startled, your lips still wrapped around the lollipop. “Now?”
“Now.”
You blink, eyes wide as you quickly nod, pulling the candy from your mouth and holding it awkwardly between your fingers. You stand, smoothing out your dress as you follow him, heels clicking softly behind him.
The second you step inside, he closes the door with a deliberate, heavy thud. His office feels smaller today, the air thick, charged. He doesn’t even look at you as he walks to his desk, his movements sharp, controlled, as if he’s barely holding onto the last threads of his restraint.
“Did I — did I do something wrong?” Your voice is soft, confused, and that only makes it worse. How could you be so unaware? How could you stand there, looking at him like that, when he’s been on edge for weeks?
Lando’s silence hangs heavy between you, and you shift nervously, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. That innocent little dress that clings to your waist just enough to remind him of every single curve.
“If I’ve made a mistake-”
He cuts you off with a sharp movement, his arm sweeping across the desk, sending papers, pens, and his phone crashing to the floor in one swift motion. The noise echoes through the office, loud, final.
You jump, eyes wide, taking a step back. “Mr. Norris-”
“Enough.” His voice is deep, guttural, and he steps toward you, crowding your space, forcing you backward until your thighs bump against the edge of the now-cleared desk. “You think you can keep teasing me, walking around here like this?”
Your eyes widen, genuine confusion etched on your face. “I-I’m not — I didn’t-”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.” His hands find your hips, fingers digging in just hard enough to keep you there, to stop you from retreating. You’re trapped, and he knows it. He’s planned it. His frustration, his anger — it’s all coming to a head, and there’s no going back now. “With your little dresses, your bows, that sweet little act. All of it.”
Your breath hitches, and for a second, Lando thinks he sees it — something flicker in your eyes. But then your voice, soft and trembling, breaks the moment. “I haven’t-”
“Innocent,” he spits the word like it’s a curse, fingers tightening on your waist. “Always so innocent. But if you’re going to act like that, you better be ready to pay for it.”
Your eyes dart to the door, panic creeping into your expression. “Mr. Norris, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear, I-”
Before you can finish, he pushes you down onto the desk, the cool surface pressing against your back. His hands slide up your thighs, bunching the fabric of your dress as he leans over you, breath hot against your ear.
“You really think I believe that? You’ve been teasing me for months. The way you look at me, the way you walk around in those outfits like you don’t know what it does to me.” He’s practically growling now, his control slipping further with every word. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
“I haven’t-” You shake your head, breath coming faster, your voice breaking. “I swear, I didn’t mean to-”
He cuts you off with a hand on your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher, exposing the soft skin of your legs. His breath catches in his throat as he finally sees it — the tiny bows decorating the edges of your underwear. Innocent, delicate, just like everything else about you.
“Of course,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, his voice dark with disbelief. “Even your underwear has bows.”
You look up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling as you try to form words, but nothing comes out. You’re confused, scared even, but Lando’s mind is too clouded with months of frustration to see it clearly. All he knows is that you’ve pushed him too far, and now he’s about to push back.
Lando’s fingers toy with the delicate bows on your underwear, his grip tightening, anger laced with disbelief. Every detail of you, from your soft lips to the innocent little things you wear — it all feels designed to torment him. And now, this. The proof in the form of those bows only furthers his conviction that it’s all some calculated game. You have to be messing with him.
“Why would you wear something like this?” His voice is low, dark, as he tugs at the fabric just enough to make you gasp, your body trembling under his. “It’s pathetic. Like you’re trying to act sweet and untouched, but we both know the truth.”
Your eyes are wide, pleading, but you don’t say anything. Lando’s face hardens as he looks down at you. He doesn’t believe a word you’ve said — how could he? He knows the games women play, knows how they can hide behind innocent faces while pulling the strings behind the scenes. You’re no different. You can’t be.
But he needs to be sure.
Lando leans over you, his body pressing down on yours as his hands slide higher, pulling your underwear aside. The fabric moves easily, but what he finds next stops him cold.
His fingers pause, eyes narrowing as he pushes a little further, a soft pressure meeting his touch. His pulse quickens. For a second, his brain can’t quite process what he’s feeling. There’s no way. Not you.
He pushes a little harder, confirming what his mind refuses to accept. You tense beneath him, your breath shaky, and that’s when it hits him like a truck.
You’re a virgin.
A wave of shock floods through him, wiping away the rage that had been bubbling up inside. His mind races, trying to reconcile the idea of you — the teasing, innocent act he thought you’d been playing — with the reality of what he’s just discovered. You’ve never been touched. Not by him. Not by anyone.
He pulls back slightly, staring down at you in disbelief. “You're serious.” His voice comes out harsher than intended, but it’s the only thing that manages to escape his mouth. His breath hitches as the realization fully settles.
Your lips part, trembling. “I-I told you,” you whisper, barely able to meet his eyes. “I wasn’t … I didn’t …”
Lando stares at you, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in his mind. The shy looks, the blushing, the fidgeting. It wasn’t an act. You really are innocent. You’re untouched. Pure. And all this time, he’d been imagining the worst. Misreading every single thing about you.
A flood of possessiveness surges through him, stronger than anything he’s ever felt. He’s the first. He’s going to be the only one. His hands slide up your body, slower this time, deliberate. You’re his now. Completely. You’ve always been his, but now it’s clear. He’ll make sure of it.
“You're mine,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His eyes burn into yours as he leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you understand that?”
You swallow hard, nodding slightly, though your face is still a mix of fear and confusion. He doesn’t care. You’ll understand soon enough.
He reaches for the lollipop laying abandoned on the desk, the one you had been sucking on earlier. Without breaking eye contact, he brings it to his mouth, licking the candy slowly, his tongue swirling around it just as he’d imagined watching you do the same. It’s sweet, just like you.
Then, without warning, he presses the lollipop back to your lips, his eyes darkening. “Open your mouth,” he orders softly.
You hesitate for a second, but his gaze is unrelenting, powerful, and you obey. Your lips part slowly, and he slips the lollipop into your mouth, watching with satisfaction as you close your lips around it. There’s something primal in the way he watches you now, the way your innocence only fuels the possessiveness raging inside him.
He leans down, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t leave after work today,” he whispers, the words rough and commanding. “You’re coming home with me.”
You let out a shaky breath, eyes wide, but you don’t protest. You don’t argue. You just look up at him, the lollipop still between your lips, and nod. He smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek before pulling back, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his desk, dress bunched around your thighs, your lips wrapped around the candy he gave you.
His.
All of you.
***
The hours after Lando’s quiet command crawl by at a pace that feels like torture. He watches you from his office, stealing glances through the glass partition. You’re fidgety, distracted, clearly unsettled by what transpired. Your fingers keep brushing the spot on your lips where his lollipop had been, your gaze downcast, stealing anxious looks toward his office door. He finds it hard to focus on anything else, his mind swirling with the anticipation of what’s coming.
Finally, the workday ends. The usual shuffle of employees packing up to leave passes in a blur for him, and when he sees you stand to collect your things, his heart kicks into overdrive. This is it.
You look hesitant as you walk toward the door, but Lando meets you in the hallway before you can even reach for your coat. His voice is quiet, commanding, as he speaks. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”
You don’t say a word, just nod and follow him. It’s all you can do. You’re out of your element, swept up in a current you don’t understand, but something about his presence makes resistance feel impossible.
The elevator ride down to the underground parking lot is thick with tension. He can feel your anxiety radiating off you in waves, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. His hand rests on the small of your back as you step out, guiding you to his sleek McLaren. The doors unlock with a soft click, and he gestures for you to get in.
Once inside, the car roars to life with a low, throaty hum as Lando pulls out of the parking garage, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as they hit the road. For a while, the drive is silent, save for the soft purr of the engine and the occasional sound of your nervous breath.
Lando’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, but he allows one hand to drift away, resting on the center console. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re staring out the window, fingers twisting in your lap, the tension in your shoulders palpable. His gaze lowers, following the line of your thighs beneath your dress, and something in him snaps.
Slowly, deliberately, he lets his hand fall to your knee, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. The effect is immediate — you stiffen, your breath catching in your throat, but you don’t move. You don’t push him away.
His hand stays there, warm and firm, his thumb tracing slow circles on your thigh as he drives. He doesn’t speak, but the weight of his touch says more than words could. It’s a reminder, a promise. You’re his now, and tonight, he’s going to make sure you know it.
The tension between you both is electric, humming in the space between his hand on your leg and your racing pulse. You bite your lip, a futile attempt to steady your breath, but Lando can sense it — the nervous anticipation that’s eating at you, the mix of fear and something else, something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge.
The drive is short, the distance between his office and his penthouse a blur. Before you know it, he’s pulling into the private garage beneath his building. The McLaren comes to a smooth stop, and Lando kills the engine, the silence that follows heavy and oppressive.
“Let’s go,” he says quietly, stepping out of the car and coming around to your side before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt. He opens the door for you, his hand outstretched. You hesitate for only a second before placing your hand in his, allowing him to help you out.
His grip tightens as he leads you toward the private elevator. The doors close behind you with a soft hiss, and the moment you’re sealed inside the confined space, you feel his presence even more intensely. His hand slides up your back, fingers pressing into the curve of your spine as the elevator ascends.
When the doors slide open again, you’re in his penthouse — a sprawling space of glass and steel, modern and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. But you don’t have time to take it in. Lando’s hand is still on your back, guiding you through the entryway, through the open living space, until you’re standing in the middle of his bedroom.
The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing through the large, empty space. You can hear your own breath, shallow and quick, the thud of your pulse loud in your ears. But Lando is calm, methodical, as he steps in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face.
“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding.
Your legs feel weak, but you take a step forward. His hands find your waist immediately, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your temple as he presses a kiss to your hairline.
“Do you know what happens now?” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You shake your head, barely able to think, let alone respond. Lando pulls back just enough to look down at you, his expression unreadable. “You’re mine. I told you that.”
You nod, swallowing hard, unable to speak. You can feel his hands moving again, tugging at the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly, exposing more and more of your skin until it’s bunched around your waist. You gasp softly, feeling his hands on your bare thighs again, the same spot he’d touched in the car, but now his touch is more urgent, more possessive.
He pushes you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress as he leans over you, his eyes dark and focused. “I’m going to make sure of it,” he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your thighs, spreading them apart as he positions himself between your legs.
Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers find the barrier again, that small, fragile proof of your innocence. He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you.
“You really were telling the truth.” His voice is low, almost disbelieving, as if the idea of you being untouched still doesn’t fully compute in his mind. He’s quiet for a moment, and then his expression shifts, a dark, possessive gleam entering his eyes. “You’re mine,” he whispers again, and this time, there’s no doubt in his voice.
You let out a shaky breath, your eyes filling with tears, overwhelmed by everything — the intensity of his gaze, the feel of his hands on you, the weight of what’s happening. A tear slips down your cheek, and Lando’s lips are on you immediately, kissing it away, his breath warm and soft against your skin.
“Shh,” he coos, his voice soft now, almost tender as he kisses your tears. “Don’t cry. You’re all mine now, and I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”
His hands are gentle as he pushes through the barrier, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. You let out a soft, broken gasp, and Lando leans down to kiss you, swallowing the sound as he moves deeper. His lips trail over your cheek, your jaw, your neck, kissing away every tear, every bit of hesitation.
Lando’s grip on your hips tightens, his breath coming in slow, deliberate waves as he watches your every move. There’s a fierce, possessive satisfaction in his eyes as he presses further into you, feeling the way your body reacts, the soft gasps escaping your lips, the way your fingers curl into the sheets. He’s in complete control, and that’s exactly how he wants it.
You’re his now. Completely. And he’s going to be the first — the only one — to take you over the edge. That thought alone sends a surge of pride through him, dark and possessive. The world has never touched you the way he’s about to. You’re untainted, and he’s going to keep it that way.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice low and rough as his hand finds your chin, tilting your face toward him. Your eyes flutter open, wide and unsure, still glistening from the tears he kissed away moments ago. There’s an innocence in your gaze, a vulnerability that cuts through the sharp edge of his dominance for a moment, but he pushes that aside. He wants you to look at him — not in fear, but in understanding.
“This is how it’s going to be,” Lando murmurs, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he holds your gaze. “I’m the only one who gets to do this. No one else. Ever. Do you understand?”
You nod, your breath catching in your throat, and he smirks. “Say it,” he demands, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Say that you’re mine.”
“I-I’m yours,” you whisper, your voice shaking, but there’s something else in it now. A tremor of something more than fear — something closer to surrender.
“That’s right.” He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as his voice drops to a whisper. “You belong to me. And I’m going to show you exactly what that means.”
He moves deliberately, his hands sliding down your body, claiming every inch of you as he goes. His touch is firm, authoritative, yet maddeningly slow, building a tension between you that leaves you trembling beneath him. Lando can feel the way your body reacts to him, the way you instinctively arch into his touch, even though you try to hold back. It makes him smile, dark and knowing. You might be innocent, but your body is learning quickly. It’s beginning to respond to him, just like he knew it would.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding between your thighs, teasing, as his fingers brush lightly against your skin. “You want this. I can feel it.”
You make a soft sound in the back of your throat, a shaky, half-swallowed whimper, but you don’t pull away. You don’t deny it. Because deep down, even if you don’t want to admit it, you do want this. You want him. He knows it.
Lando’s lips curve into a satisfied smirk as he continues his slow, torturous movements, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm with the soft gasps that escape your lips. He watches every flicker of emotion on your face, every shiver that runs through you as he pushes you closer to the edge. You’re so close — he can feel it.
“I can feel you trembling,” he whispers, his voice dark and seductive as he leans down, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “You’re almost there, aren’t you? You’ve never felt this before, have you?”
You shake your head, your breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps now, and Lando feels a rush of satisfaction. He’s right. No one else has ever brought you this close. No one else has ever touched you like this. And no one else ever will.
“I’m going to be the first,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck as his hand moves with agonizing precision, his fingers coaxing soft, breathless sounds from you. “The only one to make you feel this way. Do you know how good it’s going to feel, baby? How good I’m going to make you feel?”
Your only response is a soft whimper, your body arching beneath him as you inch closer to that tipping point. Lando can feel it in the way your body moves, the way your fingers clutch at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, his voice barely a whisper.
“Don’t hold back,” he coos, his voice dark and commanding. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”
His words send a shiver through you, and Lando can feel the way you’re teetering on the edge, the way your body is trembling, so close, so painfully close. But he doesn’t let up. He won’t let you slip away from this.
And then, with a deliberate, calculated move, he pushes you over the edge.
The gasp that leaves your lips is soft, broken, and Lando watches with dark satisfaction as your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as you finally fall. He keeps his touch steady, guiding you through it, his voice low and soothing as he coaxes you through the overwhelming rush of sensations.
“There it is,” he murmurs, his hand still moving in that same, steady rhythm. “Let it happen. Let me see you.”
Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps as your body trembles beneath him, and Lando can’t help the satisfied smirk that tugs at his lips. He’s the first to do this to you. He’s the only one who ever will.
As you come down from the high, your body slowly relaxing, Lando’s hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He leans down, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice soft but firm. “And I’ll never let you forget that.”
You don’t respond, your breath still shaky as you lie beneath him, your body completely spent. But Lando doesn’t need a response. He knows you understand. You belong to him now, in every way that matters.
***
Lando wakes early, the soft light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains in his penthouse bedroom. The city outside is still and quiet, a far cry from the chaos of the day that is yet to begin. He blinks, his eyes adjusting to the gentle light, and then his gaze falls on you, lying beside him, still asleep.
The sight of you — curled up under the covers, your breathing slow and peaceful — does something to him. It’s as if, in sleep, you’ve become even more vulnerable, even more innocent. Your face is relaxed, lips slightly parted, your hair falling messily across the pillow. There’s a softness to you now, a contrast to the tension that had filled the air between you both the night before.
Lando’s chest tightens as he watches you, his mind racing. How could someone like you, with your wide-eyed innocence and shy demeanor, have this kind of effect on him? He’d never wanted anyone like this before, never felt this need to possess, to claim. But with you, it’s different. It’s all-consuming.
You stir slightly, shifting beneath the covers, and Lando feels his pulse quicken. Even in sleep, you’re irresistible to him. He can’t stop looking at you, drinking in every detail — your soft skin, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you dream.
He feels the pull again, that deep, primal urge to claim you in every possible way. He wants to feel you, fully, like he never has before. The thought sends a wave of heat through him, and before he can stop himself, his hand is moving, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. His fingers trail softly down your cheek, barely touching, but even that small contact ignites something inside him.
You don’t stir, still lost in sleep, and Lando’s gaze darkens. He’s always in control, always dominant — but there’s something about the idea of taking you like this, of being the first to truly have you, that sends his desire spiraling out of control.
Slowly, deliberately, Lando shifts closer to you, careful not to wake you. His hand moves down your body, sliding under the covers, fingers grazing your skin. He inhales deeply, his breath catching in his throat as he feels your warmth, your softness. You shift slightly again, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you don’t wake.
“Shh,” Lando whispers under his breath, his voice barely audible. “Just stay like that, baby.”
His hand moves lower, slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, and he feels you tremble slightly in your sleep. He’s gentle, careful not to startle you, but he can’t deny the hunger building inside him, the way his body aches to be closer to you.
You stir again, your body instinctively shifting toward his touch, and Lando bites back a groan. The feel of you — soft, warm, so completely vulnerable — drives him to the edge. He leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, kissing the delicate skin just beneath your ear.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice dark and low. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
He pulls back, just enough to see your face again. You’re still asleep, still completely unaware of the effect you have on him, and something about that only spurs him on. He slides his hand down further, positioning himself between your legs, his breath coming in slow, deliberate breaths as he moves.
He’s careful, so careful, not to wake you. This is his moment, the one he’s been waiting for. He pushes forward slowly, his body tense with anticipation, his heart pounding in his chest. You let out a soft, barely audible whimper in your sleep, but you don’t wake.
Lando’s jaw tightens as he feels the first resistance, the proof of your innocence, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, letting the satisfaction wash over him. You’re really his. No one else has ever been this close to you, no one else has ever taken this from you. And now, it’s his.
He moves slowly, savoring every second, every soft sound that escapes your lips. You shift beneath him, your body instinctively reacting to his touch, and Lando’s grip tightens on your hip, holding you still.
“That’s it,” he whispers, his voice thick with need. “Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you.”
You stir slightly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he moves deeper, but your eyes stay closed. Lando watches your face intently, his breath shallow, his entire focus on you. You’re so tight, so perfect, and the way your body responds to him only fuels his desire.
He moves carefully, slowly, not wanting to hurt you, but the heat between you both is undeniable. His control is slipping, and he knows it. But he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop. Not until he’s completely inside you, not until he’s claimed you fully.
Your body tenses as he pushes further, a soft moan escaping your lips, and Lando bites down on his bottom lip, trying to stay focused, trying to hold back. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you — not yet. But the feel of you around him, the way your body tightens and trembles beneath his touch, drives him wild.
You make another soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and your eyes flutter open, just barely. You’re still half-asleep, your gaze unfocused, but you feel him now. You feel what he’s doing.
“L-Lando?” You whisper, your voice barely audible, thick with sleep and confusion.
“Shh,” Lando soothes, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just relax, baby. I’ve got you.”
You shift slightly beneath him, your brows furrowing in confusion, but you don’t pull away. Lando watches your face carefully, his breath hot against your skin as he moves deeper, taking his time, savoring every inch of you.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “Just let me in. Let me have all of you.”
You let out a soft whimper, your body instinctively arching toward him, and Lando feels a surge of pride. You might not fully understand what’s happening, but your body is responding to him in exactly the way he wants.
“That’s it,” he breathes, his hand moving to your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips. “You’re mine, remember? All mine.”
Your eyes flutter closed again, a soft sigh escaping your lips as Lando finally pushes all the way in, feeling the last bit of resistance give way. He’s inside you now, fully, completely, and the satisfaction that rushes through him is almost overwhelming.
For a moment, he stays still, just savoring the feel of you, the way your body trembles beneath him, the way your breath comes in soft, uneven gasps. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand cradling your face.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”
You make a soft, breathless sound, your hands instinctively reaching for him, your fingers brushing against his chest. Lando smiles, dark and satisfied, as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.
Lando watches the way you shift beneath him, the way you tense and relax with every movement. You’re unraveling, slowly, in his hands, and there’s something so intensely gratifying about it that he can’t help the dark, satisfied smirk that pulls at his lips.
He moves deliberately, controlling the rhythm, controlling you. Every thrust is measured, precise, pushing you closer to the edge while keeping you right where he wants you. He can feel it — feel the way you’re struggling to hold on, feel the way your breathing becomes more erratic, the way your fingers clutch at him, desperate, uncertain.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” Lando murmurs, his voice rough and commanding as he watches your face. Your eyes flutter open, wide and unfocused, your lips parting as you try to catch your breath. But you don’t answer, can’t answer — your body is too consumed by the sensations he’s drawing out of you.
He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to hear you say it,” he growls softly, his hand gripping your hip as he presses deeper into you. “Tell me how close you are. Tell me how badly you want this.”
“I — Lando-” Your voice is a shaky whisper, breathless and uncertain, and Lando smirks again. You can barely speak, barely string two words together, but that’s exactly how he wants you. He wants you undone, unraveling in his hands, unable to think of anything but him.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your side, his touch firm and possessive. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”
He moves faster now, his hips grinding into yours as he keeps the rhythm steady, watching your every reaction. You’re trembling beneath him, your body responding to him in ways that make his chest swell with pride. Every soft whimper, every sharp intake of breath — it’s all because of him. And he loves it.
“You feel that?” Lando murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “That’s me. I’m the only one who’ll ever make you feel this way.”
Your body arches beneath him, and Lando can see the way you’re fighting to hold on, the way you’re trying to keep control. But he won’t let you. He’s not done with you yet.
He slows his movements slightly, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge but not enough to push you over. You let out a frustrated whimper, your fingers digging into his arms as you try to pull him closer, but Lando just smirks, keeping you right where he wants you.
“Not yet,” he whispers, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’ll come when I say you can.”
Your eyes flutter shut again, and Lando can see the tension building inside you. He watches the way your chest rises and falls, the way your lips part in desperate, breathless gasps, and he knows you’re on the verge of falling apart.
But he holds you there, just on the brink, savoring the way your body reacts to him, the way you’re completely at his mercy. It’s intoxicating, the power he holds over you.
“I can feel how badly you want it,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl as he moves his hand between your legs, teasing you with soft, deliberate touches. “But you’re going to wait. You’re going to wait for me.”
You make a soft, pleading sound, your body trembling beneath him, and Lando’s grip tightens on your hip, holding you steady as he starts to move again, his pace slow and deliberate. He watches every flicker of emotion on your face, the way your brow furrows, the way your lips part as you struggle to breathe through the overwhelming sensations.
“You can take it,” he whispers, his voice dark and commanding. “You can take everything I give you.”
You’re so close now, so impossibly close, and Lando can feel it — the way your body tightens around him, the way your breath catches in your throat as you inch closer to the edge. But he’s not letting you fall yet. Not until he’s ready.
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “The only one who gets to take you apart like this.”
His words send a shiver through you, and Lando can feel the way your body responds to him, the way you arch into his touch, desperate for release. He’s holding you on the edge, keeping you there, and the power rushes through him like a drug.
“Please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, breathless and pleading. “Lando, please-”
He smirks, dark and satisfied. That’s what he wanted. He wanted you begging for it, wanting it as badly as he does.
“You want to come?” He growls softly, his grip tightening on your hip as he moves faster, his thrusts deeper, harder. “You want me to let you come?”
You nod, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you try to hold on, your body trembling beneath him.
“Say it,” Lando demands, his voice rough and commanding. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“I-I want it,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you clutch at him, your fingers digging into his arms. “Please, Lando — please let me come.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride as he watches you unravel beneath him. “Come for me. Let me see you fall apart.”
And with that, he pushes you over the edge.
Your body tenses, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure crashes over you in waves. Lando watches every second, his grip firm on your hips as you arch beneath him, your breath coming in soft, broken gasps. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t slow his movements as he guides you through it, his breath coming in slow, deliberate waves as he watches you fall apart in his hands.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he keeps moving, keeps pushing you. “You’re doing so well. Just let it happen.”
You make a soft, broken sound, your body trembling beneath him as the pleasure washes over you, and Lando feels a rush of satisfaction. You’re his. Completely, utterly his.
But he’s not done.
As you come down from the high, your body slowly relaxing, Lando’s grip tightens on your hips again. He’s close now — so close he can feel it building inside him, the tension coiling in his muscles as he moves faster, harder, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts.
“Look at me,” he growls, his hand moving to cup your jaw, forcing your gaze up to meet his. “I want to see your face when I take you.”
Your eyes flutter open, wide and unfocused, and Lando groans at the sight of you — flushed, trembling, completely undone. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.
“I’m going to come inside you,” he murmurs, his voice rough as he moves faster, his body tensing as the pleasure builds. “You’re going to take all of me. Do you understand?”
You nod, your breath shaky, your fingers clutching at his arms as you try to keep up with him.
“Good girl,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine. All mine.”
With one final, deep thrust, Lando feels the tension snap, the pleasure crashing over him as he finally lets go. He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he comes inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.
For a moment, he stays still, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as he comes down from the high. He watches you, your body still trembling beneath him, your breath coming in soft, uneven gasps.
And then, slowly, carefully, he pulls back, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.
“You were meant to be mine,” he whispers again, his voice soft but firm. “And I’m never letting you go.”
You don’t respond, your body completely spent, but Lando knows you understand. You belong to him now, in every way that matters.
***
Lando lies beside you, his chest pressed against your back, a comforting warmth in the quiet aftermath. The soft sheets cling to both of you, and he can feel your heartbeat gradually slowing, returning to a steady rhythm as you begin to relax in his arms. His fingers lightly trace the curve of your lips, a subtle smirk playing at his own.
There's something so innocent about the way you look right now — your eyelashes fluttering gently as if you’re dreaming, the soft rise and fall of your chest. He wants to savor it, the moment of peace after everything, but he’s far from done.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from the lingering remnants of passion. You blink slowly, your gaze focusing on him, a small smile tugging at your lips. The look you give him is so tender, so trusting, it makes his chest tighten in a way he’s not used to. Vulnerability looks good on you, he thinks.
“You’re still awake,” Lando continues, his fingers brushing over your lips before moving to caress your jaw. He shifts his body closer to yours, resting his head on his hand as he looks down at you. “What were you thinking about?”
You blink again, your lips parting to speak, but before you can answer, he tilts his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What are you studying at university, again?”
There’s a brief pause, and he watches as you seem to collect your thoughts. “Business economics,” you say softly, almost shyly. “I’m in my second year.”
He raises an eyebrow, his hand still trailing lazily across your skin. “Business economics?” There’s a note of surprise in his voice, but more than that, there’s something else — something almost dismissive.
You nod, your eyes flicking to his, unsure of what he’s thinking. “Yeah, I mean … it’s interesting. And it’s practical. I thought-”
“Why?” Lando interrupts, his voice cutting through the air like a knife, making you pause mid-sentence. His tone is calm, controlled, but there’s an underlying tension there, something that makes you hesitate.
“What do you mean?” You ask, confused, your brow furrowing slightly.
“Why are you wasting your time on that?” Lando’s fingers stop their gentle tracing and move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes locked on yours. “You don’t need a degree.”
You stare at him for a moment, the words sinking in. There’s a silence that stretches between you, and Lando can feel the subtle shift in your energy, the way your body tenses just slightly, like you’re gearing up for some sort of protest. But before you can speak, he continues.
“I’ll take care of you,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “You don’t need to worry about school, or work, or any of that. I’ve got more than enough for the both of us.” He pauses, watching your reaction, waiting for the inevitable pushback. “Why would you bother with a degree when you have me?”
There’s a flicker of something in your eyes — uncertainty, maybe even hesitation. You open your mouth to say something, but the words die on your tongue. Lando’s hand moves to rest on your thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin, a silent reminder of the control he holds.
“I … I don’t know, I just …”
“You don’t need to worry about it,” Lando interrupts, his voice smooth, reassuring, yet unyielding. “I’ve got everything handled. I’ll take care of you. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
You swallow hard, trying to process his words, trying to reconcile the offer of security with the dream you’ve been working toward. “But I like studying …”
Lando’s hand moves down your thigh, his grip tightening slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make a point. “Do you?” He murmurs, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Or are you just doing it because you think you need to?”
You blink, caught off guard by the question, and he takes advantage of the moment. His hand slips further down, his fingers brushing between your legs, a slow, deliberate movement that leaves no room for argument.
“Lando-”
“Hush,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a faint smile as he leans down, his mouth hovering just over yours. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. You don’t need that degree. You’ve got me now.”
His fingers move with practiced ease, and you gasp, your body betraying you as you react to his touch. Any coherent thought slips away as he works you over, your head falling back against the pillow, your body arching into him.
“You’re going to quit,” Lando says, his voice calm but firm, a quiet command that brooks no argument. “You’re not going back to school.”
You shake your head, or maybe you don’t — it’s hard to tell anymore, everything feels hazy, your mind clouded by the sensations coursing through you. But Lando doesn’t care. He’s already decided.
“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers press harder, drawing another breathless moan from your lips. “You’re going to quit.”
“I … I don’t …” Your voice is weak, shaky, barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.
Lando’s grip tightens, and he moves his body over yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you, reminding you of who’s in control.
“Say it,” he repeats, his tone sharper now, more insistent. “You’re going to quit.”
Your breath hitches, your body trembling beneath him as you struggle to form a coherent response. But he doesn’t let up. His touch is relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, until you can’t think of anything but the way he’s making you feel.
“Lando … please …”
“Say it,” he demands again, his voice a low growl. “Tell me you’re quitting. Tell me you don’t need that degree.”
Your body arches beneath him, your mind a blur of confusion and pleasure, and finally, finally, the words tumble from your lips, broken and breathless.
“I … I’ll quit. I’ll quit.”
Lando smirks, satisfied, as he watches you unravel beneath him, your body trembling with the force of your release. He doesn’t stop, not yet, not until he’s sure you’re completely spent, until there’s nothing left of you but the quiet, trembling aftermath.
When it’s over, he pulls back slightly, his hand moving to cup your jaw as he looks down at you, his eyes dark and possessive. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”
You don’t respond, too exhausted, too overwhelmed to speak, and Lando chuckles softly, his hand slipping from your jaw to rest on your chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of your breath.
“You’ll get used to it,” he says quietly, his voice low and soothing now, as if he’s trying to comfort you. “You don’t need to worry about anything anymore. I’ve got you.”
There’s a part of you that still wants to argue, still wants to push back against his words, but it’s a small, quiet part, drowned out by the overwhelming sense of relief and security that Lando offers.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.
Maybe you don’t need that degree. Maybe you don’t need to worry about your future, because Lando is your future now.
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady, reassuring presence of him beside you.
“I’ll take care of you,” Lando whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “Always.”
And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you, it’s easy to believe him.
***
Lando’s fingers drum impatiently on the steering wheel of his McLaren as he pulls into the parking lot of your university. It’s a cloudy morning, the kind of gray that matches his mood.
He doesn’t want to be here — certainly doesn’t want to waste time with the formalities of this. But he knows it has to be done. He glances at you from the corner of his eye as the car comes to a smooth stop, his grip tightening for a moment.
You’ve been quiet since you left the penthouse, a subtle tension hanging in the air between the two of you. Lando notices the way your hands fidget in your lap, the way your gaze flicks nervously towards the university buildings. He doesn’t like it. You’ve already agreed to this; you’d already said you’d quit. This is just tying up loose ends, nothing more.
He shuts off the engine and leans back, turning his full attention to you. “You ready?”
You hesitate, and he doesn’t miss it. A small nod, your lips pressed together in uncertainty. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good,” Lando says firmly, not giving any room for further discussion. He unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car, coming around to open your door for you. His hand slides possessively to the small of your back as he guides you toward the administration building. “Let’s get this over with.”
The university halls feel cold, sterile, as the two of you walk through them. It’s early, and the place hasn’t fully come alive yet. But the walls are lined with student posters, the smell of textbooks, and the quiet hum of academia that fills the space feels completely foreign to Lando. This world doesn’t fit you, he thinks. Not anymore. You belong with him.
The Dean’s office is tucked away in the corner of the building, and when you reach it, Lando notices how your steps slow slightly. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re sure about this, yes?”
You glance up at him, uncertainty flickering in your eyes for the briefest second. But then you nod. “I … yes. I’m sure.”
Lando smirks, satisfied. You’re just nervous, that’s all. He’s not worried. Not really.
The secretary outside the office lets you both in with a nod, and the Dean, a man in his early fifties with glasses perched on his nose, looks up from behind a stack of papers. He smiles at you as you enter, but his expression quickly shifts when he notices Lando standing beside you, his arm firmly around your waist.
“Miss Y/L/N,” the Dean says, his voice carrying a note of pleasant surprise. “What brings you here today?”
You shift awkwardly, glancing at Lando for a moment before speaking. “I … I’ve decided to withdraw from my program.”
The Dean’s brow furrows in confusion. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his desk. “Withdraw? Are you sure? You’re one of our most promising students. Your work in economics has been exemplary.”
Lando feels the slight tremor in your body, senses the moment of hesitation as you start to open your mouth, your gaze flicking back to the Dean. The man’s words clearly have an effect on you, and Lando doesn’t like it. His jaw clenches.
“I … I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” you start, your voice quiet. “I’m just not sure if this is the right path for me anymore.”
“Nonsense,” the Dean says, shaking his head. “You’ve made such incredible progress. You have a natural talent, and it would be a waste to throw it all away. You’re capable of so much more than just-”
“She’s not wasting anything,” Lando cuts in, his voice sharp and cold. He glares at the Dean, daring him to continue. The room falls silent for a moment, the tension palpable. “She’s made her decision.”
The Dean’s eyes flicker between the two of you, clearly noting the way Lando’s grip tightens around your waist, the way his presence dominates the space. He frowns, clearly displeased but unwilling to press further. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says carefully, “are you certain this is what you want?”
You hesitate, biting your lip, and Lando feels his frustration bubble up. He leans down, his lips close to your ear, his voice a quiet command. “Tell him you’ve already decided.”
You swallow hard, your body stiffening slightly before you nod again. “I’ve already decided.”
The Dean sighs, clearly reluctant, but he reaches for the necessary paperwork nonetheless. “If you’re sure,” he mutters, sliding the forms across the desk toward you. “You’ll need to sign here, and I’ll need a statement of withdrawal.”
As you reach for the pen, Lando keeps his arm firmly around your waist, watching carefully. He can still feel your unease, the way your hand trembles slightly as you begin to sign your name. But he knows this is the right decision. You don’t need this place. You need him.
The Dean watches silently, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly displeased. “It’s a shame,” he says after a moment, his eyes lingering on you. “You had such a bright future ahead of you. I hope you’re not making a mistake.”
Lando’s jaw tightens. He can see the way your fingers falter over the paper, the way the Dean’s words make you second-guess yourself. Before you can say anything, Lando steps in again, his voice cutting through the tension.
“She’s not,” Lando says firmly, his eyes locked on the Dean with a warning edge. “She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.”
The Dean doesn’t reply, only nods curtly as he gathers the signed forms. Lando watches as you hand them back, your face a mix of emotions — confusion, doubt, and something else he can’t quite place.
As soon as the paperwork is done, Lando wastes no time. He pulls you close to him, practically ushering you out of the office. You cast one last glance at the Dean, but Lando’s hand tightens on your waist, his fingers pressing into your side in a way that leaves no room for lingering thoughts.
Once you’re out in the hallway, Lando’s tone softens slightly, though the control in his voice remains. “It’s done. No turning back now.”
You nod, but he can tell your thoughts are still drifting, still caught up in what the Dean said. That won’t do. Lando knows he needs to distract you, shift your focus back where it belongs — on him.
“There’s an Hermès store nearby,” Lando says casually as the two of you walk toward the parking lot. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s an underlying purpose behind his words. “I’ve been thinking … you’d look adorable with one of their twilly scarves tied in your hair. Maybe even a matching Birkin.” He glances down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What do you think?”
You blink, momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in topic. “I … I don’t know.”
Lando’s grip on your waist loosens slightly as he moves his hand up to brush your hair back from your face. “Trust me. You’d love it. And I’d love seeing you with a cute little bow tied in your hair. It would suit you.”
You can’t help but smile, though it’s small and unsure. The shift in conversation, the mention of luxury, seems to distract you enough, pulling your thoughts away from the earlier doubt. That’s exactly what Lando wants. He needs you focused on him, not on whatever misplaced ambitions the Dean tried to stir up.
“I’ll take you shopping,” Lando continues smoothly as he opens the passenger door of his car for you. “We’ll find something perfect. After all, you deserve it.”
He watches as you slide into the seat, your expression still tinged with uncertainty but softened by the promise of something new, something exciting. Lando can feel the satisfaction curling inside him. He’s got you exactly where he wants you.
As he rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat, he shoots you a quick glance, his hand already moving to rest on your thigh, a silent reminder of his control. “You won’t regret any of this,” he says quietly, his voice filled with certainty. “You’re mine now. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
You don’t respond, but the way you lean into his touch tells him all he needs to know. He starts the engine, the roar of the McLaren filling the air as he pulls out of the university parking lot.
***
Each day seems to fall into a rhythm. Lando likes control, and now he’s exerting it over your life, molding it to fit his own. You’re no longer rushing to university or working long hours at his company. Instead, you’re left to fill your days with something else, though Lando never lets it be anything without him at the center of it.
It didn’t take long for you to find a new routine. It started the first day after you withdrew from school. You spent the morning pacing around Lando’s penthouse, the sprawling space eerily quiet without him there. His presence filled the place even when he wasn’t around, but it still felt empty without him.
By noon, you found yourself in the kitchen, your hands moving on instinct, putting together a lunch that reminded you of simpler times. You thought about surprising him at work, the idea sparking a tiny thrill in you. Maybe he’d like the surprise.
You had no idea how much he would love it.
Now, you’re in his office every day without fail. Each morning is spent in careful preparation — choosing the perfect outfit, something that Lando would appreciate. You know how much he loves your bows, so you always make sure to tie one into your hair. Your dresses are carefully selected from the expansive closet he’s stocked for you, all designer, all perfectly tailored to accentuate your innocence, your softness. It’s what he likes. It’s what keeps him satisfied.
Today is no different. You step off the elevator into his building, a picnic basket swinging delicately in your hand. The security guard already knows you by name, offering a polite nod as you pass by, though you can’t miss the curious glance he throws at the basket.
When you reach Lando’s office, his assistant greets you with a knowing smile. “He’s in a meeting,” she tells you, her voice pleasant. “But you can go in. He always makes time for you.”
You smile back, nodding your thanks, and push open the door to his private office. The space is immaculate, modern, with sleek lines and floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city. It screams power, control, everything that Lando is.
He’s seated at his desk, deep in conversation with a group of executives who are standing across from him, discussing something about market shares. But the moment you step inside, his eyes flick up to meet yours, and everything else in the room seems to fall away.
“Gentlemen,” Lando interrupts smoothly, not bothering to hide the way his gaze lingers on you. “That’ll be all for now.”
There’s a moment of hesitation from the executives, confusion flashing across their faces at the abrupt end to the meeting. But Lando’s tone leaves no room for debate. They gather their papers, nodding respectfully as they file out, each of them casting curious glances your way as they leave.
Once the door clicks shut, Lando leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. The picnic basket, the way your dress hugs your figure, the bow in your hair — it’s all exactly as he likes it.
“Come here,” he orders, his voice low but commanding. You don’t hesitate, crossing the room toward him, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Lando doesn’t say anything as you set the basket down on the edge of his desk, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze as he watches every move you make. He doesn’t even look at the food; his focus is entirely on you.
He reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer until you’re standing between his legs, his chair swiveling slightly as he turns toward you. His other hand moves to the hem of your dress, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.
“You always know just how to dress for me, don’t you?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, a possessive undertone that sends a shiver down your spine.
You nod, swallowing hard. “I thought you might be hungry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lando’s smirk widens, his hand sliding higher up your thigh, under the skirt of your dress. “Oh, I am,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing the lace of your underwear. “But I’m not interested in whatever you’ve brought in that basket.”
You bite your lip, your heart racing as his touch becomes more insistent. This is the routine now, the unspoken agreement. You bring him lunch, and he makes sure to have his appetizer first. His hands are all over you before you’ve even had a chance to set the table.
His thumb presses against the lace, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him. “Lando …”
He chuckles, pulling you down onto his lap, positioning you so that you’re straddling him, your dress riding up as his hands find your hips. “You know what I want,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “And you’re going to give it to me, aren’t you?”
You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as his hands roam over your body, tugging at the fabric of your dress, pulling it up higher. His fingers find the bow tied around your waist, and he tugs at it, loosening it until the dress falls open slightly.
“You look so innocent,” Lando whispers, his voice dark with desire. “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you breathe, your hands gripping his shoulders as his lips find your neck, kissing and biting softly.
Lando growls softly in satisfaction, his hands moving with practiced ease as he takes what he wants, as he always does. You’re used to this by now, the way he demands control, the way he always takes his fill of you before anything else. And part of you craves it — craves the way he makes you feel, like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.
After he’s had his way with you, his hands still lingering possessively on your hips, Lando finally leans back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Now,” he says, his voice still husky, “what did you bring me for lunch?”
You’re still breathless, your body trembling slightly as you try to regain your composure. You reach for the picnic basket, opening it to reveal the meal you’d spent the morning preparing — a simple but elegant spread of sandwiches, fruit, and pastries.
Lando watches you, his smirk never fading as you set everything up on his desk. “You spoil me,” he murmurs, reaching for one of the sandwiches.
You smile, trying to steady your breathing as you watch him take a bite, his eyes still fixed on you. “I just thought you might like something different,” you say softly.
He chuckles, swallowing his food before leaning back in his chair, his gaze predatory. “Oh, I do. I like it very much.”
As he eats, you sit across from him, watching as he devours the food you’ve made. There’s something intimate about it, the way he looks at you, the way his hand casually rests on your thigh as if he can’t go a moment without touching you.
When he’s finished, Lando leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “I want you to keep doing this,” he says after a moment. “Bringing me lunch every day.”
You blink, surprised. “Every day?”
He nods, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I like having you here. I like knowing you’re close.” His gaze darkens slightly. “And I like having you as an appetizer before the main meal.”
Your cheeks flush at his words, and Lando’s smirk widens. He leans forward, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, remember? And I always get what I want.”
You nod, your heart racing as you meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Lando.”
His smirk softens into something more tender, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Good girl.”
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. You stay with him, lingering in his office as he works, your presence a constant distraction for him. Every now and then, he glances up from his papers to watch you, his eyes filled with a dark, possessive hunger that never seems to fade.
And when the workday finally ends, Lando takes you back to the penthouse, where the cycle begins again.
***
Lando is lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his body pressed close to yours, his hand idly tracing circles on your bare skin. The mid-morning sunlight filters through the curtains of his penthouse bedroom, casting a soft glow over the room. It's quiet, peaceful, the kind of quiet that only comes with mornings like this — when the world outside is busy, but inside, it's just the two of you.
His lips are on your neck, warm and gentle, brushing against your skin with lazy affection. You can feel the way his breath hitches slightly, how his hand drifts lower, over the curve of your waist, until it comes to rest on your stomach. His fingers spread out across your skin, his touch firm yet tender.
“Baby,” Lando murmurs, his voice deep and hushed, as if he’s talking to himself as much as to you. He lets the word linger in the air, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. “You’d look so pretty with a baby.”
The words catch you off guard. You feel your heart skip a beat, a rush of warmth spreading through you, but there’s also confusion, a flicker of uncertainty. “Lando,” you breathe, turning your head slightly to look at him.
He doesn’t stop. His hand stays on your stomach, gently pressing against the flatness there, as if imagining it full, imagining you carrying his child. His lips find your jawline, kissing softly, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “You’d look perfect. So beautiful.”
You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. The tenderness in his voice is at odds with the intensity of his words. “A baby?” You ask quietly, unsure of what to say.
Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, his expression serious, though there’s a softness in his gaze. “Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “My baby with my baby.”
There’s a pause, the weight of his words hanging between you, and you feel a tightening in your chest. You’ve never really talked about this — about the future, about where this relationship is headed. You’ve been so caught up in the present, in the way Lando makes you feel, in the way he consumes every part of your life, that you haven’t allowed yourself to think too far ahead.
But now, he’s thinking for both of you. His mind is already made up.
“Lando, I-” You start to speak, but he cuts you off with a gentle kiss, his lips capturing yours in a way that steals your breath, that makes it impossible to think straight.
He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Don’t think too much about it,” he whispers, his tone coaxing, soothing. “Just imagine it. You, with a little bump, carrying our baby. Doesn’t that sound good?”
You swallow hard, your mind racing. It’s overwhelming, the way he’s speaking, like he’s already decided this for you. His hand is still on your stomach, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, and it’s as if he’s trying to imprint the idea onto you — his baby, your body, his future.
“Lando, that’s … that’s a big decision,” you manage to say, though your voice is soft, tentative.
He smiles at you, that confident, easy smile that always makes your heart flutter. “I know,” he says, his voice calm, unhurried. “But it’s the right one. I want this. I want you to have my baby. I want you to be mine completely.”
His words send a shiver through you, both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He’s never been shy about claiming you, about making it clear that you belong to him in every way. But this feels different. This feels permanent.
“I …” You try again, but once more, Lando silences you, his mouth moving against yours, his kiss more insistent this time, more possessive.
His hand slips down, over your thigh, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing against yours. He’s making it hard to think, hard to focus on anything other than the feel of him, the way he takes control with such ease.
“You trust me, don’t you?” He murmurs against your lips, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and intense.
You nod without thinking, your heart racing. Of course you trust him. He’s always been there, always known exactly what to do, what you need. But this … this is different.
“I do,” you whisper, your voice shaky, unsure of where this is going.
Lando’s smile softens, his hand sliding back to your stomach, pressing there again, more firmly this time. “Then trust me with this, baby. You’d be perfect. You know that, right? You were made for this — for me.”
The possessiveness in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a jolt through you. He’s always been dominant, always in control, but this feels deeper, more intense. It’s not just about the moment — it’s about the future he’s already planned out for you, the future he’s pulling you into without hesitation.
“Imagine it,” he says again, his voice dropping lower, his lips brushing against your ear. “You, carrying my child. Everyone would see it, would know you’re mine. You’d be so beautiful. So perfect.”
Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the weight of his words settling over you, wrapping around you like a tight embrace. The idea is both terrifying and intoxicating, and you don’t know how to respond.
Lando doesn’t give you the chance to. His hand moves again, this time slipping lower, between your thighs, his fingers pressing against you in a way that makes your mind go blank, your body responding instinctively to his touch.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his voice soothing as his fingers tease you, his touch both gentle and firm. “I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to think about it. Just let me take care of you, like I always do.”
You gasp softly, your body arching toward him, and Lando’s smirk widens as he watches you unravel under his touch, his hand working expertly to drive you closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against your neck, his voice a low growl. “That’s my girl. So good for me.”
Your mind is spinning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words, his touch, the way he’s controlling the entire moment. And yet, there’s a part of you that wants to give in, to let him take control, to let him decide everything, because it feels safe, it feels right.
Lando’s grip tightens slightly on your stomach, his thumb brushing over your skin in a possessive way. “You’re going to be perfect, baby. You’ll be mine completely. You already are.”
His words sink deep into you, the finality of them making your heart race. He’s not asking. He’s telling you. This is what he wants, what he’s decided for both of you. And in this moment, with his body pressed against yours, his hand between your thighs, his lips on your skin, it’s impossible to argue.
You’re his, and you always will be.
***
Lando's eyes are fixed on you, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, bathed in the late afternoon sunlight. The golden light hits your skin, casting you in a soft glow, but all he can focus on is the slight curve of your stomach, the undeniable proof of the life growing inside you.
His child.
You’re wearing one of those dresses he loves, the fabric soft and flowing, cinched just below your breasts to accommodate the growing bump. It’s a subtle change for now, but Lando notices it like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. The way you move, the way your hands instinctively rest on your stomach sometimes, like you’re protecting what belongs to him. He can’t take his eyes off you.
You turn slightly, catching him watching you from across the room, and your lips curve into a soft, shy smile. “What?” You ask, voice light, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone, like you’re not sure what he’s thinking.
Lando doesn't answer right away. Instead, he walks toward you, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving your bump. When he finally reaches you, his hand moves to rest on your stomach, the warmth of your skin radiating through the fabric of your dress. He feels it under his palm — the slight roundness, the beginning of the change, the proof of his claim on you.
“My baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive, the words more for himself than for you.
You look up at him, a flicker of emotion in your eyes. There’s still that innocence, that soft vulnerability that Lando can’t get enough of. Less than a year ago, you were untouched, unclaimed by any man, and now — now, you’re carrying his child. The thought makes something primal stir deep inside him, a fierce sense of ownership and pride.
Lando’s thumb brushes lightly over your stomach, tracing the curve as if memorizing the way your body is changing. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, his voice rough around the edges. His eyes flick back to yours, intense, as he continues, “I always knew you’d look perfect with my baby growing inside you.”
A flush spreads across your cheeks, your lips parting slightly, but you don’t say anything. Lando knows this is overwhelming for you — everything about him, about this relationship, about how quickly everything has changed. But that’s exactly how he wanted it. He wasn’t going to give you time to second-guess anything. You belong to him now, and there’s no going back.
He kneels in front of you without warning, one hand still resting on your stomach while the other grips your hip, pulling you slightly closer. His breath hitches as his eyes level with the slight swell, and he presses his lips softly to your stomach, placing slow, deliberate kisses on the fabric of your dress. His baby, inside you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
Lando looks up at you from where he’s kneeling, his eyes dark with intensity. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Less than a year ago, you hadn’t even been touched by a man. And now …” He trails off, his hand moving to press against the bump again. “Now, you’re full with my child.”
The words hang heavy in the air, and you swallow hard, clearly unsure of how to respond. Lando’s always been intense, always so certain, so in control of everything between you. But this — this is something different. This is forever.
He stands back up, his hands sliding up your sides, holding you close as he towers over you. His thumb brushes along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Do you even understand what this means?” He asks quietly, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re mine. Completely. No one else will ever have you like this.”
You nod, a bit shakily, and Lando smirks. He knows it’s a lot for you to take in, but that’s exactly how he wants it. He wants you overwhelmed, completely consumed by him, by the life he’s building for you both.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, and there’s a softness in his voice now, a gentleness that he only shows you in these quiet moments. “You’re doing so well. Carrying my child, making our future.”
His hand moves back to your stomach, rubbing small circles as he continues, “I always knew you’d be perfect like this. My baby with my baby.” He chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “You’re going to be the most beautiful mother.”
You lean into him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando feels something warm unfurl in his chest. He likes seeing you like this — soft, pliant, completely under his control. He likes knowing that every part of you belongs to him, from your mind to your body to the life growing inside of you.
“I want you to rest more,” he says suddenly, his tone taking on that commanding edge again. “No more worrying about anything. I’ll take care of everything.”
You blink up at him, a slight frown crossing your face. “I don’t worry, Lando,” you say softly, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.
“You do,” he insists, his hand tightening just a bit on your hip. “You don’t have to, though. That’s not your job anymore. Your only job is to take care of our baby. Got it?”
There’s a pause, and you nod again, this time more slowly, like you’re trying to process what he’s saying. Lando watches your expression carefully, knowing that you’re still adjusting to this life with him. But he also knows that he’s not giving you a choice. This is your life now — his life.
Lando leans down again, pressing another kiss to your stomach before straightening up. “I want you to rest now,” he says, his voice softening. “Come on, let’s go lie down.”
You hesitate for a moment, but then you let him guide you to the bedroom, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back as you walk. When you reach the bed, he helps you lie down, pulling the covers over you with a tenderness that contrasts with the intensity of his words.
He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as you settle in, his hand resting lightly on your stomach again. “I’ll stay here for a bit,” he murmurs, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I just want to be close to you. To our baby.”
You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to. Lando knows that you’re still processing everything, still adjusting to the life he’s created for you. But he’s patient. He’ll wait. Because he knows, deep down, that you’re his. Completely and utterly his. And soon, there will be no part of your life that isn’t touched by him, controlled by him.
He smiles to himself, brushing his thumb lightly over your skin as he leans down to kiss your forehead once more. “Rest now,” he whispers. “You’re doing so well.”
And as you close your eyes, Lando stays there, watching over you, his hand never leaving your stomach, his thoughts already spinning with plans for the future. You and him, and the life you’re building together. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
And it’s only just beginning.
***
The lecture hall buzzes with quiet anticipation, students shifting in their seats, eyes on the door as they wait for the keynote speaker. Lando strides through the entrance with effortless authority, his tailored suit emphasizing his power. Every step he takes commands attention, but his focus isn't on the sea of students. It's on you.
He keeps you close to his side, his arm protectively wrapped around your waist, guiding you through the lecture hall. You're heavily pregnant now, your rounded belly making it harder to move with the same ease as before. Lando notices every wince, every slight shift in your weight, and his grip tightens, steadying you.
“You alright?” He murmurs, leaning down slightly, his voice low but firm. He stops walking as you pause, his thumb brushing against your side in a rare gesture of tenderness.
You nod, offering him a small smile, but Lando isn’t convinced. He’s always watching, always reading you, making sure you’re taken care of. He doesn’t want you out of his sight, especially not now, not when you’re carrying his child — his future. It’s why he insisted you come with him to this keynote speech, even if it meant pulling you away from the quiet of home.
“I don’t want you far from me, baby,” he’d said that morning, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You stay by my side today.”
And now, as he guides you to the front row of the lecture hall, he’s making sure you’re positioned just right. The front seat, where he can keep an eye on you, where no one else can intrude. Lando gestures for you to sit, his eyes dark and serious as you lower yourself into the chair, careful of your bump. He crouches down in front of you, smoothing a hand over your knee before leaning in, his lips close to your ear.
“If you need anything,” he says, his voice quiet but commanding, “you call me. I’m right here. Don’t even think about getting up on your own.”
You nod again, feeling his intensity radiating off him, and he gives your knee one last squeeze before standing up, adjusting his suit jacket with precision. He takes the stage with ease, the shift from boyfriend to powerful CEO seamless.
Lando begins speaking, his voice steady and commanding, captivating the room effortlessly. The students sit up straighter, hanging on every word, as he talks about leadership, success, and the ruthlessness it takes to survive in the world of business. But every now and then, his eyes flicker to you, checking, ensuring you’re still there, still safe.
You sit quietly, watching him, one hand resting on your bump, and the baby kicks softly against your palm. The speech is engaging, and you’re proud of him, but there’s a slight discomfort creeping in — the weight of your pregnancy, the strange sensation of being back here, in your old university, surrounded by classmates who wouldn’t recognize the person you are now.
After Lando finishes his speech, the applause echoes through the hall, loud and appreciative, but it barely reaches you. You’re too caught up in your thoughts, in the reality of how much has changed. Less than a year ago, you were sitting in one of these very seats, studying, dreaming about a future you thought would be on your own terms. Now, here you are, with Lando's baby growing inside you, a future that looks nothing like what you imagined.
As the students begin filing out, Lando steps down from the stage, immediately walking over to you. His hand is on your shoulder before you can say anything, and his presence instantly makes you feel safe, grounded.
“Let’s get you home, baby,” he says softly, his tone gentle but firm. “I don’t want you out for too long. You need to rest.”
But just as you start to stand, you overhear a conversation behind you, voices you vaguely recognize — former classmates, their tones incredulous, like they can’t believe what they’re seeing.
“Is that Y/N?” One of them asks, the disbelief clear in her voice.
“Yeah, but … wow. She’s changed so much,” another replies. “I mean, look at her. She’s pregnant — and with Lando Norris? How did that even happen?”
You freeze for a moment, uncertainty creeping in as their words sink in. Of course, you knew people would notice, would talk, but hearing it said out loud — how different you are now — makes your heart race a little. They don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how your life shifted so drastically, how Lando swept you into his world and never let go.
Lando’s eyes harden as he catches the exchange. He glares at the group of students, his expression darkening. The possessiveness that always simmers under the surface rises to the forefront. He tightens his arm around your waist as if to make a statement — one that’s loud and clear.
Without breaking his gaze from the group, he speaks, voice low and controlled. “We should stop by Burberry after this,” he says, leaning close to you, his hand pressing against your back, anchoring you to him. “I’ve been thinking we need more clothes for the baby. Maybe some cute outfits with little matching accessories. What do you think, baby?”
His words are meant to distract you, to pull you away from any lingering doubts those comments might have sparked. You look up at him, meeting his intense gaze, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you should feel reassured or overwhelmed by how much control Lando always has over every situation.
The students fall silent, quickly averting their gaze as Lando’s attention stays fixed on you. There’s no mistaking his message — Lando is in control. Of you. Of your life. Of everything. And no one else’s opinion matters.
You swallow hard, nodding softly as you lean into him. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” you murmur, your voice quiet, unsure.
Lando's eyes soften slightly as he looks down at you, clearly pleased with your response. He cups your cheek briefly before turning to lead you out of the hall, his arm still firmly around your waist.
As you walk together through the corridors of your old university, you can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions — nostalgia, confusion, but also a deep, almost unsettling sense of belonging. It’s as if you no longer fit into the life you once had here, and the only place you truly belong is at Lando’s side, under his protection, within his world.
Once outside, Lando stops, glancing down at you as you lean against him. “You alright, baby?” He asks, his voice softer now, more intimate.
You nod, though the tightness in your chest lingers. “Yeah,” you whisper, but your mind drifts back to the students, to their words. How much you’ve changed.
Lando studies you for a moment before brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about what anyone thinks,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “Your life is here, with me. That’s all that matters.”
He kisses your forehead, the gesture unexpectedly tender, and pulls you closer. “Let’s go to Burberry. We’ll pick out something nice for our baby.” His hand moves down to brush lightly over your bump, possessive and affectionate all at once. “And maybe something for you too.”
You lean into him as he guides you toward his car, trying to shake the strange unease that’s settled in your chest. It’s true — you’ve changed so much in such a short time. But with Lando by your side, there’s no room for second-guessing.
Your life, your future, your identity — it’s all wrapped up in him now. And there’s no turning back.
***
Lando sits behind his massive desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office casting a warm glow across the room. He glances at his watch, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. It’s almost time. Every day around this hour, like clockwork, you arrive at his office with a homemade lunch, dressed in one of your designer dresses and kitten heels, looking as perfect as ever. But lately, there’s an extra reason for his anticipation. A tiny reason.
He hears the familiar knock on the door before it creaks open. His heart, normally steady and guarded, stirs a little, as it always does when you walk into the room. And there you are, with that ever-present bow in your hair, a smaller version of it perched atop your baby daughter’s head as you hold her close.
“There are my girls,” Lando says, his voice low, but with a warmth reserved only for you and your daughter. He stands from his desk, smoothing out his suit as he crosses the room in long, confident strides.
Your daughter, barely a year old, gurgles happily as Lando approaches. He reaches out and takes her from your arms with ease, holding her in one arm while his other hand reaches out to rest possessively on your lower back. His thumb brushes against the silk of your dress, the simple touch staking his claim over you, over everything you are.
“Daddy’s been waiting,” he says softly, his gaze flicking down to the baby in his arms before he turns his attention back to you. “And what did my girls bring me today?”
You smile up at him, a little breathless, always affected by the sheer presence of him. “Your favorite,” you say, lifting the picnic basket a bit. “And something new I wanted to try.”
Lando’s dark eyes sparkle with something unreadable, though you’re sure it’s a mix of amusement and affection. He loves these moments. These tiny, perfect slices of domesticity. He’d once filled his life with the best of everything — lavish lunches from Michelin-starred restaurants, anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. But none of it compares to this. To you, his beautiful wife-to-be, and the child you both created together.
Without a word, Lando steps away from you just long enough to sit down on the edge of his massive desk, setting your daughter on his lap. She immediately grabs for the bow on his tie, her tiny fingers tugging at it while she babbles incoherently. Lando laughs — a sound so rare that even you pause to savor it.
“She’s got good taste,” he comments, adjusting her tiny hand so she doesn’t pull the knot loose. His eyes meet yours again, and you know that he’s shifting the focus back to you. He always does. “You two make quite the pair, you know that?”
You blush a little, smoothing the front of your dress as you walk over, the baby’s gaze following you. “I think she takes after her daddy,” you tease softly, though there’s truth in your words. Your daughter’s eyes are the same shade of bright green as Lando’s, her expressions sometimes eerily similar to his — calm, calculating, but always with a spark of something mischievous beneath the surface.
Lando’s expression softens, though the control, the dominance that defines him, never wavers. He slides off the desk and takes your hand, pulling you toward him until you’re standing between his legs, his chest close enough to brush against yours.
“Do you know how perfect this is?” He asks quietly, the words intimate, meant just for you. His hand, the one not balancing the baby, comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. “You. Her. This …everything.”
You tilt your head slightly, leaning into his touch, feeling the familiar tug of his pull on your entire being. There’s something in the way he looks at you, something that both grounds you and makes you feel like you’re floating.
“I couldn’t ask for more,” you whisper, meaning every word.
Lando’s eyes narrow slightly, that smirk you know all too well tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, but I can. And I will.”
You blink, confused for a moment, but then you see the glint of metal as his hand slips into his pocket. He pulls out a small, black velvet box and opens it in one smooth motion. The ring inside is enormous, the diamond catching the sunlight streaming in from the windows and casting shimmering reflections across the room.
Lando doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get down on one knee. That’s not his style. There’s no question in his mind, and there won’t be in yours, either.
“We’re getting married,” he says, his tone leaving no room for discussion, no space for hesitation. His eyes are locked on yours, the weight of his words sinking in slowly, like gravity pulling you deeper into his orbit. He’s not making a suggestion. He’s making a decision. For both of you. Just like everything else in your life together.
Your breath catches as he takes your left hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. It’s heavy, almost too heavy, but then again, isn’t everything with Lando like that? His presence, his control, his love. All of it weighs on you in ways that sometimes feel overwhelming, but at the same time, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Lando, I …” Your words falter as you stare down at the ring, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Excitement, disbelief, love. “I wasn’t expecting …”
“You don’t have to expect anything,” Lando interrupts smoothly, his hand still wrapped around yours, anchoring you to him. “I make the decisions for us. And I’ve decided it’s time. I want you as my wife.”
Your heart races at the finality in his voice, at the way he always seems to know exactly what you need before you even realize it yourself.
You look up at him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something — vulnerability, maybe — in your expression. But Lando catches it, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you close until your foreheads are almost touching.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low, intimate. “This is right. We’re right.”
You nod, the words catching in your throat as emotion wells up inside you. “Yes,” you finally whisper, your voice shaky but certain.
Lando’s smirk deepens as he presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, a soft, possessive brush of his mouth against yours.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, the praise making your heart flutter.
Your daughter gurgles in Lando’s lap, her tiny fingers still clutching his tie, and he chuckles softly, pulling back just enough to glance down at her.
“See that, little one?” He says, his voice shifting into something softer, more playful as he speaks to your daughter. “Mummy’s going to be Mrs. Norris soon. Isn’t that right, baby?”
You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and filled with happiness, as you reach out to stroke your daughter’s cheek. She coos at you both, completely oblivious to the monumental moment that just unfolded.
Lando shifts his grip on her, settling her more comfortably in his arms before his eyes meet yours again. There’s a heat in his gaze now, something deeper, more possessive. “We’ll have a celebration soon,” he says, his tone firm. “But today, I want you all to myself. No distractions. Just us.”
Your pulse quickens at the implication behind his words, and you feel a familiar warmth spread through you as you lean into him, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt.
Lando tilts your chin up, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, the world outside disappears. It’s just you, Lando, and your daughter — the family you never imagined, but the one you wouldn’t trade for anything.
“Let’s have lunch,” you finally say, breaking the silence with a soft smile. “I made all your favorites.”
Lando’s eyes darken with something unspoken, but he nods, the smirk still playing at the corner of his lips. “After,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Right now, I want to spend time with my girls.”
And with that, he pulls you even closer, the weight of his presence wrapping around you like the most precious gift of all.
***
Lando lies in bed with you curled up against his side, his arm draped possessively around your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. The room is dark and quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside the penthouse windows and the occasional faint sound from the baby monitor on the nightstand, signaling your daughter’s peaceful sleep in the nursery next door. It’s a rare moment of calm, one of the few times when Lando’s dominant presence seems softer, more intimate.
But even in moments like these, where his touch is gentle and his voice low, that control is never far beneath the surface. It’s in the way his arm tightens slightly around you, holding you close as if he can’t bear to let you go, not even for a moment. It’s in the way his eyes, though closed, seem always watchful, always aware of you, of every movement you make.
You let out a soft sigh, your body fully relaxed against his. It’s been a long day, but a good one, filled with moments that have become your new normal — bringing Lando lunch at the office, watching him melt when he sees you and your daughter, his two girls, as he always calls you. The rhythm of your life has shifted since you became a family, but Lando remains the constant anchor, the force that drives everything forward.
As you settle deeper into the warmth of his embrace, Lando’s hand moves from your waist to rest gently on your stomach, his palm warm against your skin. The gesture seems innocent at first, a continuation of the tender touches you’ve shared all evening, but then his hand lingers, his fingers spreading out slightly as if to claim more of you.
His voice breaks the silence, soft but unmistakably deliberate. “You know,” he begins, his tone casual, yet carrying that undercurrent of intent that always makes your heart race, “I’ve been thinking.”
You open your eyes, tilting your head slightly to glance up at him. “Thinking about what?”
Lando’s eyes are still closed, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the kind that tells you he’s about to say something that will change everything. “About us,” he says, his hand pressing a little more firmly against your stomach. “And about how perfect you looked carrying our little girl.”
Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a flush rising to your cheeks as the meaning behind them begins to sink in. “Lando …” you start, but your voice falters, unsure of what to say.
He opens his eyes then, looking down at you with that piercing gaze that always makes you feel like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. “You’ve been perfect, baby,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate register. “More than I ever imagined. But now …” His thumb strokes your skin, just beneath the swell of your stomach, and his eyes darken with that familiar possessiveness. “It’s time for the next one.”
You blink up at him, your mind racing to catch up with his words. “The next one?”
Lando nods, his expression entirely serious, but with a hint of excitement beneath the surface, as if he’s been thinking about this for longer than he’s letting on. “It’s time we started working on our next baby,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to see you pregnant again. And this time …” His hand tightens just slightly on your stomach, his voice taking on a more commanding edge. “I want you to be pregnant when we get married. Walking down the aisle with my ring on your finger and a little bump under your dress. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”
Your heart skips a beat at the image he paints, the idea of walking down the aisle, your hand in his, your body already showing signs of the new life you’d created together. It’s overwhelming and thrilling all at once, the way everything with Lando always is.
“Lando,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to process what he’s saying. “We just had our daughter …”
He chuckles softly, the sound low and filled with that familiar confidence that always sets you on edge. “And she’s perfect,” he agrees, his fingers trailing up to brush the side of your face. “But why stop there? We’re just getting started, baby. I want a family. A big one. And I want you to be the one who gives it to me.”
His words settle over you like a blanket, heavy and warm, filled with expectation. There’s no question in his tone, no room for hesitation. Lando has already decided, just as he always does. And as much as the thought takes your breath away, there’s a part of you that already knows you’ll give him what he wants. You always do.
You bite your lip, your mind racing as you try to form a coherent response. “But … what if I’m not ready?”
Lando’s eyes darken at your hesitation, his hand moving from your stomach to tilt your chin up so that you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You are ready,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “I know you are.” He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You were made for this, baby. For me. For our family. And you’ll give me what I want, won’t you?”
Your heart pounds in your chest, your body already responding to the commanding tone of his voice, the way his words wrap around you like a vice, pulling you deeper into his world, his desires. You nod slowly, unable to do anything else. “Yes, Lando,” you whisper, your voice trembling with both anticipation and submission. “I’ll give you what you want.”
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he pulls back to look at you, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, a reward for your obedience.
He doesn’t waste any more time. His hand moves lower, slipping beneath the sheets, his touch firm and deliberate as he begins to remind you exactly who you belong to. Your breath hitches, your body arching toward him instinctively, already pliant under his control.
“You’re going to look so beautiful, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his hand moves with expert precision. “Walking down the aisle with my child growing inside you. Everyone will see. Everyone will know.”
His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of desire and awe flooding through you. He’s not just talking about a wedding. He’s talking about a future, one that’s already been mapped out in his mind, one that you’re destined to follow. And as overwhelming as it is, there’s something undeniably thrilling about being part of his plan, of knowing that you’re the center of his world, the one who will give him everything he wants.
Lando’s movements become more insistent, his lips trailing down your neck as he presses you further into the mattress, his body radiating heat and control. You can feel the weight of his expectations, the force of his desire, and it’s enough to make your head spin.
“Lando,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body trembles beneath him.
“Shh, baby,” he soothes, his voice dark and commanding as his hand continues its relentless pace. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.”
And you do. You always do.
576 notes · View notes
strang3lov3 · 2 days ago
Text
Clean
Tumblr media
Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)
Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that I’m not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and it’s special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too ❤️ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.
You’re washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely. 
Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. “Joel?”
“In here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethin’.” 
You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joel’s naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. He’s grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. “C’mere. Switch me spots.” 
You don’t yet obey his order. You’ve seen Joel’s cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny. 
“C’mon. You know it ain’t gonna bite ya, kiddo.” Joel stands up  and pats the spot on the bed. “Sit,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “Need somethin’ pretty to come on.”
 Joel doesn’t like repeating himself. You won’t make him ask a third time. 
You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joel’s body heat don’t comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. “Why don’t you give me a hand this time,” he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. “Ohhh, fuck,” Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. “Jus’ like this. That’s a good girl.” 
This is, however, the first time you’ve ever felt his cock. All of your firsts with Joel have never gone the way you thought they would. The first time he saw you naked, touched you, or that you saw him - it was all surreal and rather abrupt. Joel tells you things like this are always a little new and funny at first. 
His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But it’s a little sticky, too, which is unexpected to you. 
“Alright, alright. S’enough,” Joel says, pulling your hand away. “Lift up your shirt.”
You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until it’s bunched just beneath your breasts. “Nuh-uh. Like this,” Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. “Lie back,” Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. “Attagirl.”
You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesn’t allow you to say. “Fuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,” he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only. 
Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. “Give it a taste,” he says. “Want you to try it.”
You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. “Suck,” he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. “Don’t like it?”
You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”
Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “S’okay. Y’don’t have to.” Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. “C’mon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess a’ ya, didn’t he?”
Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. “Warmer, pl-”
“Don’t need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy won’t let you freeze.”
“And bubbles.”
“I know, baby girl. I won’t forget your bubbles.”
As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one he’s been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until he’s sat with his back against the wall. “Jesus, s’hot. Gonna turn us both into soup,” Joel laughs. You smile shyly. 
 He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. “C’mon. Hop in.” You take Joel’s hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he says. 
The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until you’re submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass. 
Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back. 
You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. “Eyes closed, kiddo. Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispers. 
Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joel’s built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo.  
He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, “Ow, daddy,” you complain as he tugs on a knot. 
“I know, I know. M’sorry, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was an’ accident. M’tryin’ to be gentle.” He rinses out the conditioner next, “Grab me that bar of soap, will ya?” he asks. 
“Mhm.” You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder. 
Joel takes the soap, “Thank ya kindly, darlin’.”  He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. “Gimme an arm,” he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, “An’ the other,” Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. “Here-” Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. “Your daddy’s gettin’ old,” he grumbles. “Can’t bend like he used to. Wash your legs f’me, sweetheart.” 
“Okay,” you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you. 
Joel washes down, down your stomach. “Spread ‘em,” he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit. 
“That feel nice, kiddo?”
Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer. 
“I-”
“You can tell your old man. I know it does,” Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. “You don’t take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?”
Joel’s made you come before. It’s one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you for the first time, how sweet you’ll be on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, you’ve so much to learn, and Joel gets to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence. 
Joel adjusts you both so that you’re sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. “Rest on me,” he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. It’s too long for that.
 Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what he’s doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. “How’s that feelin’?” he asks, “Can you tell daddy?”
“Mm,” you hum, “Yeah…”
Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. “Use your words, baby girl,” he instructs. “Good girls use their words, hm?”
“Feels g- feels good,” you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and you’re rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little. 
Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further. 
Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means you’re not a slick, slippery mess like usual. “Know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.” Joel’s fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. “You’ll get used to it,” he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. “You’re bein’ so brave for me, baby girl.” 
The ache of Joel’s fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you. 
You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joel’s right, he’s always right. You’re used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time. 
“Ask for it,” Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. “Be polite.”
“Please,” you say, “Can I come?”
“‘Course you can, sweetheart. Of course.”
The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joel’s never heard anything like it, and he’s grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to. 
With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesn’t stop touching you. 
Maybe he thinks it’s not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. “Joel–” you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all.  
“Sit still. You’re givin’ me another one.” 
Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful. 
“I wanna be done, Joel. I can’t do another one,” you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. There’s nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joel’s holding you back. You’re not supposed to tell him no. “Know you can.”
His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. “I. Can’t,” you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip. 
“Knock it off,” he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. You’re quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. “Jus’ relax.”
You’re close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way you’re breathing. Release is right around the corner if you’d just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.
“Get - I told you-“ you interrupt yourself to groan, “You’re not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-can’t fucking—” you don’t finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. “F-”
Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”
Your voice cracks as you whimper Joel’s name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joel’s hand meeting your skin. 
“Don’t start cryin’, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,” Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, “You need me to talk you through it?”
You nod against him, sniffling. “Then I’ll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,” he tells you. “Relax, just a minute. Calm yourself.”
You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. “I can’t do it again, Joel,” you plead. “I don’t think I can.” 
“I know what you think. It don’t matter, ‘cause it ain’t up to you, sweetheart. We’re tryin’ it again.” 
Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, it’s uncomfortable. It hurts, and you don’t like it. 
“Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.” 
Frustrated, you shake your head. “Daddy–”
“You need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold.” 
“Joel.” Your voice cracks.
Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. “There it is,” Joel purrs. “Make those pretty noises for me. You’re doin’ good.” 
Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that he’s right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesn’t wanna fight Joel on this. You don’t like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew you’d feel.
“You gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?”
“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joel’s pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joel’s fingers. “Yeah, attagirl,” he breathes. “Manners, sweetheart. What do you say?” 
“Thank you,” you whisper, out of breath. 
Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, “Up,” he says, and you stand up on shaky legs. 
Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders. 
“You finish those dishes?” Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub. 
“Not all of them,” you answer. “I’m sorry.” 
“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll do the rest, hm?” 
You wear a small smile, “Okay.”
“An’ I was thinkin’ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?”
Your smile grows. “Yeah,” you answer. 
Joel smiles too. “Good. Let’s get you dressed, then.” 
thank you for reading! please consider engaging by reblogging, hopping in my inbox, and/or commenting. your words go so far in keeping me motivated to write ♡
More dark!joel
Tumblr media Tumblr media
864 notes · View notes
thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Interference Part 1
Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.
Notes: Descriptions of DA scenario, mentions of drug use
Part 2
You tried to go over every thing you did throughout your day that might've caused your boyfriend to be so upset but couldn't think of anything. Maybe it was because you didn't stay up to wait for him to get home last night, even though you gave him till midnight. Or maybe you left some dishes in the sink that he had to clean up.
Either way, his anger was inconsolable and you knew better than to even utter a word as he slammed the doors and walked around the house with a hard set scowl on his face. You just took shelter in the kitchen as you nervously cleaned out the fridge, tossing the expired condiments away.
"This house is always such a fucking mess! You spend at least half the day here, you'd think it would look spotless!"
You knew he wasn't really mad about the cleanliness. You deep cleaned the house every single day till it was shining, he was just projecting. You weren't sure whether to respond to his outburst or just let it go but didn't even have time to make a decision once he came walking into the kitchen. The hairs on the back of your neck raised and your face heated up in anxiety as he stood there staring at you.
That's when you noticed the all too familiar state he was in. Dilated pupils, rapid breathing, slight sweat forming around his brows. He was high.
"What are you doing, huh? Throwing shit away? He said, grabbing the box of leftovers you had saved from a few days ago. "What if I still wanted to eat this? Were you going to bother to ask me?"
"I- uh- it's from a few days ago. I didn't think-
"Exactly! You didn't think! Just fucking throwing away whatever you want!"
You weren't expecting the box of expired food to be thrown at you, hitting you square in the chest, sticky noodles getting in your hair and falling into your lap.
"This is my fucking house! My fucking food! You don't get to throw away anything unless I say you can!"
You had barely recovered from food being thrown at you, you didn't realize he made a moved in on you and grabbing your arm tightly, jerking you up to your feet and pushing you towards the other side of the kitchen, the momentum causing you to lose your footing and fall to the floor.
Your senses were kicking into overdrive as you scrambled to your feet just as he grabbed a jar of pickles and launched it in your direction. It shattered on the wall besides you and you felt the sharp pain of small glass pieces cutting your skin.
You had never seen him this out of control before. There was something behind his eyes that scared you more than normal and you knew you needed to get out of his path of blinding rage. You made a run towards the hallway, him chasing you close behind but you managed to close and lock the bathroom door just in time.
"Oh, you wanna play this game now? Ok."
Your breaths were heavy, so much adrenaline flowing through your veins it almost made you woozy. There was a moment of silence, making you think he had walked away but was completely mistaken once you watched the whole door shake at the impact as he attempted to break it down. Another slam and you saw small cracks forming in the middle of the only thing keeping you safe.
You made a split second decision to escape through the window, sliding it open and trying your best to undo the screen that didn't want to cooperate. Another slam.
You looked behind you at the battered door and knew it could only hold maybe one more before he was able to get through- so like a rat trapped in a corner, you began banging on the screen until it popped off, quickly pulling your body to climb out, scraping your hips on the ledge in the process.
The gravel floor did no favors for you as you landed awkwardly, but at this point you couldn't feel anything. Or at least your brain wasn't giving you any time to register the pain. Springing to your feet, you ran out to the front of the house, your first thought to take the car but realized the keys were inside.
That's when you saw him.
He was standing on his porch going through his mail, seemingly looking like he had just gotten home from somewhere. You had heard rumors from some of the neighbors that he worked for the government or something, giving you some hope.
You began running over to him, not daring to look back to see if your boyfriend was chasing you or not.
He has seen you coming over and immediately looked concerned, putting his mail back in the mailbox and practically catching you in his arms once you reached him.
"Please. Help me- my boyfriend. H-he's gonna kill me."
You were crying now, trying to form sentences when he asked you what happened but couldn't.
When you spotted your boyfriend walk out the front door of your house and look over in your direction, a bat in hand your heart stopped.
"Please. Please," you pleaded, hiding behind his tall frame and holding onto his quarter zip for dear life.
"Here, get inside," he said, opening his front door, the both of you entering as he walked over to his kitchen counter where a gun, badge and handcuffs were set. He grabbed the gun and cuffs, clipping both of them on his waist band and turning to you.
"Stay here."
You nodded obediently and watched him walked back out. He didn't close the door so you were able to watch everything from the moment your boyfriend began waving the bat around crazily towards your neighbor to him pulling out his gun and pointing it at him.
"Get down on the ground!"
For a second you thought your boyfriend wasn't going to listen as he stared at your neighbor with fury but seemed to be coherent enough to drop the bat and put his hands in the air, looking over at you.
"Just you wait, bitch. You'll get yours."
By now, everyone was either peeping through their windows or standing on the sidewalk, nosey to see what all the commotion was about as your neighbor pushed your boyfriend to the floor and handcuffed him.
It wasn't long before multiple cop cars showed up, taking over the scene. Your neighbor made his way over to you and offered you a hand, making you realize that you were sitting on the floor, frozen to the spot, hugging your legs.
"The officers are going to want a report but I want you checked out by the paramedics first."
You took his hand but relied all on him to pull you up as your legs felt like jello. The feeling of relief and sadness overtook you as you fell into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of being pushed away and teased for it like you were used to, you got pulled in tighter and long strong arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in a warm protective embrace.
He let you cry like that for a little until you calmed down enough to walk with him outside to the ambulance that was waiting. He didn't leave as they had you climb inside and lay on the stretcher so one of the paramedics could clean up the small cuts around your arm caused by the glass jar.
"How long have you lived there?" he asked, from besides you on the bench. You hoped he didn't feel guilty for not catching the abuse sooner.
"Not very long. He's been there for years but I just moved in about a few months ago. I don't usually leave the house since I work from home so that's probably why you didn't see me too often," you answered, wincing as the antiseptic touched your raw skin.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Hotchner....I'm actually busy at the moment but you can reach out to my Communications liason, Jennifer Jareau at the office....yes of course....goodbye."
"So you're names Hotchner?" you inquired, wanting to talk about something to keep your mind off the stinging pain.
"Aaron. Hotchners my last name."
"Nice to meet you Aaron. I'm Y/N," you greeted, offering your hand for a shake. He took it with a small smile and shook it gently.
"I wish it was under different circumstances but I'm glad you're safe."
"Thanks to you. I appreciate you by the way. You handled the situation really well."
He did that half smile again and played with his hands, almost nervously.
"Well unfortunately I deal with a lot of high stress situations like that so it was almost second nature."
"Cop?" you prodded, wanting to know if there was any truth to the rumors.
"FBI. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be specific."
He didn't go into anymore detail than that but that was more than enough for you. So he's an Federal Agent. You literally couldn't have picked a better neighbor to run to.
- - - -
After the paramedic was done cleaning you up and you gave your report to the officer, Aaron came over, hanging up the phone.
"I know the house is technically not yours but he won't be back anytime soon and I'm sure you need to get cleaned up and everything. I'm gonna give you my card, I wrote my personal cell number in case you need anything but also feel free to come over if my car is in the driveway."
You took the card, reading his slightly sloppy writing and nodded with a smile.
"Thank you again Aaron. Really, you're a lifesaver."
He pulled you in for another hug, surprising you but you accepted it happily.
"No strenuous activity until those cuts and bruises heal," he advised seriously, making you laugh. You both pulled away and it took you a second to actually walk away, not really wanting to leave the comfort of his safe presence but you did and went back into the house, ignoring all of the mess and taking a long needed shower, thinking about everything that happened.
485 notes · View notes
electrosuite · 2 days ago
Note
could you maybe do a fic where eddie is your dealer and you go to him and ask him to take your virginity and it turns out he's been fantasizing about fucking you since the day you met
warnings: swearing, drugs (marijuana), dirty talk, oral sex, descriptive sex
word count: 2.7k
masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You knocked against the door to Eddie's house, nervously sighing and crossing your arms. It took a moment, but the door opened to reveal a very sleepy looking Eddie.
You immediately felt guilty, relaxing your posture a bit.
"Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?"
"It's fine. Everything okay? You pounded the shit out of the door."
You nodded. "I don't know. I just..." You were trying to think of a reasonable excuse for waking him up, but the best you could come up with was, "How much do you have?"
"Uhh..." He thought for a moment. "I'm down to my last ounce. I need to get more."
"Great. I'll take it."
"What, all of it?"
"Yeah." He looked at you like you were crazy. "What?"
"You never get more than an eighth."
"Well, I am today."
He was still a bit confused, but he moved out of the way and allowed you to step inside. You walked over to the couch and sat. He didn't take his eyes off of you until he got into his room, wondering what had you so upset.
When he brought his supply out, he laid it on the coffee table with enough rolling papers to make joints out of every last speck. This was what he always did for you. He rolled the joints before you even left because you struggled every time you tried.
The two of you were silent while he rolled the first one, then handed it to you. You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and lit it, that first inhale feeling better to your lungs than oxygen.
As he began rolling the second joint, he spoke up.
"So, what's up?"
"What do you mean?"
"You seem off. Is everything okay?"
You rubbed your eyes with your fingers, propping your elbow on your knee.
After a moment, you replied, "Do you think it's weird not to date in high school?"
He looked up at you. "Are you really asking me that question?"
"I mean do you think it's weird if a girl hasn't dated in high school?"
"Is there a difference?"
"You know there is. People treat it differently."
"Do you care what people think?"
"Of course I do. But that's not what this is about."
"Are you afraid you're weird for not dating?"
"I don't know. I mean, almost everyone I know is, and sometimes i just wonder if I'm... doing something wrong."
"What do you mean, 'doing something wrong'?"
"I don't know how to explain it. Like, if I'm doing something that makes me unattractive, or-"
"Trust me, you're not."
"You don't think so?"
"No," he chuckled. "Absolutely not."
You took note of his comments, noticing his reaction to you suggesting you're unattractive. You didn't say anything for a moment, just watched him roll joint after joint.
You stood up slowly and began pacing in the pathway between the couch and coffee table, shoving your hands in your pockets.
When he got to the last joint, you turned to him and sighed.
"Look, I didn't come here for weed," you blurted.
"What do you mean?"
"I came here..." You could feel your heart pounding. "I came here to ask if you'd be interested in... taking my virginity."
His hand movements froze, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes drifted up to look at you.
"What?"
"I've been thinking. A lot. I'm so close to graduating as a virgin, and I don't want that. I want to lose it before I graduate, and the person I'd want to do it with most is you. I trust you."
He laid the joint in his hands down and got to his feet, walking to the kitchen and washing his hands, taking his time. You followed him, continuing to ramble.
"You know, like I said, every one of my friends are in relationships, and I'm fine with not dating. But none of them are virgins, and I'm the only one." Eddie turned the water off and grabbed a rag to dry his hands. "I'm just worried that if I don't lose it now, then I won't lose it for a while. And I don't really want to be a virgin anymore."
He turned to you and grabbed your face, pulling you in and planting his lips against yours. It caught you off guard but you immediately kissed back.
It was a gentle yet assertive kiss, one with longing behind it. It felt so natural, like your lips were made for each other. You immediately gripped his sides and let out a soft whimper into his mouth.
His hands slid down the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, carrying you into his room and kicking the door closed behind him. He tenderly dropped you down sideways onto his bed, your head hanging off the edge a bit.
He kept kissing you, his hips between your thighs. He was much more dominant than you expected him to be, as if a switch flipped in his head the second he started thinking about sex.
You reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at his body. He was beautiful, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. But he broke it a moment later to undress you, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.
He stopped, looking down at your body with his mouth slightly agape.
"What?" you asked, beginning to get nervous from his reaction. "Is something wrong?"
"It's just... weird."
"What is?"
"You're my client. I'm your dealer. It's just not something I thought would happen."
"If you don't wanna do this-"
"Woah, I didn't say that." His hands began traveling up your thighs. "I've wanted to for... I don't even know how long." His fingers slipped under your panties, pulling them off of you slowly. "I've wanted you for so long." He watched your face as his digits found your clit. A small whine left your mouth as your eyebrows turned upwards, your head falling back off the mattress.
He didn't take his eyes off your face, and he felt his pants grow tighter. Watching you squirm under him, it was a dream come true.
He was going so, so slow, and all you wanted was for him to speed up. But he didn't, instead loving the idea of teasing you. Making you writhe under him, demanding more.
So he decided to remove his fingers and crawl off the bed, kneeling on the floor. He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you close, your hips hanging off the mattress slightly.
And the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your soaked pussy drove you insane. You moaned much louder than you meant to, but you couldn't help it. He apparently knew exactly what he was doing, because this felt magical.
You couldn't physically hold your hips still, so he pressed down firmly on your hips. And when you couldn't move, forced to stay still, it almost made it more pleasurable.
You didn't know what to do with your hands, so they latched onto his hair, pulling tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he groaned. And his voice against your body felt like vibrating. This made you gasp, immediately feeling your orgasm approaching.
"Fuck, Eddie."
He knew you were close just by the sounds you were making. They were needy, desperate. And it was all he could think about. He'd always wondered what you sounded like when you came. The sweet sounds that would fill the room. And the fact that your first orgasm from someone else would be with him... It was almost too much for him to handle.
He needed to make you cum - hard. He was determined to make it as mind-blowing as humanly possible, to wear you out just from his tongue.
So when your hips bucked uncontrollably and you fisted his hair even harder, he knew you were finally there. You couldn't hold in the scream, the original plan of trying to be quiet going out the window. And he kept it going, refusing to let up.
Normally when it was just you, you only came for a few seconds because it was all you could handle. But a few seconds was gone, and he could tell he succeeded in making this intense.
And when your orgasm began to end on its own, he finally slowed down, easing you out of it. But he still didn't completely stop. In fact, the sounds you made got him desperate to hear them again, deciding then and there that he could postpone his own pleasure for the sake of watching you squirm under his mouth again.
So when he picked back up on the speed, it didn't take long to get you there again, maybe twenty seconds.
And during all of that, he never closed his eyes or looked away from you, not even for a second. He needed to watch how good he made you feel, how good your first time was.
When you physically pushed him away, he realized that you'd had enough. And when you pulled him back up to you, he was like a puma pouncing on his prey. You reached under you and unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor.
"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."
His lips latched onto your breasts, cupping them in his hands. You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, causing him to sit up on his knees. He watched your hands undo his pants, taking the opportunity to get up and pull them all the way off.
As he stood there, fully nude, you bit your lip at the sight. He looked so good, and he was rock hard. He dug through his nightstand and pulled out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and sliding it down his length.
You knew he was going to be a lot to take, but if he was as good at sex as he was at oral, you were in for a good time.
When he crawled back on top of you, his hips settled against yours and he kissed your neck. Your hands found themselves against his ribs, fingertips pressed into his skin.
After a moment, he looked at you, making eye contact.
"You're sure about this?" he whispered.
"Are you really asking me that now?"
"I need you to answer me."
You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear with your right hand.
"I've never been more sure about anything in my life, Eddie." You spoke softly, seductively. You pulled his face down so you could whisper into his ear. "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."
He took in a tiny gasp at this, dirty talk not something he expected from you. You'd always been, for lack of a better word, pretty innocent. But he'd been surprised before, finding the most innocent girls to be freaks in bed.
"For your first time?"
You just nodded. "For every time."
And with that, he was kissing you again. He reached down to line himself up to your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You whined into his mouth and he smiled, the sound like music to his ears.
Once he was fully nestled into you, he also let out a moan. He didn't move at first though, allowing you time to adjust.
"That okay?"
"Oh god, you feel so good, Eddie."
He let out a satisfied sigh. "Good. Tell me if you want to stop at any point, alright?"
"I won't want to."
"Hey, I mean it. If it gets too much, or you change your mind at any point, make me stop. Okay?"
You nodded, smiling at him. "You're so sweet."
He kissed you again, beginning to move his hips. He started with slow, gentle thrusts to let you get used to him. But eventually, he couldn't resist picking up the pace.
You did ask for it rough, after all.
So he gave you what you asked for. He attacked your neck and collarbones with kisses, leaving sloppy spit marks all over your skin. The two of you were moaning and groaning in sync, the bed squeaking almost as loud.
He couldn't keep his lips off of you, sucking your skin hard and kissing you so deeply that your teeth were touching a few times.
He was trying to stay quiet so he could listen to your moans, but he couldn't hold them back. You felt incredible, like a warm wet hug. Like your body was made for him and only him. He fit perfectly inside of you, be it a bit snug.
He fisted the sheets under him and at this point he was going much quicker than he thought he could, which was almost overwhelming for you.
But it was just right. It was perfect.
So you frowned a little bit when he pulled out of you.
"Roll on your stomach," he commanded. You did, and he pulled a pillow over for you to lay your head on. He bent your left leg and when he was back into position, he held it in place with his knee. Your other leg was straight under him, your foot hanging off the bed.
You felt his hands on your lower back, his palms right on top of the dimples above your ass cheeks. He slid back into you, and this position felt even better.
"That okay?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," was all you could get out, so he kept going. Him holding your body down and slamming into you was a sensation you'd never experienced, it was nearly impossible to explain. All you could do was grip the pillow under your head.
He leaned down and kissed between your shoulder blades, leaving prints of his lips with his saliva.
"Goddamn, you feel good," he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin. He couldn't take his eyes off your back, littered with freckles. Your hair cascaded over your skin and in your face, and he noticed how perfectly beautiful you looked right now. Face buried in his pillow, ass jiggling with every thrust.
Fuck, he might be in love.
But the cherry on top was when you moaned his name. Your voice, the tone, the neediness, the desperation. He knew he was going to bust at any second, which was a first for him. Normally he lasted a while, but something about you was different. Maybe it was just how long he'd fantasized about this, how he was far more attracted to you than any other girl he'd slept with, he wasn't sure.
But you did something nobody else could do, which was gotten him there in less than five minutes.
And he decided he wanted to look into your eyes when he came.
So he pulled out of you quickly and rolled you back over, your head still on the pillow. He immediately slammed back into you and held your face with one hand as he kissed you, his other hand next to your shoulder to keep himself up.
"Y/N," he breathed.
"Hm?"
"I've never been so close so quickly before. I'm gonna cum."
"Good."
The hand he used to hold you still moved down to finger you, and you gasped into the kiss. He looked at you when you threw your head back, moving his lips to your jaw and neck again but still looking at your face, wanting to hear you.
And, like something out of a movie, both of you went over the edge simultaneously. It was intense, cumming while being fucked. You'd never experienced this, and it felt like you were going to melt right into the bed.
He kept going for as long as he could, but eventually he had to stop. You laid there panting, his face against your chest and your hands on his sides.
"Holy fuck," you said after a moment. He chuckled, shaking you and the bed under him.
"Yeah. Holy fuck." You lifted his head and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. "You okay?"
"I'm amazing."
"You really are."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Making my first time memorable."
"I should thank you, too."
"Me? Why?"
"I think that was the best sex I've ever had."
"No shit."
"Shit."
"Well, damn. You're welcome, then."
"You said something about... Every time earlier?"
"You're still inside of me and you're already thinking about doing it again?"
"What, you're not?"
You chuckled, noticing how hot and sweaty both of you were. It was kind of gross, but you didn't care in the moment.
And you knew he made your request come true. You were not going to be able to walk properly for a little while.
437 notes · View notes
jungaji · 2 days ago
Text
when they miss you ౨ৎ
nct dream '00 line ㅤ♡
Tumblr media
RENJUN (๑•ᴗ•๑)
you'll always know when renjun misses you because that's when he starts pulling out his mandarin. he calls you late at night, voice soft, laced with the longing he doesn’t really bother hiding,
“我真的好想你吖” (i miss you so much)
“几时才能见面呢?” (when will we get to meet?)
and even if you didn't know or understand chinese before, you've come to learn it after picking it up from him through these calls over time. he always tells you that it's enough to know just these pretty words, and that you don't need to know more.
each phrase or sentence he tells you carries a bit of his heart, and its those little 我爱你 (i love you) moments that linger with you, bridging any distance between the two of you.
JENO (.◜◡◝)
missing you is almost like a battle jeno tries not to lose. he'll pretend like its no big deal, acting like he's just casually checking in on you when he texts, “whatchu doing?”
you always tease him for how obvious he gets—especially because the moment you tell him he can come over, he's at your door before you can even blink.
you open it to find his cheeks flushed, his signature eye smile breaking out as he murmurs a quick and bashful “hi,” before he's pulling you close, lips crashing onto yours. from there, he's glued to your side, following you around whereever you go—even to the bathroom. “i just wanna be close to you!”
whether he's helping you out with little things around your house or just leaning against the wall watching you, his presence fills every corner, as if he can finally relax now that he's with you.
HAECHAN ʕ•Ⱉ•ʔ
being apart from you is a nightmare for hyuck. he's naturally clingy, always close whenever he's with you. but when he's away, its like his clinginess amplifies a thousand times.
if he's the one who's busy, he'll video-call you the second he has any free time, even if it's just a simple “hi”, he can't help but want to see your pretty face and hear your sweet voice.
and when you're the one who's busy? your phone will be bombarded with his texts, asking what you're doing, who you're with, and why you're not with him. if you take too long to respond, he starts sending texts like, “so what position are the two of you in rn?” or, “i know you hate me at least say it to my face.”
and just when you're about to nag at him for being ridiculous, he always makes sure to send you a selfie of himself, teary eyed with a cute pout, accompanied with a, “i just miss you :(”
JAEMIN ₍ᐢ ɞ̴̶̷ ̫ ɞ̴̶̷ ᐢ₎
jaemin swears he misses you all the time, but when the two of you are truly apart, he goes the extra mile to make sure you feel it too.
he's always checking in—texts asking if you've eaten, reminders to rest, and occasionally surprising you with food deliveries whenever he knows you haven't had the time to cook. acts of service come naturally to him—its his way of making sure you're taken care of even when he can't be there himself.
and then there are his calls. his voice soft but steady, filling any silence with gentle reminders of how much he misses you. he never lets the distance feel like an obstacle, his words reaching you with such warmth that its as if he's right there beside you.
“i wish i could be there by your side.”
Tumblr media
authors notes: just a lil smth before i disappear for the next few weeks, school has been tough on me :,[ also ive never written in this format before but im really happy with how this turned out hehe i hope youll enjoy, happy reading<3
411 notes · View notes
servicpop · 1 day ago
Text
kinktober extra — mutual masturbation adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
ⓘ dick piercing , kind of short / rushed T T
▸ wanna skip class tdy? read 12:21 PM
The text message was ludicrous, did he seriously ask the student president to skip class? You peered at your phone from underneath the table with a small scowl before shutting it off, turning your attention back to the lesson.
▸ need to show you something ▸ if ur not skipping I'll just come over to urs ;) read 12:25 PM
More buzzes come from your phone and you finally decide to turn off your notifications and silence your phone — it didn't matter if Adrien asked, he would just come over anyways.
But his message plagued your mind; Adrien didn't usually tell you he needed to show you something without telling you what it actually was. A surprise? A present? The thoughts swirled in your mind like a whirlpool, coming up with a multitude of possibilities that Adrien could show. What if it was tickets to a week long vacation? Or maybe a coupon he found off the side of the road.
You would have to see when you got home
Tumblr media
The walk back home was nothing short of furrowed eyebrows and confusion. You slide your phone out from your pocket and glance at your lockscreen to see no new notifications from the deliquent. By now Adrien would've popped up from nowhere to escort you back home but there was no sign of him. You braced yourself while turning every corner, expecting Adrien to jump out and scare you like he always did — he's memorised your exact route to get home.
But he wasn't there.
The moment you reach your house, you push open the front door and step in quietly, slipping your shoes off and heading straight to your room. As you turn the doorknob you hear one of your drawers slam close and the moment the door creaks open you're met with a slightly flustered Adrien.
“What were you doing?” You ask him suspectingly, narrowing your eyes at him before glancing around your room to see everything is still intact.
“Just— um, organising your stuff,” He plays it off with an awkward whistle, stepping aside so you could walk into your room. He watches you place your bag down on the floor and grab some comfortable clothes to change into.
A small, proud smirk makes its way to his face when you don't even ask him to turn around, changing on the spot with your back facing him. He's realised how comfortable you've gotten with him and he can't help but feel a warm flutter in his chest.
“So, what's the suprize?” You wriggle your shirt on, tugging on the flimsy fabric a few times before turning to face Adrien again.
“Mm... I think we need to sit on the bed for this one,” He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You feel almost uneasy, hesitant as you slowly take a seat on your sheets. The way he worded the sentence sent a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, but in all truth you weren't sure whether you were expecting something bad or not.
As if sensing your uncomfort, Adrien sits beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight as he spreads his legs, letting his elbows rest on his knees.
“You're sitting with straight posture prez,” he snorts, leaning over to pull your legs up from the floor, onto the bed and tangled with his.
You're both in a weird pretzel shaped pose, your legs over his, his legs under yours, pulling you closer so your chests would only be a few inches apart.
“Loosen up,” he chuckles in a lower, hushed tone, gripping your shoulder a tad bit tighter before smoothing out the fabric of your shirt. His hands move down to pull off his belt and you instinctively lean away, shielding your eyes with the palm of your hand.
“Adrien what the hell?”
From the cracks of your fingers you can see Adrien glance up at you briefly with a sly smirk, successfully slinking off his belt. You hear the faint pops of his pant buttons followed by the sound of the zipper being pulled down. You groan and try to turn your head away before Adrien grips your wrist, peeling your hand from your eyes.
“Just look baby,” His laughs were light, airy and soft like a fur blanket encasing you in warmth. But that small flutter in your chest died down the moment your gaze was pulled to the metal piercing.
A prince albert piercing.
You don't know whether to look away, ask if it hurt, or ask if you could touch it. The piercing looked painful and you felt an ache within your groin — whether that was a feeling from the thought of your own being pierced or something entirely different. It seems fully healed with only a slight dust of red circling the metal; Adrien would've gotten it awhile ago but waited until it was healed to show you.
“Quit starin' so hard prez, you're making me insecure,” Adrien moves his hand from your shoulder to rest behind him on the bed, leaning back so you could fully take it in.
After a bit of silence you choose option b: ask if it hurt.
“Does it— hurt?” Your words are more shaky and quiet than you would've liked it to come out like. You would look at Adrien right now but your eyes seem trained on the metal ball on the underside of Adrien's tip. It suits him, which is the worst part of it all.
Your eyes finally manage to peel away from the piercing, slowly meeting Adrien's gaze. He gives you a small nod in the downwards direction, raising his eyebrows before giving you a freakishly sweet smile. He's inviting you to feel it for yourself. Your fingers twitch as you slowly reach out for his cock, delicately wrapping your fingers around the length but letting your thumb press gently on the piercing stud.
Adrien leans his head back slightly and a groan slips from his lips.
“It hurt for a bit when I got it— fuck, but now it's just overly sensitive.” His smirk was wiped off his face, replaced by the furrow of his dark eyebrows and the small bite on his bottom lip. In your peripherals you can see his fingers dig into your sheets, curling the fabric up into his fists as you gently rub the metal.
“Wanna try something, prince?” He chuckles through clenched teeth.
Adrien leans back up, pulling you closer as he undoes the buttons of your trousers, unzipping them and pushing them down to your thighs. He takes a second to untangle your legs before gently pulling off your pants, discarding them in a random corner of your room.
Adrien hooks his fingers under the elastic of your waistband, tugging it down enough for your dick to spring out. Grabbing your ankles, Adrien pulls you even closer to him, making sure that your bodies and flushed together in a messy knot.
“C'mon, put your hand over like this,” His voice seems breathless as he guides your hand to wrap around your own and his tip. “Hold it a bit tighter, just trust me.”
Adrien's hands move to the base, stretching his fingers to press the underside of your cock against his. The metal presses right against the underside of your tip, the cold feeling of the piercing against your heated skin makes you squirm but its undeniably a good feeling.
You clench your hand harder, rocking your hips up against Adrien, chasing friction. The feeling of the piercing dragging up and down your dick sends waves of shiver through your body, forcing small whimpers out your lips. Your palm shifts to brush over the very tip, slipping your fingers through the slits which earns a throaty groan from the both if you.
“You're such a damn tease” Adrien bites his tongue as he pumps his hand, jerking the both of you off.
Skin to skin, all you feel his Adrien's heat and the small break of cold everytime his piercing rubs against you. Pre-cum is seeping out from your urethra, creating a sticky mess that rubs off on Adrien.
“You're really liking this huh, prez?”
“Shut up.”
You yelp slightly when Adrien pushes you onto your back, climbing ontop of you as he angles himself so he can properly rut into you. He still holds your dick against his, making a circle with his hands as he thrusts against his palm, grunting everytime you throbbed against him.
“Fuck yes,” He exhales, pushing himself to meet the flesh of your fingers brushing against his tip.
The slick sound of both of your arousal fills the room and the sticky liquid starts to accumulate on your fingers. Your free hand is resting on Adrien's shoulder, sinking your nails down everytime he rolled his hips against you.
“Adrien... I'm gonna cum,” you whine, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. All you can think about is the cold metal trace along your veins.
“Go ahead.” Adrien stopped thrusting and leans down to press a light kiss to your collarbone, letting his hand push you both over the edge.
With a shaky groan, Adrien spurts white all over your hand and you follow shortly with a whiny moan.
You're both heavily breathing with Adrien hovering ontop of you. He keeps his head down before he lifts it to look down at you.
“So... what are your thoughts on my new piercing?”
Tumblr media
396 notes · View notes
bananayuyu · 2 days ago
Text
Game Over
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: gamerbf!yunho x fem!reader
Genre: smut
Word count: 2.8k
Summary: Trying to get your boyfriend's attention while he games is sometimes really difficult. Too bad when he finally turns his eyes on you, his only intention is to punish.
Warnings: smut, MDNI, reader calls Yunho sir, pet names (baby, princess), orgasm denial, Yunho covers reader in cum, degradation, yunho calls reader slut once, yunho slaps reader once, mean dom yunho for sure
A/n: This was inspired by a lovely little conversation I had with @yuyusbabygirl. I hope it lives up to your expectations babe! It was nice to work on something short while I'm working on a much longer and darker Yunho one shot, which I cannot wait to post. I hope you all enjoy this one! <3 (anyone else like getting slapped in the face during sex? just me?)
Tumblr media
You walk into your shared bedroom to find your boyfriend in his favorite grey hoodie, legs stretched wide with a controller in his hand.
It was his favorite way to wind down after work, the position you found him in countless times. But after your little trip to the lingerie store this evening, you're finding it hard to accept that his attention isn't on you.
You'd purchased a beautiful pink set today, one you'd been eyeing for months now. On your walk home you'd seen it in the window, finally on sale, and you couldn't resist. The style accentuated your body in just the right way, and the bottoms were amazingly comfortable given just how tight and up your ass they were. And really, you just looked amazing in it; even you could admit that, despite not always loving your body.
You thought you'd wait until the weekend, until your planned date night to show it to him. You could make it total surprise, as he had no idea where you'd just been. But when you opened your bedroom door and he didn't even look up, you couldn't deal with the way it seemed like he didn't even notice you.
Out in the living room you strip off your clothes, hastily slipping on the lacy pink set and promptly walking straight back into your bedroom.
"Babe, can I show you something?" you ask, standing in the frame of the door. Finally Yunho's head turns towards you, after he carefully pauses his game. "What do you think?" you ask, turning in a slow circle and posing for him.
"It's beautiful baby. Those are the ones you wanted last time we were there, right?"
"Yeah, they were on sale today, so I couldn't resist," you smile, momentarily relieved that his eyes are on you and not on that damn TV screen.
"You know I could have bought them for you," he says, sighing slightly. Is he disappointed? Do you not look as good as you think? You stare back in surprise, his tone suggesting he isn't affected by this at all. And god does it irk you, enough to grab your silk robe from the closet and throw it over your shoulders. No way in hell were you taking off this beautiful set, and if he wasn't going to enjoy it, then you'd spend the evening enjoying it yourself.
You settled back down on the couch in the living room, absentmindedly scrolling your phone and texting back a few of your online friends. You got lost in it for a minute, but you'd be lying if Yunho's tone of disinterest wasn't still playing in the back of your head. You were bothered that he still hadn't come out to you, that he hadn't been affected in the way you knew he always was by your body. Was his game tonight really that interesting?
Without thinking you stood and walked back into the bedroom, walking over to the side table on his side of the bed. Leaning down to open the drawer you squeeze your chest together, knowing that from this angle he has a perfect view of your tits in all their glory.
"You good?" he asks, again his tone sounding a little distant, despite the way his eyes are glued to your chest.
"I can't find my charger, I thought I might have left it over here," you lie, closing the drawer again and standing back up, sauntering out of the room and looking back over your shoulder as you exit, seeing his eyes glued this time to your ass. You're sure now he'll come out, sure that once his game finishes he'll be pouncing on you, and you wait with bated breath, again pulling up your phone and randomly scrolling.
But again, he doesn't come. Your anger is building, and before you know it your legs have taken you back to the bedroom, this time climbing onto the bed and standing up, pretending to adjust a poster on the wall and partially blocking his view with your thigh.
"Baby, seriously?" he asks below you, tapping on your leg to try to get you to move it.
"I noticed this poster was about to fall," you lie again, pursing your lips together in a pout and staring down at him. From this angle you know he has quite the view of your center, only a very thin strip of fabric not even totally covering your outer lips. You know he loves your thighs, and this time you're sure he'll break, but again, somehow, he's still focused on his game, somehow winning the level despite the screen being partially out of view.
You sigh and head back out the living room, not sure what to do with yourself. The lingerie is getting you worked up yourself, and so is the way he's not paying attention to you. It's making you feel desperate, angry, pathetic, and you're not sure how much longer you can take this little game. You pace around the room, not even looking at your phone anymore, not able to think of anything but the throb that has started in your core and Yunho's soft, large hands sweeping deftly over that black controller.
You're stumbling back into the bedroom again, this time even less sure of your movements, and you find yourself in front of the TV, dusting the top of the picture frames that hang on the wall there.
"Hey, seriously, what's up?" you hear Yunho ask, but this time you don't even respond, carefully dusting over the top of the frames so as not to knock them down. "Baby..." he trials off, and finally you hear his tone of voice change.
"Baby, answer me," he commands, and his voice is low and almost scary in a way that's making your whole body tingle.
"I just- I've been meaning to dust these for a long time and I keep forgetting, so I thought I'd better do it before I forget again for months," you stutter, still not turning around.
"Turn around, look at me," he demands, and you turn yourself around to face him, your hands behind your back as you stand provocatively, pushing out your chest. "I think you're trying to piss me off, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not I swear," you respond, turning on those pathetic puppy-dog eyes of innocence, and it makes his blood boil that you keep lying to him so effortlessly.
"I think you're lying," he says, gently setting down his controller and pulling off his hoodie in one swift motion, smoothing down his hair that was tousled out of place. "You want my attention on you, not on my game, huh?" He cocks his head to the side, a proud smile on his lips as he knows he's right.
"Nuh-uh," you shake your head, maintaining your facade, too far in now to back out. "Those pictures really needed dusting."
"And you needed to be wearing that, while you dust? You couldn't wait till I was finished with my games tonight to do it? Sounds pretty fucking unbelievable, if you ask me," he responds, now standing by the side of the bed and staring you down, his physical presence adding to the intimidation in his tone.
"I swear," you say, pouting again.
"Look at you, lying again. What do you think stupid little liars deserve?" he asks, hands on his hips.
"I- I don't know, sir," you say, slipping into the headspace best for punishment before he can even say it.
"I think they deserve a little punishment, don't you? For being bad. Lying is bad, wouldn't you agree?" he asks, his voice dripping in mock sweetness.
"Yes, sir," you nod your head, your clit throbbing with anticipation and your eyes already heavy with lust.
"Get on the bed, princess, right there." He points to where he was just sitting, his feet not moving an inch as he watches you crawl across it and sit yourself down. "Now spread your legs for me," he commands, and you follow automatically, like you don't even have a choice. You're anticipating a slap, a pinch, something painful to start the punishment, so you're surprised when he just sits himself down in front of you, so casually you'd think the two of you were just sitting down at a restaurant for a meal.
"Now, are you going to be honest with me?" he asks, eyeing you sharply.
"Yes, sir, I promise," you squeak in response, your head already buzzing with the way your legs are spread and open for him.
"Were you lying to me, earlier?" he asks, raising his eyebrows in expectation. You squirm, your eyes darting everywhere in the room but just him, not expecting him to force this out of you.
"I- uh-" you stutter.
"Baby, eyes on me. And stop hesitating, it's pissing me off," he says, his eyes dark when you finally meet his again, the breath leaving your lungs.
"I- yes- yes I did, I'm sorry," you whine, hoping this won't add to the punishment ahead.
"I'm sorry?" he asks, head cocked to the side.
"I'm sorry sir," you rush out, tears now threatening to form in your eyes.
"And you know lying is bad, so you know you deserve this punishment, right?" he asks. You nod your head vigorously, breath hitching in your throat. "Say it," he spits, his tone angry.
"I deserve this punishment, sir," you say, your eyes getting droopy with lust, your heart pounding in your chest with all of the adrenaline coursing through you.
"So you won't beg for it to stop, will you? You'll let me have my way with you until I think you've learned your lesson?"
"Yes sir, I promise," you respond, but you know it's not true, there's no way it could be. The begging is what he likes more than anything, and you know in mere moments you'll be weeping for him.
"Good. Now put your hands behind your back and don't you dare move them till I say you can," he says, moving forwards towards you, resting on his knees between your legs. He brushes a thumb over the lace fabric covering your hips, tracing the edging down and finally past your soaking, aching core, making you moan immediately at the contact. He slowly brushes his thumb in a large oval, hitting over your clit at the top, but with the fabric in between it just doesn't feel as good as you know it can. You're waiting for a slap, waiting for a change in position, honestly, so you're shocked when he reaches into his own pants with his other hand and frees his cock, the head red and already leaking.
He begins stroking himself slowly, matching the rhythm of his thumb on your cunt, and slowly the pleasure builds, agonizingly slowly. You're trying to relax into it, but you're tense from the anticipation of what punishment might be coming, so you don't quite know what to do. Your eyes are locked on his cock, on the way his hand moves up and down it so fluidly, Yunho spitting on it and spreading the wetness around, his strokes visibly speeding up. After what feels like ten minutes, but is probably barely sixty seconds, you're sure he's not punishing you after all, and your head swims with pride for a second that he's so turned on he's forgotten his intentions entirely.
"More, yuyu, please," you whine, trying to buck your hips into his thumb to gain more pressure on your clit.
"More, who? And is that begging I'm hearing?" he growls, his eyebrows pinched together in a look of dominance and anger.
"I- I'm sorry, sir," you squeak, your eyes locked on him and your mind whirring in realization that he's still in control, still planning on seeing this through.
"Don't you get it, princess? This is your punishment. You wanted to wear that lingerie so badly tonight, well now you get to. I'll touch you as much as I can, but it's not my fault it doesn't feel as good," he chides, and you groan in response, a part of you wanting to whip your hands out and pounce on him, forcing him to fuck you well and good. "What, does that sound so bad? I'm still touching you, you know," he continues, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you try not to whimper or groan again. You guess he's just teasing you with the way he's stroking himself, showing you just what your missing, and you know you'll have to hold out a long time to get the reward you're really after. You inhale deeply and steady yourself, closing your eyes and surrounding to the weak feelings on your clit, letting the feeling of being taken over envelop you.
It feels good for a little while, now knowing this is your punishment, knowing that he's teasing you and making you wait. You can do that, you know you can, and frankly, compared to the other things you thought he might have in mind, this wasn't so bad. You opened your eyes to watch him again, his beautiful hand stroking his length hard and fast, and you swear his cock is on the brink of spilling everywhere, given just how flushed and hard it looks. It's intoxicating to watch; you wish it was in your mouth, your cunt, anywhere but two feet away and in Yunho's hand, and you feel yourself salivating at the sight.
"You wish that was inside you, don't you?" he teases, a chuckle leaving his lips at the way you don't even answer him, your body forced to swallow the large amount of spit that gathered in your mouth at your stared at him, agape. You're in shock at how long this is taking, you swear it's been more than ten minutes at this point, and your pussy is suddenly throbbing so hard that you're not able to think of anything else.
"Sir, please, don't make me wait any longer," you cry, the tears forming in your eyes now, and you stare up at him pathetically, your breathing shaky.
"What makes you think you deserve that?" he snaps, rubbing himself even harder, so turned on at the way you're a bumbling mess in front of him.
"Please sir, I've waited- I've-" you can't even finish your sentence, a small sob escaping your lips instead.
"I thought you promised you wouldn't beg, slut," he spits, his hand on your cunt coming up to slap you across the face, a moan escaping your lips at the action. Momentarily your clit is alight in pleasure, the stinging pain radiating down your face and going straight to your core, making your muscles clench down on themselves. And again you're hoping this means he'll finally break, that he finally wants to manhandle you and fuck you hard, but instead you're shocked when you feel hot ropes of his cum covering your face, your chest, and even your stomach and thighs. You look up to see Yunho's blissed out face, as he strokes himself through the last of his orgasm, his face flushed and a sheen of sweat covering him entirely.
"Fuck, you look so fucking sexy when you beg like that," he sighs, collapsing down beside you but propping up his head so he can still catch a good look at the absolute mess he's made. You're staring at him with wide eyes, your cunt still throbbing with anticipation, your body wholly unsatisfied with everything that just went down.
"What, was that not fun for you?" he chuckles, and you know from the tone of his voice that your scene hasn't ended, that maybe this one will extend until tomorrow morning. You look down at your body, your beautiful pink lace lingerie covered in his cum, your legs twitching with the remnants of anticipation.
"You ruined it," you whine quietly, still not moving, just moping in place and trying to make him feel bad.
"Baby stop sulking, you know I'll buy you a new one. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed. You can move your hands now."
And in the morning he's still treating you the same, making you follow his commands, eating what he's prepared for breakfast and wearing the outfit he's set out for you. He kisses you goodbye, making you promise you'll be good at work today, before handing you the lunch and snacks he's packed you. And when you finally return in home in the late afternoon, your brain tired from a day of focused work, you see a familiar looking bag on your desk. Opening it you find the same set of lingerie, the pink edging catching on the light of your desk lamp, and you sigh into your chair, hoping that maybe tonight, he'll finally let you cum.
315 notes · View notes
entitled-fangirl · 1 day ago
Text
Staying warm.
Jace Velaryon x Dornish wife!reader
SMUT
Summary: the reader is feeling homesick, the sunlight in Dragonstone doing nothing compared to the kind she had in Dorne. Jace notices her chill and yearns to warm her.
Warnings: p in v, fingering, light breast play, overstimulation
A/n: my homegirl @princessvelaryon helped me come up with the dragon part!! You should follow her, she's fantastic🤭
Masterlist
Tumblr media
....................................
Jace's heart dropped when he walked into their shared chambers to see his wife gone. 
She was adventurous, that much was true. But usually when leaving like this, he would be the first to know. 
It was quite unusual indeed. 
The worry was both relieved and heightened at the sight of her riding boots. If she wasn't out riding…?
He ran from their chambers and down the corridor, almost tripping down the multitude of stairs as he did so. Jace was not a runner per se, but he made quick work of getting down to his mother's solar. No doubt would she know of something.
He threw open the door, not waiting for the guards nor being polite. 
Rhaenyra gasped, then relaxed. "Gods, Jace."
"Have you seen my wife?" He urgently panted.
The Queen raised a brow at the sight of her boy almost sweating. 
"She told me just this morning that she'd be there until I fetch her for the afternoon. And she's gone."
Rhaenyra tilted her head with an almost smirk. "Have you looked for her beyond your room?"
"I-" Jace paused. "No."
His mother held back a playful scoff. "Go look around. I'm sure you'll find her."
"You're not as worried as you should be," he pointed out.
"No. No, I'm not."
Jace kept his disdain inside as he turned to look across Dragonstone.
After scanning all of her favorite spots in Dragonstone, Jace was beginning to grow frantic. He resorted to ease his panic by stepping out onto a balcony to catch fresh air. 
Ah. There she was.
He saw his precious wife out in the grass outside of the walls. She laid in the sun with her eyes closed, and he swore she was glowing. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He yelled out.
He saw her eyes snap open and her body sits up to look over her shoulder at the sound. "WHAT?"
"WHAT ARE Y-" He stopped himself with a laugh and ran back inside to join her. 
She waited patiently for him to walk through the door, but to her surprise, he was running. He ran all the way to her, practically tripping onto the ground next to her. "My sweet wife," he hummed and kissed her deeply. "I was worried."
"Worried?" She pecked at his lips again. "Why?"
He cupped her face with an intense look of admiration, as if memorizing her face. "You weren't in our room when you said you'd be."
"I-" Her eyes widened. "Is it that time already? I've been out here longer than I thought."
He chuckled openly at that. "Very much so." His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "What warranted such a trip outdoors?"
She sighed and turned her head to kiss his palm. "I've been getting less and less sun on the balcony to our chambers. Today, I looked out and… the sun looked so soothing out here in the open. I'm sorry for startling you. I only planned to be here for a few minutes."
"The sun is dangerous in large amounts, my love. Surely we should take you indoors."
She shook her head and kissed his palm again. "In Dorne, I practically lived in the sun."
While to her it was a happy proclamation, it made Jace's heart twist with guilt. "I see." He moved his hand down to pinch her chin. "Do you grow cold here?"
Her smile faltered a bit. She shook her head insistently.
"Love," Jace persisted. He titled his head down a bit and his stare intensified. 
"Maybe a bit," she quietly remarked.
"A bit?" He asked. "I'd say more than a bit. You're out here basking in the sun like a dragon." He chuckled at the thought. "Perhaps you're more dragon than I."
She felt a laugh rise from her throat and she playfully pushed him back, resulting in him resting in the grass.
He sat up and grabbed her hips then laid back down with her next to him. She laid her head on his chest. 
Jace's eyes had to squint to look up at the sky, but she was entirely content. 
"Nice, isn't it?" She hummed.
It wasn't his favorite. "Yes. Yes, it's wonderful," he agreed. "Tell me though how I can help you in the future. More cloaks? The greatest furs and blankets? Why does my best girl wish for?"
She hummed out a no. "Don't do anything on my behalf. I'll be fine."
His hand on her hip squeezed her. "I'll do what I wish. I'm the future king, and if my queen wishes for even the most outlandish thing, I'll grant it to her."
She squirmed, flipping herself onto her stomach to look at him. "What if I wish for nothing?"
"That is the goal, isn't it? To have my wife wish for nothing. But we must work to get to that point, hm? Tell me what you want. What will ease your mind, my love?"
She considers his question. She leans on one elbow to use her free hand to play with his doublet. "When I think of something, you'll be the first to know."
He vowed then and there to figure it out anyway.
Jace had stayed true to his vow, making excuses to take her to various places and do various activities to keep her warm.
"I understand your excitement, Jace, but I truly shouldn't-"
"-Nonsense. Vermax has been lonely as of late. You know how much he adores you."
That part was true. Jace sometimes believed that Vermax truly did like the girl more than him.
They entered the dragon pit and she basked in the warmth that radiated through the caves from the dragon fire. Jace tugged on her hand, "C'mon. He'll be waiting."
The dragon neared them with the help of the handlers. Jace nodded in appreciation and approached the large beast like greeting a friend. 
The dragon nuzzled into his hand and gave a purr. 
Y/n stayed behind Jace in waiting for the dragon to notice her presence, and of course, it did. 
Vermax snapped playfully at her and she ignored the dragon's hot breath moving across her skin.
"I think he's ready to stretch his wings for a bit. Think you can handle that?" He grinned and held his hand out to her. 
Once her hand was firmly grasped in his, Jace pulled her to Vermax's side, helping hoist her up onto the dragon's back. She grabbed onto the saddle with an iron grip. 
Jace climbed on quickly and settled behind her. He brought his hands around her hips, feeling a shiver move up her body. "Settled, then?" He purred into her ear.
"Jace," she whispered. She could feel his breath against the back of her neck. The warmth from his body was intoxicating. She blamed it on his dragon-blood.
He let out a breathy chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes."
The dragon was led out of the pit and into the sunlight. It let out a content growl. 
Jace grabbed the reigns.
"Sōvēs!" (Fly)
The dragon's wings stretched out and began to push air down, lifting its legs off the ground. 
She shrieked and held the saddle so tightly her knuckles turned white. She could feel Jace's chest pulse with a laugh. 
Once Vermax evened out in the sky, she relaxed a bit. Her hands still held on but her heart was slightly eased. 
Jace's nose nuzzled at her neck.
"Jace," she tutted. 
He continued his movements with a cheeky grin. "Thought you liked my touch."
"I-I do, but…" She watched one of his hands let go of the reigns and began to run up her thigh. 
"But?" He teased.
She took in a deep breath. "Is this safe?"
He kissed her neck. "Most likely. Hold this."
She mindlessly takes what he asks then realized she was holding the reins in her hands. Vermax seemed to either not notice, or just not care.
Both of her husband's hands were now on her thighs. "This is a bad idea, Jace."
"Shhh. Don't let negative thoughts persuade you." He kissed and nipped at her neck. "Do you like this?"
She leaned against his chest and slowly nodded. 
"Now," Jace tutted. "I'll keep you warm, you lovely girl."
Her eyes closed in comfort and let out a satisfied groan.
"Easy, love. You're steering Vermax."
Her eyes shot open to keep watch.
Jace's hands wandered up her legs and up her stomach, then moved back down. The feeling of his hands on her always caused her to run hot, but this was something else entirely.
His hands never moved further than that, just wandering back and forth over her body. He grinned cheekily each time she shivered or took a sharp breath. 
"Enjoying yourself?"
She nodded absentmindedly. 
"Good." He kissed at her neck again.
A few days passed until Jace saw another opportunity to warm her again. 
She sat at the window with a book, halfway keeping Jace company as he slaved over his work.
The second goosebumps erupted on her skin, Jace practically threw his work to the side. 
He stepped to her and kissed her deeply. 
She let out a surprised yelp that Jace all but swallowed down. 
When he pulled away, she hummed. "What was that for?"
He admired the flush that came to her cheeks. "Just caring for you is all."
She laughed and kissed at his cheek. "I want you to do it again."
"Easily done."
He cupped her cheeks and kissed her again, groaning when she began to tug at his doublet. Her fingers pulled at the buttons with earnest.
Jace smiled against her lips and picked her up, walking her to the bed and setting her on to it gently without breaking the kiss. 
Her tongue licked at his bottom lip, and his grin only grew. 
Her hands pulled managed to pull his doublet off and was now pulling his tunic up, her fingers brushing over his stomach. It made Jace gasp. 
He cupped the back of her neck to bring her closer to him, as if that was possible, and let her explore his mouth. 
A low growl sounded from his throat. The feeling of her was all-consuming, warm and soft. 
He pulled away to let her tug his tunic over his head, but as soon as he was free, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He sucked at the skin with a fervor that she was sure would leave marks. 
"You're an awfully convincing man," she giggled. 
He kissed her cheek. "I only aim to please. And I plan to do it well."
She pulled on his hair to tilt his head up at her, and she kissed him again. 
Now his hands began to undress her. He started slowly, but as the kiss progressed, he was getting desperate. Once he got to her shift, he gripped the neckline and tore it all the way down. Any complaint she made was lost in translation against his lips. 
He pulled away to sit up and tug his pants off and join her in the nude. 
She admired the sight of his pretty skin, trailing her eyes down from his chest to enjoy any sliver of skin he presented to her. He was perfect. 
He grinned at the sight of her delight. "So do I?"
She forced her eyes back up to his face. "Do you what?"
His hand moved down to her hip bone, rubbing it soothingly back and forth. His eyes made a sweeping pattern over her entire body. "Please you?"
Her breath hitched. He was consuming her every thought, and she found that she couldn't think of any words to say. 
His hands touched her hips and then moved up her body achingly slow before they rested on her cheeks. She shivered as he did so, the feeling tickling and yet starting a fire in her. "Cold?"
She only whined. 
"Don't worry, love." He pecked her lips. "I plan to warm you the rest of the day and into the morrow."
He brushed some of her hair back from her forehead as his other hand wandered lower to circle her clit lightly. 
She whined again, her hips jerking away out of instinct. 
"Feel the heat rising in your body?" He whispered into her ear. "The warmth that radiates when you get what you want."
"J-Jace-"
His eyes studied her earnestly. "Trust me?"
Breath escaped her. "Yes."
The hand on her clit began to move faster, the heat of her body contrasting with the cold metal of the ring on his finger. His other hand journeyed to her breast, brushing over it with his thumb and enjoying her small noises of content. 
He continued to do so, getting braver with each sweeping pass until he finally circled the nipple and watched her suck in a breath. 
"I- I'm-"
"I know," he tutted lightly.
One hand tugged at his hair, the other moved down his bicep and squeezed, bordering pain for Jace. 
Her backed arched slightly off of the sheets with a moan before slumping back down and panting.
Jace stopped when he noticed she was becoming overstimulated. "Feel good? Feel warm?"
She hummed. 
Jace chuckled. "I don't know if that's good enough for me, beautiful."
His fingers moved down to her slit and slowly pushed a finger in. She soaked him in easily. He cursed under his breath and added a second one with a slight stretch. He eased up when she whined again. His two fingers sunk into her and he began to pull them out, only to repeat the process. It was a slow and steady thrust, getting her properly prepared. 
Her eyes closed in bliss. He let out a breathy chuckle and took her hand with his, making her fingers brush over the other hand that was currently busying itself within her. 
The feeling felt right, and yet, downright sinful. Jace was like an angel that was cursed to the earth for being too perfect. 
There was never fear with him. He was steadfast in his loyalty. It made things like this easy. 
"I need more," she panted. "I want more of you."
"More?" He chuckled.
"Anything you give me, I'll take, Jace. Just pl-" She whined when he spread his fingers. 
"I'll give you all of me, my girl. Just be patient."
Jace pulled his fingers out, admiring the glaze that covered them and using it to ready his cock. He shifted comfortably onto her, alining himself. "You make my blood run quite hot, you know that?"
She giggled and brushed his curls away from his cheek. "And you with mine."
He pushed his hips forward, his jaw dropping in a hearty groan as he watched her body take him. 
Jace's words rang true, their bodies both overstimulated and dripping with sweat by the morning.
...........................................
285 notes · View notes
lightseoul · 3 days ago
Text
REVENGE (KEEP US TOGETHER) (1.9k)
Tumblr media
a/n. this bkg lives rent-free in my mind. i had scenes and interactions that i wanted to insert in this scenario, but i think i blacked out 300 words in and bakugou and y/n just took the reins from there. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy this one!
c.w. pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (~26), mentions of injuries, mentions of canon-typical violence
Tumblr media
the first thing that registers in your mind the moment your eyes flutter (creak) open is that the ceiling looks unfamiliar.
the second thing is that everything hurts like a motherfucking bitch.
but apparently being in a wholly foreign place is enough to trigger the metaphorical alarms in your head, at least enough for you to still muster the strength and presence of mind to scan the area—first, the space on your right—despite the way your body’s practically screaming at you.
what immediately catches your attention is your right arm. it’s nowhere in sight, but you can still vaguely recognize it being attached to the rest of your torso. it takes you a second to realize it’s elevated and wrapped in a thick, white cast, and the moment you do, another wave of pain courses through you, and you find yourself gritting your teeth in its wake.
a few feet behind your heavily bandaged arm seem to be two doors, one of which you think is the entrance to this dimly lit room, the other probably leading to a comfort room.
and, if all of these aren’t indicators enough, the faint beeping sound echoing across the small area gives you the definitive answer that yes, this is a hospital and yes, you are on a fucking hospital bed.
how the fuck did you end up here?
stifling a groan, you attempt to turn your head to the left to examine the other half of the room.
and that’s when you see it.
you freeze—not because the minuscule movement is causing a nauseating throbbing in your frontal lobe—but because you see it.
the all-too-familiar, unruly ash-blonde spikes that can belong to only one person.
from where you lay flat on top of the increasingly uncomfortable bed, you can barely see his forehead, but there’s no denying it.
even more so when the person speaks up.
“you’re awake.”
upon hearing his gruff voice, your stomach instantly drops in dread, so much so that it physically hurts, and you’re starting to think that maybe you’re bleeding internally, too, and that in the midst of whatever happened to you, you hurt your organs as well.
when he says your name in question a few beats later, you make no move to respond, but deep down you know you can’t just close your eyes and pretend you’re asleep again to avoid regarding him entirely.
he literally saw you moving just now.
and so you try to sit up, at least for a whole millisecond, because a pulse of pain shoots through the entirety of your body, and you can’t help the wrangled moan that tumbles out of your lips at the scalding sensation. you barely see him through your half-lidded eyes, but the man jumps up on his feet, finally coming into full view.
bakugou, who’s decked out in full hero gear is looking uncharacteristically worried when he asks: “are you okay?”
you clench your eyes closed, fighting the urge to squirm in discomfort. you merely shake your head, as subtly as you can lest you bust a fucking nerve on your neck, before: “elevate my backrest. i can’t sit up.”
“shit, right.”
it takes him a beat to figure out the controls at the side of your bunk, but when he finally does, you find yourself slowly inclining up until to about 45 degrees.
up 45 degrees and now face-to-face with him.
once the contraption clicks into place, bakugou sits back down on what looks like a stool beside you, an inexplicable expression etched on his features.
and before you can even think better against them, the words are already out of your mouth.
“what are you doing here?”
that must not have been what he was expecting or wanting to hear, because his face immediately contorts into a look of borderline offense.
“the fuck do you mean ‘what am i doing here’?” he scoffs, folding his muscled arms across his expansive chest. “you almost got abducted, dumbass. you’re lucky you made it out alive.”
abducted?
the last thing you remember before you most likely blacked out and were sent to the hospital was that you were just exiting the grocery store that you frequent on Fridays after work when an oddly familiar-looking man appeared before you. he didn’t seem too harmless right up until he emitted his quirk that sent you tumbling across the asphalt and…
that’s just about where your memory cuts off.
“what happened?” you manage to choke out, suddenly feeling scared.
“as i said,” he starts, voice low and strangely hesitant, “you almost got abducted. you passed out after you hit the neighboring building arm first, but a pro-hero patrolling the area managed to get you before the villain could take you with him.”
you gawk at the man. “what the hell would a villain want to do with me?”
at that, bakugou’s face hardens.
“…’s because they want to get back at me.”
a million things beg to be spoken out of your mouth in an instant, but what you end up saying is: “why are you here, then? shouldn’t you be with the police or in the agency if this guy’s got a vendetta against you?”
“seriously?” he retorts, incredulous, before shaking his head in what you think is frustration. his eyes shift to the rest of your body, “you’re fucking injured and yet you’re asking all these stupid questions.”
you feel yourself flame in indignation, but you bite your tongue. if you allow yourself to speak, you may end up saying something you’ll regret later.
“…but if you must know,” he pipes up all of a sudden, catching you off guard, “they said i was your emergency contact.”
his voice is quiet when he asks: “you didn’t change it?”
you gulp despite yourself. thankfully, his eyes remain trained on yours and do not drift down to your throat.
“i forgot to,” you lie out of your ass.
you are not about to tell him it’s because you haven’t had the heart to remove him as your favorite contact, let alone delete his number.
“well…” he starts, diverting his gaze onto the pillow beside you, “…that and the fact that this villain has been after me ever since he got out of prison. fucking bastard can’t accept i apprehended him so fast back then. guess it hurt his fucking ego and wanted revenge.”
you stare at the pro-hero, debating as to whether or not to say the next thing, ultimately deciding for it.
“…and he was planning to do that by hurting me.”
bakugou’s eyes drift towards you again at your statement, a serious glint in them, although he doesn’t say anything in response.
a long pause.
“why didn’t you just tell them we aren’t together anymore?” you finally ask. “you could’ve just referred them to my family or best friends or something.”
“and have them be on my ass about us breaking up?” he quips almost instantaneously. “you were rushed to the er—i didn’t have time for that shit. and in case you’ve forgotten from that time they found out about us—”
“of course i haven’t,” you cut him off, eyes trained downcast on your fiddling fingers. “it wasn’t like i wanted the media to find out we were together in the first place. my point is that it would save you a lot of trouble if we just suck it up and announce it. that way, you won’t have to play pretend and be forced to be my guardian, and i don’t get targeted by vengeful villains anymore.”
when you finally look up at the man, the frown that found its place on bakugou’s mouth at the start of your spiel has apparently now deepened into a scowl.
“what?” you ask before you can rein yourself in.
“i’m sorry you got hurt,” he states sternly. “ i should’ve kept a closer eye on you despite everything, and i’m taking full responsibility for what happened. but—”
“—katsuki,” you try to interject.
“—but don’t think i’m in front of you right now just because i feel guilty or that i just didn’t want to deal with the fucking press,” he huffs. “i—”
you wait for a moment for him to continue, but he doesn’t. his mouth only opens as if he’s going to say something before it closes again, then opens, and closes.
despite yourself, your heart physically aches at the sight of him struggling to verbalize his feelings. you hesitate for a second, before finally deciding to say it.
“…i know what you mean.”
at that, bakugou whips to look at you, an almost imperceptible, stunned expression on his sullen features. “you do?”
you nod. “…i still care for you, too, you know? even if i try to talk myself out of it, i still find myself going through the news all the time to make sure you’re alright.”
and you really, really do.
because, at the end of the day, you didn’t break up because you fell out of love or anything remotely close to that.
it was an amicable agreement to part ways because you had absolutely little to no time for each other—what with bakugou’s demanding schedule as a rising pro-hero—and almost every little time he had free was always in conflict with your own career.
you both tried to make it work, you really did—adjusting and compromising and adapting in every way you could—but when it all boiled down to it you were always left disappointed, frustrated, and frustratingly yearning for each other.
and so before the love you’ve carefully cultivated together could morph into ugly resentment—with you hating each other—you both decided to just call it quits.
you chance a glance at the man, whose gaze has visibly softened at your admission.
and you wish you really couldn’t, or you wish you’d forget how to recognize it, but you can’t deny the look of what you’ve long identified as longing that’s written all over his face.
but before you can say anything about it, a soft array of knocks resonates from the door, catching both of your attention.
not a few seconds after, a nurse squeezes herself through the entrance, holding a clipboard close to her chest.
“sorry to interrupt your conversation,” she starts, painfully timid, “but i just wanted to inform you that the premiere suite is now ready, and we can now move the patient there.”
you whip (as much as you can, at least) to look at bakugou, who only shoots you a look telling you to just roll with it. you purse your lips in a thin line, itching to protest, but manage to not say anything as the nurse continues.
“…i’ll also have to talk to mr. bakugou later on as he is your registered guardian. i’ll just drop by again later in the suite so i can take your vitals as well. that’s basically it for now, thank you!”
and just as fast as she appeared, the nurse was gone.
when you’re sure she’s out of earshot, you turn to the man. “this is too much, katsuki.”
he merely shakes his head but again, doesn’t say anything.
you stare at him for a few more beats before finally sighing in what you feel is resignation.
this is going to be a long night.
Tumblr media
tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @k0z3me
˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 my asks are always open as well. have a lovely day, y'all!
302 notes · View notes
pleasantlycrazyworld · 20 hours ago
Text
Sex pollen
Tumblr media
A/N: Reader is female, also a mutant with logan like powers. Logan calls the reader princess, darling, and his girl. Unprotected sex (Please don't be stupid and do this). I had a few requests for this, and i figured why not post it on Halloween! Happy Halloween to everyone who celebrates, I hope you enjoy the smut. I worked hard on it, but I'm not the best smut writer, lol. Request are open for Logan and Bucky! And I'm very close to 1,000 followers, so I might try and do some sort of special for it <3
********************************************
Logan should've listened to you when you said something was going to go wrong during the mission. "I don't know Lo, I just have this feeling that I can't seem to shake" you whined and grabbed his arm trying to get him to reconsider and have Charles send someone else for the mission, but he just disregarded you completely. He was just too stubborn, too proud for his own good, and it was really biting him in the ass now.
The mission was supposed to be normal, just a quick in and out. Get into the abandoned laboratory, do a quick scan to make sure it is abandoned, and then steal the plans for mutant mass destruction. Simple, something he's done a million times before but as he sits in the jet panting, sweating, nearly moaning in discomfort, he realizes how badly he fucked up. Fuck when is she ever wrong? Why didn't you just listen to her?! He groaned internally as he looked at the time, only a few more minutes than he'd be home in your bed, with you in his arms... with his cock deep in your pussy. He let a loud moan fall from his lips as he started to think of your body, fuck did he need you.
You were pacing waiting for Logan to come back from the mission, "Where is he? He should've been home hours ago!" You were beyond worried and frustrated over the whole situation, technically you knew that Logan would always come back home to you but that doesn't make the wait easier, it doesn't make seeing him bloody and aching easier either.
The front door finally opened and slammed shut. Logan's heavy footsteps could easily be heard echoing through the hall, "Logan!" You rushed to him to start checking for any injuries. Before you could ask him if he was okay, Logan pulled you into a deep, feverish kiss.
Logan groaned as he felt you gasp against his lips; his hands started to wander up your shirt as he walked you to your shared bedroom, trying his hardest not to break the kiss. You are the first to pull away,completely breathless and a bit confused."Logan...fuck baby what's going on?" You asked as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving rough bites in their place. "Need you, need your skin on mine, need your pussy choking my cock" he cut himself off with a broken moan as he starts to grind his throbbing cock into your thigh, making you feel how hard he was. "Princess, please." He begged completely helpless.
You were worried, Logan had never acted this way before, never whined or begged, but you'd be a liar if you said it didn't make you wet hearing his deep voice beg for you.
Logan was pawing at your clothes before he finally decided to just rip them off completely. Before you could whine to him about your clothes being ripped, he silenced you with a kiss and promised to buy a new outfit for you. "I'll buy you whatever you want princess, just need to see you, need to see my pretty pussy." He moans pitifully when he does get a glimpse at your sex. "Fucking christ darlin' look how wet you are, all this for me?"
You nodded quickly and pulled him closer, "Logan please, need you in me, fuck me please I need it, need to feel you deep in me for the rest of the week." Your begging made his knees weak, it sounded like heaven to him, and who was he to deny you of what you wanted.
"Whatever, you need princess," he assured you with a smirk as he pulled away to finally undress completely. Your eyes widen seeing how hard he was, "Fucking hell Lo..." You muttered quietly knowing he would still hear you. "Does my girl need me?" He asked crawling up the bed, kissing the skin exposed as he moved further up your body.
When he finally reached your mouth, he gave you a sweet kiss as he slowly thrust into you. Oh, oh my fucking--! He groaned internally as he felt your warm walls stretch around him. You broke the kiss to moan his name, throwing your head back.
You ended up moving your hands to his shoulder to hold on to him better as he thrusted more erratic, and without noticing, your claws slowly started to appear from your nails. Before you could notice, they ended up digging into his shoulder muscle deeply. An animalistic moan ripped from his chest as he felt your claws draw blood. His hips moved on their own, in and out, into your warmth and out for a split second before plunging back into you faster and deeper than before. It was like his hips were moving faster than his mind could keep up, and the only thing he could think about was you.
Your warmth, your softness, your smell, your taste. You were the only thing on his mind. He could feel his eyes roll back as his orgasm approaches. With his eyes closed, he could feel every inch of you. It was like he could feel each one of your atoms against his.
His eyes fluttered open when he heard you whimper louder than before. "Fuck you're so pretty darlin, sound so pretty for me...need more, need you to cum." He moaned before he could finish his sentence. "I really, really need you to cum on my cock princess, need you to milk me. Take it, take it all from me princess it's yours." He grunted and moved your legs to be over his shoulders, given him a new angle to thrust even deeper than before. You screamed his name as you came on his cock. He leaned down to have your chest press together as he prepared to cum deep in your pussy, "Gonna cum-fuck gonna cum deep in my pussy, keep you full for a while then when it's dripped out, I'll fuck you again to keep you full all over again." His pelvis rubbed against your clit, making you clench around him even tighter than before thanks to the overstimulation he was giving you. Feeling you get even tighter made Logan moan out and finally give in before cumming as deep as he possibly could.
It felt like an eternity before Logan finally stopped cumming. He collapsed on top of you, completely breathless and his limbs felt numb. "Holy...fuck darling" he nearly giggles as he basks in his afterglow, in all of his life he cannot remember a time where he ever came like that. "I don't think I'd ever fucked that good before" he said kissing the bruises that he could reach that was slowly disappearing on your skin.
You sighed happily, feeling his lips on your skin. You started to play with his hair softly as you hummed in agreement. You couldn't remember ever having sex that intensely before. "What did you get into on that mission?" You asked curiously, and he shrugged. "Not much. There was this pink powder that poofed in my face, though." He said as if it meant nothing, "Logan!" You tried to look at him to see if he was drugged in some sort of way but before you could, you could feel his cock hardening inside you all over again.
Logan moved to have you caged between his arms once again and asked with a knowing smirk, "Round two?"
Well how could you say no to that?...
Tagging:
@userchai
@mahi-tamashi
@100percentlazybonez
@lanassmarty
@western-pyro
@misscrissfemmefatale
@marit332
@navs-bhat
@fluffy-b33z
@chaimshelii
@aoi-targaryen
@eyes-ofhell
@sad0ni0n
@fries11
@slowlikehoneyyy
@iamburdened
@brisinggamenwearer
292 notes · View notes
willowsnook · 2 days ago
Note
hi hi i’d like brandy with lime in a copper mug please <3
lando norris x neighbor!reader
do you enjoy pissing me off?
----------------------------------------------------
Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d end up living comfortably in Monaco. Thanks to the success of your debut novel at 18, you’d become a well-known romance author with three bestsellers under your belt. Moving to Monaco felt like a dream, and you found endless inspiration from the breathtaking views and energy of the city. For the price you paid in rent, you’d expected some peace and quiet.
Unfortunately, your next-door neighbor seemed determined to ruin that.
Luckily, he wasn’t home often, but when he was, it was like a never-ending party. The constant noise, blaring music, and streams of visitors finally drove you to confront him one night. At 3 a.m., you pounded on his door, barely containing your frustration.
When he opened the door, you were met with a tall, curly-haired guy who seemed entirely too casual about the situation.
“What’s up?” he said, glancing at your pajama shorts and tank top.
“Do you enjoy pissing me off?” you questioned, gesturing to the time on your phone.
He flashed a sheepish grin, muttering a quick apology.
“I don’t need an apology,” you snapped. “I just need you to shut the fuck up.”
You expected him to be irritated, but he only smirked, clearly more amused than bothered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute before closing the door.
This became a pattern over the months, and you were almost convinced he enjoyed winding you up. It was only later you found out he was an F1 driver named Lando Norris, which explained his frequent absences. You started marking race weekends on your calendar, planning your writing time around them.
But during an off-week, much to your dismay, Lando returned to Monaco. He greeted you with a grin when you stepped into the elevator one morning, his friend stifling a laugh behind him.
“Hey, neighbor,” he said brightly.
“Hey,” you replied shortly, crossing your arms.
“We won’t be loud tonight, I promise,” he assured, catching the look you threw him before heading to his apartment.
That night, he kept his promise—but something else pulled you from sleep. Sirens blared outside, and a flurry of activity seemed to be happening on your floor. You threw on a sweatshirt, slipped on some shoes, and opened your door just as Lando stepped out of his.
People were rushing around, and Lando quickly pulled you out of the way and into his side as an officer bustled past you.
“What’s going on?” you whispered, walking toward the commotion together. A police officer informed you that there’d been an attempted break-in on your floor.
You shivered, the thought of it unnerving. Lando noticed and tightened his hold on your arm, rubbing it gently.
Back at your door, he hesitated, looking reluctant to leave you alone. “Do you want to come over for a bit?” he asked. “Just until everything settles down. I don’t really like the idea of you here alone after all that.”
Though you wanted to insist you were fine, nerves got the better of you, and you agreed. His apartment, surprisingly, was tidier than you’d imagined, and you marveled at the collection of helmets he had on display.
Lando started a movie, but your mind kept drifting back to the break-in, every hallway noise making you jump. He noticed, his eyes soft with concern.
“Y/N,” he murmured, getting your attention. “Can we call a truce on the ‘hating me’ thing for the night? Come here.” He lifted a corner of the blanket, gesturing for you to come closer.
You hesitated but eventually scooted over, settling under the blanket beside him. His arm draped over the back of the sofa, and you tried to ignore the warmth radiating from him. When another noise from the hallway made you jump, he leaned in, murmuring softly, “You’re okay.” His hand came up to gently rub your arm, helping you relax.
“Honestly,” you sighed, “this movie isn’t distracting me at all. Could you just… talk to me? About racing, or whatever?”
He grinned, launching into a detailed account of his season so far. His passion was infectious, and as he described each race, you found yourself getting lost in his stories. After a while, the night’s tension had all but faded, and you felt a pang of regret over how things had started between you two.
“Lando… I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time about the noise all the time.”
He shook his head. “No need to apologize. I get it—you need peace and quiet to write.”
“You knew I was a writer?” you asked, surprised.
He blushed, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah… looked you up after our first ‘meeting,’” he admitted with a small grin.
You used the bathroom before getting ready to leave and you felt a familiar twist in your stomach as the reality of the night’s earlier events crept back in. Lando was clearing some empty glasses when he noticed your expression.
“Everything okay?” he asked, pausing in front of you.
You hesitated, biting your lip. “Would it be… weird if I stayed here tonight?” you asked, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I mean, just on the couch or something? It’s just… every little noise keeps getting to me.”
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. “There’s plenty of room in my bed, if you’re okay with that.”
Your cheeks warmed, but the idea of being close to him was surprisingly comforting after everything. “Alright… thank you, Lando,” you murmured, following him into his room.
He climbed in first, and you slipped in next to him, a comfortable silence settling over you both as he wrapped a warm arm around you. The steady rhythm of his breathing was calming, and finally, you felt the tension slip away.
Just as your eyes drifted shut, he whispered, “You don’t have to worry tonight. I’ve got you.”
And for the first time that night, you truly believed it.
270 notes · View notes
traveler-at-heart · 3 days ago
Text
Doctor's In - Chapter 7
Summary: You struggle to relax as you recover from an injury.
Wanda Maximoff x F!R
This chapter contains some badly written smut
Wanda is enjoying this far more than you. Having you home 24/7 seems like a luxury that won’t last long and she’s relishing every second of it.
You, on the other hand, are acting like a caged lion, restless and always looking for ways to pass time, though options are limited with your healing shoulder and bruised body.
This morning, you opted for a stroll while Wanda worked on some sketches. The woman has to do a double take when she’s on a coffee break, because it’s been 40 minutes since you left. And there’s only so much walking a person can do in this neighbourhood.
The answer lies a few houses down the block. Wanda’s walking and looking for you when she spots you in the porch of Agatha’s home. Mrs. Hart and Dottie are there as well, cups of tea and biscuits in a table.
You’re taking Mrs. Hart blood pressure, while she keeps talking about her latest medical appointment.
“Sweetheart” Wanda calls for you. “I need your help in the kitchen”
“Oh, Wanda, I’m so sorry. Y/N here was just walking by and we got talking. She’s so brave for saving that man’s life” Agatha places her hand in your bicep, slightly hoping it annoys Wanda.
“Yes, she is. But now she needs to rest”
“Ladies” you greet, standing up and sighing as you go down the steps. “Sorry” you mutter to Wanda.
“No need to apologize” she stands on her toes to peck your lips. You smile, taking her hand as you both walk back home.
“Next time you’re around I’ll need a physical exam, Doc” Agatha calls and Wanda is about to turn and tell her off when you pull her.
“Nu-uh. Let’s go” you say, sincerely afraid of Harkness.
Wanda remains silent for the rest of the walk and you think she might be upset. That is, until you close the door behind you and are abruptly pushed against it, Wanda’s hand pulling down on your shirt possesively.
“Do I need to tie you up?”
“I wouldn’t mind”
“That’s not what I meant”
“But, baby…”
“You’re still recovering” she warns, but you can tell she is considering it.
“My mouth is fine”  you whine as her lips approach yours. “Please, I have all this pent up energy, and I need some release”
“Is that what you need? Release?”
“Mhm” you nod, your nose bumping against hers.
“Fine” she finally kisses you, and it turns frantic. Wanda starts leading you upstairs, but you shake your head no, going for the couch instead. With the hand that isn’t in the arm sling, you tug at her yoga pants and she slips them down her beautiful legs, panties following suit.
“Come on, here’s your seat” you say, laying down on the couch. Wanda lowers herself, and almost screams when she feels your tongue working quickly around her bundle of nerves.
Without thinking, you suck harder and let your teeth graze her clit, but the feeling of pleasure is so unexpected that Wanda’s legs close around your neck, her knee digging in your bad shoulder.
“Ow, time out” you plead, pain shooting down your arm.
“I’m sorry, I…” Wanda pushes the hair out of her face, looking at you worriedly. “Are you ok? Should we go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine. No need to go and ruin Darcy’s day with the details of our sexcapades, my love”
“You sure?”
“Yes, come here” you ask, and she hesitates, until you pull her down to lie next to you on her couch. Realising she’s naked from the waist down, your hand travels to her ass, looking to squeeze the soft flesh.
“Stop” she warns with her mom voice. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. I thought I broke your neck a second ago”
“What a way to go” you joke, smiling as Wanda laughs against you.
Billy writes down in his notebook and you squint your eyes. Fractions are horrible, and how you wish you were helping Tommy with his art project instead.
So, you check the exercise again and sigh.
“I think that’s right, kiddo”
“You sure?”
How bad would it be to say “not at all”? You figure it wouldn’t be wise considering you’re the adult in the room, so you rub your eyes instead.
“I’ll check again after dinner, ok?” you promise, Wanda telling them to go wash their hands.
Going down the stairs, you find your girlfriend in the kitchen. She’s made an effort to cook anything you’re craving, and tonight’s feast is roast beef with potatoes.
“Delicious” you comment, pulling her so she’s pressing against your front.
“Thank you, I think you’ll like it”
“Wasn’t talking about the food” you pull her hair to the side, clearing the path to litter her neck with open mouthed kisses. “I’m not giving up on this even after what happened earlier”
“You mean how I almost broke your neck?”
“Almost being the key word, baby”
The protest dies in her lips as the kids join you in the kitchen. They set the table for the four of you, doing everything they can to keep you from hurting yourself.
Even as Wanda insists on slicing your portion, you drop the armsling, because you’re very picky about the way you cut your meat.
“Childish” she mutters under her breath and you glare, but smile the same.
Dinner is the usual stuff about classes, the upcoming school trip and how Billy thinks you’re so good with fractions.
They’re in the process of getting ready for bed when you Google the answers to the math exercises, and you’re only wrong twice.
Oh, well.
Once the kids are tucked in, you go back downstairs to clean up, Wanda following suit.
“Please let me”
“Come on, I gotta do something around the house”
“You already helped with Billy’s homework”
“Oh, that. I can’t wait for them to start doing square roots so I’m banging my head against the table”
Wanda laughs at that, settling on the countertop as you wash dishes.
“Yeah, I guess you missed the time where homework was easy. Like coloring, or learning vowels”
“Sounds better than fractions” you recognise.
“Don’t be long” Wanda asks, kissing your cheek and going upstairs.
Your shoulders drop a little, and you eye the armsling, but you’re tired of it and feel like it does more harm than good. Leaving it downstairs, you walk up to find your girlfriend preparing a bath.
“Might help relax” she says, and truthfully, you do feel a lot better when she’s taking off your clothes, hands delicately going over your skin. As she walks behind you to place a small kiss in your shoulder blade, her hands stops in a spot you’re always trying to hide.
“What happened to you?”
“Car accident” you say, not in the mood to delve deeper. Turning in her embrace, you unbutton her shirt, kissing down the valley of her breasts. Next are her pants, and you look up with a smile, helping her step out of them.
You sit in the bathtub, letting Wanda rest between your legs. Your hand goes up and down her arm, but your mind is elsewhere.
Especifically, in the pain that hasn’t stopped.
What if it’s something serious? What if you need surgery? And can’t do your job ever again?
It’s all you have, it’s who you are. You don’t know yourself outside of an OR, outside of grueling shifts and hospital walls.
“Can I ask you something?” Wanda interrupts your spiraling thoughts.
“I do think you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet” you say, kissing the spot between her neck and shoulder.
“No, it’s… uh” she hesitates, looking at her hands. “Did you ever think about having children of your own?”
“Oh” you say, frowning. “I don’t know, honestly. I guess all I ever figured out was what I wanted to be, you know? And it’s so demanding that I never thought I’d be a good mother”
“I just… talking about those early years. I love my kids but I don’t know if I’d do it again, start over with a new baby”
“I’m not holding my breath for that, sweetheart” you promise, kissing her temple. “And I’m a workaholic so it wouldn’t be fair to put you through it so you’re alone for a big part of the time”
“Are you sure? If it’s something you want, I can…” she turns around in your embrace, the water splasing a little. “I can try, maybe it’ll be nice”
“I love the way things are” you promise her, looking distractedly at her breasts. “Especially right now. Can you sit closer so I can pay attention to those two?”
“You’re incorrigible” she laughs, her hands going around your neck.
“And yet, you love it”
It was hard to sleep with the shooting pain down your arm, but you refused to take anything for it.
By the time you got some rest it was almost 4 AM, so you completely missed breakfast and driving the kids to school.
Probably for the best, since you’re in a foul mood.
“Hey, I have a meeting with Laura. Wanna come with?” Wanda says when you walk downstairs, changed into jeans and a t-shirt.
“Can you drop me off at the hospital?”
“Sweetheart, I know it’s driving you insane but you can’t go to work right now”
“It’s not… that” you say, struggling with your words. You’re so used to solving everything on your own, it’s hard to share that you have any discomfort.
When you were younger, it added to your mother’s stress because she had other things to deal with, so it only made everything worse at home.
“Are you ok?” Wanda asks softly, finally noticing the bags under your eyes.
“I’m just in pain and would like to check everything’s fine”
“Why didn’t you tell me? We should have gone to the hospital as soon as…”
“Wands” you say, overwhelmed at how much she cares. You pull her close, kissing her softly, and she melts against your lips. “It’s nothing serious, promise”
“Ok. Let’s get going, then”
She insists on going with you, but the meeting with Laura is happening, so you just convince her to pick you up as soon as it’s over.
Greeting the people at the front desk, you walk to the staff area, looking for any familiar faces. It’s empty, so the next place is the ER. The sound and rustling make you nostalgic, and there’s gotta be something really wrong with you, because it’s been five days only.
“Can I help you?” Darcy says behind you.
“Looking for a leprechaun”
“I have not missed you” she remarks, and you wanna say something back, but then you notice your ER board.
“Uh, what the hell did you do to my board?”
“It’s color coded!”
“This is an ER! Not arts and crafts, Lewis” you say, feeling like your heart is breaking at the sight.
“Fury likes it”
“Fury can go to… oh, hello, sir” you say, and he glares at you.
“You’re supposed to be resting”
“I have some pain… wanted to check with Carol if everything’s ok”
“Danvers is in the middle of surgery. Will be an hour or so before she’s free” he explains. “How bad is it?”
“A four, maybe” you lie, and he still looks concerned, because in all the years you’ve worked here, you never get sick or complain if you have anything bothering you.
“Get a CT, I’ll go tell her you’re here” he instructs, patting your good shoulder.
Darcy walks with you to get the CT, and once you’re done you both go to the cafeteria.
“Hey, you didn’t bring any cookies” Darcy complains as you pick up a muffin.
“Wasn’t planning on stopping by”
“How’s domestic life? You ready to retire?”
“It’s fine” you say with a smile, but as always, she can see through the bullshit.
“You look miserable. So, you’re either in a lot of pain or there’s something else”
“I just… feel bad that I don’t know how to rest. You know? I’m a workaholic, and Wanda knows it, but it used to be nice to get breaks and spend time with her and the kids. And now, I should just be relaxing and enjoying this time off but I’m so restless. And I wonder if I’m good for them. If I’ll enjoy going on holidays and spending a few days without work or I’ll promise to be there for something and then let work get in the way”
“Ok, first of all. Every surgeon is a workaholic, you know it. This was the only way we could survive and get as far as we did. But you’re acting as if you’re on an indefinite break. Your CT looks fine. In a week you’ll be back”
“Right. It was just so unexpected…”
“You’ve been working less, haven’t you? Spending more time with Wanda and her kids. That’s a major change. So don’t worry about still loving your job and wanting to do it. It’s who you are. And if Wanda loves you she’ll understand”
"Well, good thing she seems to be done having kids, too” you scratch your neck, thinking about last night’s conversation.
“I thought you wanted kids” your friend frowns.
“I never made up my mind… but if she says she’s done, it’s done”
“Interesting…” Darcy holds her chin, examining you. “I do remember you having baby fever when you did your Peeds rounds”
“Ages ago” you insist, smiling. You were good and you almost decided to focus in that area. But Trauma was always where your passion was.
Darcy’s pager beeps and you look at her with some jealousy, wishing you had somewhere to be.
“Gotta go. Danvers should be done soon. Chill, watch some tv, you’ll be back in no time”
“Thanks, mate. And I know, I’ll ask Wanda for some cookies”
You look around the cafeteria, and then wander the hallways. There are a few people in the ER, sitting and waiting for someone to call their names. Without knowing a thing about Darcy’s system, you pick up a file and say a name out loud.
The little guilt you feel at working when you’re clearly not supposed to is quickly forgotten as you help several people, looking at their X-Rays and writing prescriptions, the armsling tossed away.
That is, until you hear someone calling you across the room.
“Y/N Y/L/N” Wanda hisses. “What do you think you’re doing?”
You squeal, hiding behind a curtain. She pulls it and grabs the file from your hands.
“Did Doctor Danvers see you yet?
“She was in surgery and I was bored!” you complain like a little child.
“We’re finding her and then going home”
Doing all but pulling you by the ear, Wanda drags you around the front desk and asks for Carol, the nurses hiding a smile as you remain in the background, silent.
They tell Wanda that Carol will be in a few minutes, and you wait in one of the examination rooms, you sitting in the bed dangling your feet while Wanda answers an email from Laura.
“How did the meeting go?” you try to make ammends.
“Fine”
“Mmm” you nod, thinking it might be better to drop it.
It only gets worse when Carol walks in, thinking you’re the only one in the room.
“How’s it going, Princess?”
Wanda clears her throat, glaring at the blonde and you want to crawl in a hole and die. Not this again.
“Hey, Wanda. Didn’t see you there” she starts speaking in a rush. “What’s the matter? CT looks fine. Except for that horrible surgery they did on you”
“It was twenty years ago, Danvers” you roll your eyes, avoiding Wanda’s inquisitive stare.
“Ok, take your shirt off. O-or not, don’t” she says when Wanda glares.
“Make up your damn mind” you complain, oblivious to everything.
Wanda stands up, looking you in the eye. She smiles, taking your shirt in her hands and pulling it up. Might as well fucked you right then and there, with the way she looks at you.
Maybe it’s not so bad that she’s jealous of Carol.
“There” she says, and all you can do is focus on her lips. She stands back, sitting on the couch and waiting for Carol to examine you.
“The pain has been recurring, right? What changed?”
“It’s more persistent and intense”
“Have you been taking painkillers? Anything else?”
“Nothing, Doc”
Carol sighs.
“We really are the worst patients” she grumbles. “You have nerve damage, we knew that already. The armsling might be making it worse. Use this instead”
She passes a brace that supports your shoulder and allows you to move freely.
“Wooho, this one is way cooler!”
“Wanda, can you make sure she takes these meds? It will help with the swelling” Carol turns to you. “If you rest properly, you can go back to work in ten days”
“Ten days? I want a second opinion”
“A second opinion would be to try surgery and fix that nerve” she says, knowing Stark would agree.
“Fine. Meds and rest” you grumble, putting on the brace.
“One last thing” Carol says and you’re about to ask what is it when she blind sides you, inyecting something on your muscle.
“That’s low even for you” you complain, feeling the burn.
“That will relax you for a few hours, pal”
“Mmm. Thanks, Carol”
“Anytime. Bye, Wanda”
Your girlfriend thanks her, taking your hand and walking you to the exit, hoping you’ll finally get some rest.
“Who did this?” Darcy fumes from the ER and you rush, dragging Wanda.
“Run, now”
For the second time in the day, someone calls you by your full name, this time sounding less forgiving.
“You messed up the system!” Darcy says, watching you run like a coward. “You’re dead to me”
Wanda laughs at that, and you smile, hoping her mood has improved ever since she caught you working.
“Want anything special for lunch?” Wanda asks as she drives back home and you can’t really think of anything.
“Cuddles and a nap with my beautiful girlfriend” you say, feeling the medicine relaxing you. “Damn it, Carol probably gave me a horse tranquilizer”
“That’s what you get for being so stubborn”
“I am not stubborn” you insist, proving her point.
By the time you’re home, your feet feel heavy. Wanda almost has to carry you to the bedroom, where you plop down.
You feel her taking off your shoes and you honestly try to sit up and help, but Carol really outdid herself with whatever it is she gave you.
Lucky she’s a doctor and not a dealer.
“Wands” you mutter.
“Shh, I’m here. Get some rest”
Your mouth feels dry, limbs heavy. Like a hangover, but without the fun part.
“M’gonna kill Carol” you sigh, rubbing your eyes. Wanda’s laugh by your side makes you turn and you smile. “Hey, gorgeous”
“Feeling relaxed?”
“Very. I’m just thirsty”
As if she was a mind reader, Wanda nods towards the nighstand next to your side of the bed, where a glass of water is waiting for you.
“You’re so perfect” you say once you gulp it down, breathing and stretching. “Where are the kids?”
“Soccer practice.”
“Oh, sorry about falling asleep. We could have been watching a movie or something” you try to sit up, but Wanda pulls you down, scooting closer to you.
“I just want you to rest”
“I’m not gonna break if I do other stuff”
She doesn’t answer and you lie down, looking at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry” is all she says and you frown. “For everything that happened with Steve”
“You already apologized. It’s in the past”
“I just want to give you everything, and take care of you. I wish I knew how to make you feel better when you’re in pain”
“You’ve been cooking and helping me do everything for the past week, love”
“Anyone could do that”
“No, you’re the only person who could make it all better by just being here” you say, your hand moving the hair out of her eyes. “I’m damn lucky to have you on my side, Wands”
“I… can I ask about the accident? I feel like I know bits and pieces. Though if it’s too painful”
“I was with my Dad” you say, sighing. “Someone else ran a red light and crashed into us. He didn’t make it. It’s just… there’s no point in dwelling on it. It happened, and no amount of grieving can change it. So I don’t”
“Ok”
“I’m not the best person to be with” you admit. “I’m very much addicted to my job, I don’t have a family that is worth talking about. It’s just me, and whatever happens that day in the ER. Maybe that’s why I struggle with being away from the job. There’s nothing else besides that”
“It’s not just you, not anymore. You have us” Wanda promises, kissing your hand. You smile, nodding.
“I know. I love you”
“Love you too.”
You finally found some things to do. Wanda would give you drafts to read, surprised at how good your literary insights were.
“Laura might have competition” she joked once.
As for other forms of entertainment, you were currently picking up on your Project Runway obsession even though you were just rewatching season 8, arguably one of the most dramatic ones.
The arm was a lot better and the pain subsided, which was great news. On the other hand, Carol would never shut up about being the best Ortho surgeon in the whole country.
Still, there was one thing you were hoping to do, taking advantage of all the hours you had alone with Wanda.
Thinking it would be better to just catch her off guard, you were in bed, reading another one of her drafts when she came by the room, stretchig her back.
“Tired, my love?” you say with a sympathetic smile.
“A tiny bit. I was thinking we could get pizza tonight? I’m not in the mood for cooking”
“I’m paying for it”
“You’re paying for groceries and everything else these days” she protests.
“What can I tell you? I like to spoil my girl”
Wanda blushes at that, straddling your lap and leanig down to kiss you. You smile, eager to feel her lips on yours, but also, anticipating her reaction as she feels what’s hidden in your pants.
The way she gasps against your mouth sends a shiver down your spine.
“What are you…?”
Your good arm wraps around her waist, making her rub against the strap on.
“A surprise for you” you say, your nose against her neck, leaving open mouthed kisses. “Unless you don’t want to try it. We can just forget about it”
“No, I- but your arm”
“Well, you could be a good girl and ride my dick” you half joke, not expecting the words to have such an impact on her. Before you can react, she’s reaching down between your bodies.
“I wanna see you” she asks, out of breath. You let her pull your pants down, revealing the harness briefs you’re wearing and the plastic cock attached to them.
“What do you think?” you say, one of your thumbs traveling to her mouth, and she eagerly accepts the intrusion, sucking on your finger. She bites it as you pull out, pupils dilated.
Operating on her desires, Wanda moves down your body, until she’s eye level with the strap. Even though you can’t feel it, the sight of her tongue darting out to lick the tip makes your hips buck, pushing inside without a warning.
But she’s a good girl, and takes it all with enthusiasm, her hands on your hips as you fuck her mouth. The friction against your clit makes your breath quicken, and aware that Wanda’s gagging, you stop moving, pulling her away by the hair.
“Show me how good you can take it, baby” you say, smiling. Wanda doesn’t waste any time, discarding her own pants and placing both hands on the side of your face.
You move your hips up a couple of times, teasing her entrance, until you pull her hips down, and you have to look down, admiring the way her hole swallows every inch, Wanda’s face contorted by pleasure.
Once you bottom out, you give her a few seconds to adjust, and only move when she rocks forward, moaning at the way it feels to be so full.
“Look at you, made to take my cock. Fits so fucking perfectly inside that tight cunt” you taunt, squeezing her neck.
Wanda clenches as you choke her, overwhelmed by all the pleasure she’s feeling.
“Come on, fuck yourself on my dick” you challenge, and she begins moving, slow at first, and then faster, her hips finding a rhytm as you let go of her neck, hand going down to pinch her nipples.
The touch catches her off guard, and she somehow changes positions in your lap, the strap going deeper and hitting just the right spot.
“Oh, God…” she mutters, losing herself in the feeling of being full, riding you as your hands roam around every inch of her beautiful body. “I’m close, please”
“Please, what?”
“Please, make me come” she stutters, her hips moving erratically as she approaches her climax. You let your hand travel down, and as you play with Wanda’s clit, the woman lets out a moan, juices spilling down her legs and between your bodies.
Wanda collapses on top of you, breathing heavily. You wait until she calms down to pull out, trying to do it without hurting her.
“Stay inside” she pleads, and the desperation in her words makes you want to fuck her again.
“You did so good, baby” you smile against her temple. “Just relax, I got you”
—-
You had created a horny, hot, insatiable being.
Whenever you were alone in the house, you were usually packing because Wanda would just barge into the room, kiss you like she was running out of time, and then would just push her underwear aside, moaning and panting until she was satisfied. She went at it two or three times each day, even at night though you had to be quiet to not wake up the twins.
How you loved being used for her pleasure, and watch as she was all disheveled when she came, breathing against your neck and repeating how much she loved you and how much she needed you.
Once, you are almost caught by Agatha. This time, you initiate it, approaching Wanda as she makes lunch in the kitchen. Your arm snakes around her middle, hand going up and down until you pinch her nipple through the fabric of her t-shirt. When Wanda arches her back, her ass rubs against the strap, and she moans, allowing you to take her from behind.
“Look at you, taking me so fucking well” you say, spanking her. She moans against her arm, enjoying the new angle and the way your hands grab handfuls of her ass, the soft flesh turning red.
 In that precise moment, there’s a knock at the door. You turn at the same time, and while Wanda seems to be trying to gather her thoughts, you keep pushing inside of her.
“Wanda, are you home?” Agatha says.
“Go on, answer her. Tell her you’re getting fucked from behind, baby” you taunt, determined to make her come.
“If she sees us…”
“Better hurry then” you mutter, hips moving faster until you feel Wanda’s legs shake, hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming.
You pull out, and force Wanda on her knees. She can’t stand up, as Agatha looks through the window, waving at you. The lower half of your body is hidden by the countertop.
“Do you have any eggs I can borrow?”
“We’re out of those” you lie, moving your hips forward until Wanda gets the hint and licks the strap clean. “I’m going to the store later today, I’ll get some extra for you”
“You’re such a dear. Is Wanda working?”
“Oh, yes. She’s hard at work” you say, smiling.
“If you ever feel lonely, come by and visit me, dear” the woman winks, turning to leave. You keep Wanda in place, fucking her mouth until the pressure on your clit makes you get some release.
“I’m not done with you” you say, pulling her up. “It’s a damn shame you couldn’t be as loud as you wanted before”
Wanda looks confused, or maybe it’s the orgasm she just had. Either way, you guide her upstairs, and she quickly gets on all fours, ass up in the air again.
“Better be screaming my name when I’m done with you”
Of course she did. And you’re pretty sure those screams could be heard all the way to Agatha’s house.
“I’m gonna be late for work” you say, not really caring. Wanda’s on your lap, grinding against you. There’s nothing under your scrubs today, because, well, it would be awkward to work while packing all day.
Who knew you’d end up wanting more free time, and all because Wanda can’t go five minutes without getting fucked.
“I’m gonna miss you” she whines, biting down on your earlobe and you moan.
“Baby, you’re not playing fair”
Maybe calling in sick won’t be such a bad idea. Your colleagues will understand. It’s not like they’ve been covering for you for two weeks.
Right.
“I have to go” you sigh against her lips, searching her eyes. You hope she can understand.
“I know, I’m sorry”
Wanda smiles and the way she runs her hands down your cheeks melts your heart.
“I love you. Thank you for helping me heal these past weeks. And I’m sorry for being so difficult at times, my love. I’ll make it up to you”
“I love you too” she smiles, leaning her forehead against yours.
With that, you get ready to drive to the hospital. You’re still wearing the brace Carol gave you, more as a precaution. Wanda also gives you a whole batch of cookies and you suspect Darcy will steal most of it.
You say goodbye at the front door, promising to call her when you have time.
“Welcome back, doctor Y/L/N”
Kate Bishop is the first to greet you, waiting in the ER.
“Thank you, Kate. Did I miss anything big these past few days?”
While you go over some files, she makes the rounds on patients that have been here for the past days and are getting discharged soon.
You go back to the ER to review paperwork and she sticks around, which seems weird.
“Shouldn’t you be around the halls to see if you can scrub in on something?”
“Uh…”
“Look, if they told you to babysit me, don’t worry about it. I can handle this alone”
“That’s not… remember how I hadn’t made up my mind about a specialty? Well, I did. I want to be a Trauma surgeon” she smiles, hoping you’re happy about it.
“Wow! Congrats, Bishop” you can’t help but bring her in for a hug. “Everyone else had their student, but me”
“Well, you have yours now. I can’t wait to learn, Sir. Ma’am. Doctor” Kate stumbles with her words and you pat her back.
That very second, two people walk in, screaming something about their Halloween decoration and a freak accident.
“Let the lessons begin, kid”
And so, you spend the better part of the shift stabilizing a patient and working with Stark to stop a brain bleeding from a falling pumpkin.
“It’s that time of year again” he says, and you sigh.
“What is?” Peter looks around the table.
“You wouldn’t believe the amount of freak accidents when holidays are around” Stark says. “Well, Dr. Y/L/N knows better than me, she’s the one treating everything”
“Cuts while carving pumpkins, blazing Jack-O-Lanterns, food allergies for kids”
“Tripping with their too long ghost costumes” Stark adds. “Learn that the hard way with Morgan”
“Gotta warn Wanda about that” you grimace.
“Ah, yes, the missus” Stark says, and you can’t see a lot of his face but you can tell by his tone that he is ready to tease you.
“Careful, Doctor Stark”
“I’m just saying, everyone thinks it’s cute. Morgan loves her and their art lessons too. Plus, it’s nice to see a doctor dating someone outside of the hospital. I’m so done with all the hook ups, it’s nearly impossible to find an on call room to rest”
“You own the hospital, can’t you do something about the rooms?”
“Not without causing a meltdown for HR” he says and you both chuckle.
“It is nice to be with someone who thinks you’re crazy for wanting to be working for two straight days. Gives you perspective”
“Precisely” Stark agrees. “Well, Peter can close him up”
“Meet you back at the ER, doctor Bishop”
You nod, going to the scrub room to wash your hands.
“Carol told me about your little nerve thing”
“Of course she did”
“There’s a great chance for the procedure to work, it’s also non invasive. Recovery time is…”
“I’ll think about it. But it hasn’t been bothering me anymore. Maybe it was just the shoulder injury”
“Yeah, maybe. But you know how it is. Wouldn’t you want to be completely sure you’ll be fine holding your baby one day?”
“Wanda is done having kids so that’s not a particular concern of mine” you say in an even tone.
“Really? With the way she looks at you, it almost seems like she wants you to knock her up”
“Tony” you elbow him, and he cackles.
“Just saying. Your kids would be cute”
“Are you having baby fever and trying to drag me with you?” you raise an eyebrow.
“Maybe” he winks as you leave the scrub room.
Still, the conversation leaves you thinking about Wanda and as soon as you’re out of the OR you call her.
“You’re on speaker, my love” she says, making you smile.
You can hear Billy and Tommy rushing to her side, speaking over each other.
“Woah, woah, one at a time”
“I got an A in my Science paper!”
“I scored a goal in practice”
“Way to go, kiddos. Can’t wait to hear all about it”
“We miss you” Tommy says, which makes you strangely emotional.
You never had someone say that to you.
“Miss you too” you admit.
“Go wash your hands, say bye to Y/N” Wanda waits a little and then talks to you again. “You’re still on speaker because I’m finishing dinner”
“No dirty talk, got it” you chuckle.
“How’s the day so far?”
“Oh, we had a freak accident with Halloween decoration which reminds me, don’t put anything until I’m there to help?”
“Ok, I won’t” she agrees.
“And Kate, you remember her? She’s a resident and today she told me she wants to be a Trauma surgeon so I guess I am officially her teacher”
“Congratulations, she got the best one”
“Yeah, it’s just a lot of responsibility, I guess” you chew on your lip, thinking about everything you’ll have to teach her. It’s not just the medical side, it’s about handling the stress and the pressure of helping people in the worst situations.
“I’m sure you’ll do great” Wanda says, knowing your sudden silence means you are overthinking. “Is the shoulder ok? Promise me you’ll eat something and get some rest”
Your pager interrupts the moment and Wanda groans.
“I’m afraid I can’t keep that promise, love of my life. Will talk to you later”
“Love you”
“Love you too”
Kate meets you in the ER and you’re suddenly dealing with a car accident and four patients, two of them children.
“Page Maria and Carol, this is gonna be a long night”
“And my shift is just starting” Darcy says behind you and you turn, excited to see your best friend.
“Missed me?”
“Not a bit”
But you know she’s full of it. You scrub in together, and she updates you on all the gossip you missed, using codenames no one else knows about.
“Did you hear Doctor Bishop is my new apprentice?” you say when you let her close the patient.
“Congrats, you finally got a minion”
“Wanna get one for you?”
“Ugh, no, you gotta water them twice a week and it’s too much trouble. I’m fine just being an attending” she rolls her eyes.
You’re about to go on a lecture about the importance of teaching and mentoring when Kate curses, and the patient begins to crash.
“Move” you say, stepping in to check what’s wrong.
“See?” Darcy says.
Though Kate didn’t do anything wrong, you ended up an hour more in the OR to make sure everything was ok.
When you’re done it’s close to dawn and you’re exhausted. Darcy finds an empty room and you plop down in one of the beds, sighing. It’s too early to call Wanda. You remove the brace to rest your shoulder.
“Do you think people ever considered we were hooking up?” you ask your friend, remembering the conversation with Stark. It’s just a funny thought, but Darcy let’s out a groan.
“Ugh, I hope not”
“Excuse me?” you sit up. “It sounds like you’re offended by the idea”
“You’re just not my type”
“So hot and successful is not your type?”
“You’re too tall!” she shouts.
“You’re too small!” you say, turning around so she only sees your back. “Garden gnome”
“Big foot” she whispers and you both laugh.
“Wanda, baby” you moan, kissing the… pillow?
Your pager wakes you up, and you look around the room, confused.
“I’m trying to sleep” Darcy complains.
“So was I” you say, checking your phone. It’s nothing related to the ER, so you go to the room where you’re called to.
“How can I help...” you walk into the room, and are surprised to see Wanda sitting in the bed. “Baby, hey! Wait, are you ok? Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine” she says, appreciating your concern. Still, you check every inch of her body, hands holding her face gently. “I drove Agatha here”
“Why?” you frown.
“She cut herself while carving out a pumpkin”
“Halloween is always like this. I hate it” you mumble, and Wanda laughs.
“Don’t be such a party pooper. What’s wrong with dressing up and getting candy?”
“Trust me, spend a night in the ER with people who thought it would be a good idea to bring a real chainsaw to a party and you’ll agree with me”
“Well, I’ll have to change your mind about it” Wanda bites her lip, pulling you closer. “Maybe wear something real nice to cheer you up”
“I’m listening” you say, moaning against her mouth when she finally closes the distance. God, you forgot how good it feels to have her in your arms. “I should go check on Agatha”
“Your little student is taking care of her. Plus, I have a few symptoms of my own I’d like to ask about”
“Ok, what is it?”
“I have heart palpitations… and something like a flutter in my stomach. It’s hard to focus sometimes, too”
“When does this happen?” you play along, smiling as Wanda pulls you in between her legs.
“When I'm thinking about my girlfriend fucking me real hard”
“Babe” you sigh against her lips.
“Nu-uh. You’re working” she smiles, happy to see you so worked up.
“Mean”
Wanda laughs against your temple, her hands running up and down your arms.
“When does your shift end?”
“Tomorrow morning. Which would give me enough time to get ready for Laura’s party”
“You remembered” Wanda says, shocked.
“Well, yeah”
“I told you a month ago”
“And I wrote it down so I didn’t forget. You told me it was important for me to be there” you smile, unaware of the impact a little gesture like that could have in Wanda.
“I changed my mind, I need you to fuck me here”
You open and close your mouth a few times, looking at the door and then at Wanda. Yeah, you’d be crazy to let that chance slip.
Undoing the butto of her jeans, your hand moves as much as possible in the confined space, rubbing her clit through her underwear until Wanda is panting against your ear.
The woman finishes with a groan that you muffle with your lips, worried someone might come in.
Still, when you both leave the room, a bit disheveled and blushing, Stark glares and you wink.
“At least it’s not an on call room, Tony”
Wanda follows you to the ER, where Kate is finishing with Agatha’s stitches.
“Took your sweet time, Wanda” Agatha says, and you try to hide your smile.
“Sorry, that was my fault. But I’m here now and I’ll make sure everything is fine. Nice work, Doctor Bishop. Mrs. Harkness is a vital member of our community”
“Oh, darling, aren’t you a dear?” Agatha laughs, patting your arm. “Careful, Wanda, I might steal her from you”
You’re pretty sure Wanda’s response is not gonna be a nice one, but then you’re interrupted by the forensic that works at the morgue.
“Yo, Y/L/N. Can I get your name here?” Rio asks, her tone even and deadpan expression making her look bored, as usual.
“Sure, Death. There ya go”
Rio looks at Agatha for a second too long and then smiles to herself.
“I love to play with knives too” the brunette says, winking at your neighbour.
Wanda and you share a look, as if you’re wondering if Rio is the answer to all your problems.
“Who was that?” Agatha says, enthranced.
“Rio Vidal. We call her Death because she’s at the morgue, doing autopsies. Seems like she likes you”
“Could I… can you give her my phone number?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ll go straight to the morgue and make sure she has it, Agatha” you promise.
Once Kate finishes with closing the wound, Agatha tells Wanda they better go, so you’re free to find Rio.
“See you in 24 hours, my beautiful girlfriend” you promise, kissing Wanda.
“Lovebirds, wrap it up. Vámonos”
“Ugh” Wanda rolls her eyes. Maybe she liked Agatha better when she pretended to be nice to you to upset her.
“Smile, darling. Let’s hope Rio keeps her busy for the next few weeks”
“Or centuries” Wanda jokes and you laugh, kissing her softly.
A 48 hour shift when you just got back to work was not your best idea. As you park in your driveway, you text Wanda to let her know you’ll shower and rest a bit before you leave at noon.
You almost fall asleep standing in the shower, but snap out of it and clean yourself up so you can get a nap.
Once you wake up, it’s a little before noon so you get some time to change into pants, a t-shirt and sneakers.
“Well, hello there” you admire Wanda’s figure in a sundress. “Am I underdressed?”
“It’s a barbecue, baby, you’re fine” she smiles, pulling you inside and cornering you against the door. “Missed you”
“Missed you too” you sigh against her lips.
“Mom, have you seen my shoes?” Tommy says from upstairs and you laugh.
It takes the twins a couple more minutes to get ready, but once they go down and see you, they’re both buzzing with excitement.
The whole car ride is spent asking them questions about their day. As soon as you park, though, they are out the door, eager to greet Cooper and Lila.
You carry the pie Wanda made and put it on a table full of food.
“Wow, it’s kinda nice to live outside the city” you say admiring the entire property. Wanda had told you they lived in a farm, but you thought it was a figure of speech. “Maybe we need to get something like this, babe”
“Wanda, glad you could make it. You must be Y/N” a brunette approaches you, and you squeeze her hand.
“Nice you meet you, Laura”
“I hear you already know my husband”
“Yeah, we’ve had our share of work stuff” you nod, hand going to your shoulder.
As if on cue, Clint shows up holding a baby that is getting restless.
“Sweetheart, did you feed Nathaniel? Oh, hey Wanda. Y/N”
“I just fed him. Can you take care of him for a bit? I gotta make the mashed potatoes”
“Why don’t I…” you suggest when the baby starts crying. His eyes widen at the shift and then stares at you. Holding your breath, you expect him to begin hollering but he just laughs, curious about your hair. “There we go”
“Oh, wow. Wanda, you should have mentioned this sooner” Laura says, amazed at how Nathaniel seems to be so at ease with you.
“Come on, little prince. Let’s walk around the party for a bit. Say bye to Mom and Dad”
“I’ll catch you later, gotta help Laura for a bit” Wanda says, finding it hard to look away from you.
“Ok, darling” you say, balancing Nathaniel in your arms.
You walk around the Barton’s property, waving at the twins and their friends. Nathaniel bounces around in your arms, wanting to play with his siblings.
“What are you up to, kiddos?”
“We’re gonna play hide and seek. Wanna join us?” Billy says.
“Gotta look out for Nathaniel, but enjoy”
Across the field, some of Clint’s friends are playing soccer. Nathaniel seems interested in the ball, so you stand on the edge and let him follow it with his eyes. At one point, one of the guys throws it your way by accident and you’re able to stop it with your foot, without dropping Nathaniel.
There’s a chorus of whistles and one of the man approaches.
“Hey, you must be the cutest babysitter I’ve seen”
“I’m a guest of Clint and Laura” you say, ignoring his advances. “And you are a hazard to babies. Goodbye”
Wanda is following your every move from the kitchen, and she’s reluctant to admit that the image of you holding a baby so confidently is doing things to her.
“There are kids present” Laura teases and she laughs.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Can’t say that I blame you. She looks good with a baby”
“Yeah, but… I don’t know, we talked about it and she seemed to be indifferent to the idea. Or maybe it was because I tried to brush it off” Wanda sighs, cutting up more fruit. Truth is, she did wonder what it would be like, to have a partner that was with her every step of the way.
She loved her boys, but she had done everything on her own. Sometimes Pietro and her parents would help, but she didn’t have a spouse that would be her companion in every sense of the word.
“Well, I don’t think she’s completely convinced about it either” Laura points your way, and you’re making Nathaniel giggle with silly faces.
“Diaper change” you announce a moment later; walking to the living room. “I can do it”
“Thanks, you’re a sweetheart” Laura says, pointing at the diapers and wipes. Wanda takes a break from the cooking, to check if you need any help.
To her surprise, you’re changing the diaper expertly. In one swift motion, it’s all done and cleaned. Your girlfriend joins in, talking to Nathaniel while her hand runs up and down your back.
“We’re missing a player, wanna join us?” Clint calls from the door. Wanda takes Nathaniel from your arms, and you kiss her cheek.
When you walk to the field, the same man that spoke to you before approaches.
“Hey, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Sam Wilson” you arch an eyebrow, staying silent. “Come on, can I at least get your name?”
“I’m Y/N”
“Ok, Y/N. Why don’t we make it interesting? If I score a goal, I can ask you something about yourself”
“Well, what do I get if I score?” you say, smiling.
“Whatever you want, gorgeous”
You look around the field, spotting Lila playing with some nail polish.
“Lila gets to do your nails”
“Alright. Let’s go”
It’s funny, how Sam and his team think they have to go easy on you. It takes them two goals to catch up and realise they’re not letting you win.
You’re making them lose big time.
Throwing some turns and dribbles, you make Sam lose his footing, jumping over him to kick the ball one last time and score another goal.
“That’s three versus zero, Sam” you pat his back.
“One last shot” he says. You roll your eyes, too tired to argue with him. This time, you run around with the ball but do a simple kick that he can intercept.
“Yes. Goal!” he stops mid dance to turn to you. “My question is, do you have a boyfriend?”
“Nope” you answer, smiling as you can see Wanda approaching you. She walks past Sam, jumping into your arms and putting her legs around your waist. She kisses you, groaning against your mouth when you bite her bottom lip.
“She does, however, have a girlfriend” Wanda says, getting down. “Food’s ready”
“I’m starving” you say, letting Wanda pull you to the table, leaving Sam behind, confused and exhausted.
It was a wonderful party. There was plenty of food, playing and cleaning to do. In the end, the twins wanted to stay over to play with the Barton children.
Laura said it would be no trouble, and you voluntereed to pick them all up the next day to go to the movies or anything else.
“Had the best time today” you say, stretching in Wanda’s bed. She stays silent for a second and you sit up. “Everything ok?”
“Yeah, I’m just…” she interrupts her beauty routine to turn and look at you. “Would it be a mistake to tell you that maybe, I still want to have another baby?”
“Am I that irresistible holding a toddler?” you wiggle your eyebrows and Wanda let’s out a laugh, relieved that you’re not freaked out by what she just said. You stand up, kneeling in front of her. “I think having a little baby girl that looks like you would be the best thing ever. I also know having a kid involves a lot of changes and planning. But I can’t think of anyone better to do it with”
“So… why don’t we just leave that door open?” Wanda says, looking at her lap where your hands are clasped together. “For now”
“Yes, my love” you nod, kissing the tip of her nose. You’re about to stand up when she pulls you down by your shirt, this time in a rougher kiss.
“I got us something” she says, breathing heavily.
“Oh?”
“We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to”
“Now I really need to know what it is, Wanda” you say, the exhaustion of the past days leaving your body at the idea of having sex with your girlfriend.
“Get in bed and close your eyes”
You nod, excitedly waiting for her to reveal what she got. You hear her drawer open and close, and your heart beats faster.
“Ok” she says, and as you open your eyes you don’t notice anything different, until you look at her hand.
“Oh” you pick up the strap, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s a…”
“I know what it is” you say with a smile, checking that it is indeed hollow. Out of curiosity, you squeeze it and a stream of lube shoots out of the tip. “Shit. Sorry, love. I’ll last longer next time”
“You’re an idiot” she laughs, hiding her face in her hands.
“So, wanna try it?”
“I do, yeah… uh, it’s a fantasy of mine to feel you, as if, finishing inside. I mean, I know it’s just something different but… yeah” she turns red, looking between you and the strap.
“No need to feel ashamed, my darling. I like to be tied up, if you want us to share some kinks”
“That would be amazing” she says, a little out of breath. “But if we do all of that, I might not survive, so, just one thing at a time?”
“Of course” you smile, placing the strap on the nighstand. “Come here”
You let Wanda sit on your lap, and you begin to kiss her, taking your time and alternating between running your tongue down her lip and letting it explore the inside of her mouth.
“This toy is a bit bigger than what we’ve used before, so why don’t I… get you nice and ready, huh?” you whisper hotly, pulling her underwear to the side. Without waiting for an answer, you collect Wanda’s juices in your fingers, prodding at her entrance and stretching her. When you bring a finger to your mouth and suck, Wanda’s mouth opens, hypnotized by your movement. “Lie on your back and get that dress off. I wanna taste that pussy”
She doesn’t need to be told twice, and you watch with a smile as she discards the dress, waiting in her matching lace set.
“What a good girl” you purr, crawling until you’re close to her center. You kiss the inside of her thighs, and then pull down her panties, slick coating the fabric.
Wanda arches her back when she feels your mouth on her cunt, holding your head in place. You let her dig her nails in your scalp, moving against your face until you have her arousal on your chin and lips.
“Feeling ready to take my cock?” you say, standing up to take off your clothes. Wanda is so worked up that she barely listens to you, watching as you adjust the strap around your hips.
Before you can get back to bed, Wanda leans forward, licking the shaft.
“Fuck” you say, admiring how the cock disappears inside her mouth, and she looks so pleased licking it that you’re tempted to squeeze and have the lube run down her throat.
Maybe later, you decide when she breaks apart, gasping for air.
“I’m not waiting any longer to be buried inside you” you say, pushing her so she’s on her back again. “Ready?”
“Please, just fuck me already” she says, canting her hips up.
“So desperate. And all just so you can have my cum inside you, is that right?” you taunt, letting the tip in and watching for any sign of discomfort.
Wanda bites her lip and the way she looks at you makes your hips jerk, introducing more of the toy. The woman moans, her nails digging in your sides.
“That’s it” she sighs, while you move in and out, starting a slow and steady ryhtm. You lift her legs and put them over your shoulders, going deeper and hitting that perfect spot that makes her see stars.
“Harder, I want you to fuck me so hard”
“How hard, huh?” your hand goes to her neck and you squeeze. Wanda moans your name, enjoying the pressure. “Want me to come inside you?”
“Yes, please fill me up”
“So pretty when you beg” you mutter, pounding harder and letting the hand that was chocking her travel to her nipples. You pinch one and then the other, enjoying Wanda’s sensitivity.
As you change your angle, Wanda’s legs squeeze you, pulling you closer. You thrust harder, erratically, knowing you’re close and so is she.
“Wanna get you nice and full”
“Fuck, yes” Wanda cries out, biting the spot between your shoulder and neck. “I’m gonna…”
As soon as she says those words, your hand travels between your bodies, squeezing the strap on so it can shoot the load inside of her.
Wanda lets out a loud moan at the feeling, pulling you until you can’t hold yourself up, collapsing on top of her.
For a few minutes, all that can be heard is your heavy breathing. Once you come to your senses, you move to the side. While Wanda is still trying to recover, you look down, clenching at the mess between your bodies.
“Give me a second and we can…” Wanda says, coming back to her senses. You smile, kissing her softly.
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere”
Once her breathing evens out, she scoots closer, hiding in your arms.
“Was it good? We appreciate honest feedback here”
Wanda laughs, kissing your neck.
“It was so good I think I might be pregnant”
“Well” you say, rolling so Wanda’s on top now. “That will be one beautiful baby”
This has been the best night of your life. You’re usually quiet when having sex, because you never have the house to yourselves. After that, you cuddle and call it a night.
Not this night, though. You had been at it for a couple of hours when you got hungry, so now you’re having a midnight snack, Wanda wearing your shirt and you in the usual tank top.
“Food’s almost ready” Wanda says.
"While we wait, let's..." you trail off, playing some music.
I used to love like a lovesick puppy Loving on anyone who'd throw me a bone I didn't care if they weren't good for me 'Cause it was better than being alone
“What are you doing?” Wanda asks with a smile when you reach out for her hand.
“Can I have this dance?”
“I’m a terrible dancer” she warns you, but you shrug your shoulders.
“You’re not wearing heels right now, so we’re safe. Come on, I’ll lead”
Without waiting for her reply, your hands go around her waist. Wanda puts her arms over your shoulders, letting you sway her to the music.
Now I've grown up to be a pretty cool person Loving myself and I know my worth I think I'm ready to find my person 'Cause I won't accept less than I deserve
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, I’m looking for a wife” you sing, making Wanda laugh.
“Is this you proposing?”
“What? Nu-uh. When I do it, it’s gonna be awesome. And unexpected. But mostly awesome”
“When you propose? You thought about it”
“I’m here for the long run, baby”
Wanda smiles, leaning against your chest, while you keep rocking gently to the music.
“I love you”
“Love you too, Wanda”
Ooweeoowee My emergency contact Want a love like that No sweat 'cause I know you've got my back Ooweeoowee My emergency contact Want a love like that, want a love like that
A/N: Song is Emergency Contact by Corook. Please listen to all her music.
Last year I told you all to listen to Chappell Roan and none of you did and LOOK WHERE WE ARE NOW
312 notes · View notes
evansboyfriend · 1 day ago
Text
for @jackmichaela ♥ also on ao3
Buck stirs awake just as Eddie is wrapping up the phone call, speaking in a hushed tone for the duration of it. “Oh, he’s awake,” he says into his phone.
“Okay, good, I’m like two streets away but still stuck in traffic. Tell him I’ll be there in like 5 mins.”
“Will do. See you, Tommy.” Eddie says before hanging up and walking towards the chair he’d been occupying before he got up to answer the call. The room is small enough that he might have woken up Buck no matter how quiet he’d tried to be, but he thought it was best to stay with Buck. Eddie knows how disorienting it can be waking up in a hospital room after being knocked out cold. 
“Hey, Buck. How’re you feeling?”
Buck smacks his lips together and tries to clear his throat. Eddie moves to give him a cup of water before he takes his seat at the armchair next to his bed. 
“You were talking to my Tommy?” Buck asks, voice still a little hoarse, but doesn’t wait for an answer before he speaks again. “Can I tell you a secret? But you have to keep it a secret.”
Eddie tries to keep his expression neutral, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Cross my heart.” He says, making the sign over his chest. 
Buck’s head lolls to the side, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a big, dopey grin grows on his face; the effects of the sedative drugs still clearly lingering. “I have a huge crush on Tommy.” Buck says. 
Eddie snorts a laugh, then tries to disguise it as a cough. 
He’s well fucking aware how Buck feels about Tommy. In fact, he’s sure there hasn’t been a single day since Maddie and Chimney’s wedding that Buck hasn’t mentioned Tommy’s name in conversation at least once. 
Buck frowns at him. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.” He looks so offended. 
“No, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Eddie decides to play along. “So, you like Tommy, huh?”
There’s that dopey smile again. “I like him so much. He’s so cool. And strong. And sexy.” Buck pauses for a second, staring at the ceiling seemingly lost in thought. “I like him so much.” Then he turns to look at Eddie again. “Do you know Tommy?”
“Yeah, I’ve actually met him. A couple of times.” 
“Oh. So, do you like him?”
Eddie presses his lips together. “Yeah, bud, I like him — just not in the same way as you do, obviously.”
“Good.” Buck closes his eyes as his smile softens. “You’re not allowed to like him that way.” He mumbles.
Eddie has to clamp his hand over his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. He almost wants to tell Buck that he’s learned his lesson, but he thinks Buck is so lost in the haze of the painkillers he was given, he’s probably forgotten all about the time he went ballistic on the basketball court. He seems to have forgotten about the fact that he and Tommy have been dating for a while now. 
Buck falls asleep, his breathing slowly evening out, and Eddie shakes his head and returns his attention to the magazine he’d picked up from the waiting room. Moments later, Tommy appears at the door, poking his head in and exhaling with relief when he confirms he’s at the right place. 
“Hey,” Tommy says, addressing Eddie. “Thought you said he woke up.”
Eddie opens his mouth to reply but promptly shuts it when he notices Buck has woken up again. 
“Hey, you,” Tommy approaches the bed, putting a hand on Buck’s knee. “How’s the shoulder?”
Buck is frowning again. It almost looks like he’s glaring at Tommy. “My husband will be here soon.” 
Eddie snickers, and thankfully Buck is too preoccupied pointedly staring at Tommy’s hand where it’s resting on his knee to take notice of him. He’s never going to let Buck live this down. 
Tommy tilts his head. “Your husband, huh?”
“Yes, he’s on his way over, and I don’t think he will appreciate you touching my knee like that.” Buck somehow manages to sound bitchy even when speaking in that gruff voice. He must have a knack for it. 
Tommy holds his arms up in surrender. “My apologies, handsome, I didn’t realise you were married.”
“Oh,” Buck is smiling now, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You’re very good looking, too.”
“Oh, thank you.” Tommy grins. “More than your husband?” 
Buck shakes his head and closes his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. “No way. He’s the most gorgeous man in LA. And he’s a firefighter pilot.” His words are slurring together as he starts dozing off again. “No offence, but you don’t stand a chance.”
Eddie looks up from his magazine to confirm that Buck has indeed fallen asleep again, and catches Tommy looking at him with the fondest smile on his face, a terribly soft look in his eyes. He quickly looks down at his magazine, feeling like he’s seen something he wasn’t supposed to. 
“I promised him I would keep it a secret, but I think you should know, the first time he woke up, he was  telling me about this guy Tommy he has a crush on.”
Tommy’s grin widens. He shakes his head and pulls up a chair to sit next to Buck, and Eddie takes that as his cue to leave; he’s not sure he’ll want to hear what Buck has to say next time he wakes up. He gets up and gathers his things, moving as quietly as he can manage. 
“Thanks for staying with him.”
“He’s your problem now.” Eddie shoots him a cheeky grin. “See you at basketball tomorrow?”
“Yeah, probably.” Tommy jerks his head towards Buck. “Depends if it’s safe to leave him alone.”
Eddie waves a hand. “Just hide the scissors, he’ll be fine.” 
Tommy laughs silently and Eddie pats him on the shoulder before he walks out, leaving him to stand guard by Buck’s bedside as he sleeps. As he’s making his way out of the hospital, he idly wonders how long it’ll be before Tommy calls him up to go ring shopping. 
209 notes · View notes
slushycoookie · 20 hours ago
Text
Kinktober Day 31 ~ Costume
Tumblr media
Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader
Summary: Logan really likes your costume.
A/N: We started Kinktober with Logan and we're ending it with him. Happy Halloween and I hope you all enjoy!
Prev *✧・゚:
Kinktober '24 Masterlist
Tumblr media
“What…is that?”
You look down at yourself, a little confused. “What? It's my costume.”
Logan focused on the tight, black leather suit you were wearing. The collar popping out along your neck. A zipper in the front of your cleavage. With yellow accents along it that really reminding him of his early X-Men days. “Wade told me you wore something like this when you first started. And I wanted to match with you…”
He motioned to his yellow and blue suit, “Sweetheart, I didn't even try.”
“Yeah, I know.” You shook your head. Logan would feel some type of way at your disdain, but he’s too focused on your suit. How it filled out your body very well.
“Just ignore pumpkin.” Wade commented, admiring you while dressed in his suit. Paired with a pink tutu and a tiara. “I think you look fantastic. Perhaps identical to our grumpy fella.”
“Aww, thanks.”
Logan grumbled, “Let’s just go.”
All of you were going to a Halloween costume party at a bar. Everyone dressed in various costume, drinking drinks that were half priced. Logan’s kind of scene, besides the goofy costumes. You were obviously excited, mingling with everyone at the party. Everyone complimenting on your costume. You pulling out your fake blades and impersonating your best Wolverine stance.
If it was anyone else, he’d think it was fucking corny. But this was you, his lover.
Who looked so damn good in that suit. Your curves highlighted for him to see. Well, not just him. Logan noticed others in the bar checking you out, eyes going up and down at your figure. Now, going to this party was a mistake. As always, you wanted him to behave, not start any fights that involved you taking cover somewhere. Good thing he had a handle on his strength. Otherwise the beer bottle in his hand would’ve shattered.
“I think this costume is too tight…” You sighed, snuggling beside him. “I can barely pull the zipper up past my chest.”
Logan felt the bottle crack. “Really? You’re usually good about your sizes.”
“I am. I told Wade what size to get when he said he was going to order it for me.”
“…you let Wade order your suit?”
“Yeah? He offered. He said he was getting Vanessa’s fairy costume at the same place-oh my god.” Suddenly, you got shy, your face buried in his neck. Logan’s arm around your waist got tighter as he comforted you. “No wonder some people were staring at me.”
He scowled at said patrons who immediately pretended to go back to conversing. “It’s okay, sugar. This is just a reminder to watch that asshole when you ask him things.”
You shrugged and Logan grimaced. He wasn’t a fan of you getting like this, having a sense that everyone was watching you.
“Hey,” He made you look up at him, “did I tell you how fucking sexy you look in that costume?”
You clicked your teeth, “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, you do. I wanted to rip that off of you and say fuck this party.” Logan admired your outfit once more, squeezing your side. “Actually, I still do.”
You lean forward, your eyes lowered as you scan his body. “Is that so?”
“You know it.”
“The party will keep going for a few more hours…” Your hands trail from his forearm, up to his bicep. “And Wade drove…”
Logan growled, pulled you close. “Just say where.”
You two did your best to disappear from the party, going to the backseat of the rental car. Your lips immediately on Logan’s before he could close the door. The kiss hot, heavy as you two tried to pull off each other’s costumes. Or at least enough to get to the important parts.
When you zip down your suit, the zipper stopping at your stomach, Logan went directly to your breasts held up by your bra. He had enough for him to mouth at your chest. Him kissing along the cups of your black bra while you grinded against his crotch. The tent in his suit prominent.
You clutched the ends of his mask while he gripped your thighs, squeezing them to increase the pace of your hips. His own matching the rhythm of yours. Your breaths mixing as your tongues collided once more, tasting hints of the drinks you two had. Logan didn’t give a damn if the car was shaking from your movements.
“Fuck me…” He felt cum leaking from his tip, “You gonna make me cum if you…”
Your mouth pressed along his once more, clearly not caring. Not when his covered cock was rubbing along your suit, managing to hit your clothed clit. Logan groans in your mouth as he can smell you, the grip on your thighs getting strong.
“Keep going…just like that…” You’re practically bouncing on him, starting to get incoherent. You don’t even care when he pulls down your bra cups, latching on to your nipple, pinching the other. He smirked when you cry out. The motion of your hips get sloppy, grinding along his cock to keep hitting that spot.
Logan knows your pussy was soaking your pretty panties. He didn’t get a chance to see them while you two were getting dressed, but he bets they match the cute bra you have on. The one he’s ruining to get more access to your skin. He’s so tempted to cut them off, but you don’t like when he cuts off your clothes.
Instead he goes through your suit, feeling the warmth of your bare skin. Logan decided to reach down, going under your lacey underwear to feel your plump bottom. You gasp, reaching under his mask to grip the nape of his neck.
A corral of moans and groaning fill the car. The friction of your covered pussy along his suit made Logan’s cock throb. Your moans increase in pitch, head thrown back when you shout to the car roof. Your body tense and trembling against him. He shuddered, not stopping his grinding as he was close. Logan’s muscles tensed when he orgasms, holding you close while cum stained his boxers.
He wanted to come inside you, but the night wasn’t over yet. He’ll save that when he has you in his bed. You give him one last kiss, pulling down his mask to dishevel his hair.
“You know, they’re gonna know we fooled around in the car.”
You move on to his face, leaving little kisses. “It’s Halloween. They’ll be fine.”
Tumblr media
Tags:
@fandomfics @freythecrazyfae @maddyperezzzsstuff
@mynamesstevenwithav @eyes-ofhell @maxad99
@howlingco @cherrypieyourface @snails-doodles22
@siren-141 @nega-omega @sweetimpurity
@hehekittyhawk @spencerswh0r3 @saintdiior
@maliaofthevalley @wolverigrl @pigeonmama
@shybluebirdninja @tomie-it-girl @antishadow2021
@honey-and-olives @yxtkiwiyxt @wtfhasmy-lifecometo
@ripleyswife @davidboqie @angelic-sturniolos111
@golden-ebony @ethanhoewke @marit332
@smokeywhalee
267 notes · View notes