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#breathing at a totally normal rate
i'm so fucking done. i'm tired i wish everyone left two hours ago
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reysdriver · 6 months
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Breeding | R.B.
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Day 4 of Kinktober: Breeding Kink — husband!regulus x wife!reader
warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, breeding kink, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, some light angst and fluff in certain parts
words: 0.7k
a/n: this is one day late, but i'll post 2 oneshots tomorrow after my last midterm test I promise
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Regulus’ face was buried in the crook of your neck as he thrusted into you. His forehead was sweaty, but so were you, and you loved the sight of your husband’s dark curls sticking to his skin so you couldn’t care less about sweat. Honestly, all you could think about was how perfect he felt inside you. 
“You feel so good, Reg. So perfect.” You told him honestly. 
He let out a low moan before responding. “Not as perfect as you, my love. You make me feel so good. I’m gonna explode soon and fill you up just how you like.” 
You did love it when he came inside of you, but there was a sneaking suspicion in your mind that Regulus liked it more than you. Ever since you got married a few weeks ago, he had been obsessed with the idea of finishing inside of you in hopes of getting you pregnant. 
“I need it so badly.” You practically whined. 
He kept moving, hitting all of the right spots inside of you. He was letting out a series of heavy breaths and soft cusses right next to your ear, and it only increased your pleasure with every sound. 
“Are you sure you want it? You like it when I try to give you a baby?” 
Regulus got insecure sometimes; he always has. It’s been about a number of things, but no matter what it was, you tried your absolute best to help bring back his confidence and feel better about whatever he was upset about. This instance was no different than any other time, other than the fact that you were naked and in the middle of fucking. 
“I love it, honey, I really do. I want your baby so bad, then as many more as you’ll let me have.”
You were totally honest with him, even if you seemed like you were overcompensating for the sake of his comfort. You loved Regulus more than anyone in the world, that’s why you married him; there was no reason you wouldn’t want him to be the father of your kids. 
“I love you so much.” He told you as if he was reading your mind. 
“I love you too.” You promised. “You’re the best thing in my life, Reg— Oh, fuck!” Your train of thought was interrupted when Regulus sped up the pace and increased the force of his hips, plus adding a hand to your .
“You like that, my love?” 
You felt like you could only mumble words as an answer. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m getting close. Keep going.”
“So am I. I’m gonna fill you up and make sure you get pregnant for real this time.”
“Please, Reg. I really do need it.”
Just as you asked, Regulus kept up the rhythm of his thrusts so you could both finish together. He was hitting that perfect spot inside you, the spot that had you leaving scratches on your husband’s back and gripping the sheets with your other hand until your knuckles turned white. 
With a loud groan, Regulus released inside of you, but kept moving the way he was before as best as he could to help you along. After a few seconds, you reached your climax as well, and let Regulus know by letting out a moan and running your hand along his back far harder than you were before. 
You both took a moment to cool down, with Regulus laying on top of you, resting until your vitals went back to normal. Once his heart rate was back down, he pressed a sincere kiss to the part of your neck where his forehead had just been tucked, then he straightened his body and pulled out of you slowly. 
When moving out of you, he replaced his cock with his two fingers, eliciting a sharp breath from you as you jerked your head up to look at him between your legs. 
“I’m sorry, my love. I just want to make sure nothing spills out this time. We have to let this one be for real.”
You crashed your head back against the pillow. “This is gonna be the one that takes, I have a really good feeling about it.” You told Regulus. “You’ll be such a good dad, Reg.”
He tried to hide his face between your legs, but the grin was unmissable. “And you’re going to be a great mom.”
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antimony-medusa · 8 months
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Okay because I keep seeing these posts, I am just gonna cartwheel in here and say something.
It is not inappropriate to be attracted to real people.
Like, entirely setting aside the question of if you think a fantasy character block men is hot, if you are looking at the photos of a real streamer and you've got hearts in your eyes, I can't overemphasize how normal that is. You're good. Don't worry about it.
These people are funny, and they have good voices, and we watch them be entertaining for hours at a time. This is prime real estate for a little crush. And having a crush is fine, the question is about your behaviour once you have a crush.
I am seeing people thinking that having a crush on a streamer means they're dangerously parasocial, or somehow predatory, or abusive, and that ever breathing a word of it is basically sexual harassment. And like, no. Being attracted to real people is not weird. That's arguably less weird than being attracted to fictional characters. The only question is like, once you know that you want to smooch the real person, how do you then treat that person and the people around you?
Seeing a photo of a famous person and thinking "oh hell yeah I want to hold their hand": this is a celebrity crush. I am aroace and I've spent enough time in some people's streams that I start to go "oh man I wonder if they'd like if if we played D&D together" (medusa-flirting). This has happened to regular people looking at attractive famous people probably since someone in the cave man clan was a particularly good hunter and got praise for it. Thoughts in your head don't hurt people. This is fine.
Seeing clips of a famous person and having sexual thoughts about them: this is still a celebrity crush. Your average boring office worker does this with movie stars. Half the people on the bus are doing this with instagram influencers. Runnning a nice r-rated movie in your head is fine, and doesn't hurt anyone. Thoughts in your head still dont' hurt people. This is still fine.
Collecting photos of a famous person and going GOD they're hot to your friends where the famous person won't see it: still a celebrity crush. There is a standing joke in I don't know how many healthy relationships that your partner gets a certain amount of freebies where you could totally cheat if it's Idris Elba, because it's IDRIS ELBA, that's not cheating that's just sense. You can aknowlege someone's sexiness to your friends, and even joke about it, and you're not being predatory, and you're not being inappropriate. Desire is not a crime. People can publically talk about being attracted to a person, and as long as they're not making it that person's problem, they're fine. Having a "hot people" tag on your blog with careful photos gathered from someone's public instagram where they deliberately posted photos of themselves looking hot? I can't over emphasize how fine this is. If people don't want to see hot people on their dash I guess they can unfollow? But you're literally being totally appropriate still.
Getting a nice private group chat with friends who like to talk abouta famous person and talking about how you'd like to knock him up: Look, what else are group chats as adults for? Are you seeing a trend here? As long as you are keeping your attraction to yourself and not making it other people's problem, as long as you're not bothering the real person with it, as long as you aknowledge to yourself that this is never going to happen and this is just a fun fantasy, this is just like, how attraction works. See pretty person, talk about pretty person, have fun with the fictional imaginings you're having— as long as you're not forcing this imagining on someone else, making it their problem, trying to make it real, as long as you know the difference between fiction and real life, you're fine.
Going up to someone's chat and talking about their dick: This is where you cross the line.
Putting NSFW work in someone's fan art tag. Wearing a shirt with porn on it to a meet and greet. Untagging your fanfic so that people who want to read g-rated works about someone are confronted with e-rated works. Asking one of their friends about their relationship status and if they smell good. This is the bad stuff. Don't do THAT. Keep it away from the real person.
The problem is not the attraction, the problem is forcing the attraction on other people. Like, use your brain. There's a segment of attraction that you can put on main, and then there's a segment that you can put on main but you'd better be sure that the person you're talking about is not going to see it, and then there's a segment you should keep for the group chat, but that's just a very basic sliding scale of "how sexual am I being" correlated with "how private am I being about this". If you want to run a full on porn video in your head starring Wilbur Soot, you're not bothering other people with that, you're not being inappropriate. That becomes inappropriate if you are a) putting that in tags where people who don't want to see the porn video would see it b) talking to Wilbur Soot about it. Those are the boundaries. Wait also c) talking to Wilbur Soot's friends about it, don't do that either.
If the person you're attracted to is an adult famous person, like, people being attracted to them is just part of the landscape. I promise an adult celebrity is not sitting in their room being traumatized because people might be thinking about them romantically or sexually. Putting it up in their faces? Bad. Very bad. I hate it. Don't do it. But I see people freaking out about thoughts. Thoughts aren't real. They do not exist in the real world. You can do what you fuckin' want in your thoughts and you are not hurting people.
Like I know we don't want to be inappropriate with streamers, but that doesn't mean that any sexual or romantic thoughts about them are forbidden, or that mild "GOD he's cute" or picspams on main are hurting people, or that off in a closed group of fellow adult enthusiasts you can't be like "so I think streamer would be submissive if I was domming him" and everyone can be like "oh you'd dom him so well". As long as you're keeping it away from people who are bothered by it, you're fine.
Attraction to real people is normal and how attraction works. You're not hurting people if you think they're cute. You're not hurting people if you want to fuck them, either, as long as you're not making them interact with that desire. This is just a simple matter of keeping the higher-rated material away from the people involved.
Attraction to real people isn't inappropriate. You're fine.
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widowbitessting · 5 months
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The Devil is What You Drink - A Sugar Mommies Drabble
Word Count: 2110
Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!
Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader
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In retrospect, ringing one of your doms when you’re extremely tipsy and walking home alone at 1am, really isn't the best idea. 
But with the wine running through your system, it really doesn’t bother you. 
Natasha picks up after the first ring, voice heavy with sleep and it makes you grin broadly; almost jumping up and down on the spot with excitement. 
“Hi, Natty!” 
“...baby, hi.” She inhales deeply and you can picture her rubbing her eyes. “What time is it? Where are you?” 
“Oh, y’know me and MJ had that friendaversary didn’t we! Five whole years, Natty, can you believe it? How I haven’t killed her yet, I don’t know.” 
“Breathe, love.” 
“So I got home from class and MJ really wanted to go out for a drink and I was like, sure why not! So we went to that cute bar I took you one time - I got that cute flower in my drink, remember it, Natty?” 
“Yes, baby, I remember.” 
“So we went there and we wanted to be fancy again and got wine. Now I know, I know, wine is evil but it tastes so good so it can’t be that bad, eh? So we had like…two…maybe three bottles and just talked about all the stuff we’ve done together, cos’ like, five years is super long, isn’t it, Natty?”
“Yes, baby.”
“And then -” You boot a stray beer can with your foot and send it soaring into a nearby wall. It’s loud, especially in the quiet area you’re in and it immediately catches Natasha’s attention. 
“Baby…I haven’t heard MJ speak the entire time you’ve been on the phone to me…normally she pipes up…where is she, darling?” 
“Well she got picked up by Peter about fifteen minutes ago and the bar isn’t too far from home! So I thought I’d go on an adventure and - ” 
“Stop.” A deep, low voice, commands. 
The order comes so suddenly that it catches you off guard. You cease all words and movements as your inner submissive drops to her knees.  
“So you’re on your own?” Natasha asks. 
“...maybe…I just thought the fresh air would do me good..walk off the alcohol. Clever right?” 
“Y/N, you tell me right now if you are on your own walking through the dark. It’s 2am!”
After hearing your full name you can’t help but bite back a little with sarcasm.
“Well yeah, I - I have to get home somehow duh. I can’t afford a taxi and it’s only around the corner.” 
You hear Natasha rummaging around through the phone as you twirl a loose strand of hair around your finger. 
“Look around, tell me where you are.” 
You do as you’re told. 
“Hmmm…well I see black ‘cos it’s dark…”
“Y/N.”
“Again with the name, gah! Erm, I dunno, I took the shortcut and -”
“You have to the count of fucking five to get to the nearest streetlight, I swear to God.” 
“But it’s all the way over there!” 
“5.”
“I can make it there before you get to two!” 
You take off sprinting, giggling gleefully as you go, one hand pinning your cell to your ear as your other arm sticks out to keep your balance.
Only, it’s you. In heels. In the dark. 
You take the grand total of seven steps before you go crashing down, ankle bending at a near 90 degree angle as gravity takes you to the cement. You scrape your knees and your palm, squeaking upon impact.
“Detka, did you just fall?” 
“Mhm, running in heels is not the way to go. Ouch.” 
You’re lucky there’s no glass.
“Get up for me, can you do that? Are you okay?” When you reply, she continues, “now walk slower to the streetlight. And please don’t fall over any more twigs as you go.”
“That was one time!” 
“One time too many.” 
Limping and grumbling as you go, you manage to get out of the alleyway without any more injuries and cross over to the streetlight. 
“Natty, there’s gum on it. Gross.” 
“Don’t eat it. Don’t touch it.”
You drop your hand. 
“Fiiiine.”
“Where are you now?”
“I dunno, outside?” 
An exasperated sigh reaches your ears. 
“Tell me exactly what you see, Y/N. Be specific.” 
A car door slams shut through the phone as you glance around.
“I see trees…houses…oh the moon! Woah, pretty.”
“If you’ve somehow managed to get to the moon, Y/N, I will lose my shit.” 
“If I take a picture will you see it? It’s so pretty! Carol loves the moon.” 
“Baby, what else do you see?” Natasha gently reminds you. 
“Erm…oh! Oh, a restaurant! Can we go Natty? It looks nice!” 
“What’s it called babygirl, gimme a name.” 
Natasha’s car roars to life. 
“Why don’t you just stalk me, hmm? Be quicker.” You let out a giggle. 
“Because then I’d have to hang up, so no.” Natasha is silent for a second, waiting for your giggles to calm down, knowing her reply just fell on cotton filled ears. “Are you finished?” 
“Maaaaybe.”
“Now,” she warns, “I want you to listen to me because you only have one last chance, Y/N. Give me the name of that fucking restaurant before I spank your ass into next week.” 
“M-Mama’s…” You squint at the flag. “Oh! I think it’s Jamaican, I love Jamaican food!”
“Mhm, I know you do. Do me a favour? Have a look at the menu? Pick something you'd think we’d all like.” 
“Really? Even something like curried goat?” You scurry to the lit up window, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright lights coming from inside. “‘Cos I had that once and I thought there was a fruit loop in there but it wasn’t - there’s a cat! Hi cat!” 
“NO!” Natasha practically deafens you. “Y/N, do not follow that cat!” 
“But he’s so fluffy! He’s got a big tail, hi baby!” 
“Y/N, it’ll have fleas, no! Do not touch it, stay where you are!”
“But Hedwig -” 
“Isn’t Hedwig from Harry Potter?” 
You stop walking, ashamed that those words even came from her mouth. 
“I let you fuck me with that mouth. Yes! It’s Hedwig! Harry Potter’s owl!” 
“Do you want to watch it when we’re home?” 
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Can we really?”
“Only if you choose something really yummy from that restaurant then, baby girl. C’mon, Harry Potter is on the line here.” 
“But -” 
“Say bye to Hedwig.”
“...bye Hedwig.” Your voice is tiny and it breaks Natasha’s heart. “Safe travels! Drink milk and eat tuna!” 
“God, you’re so fucking cute, baby.” Natasha mumbles. You, of course, miss it, far too busy waving the black cat off. “Now pick us something to eat, we’re so hungry.”
“You got it, boss!” 
“Good girl, baby. You’re doing so well for me. What do you see?” 
You peer close to the menu, bumping your nose against the glass. 
“Hmmm…” You don’t even hear her as the car rolls up behind you. “I dunno yet but I might get served right away, Natty, it’s empty inside. How lucky is that?” 
“So lucky baby, who’d have thought a Jamaican restaurant would stay open until 2 in the morning.” 
“I know right? But I’m not sure what to get! Maybe I should ask someone.” 
“Y/N -” 
You ignore her and go to the door, pulling it with such a force that you don’t expect it to not open. Your grip slips and you stumble back.
“Wha - hey. Daddy the door is stuck!” You go back and try to push it this time, coming to no avail. “My food! Excuse me? I can’t get in!” 
“Y/N, tone your voice down, darling.” 
“No, the food! I can see it!” You actually have tears forming in your eyes. “I want my dumplings! No! Daddy, I need you. Help me open this stupid door!” 
“Daddy’s here, baby.” 
When Natasha’s hand gently takes you by the wrist, you look at her with a pout, unphased that she’s even there. 
“Dumplings, daddy. They’re there, see!” 
She doesn't even look away from you. 
“Yes, baby, I do. But you’re shivering. Let’s get you into the car, hmm? Get all warm before you eat dumplings.” 
“...make sure you tell them they need to fix their door…that’s so bad for service…” 
You all but sag into the redhead as she carries your exhausted body to the car. 
“You’re getting sleepy now, huh?”
“Mmm, so sleepy.” 
Natasha takes her sweatshirt off and before you can even protest, shoves it over your head, enveloping you in her scent. If you hadn’t been so tipsy, you might have clocked her sweatpant and sports bra combo sooner. Perhaps even have drooled. 
You’ve been in the car for five minutes when you finally realise. 
“Woah,” You can’t help but stare at her abs. “I could eat a six course meal off there.” 
“You’ve licked whipped cream off them before, detka.” 
“Yeah well - I - you’re just, damn.” You force yourself to blink. “Someone get me a glass…I’ve just found me a tall drink of water.” 
Natasha rolls her eyes.
“Smooth, darling, smooth. Hitting on me with Disney.” 
“Did it work?” 
“No. But A+ for effort.” 
“Dang it.” 
You pass out for a few minutes, after humming a song from Tangled to yourself. You’re warm. Cosy. Wrapped up in a Natasha scented burrito and it lulls you to sleep. Jerking only slightly when the car door opens and the cold wind hits your body. Natasha - because of course she is that strong - scoops you up effortlessly into her arms and easily moves you both to the elevator. Your neck drops back, a small snore escaping you. 
She has you. You’re officially asleep, safe and sound. Punishment already thought and saved ready for tomorrow. All she has to do is carefully place you on the bed, sneak out to get water and slide in next to you. 
Only, the second your head touches the pillow, your eyes fly open and Natasha’s soul almost leaps from her body.
“Jesus fuck!”
“Dumplings! Daddy, we left my dumplings!” 
Besides you, Wanda stirs. 
“No way, close your eyes and go back to sleep, Y/N. C’mon, You were snoring.”
You pout, tears once again forming in your eyes. 
“But - ” You hiccup. “They’re lonely! They saw me, they knew I was there to eat them and I left them there!” 
“Tomorrow, darling.” 
“No, now.” 
“I will get you all the dumplings in the world tomorrow, if you will just-go-to-sleep.”
You ponder, glossy eyes looking into Natasha’s stressed ones. 
“...that’s a whole lot of dumplings, daddy. Bit excessive actually.” 
“Detka, I swear to God -” 
“Deal!” You giggle. “God I love dumplings. Got a dumpling shaped hole in my tummy as we speak. Riiiight here.” You point to your stomach and Natasha has to stop herself from laughing. 
“Go to sleep and you will get them faster.” 
“...dumplings? What? What’s happening?”
It’s like you forgot Wanda was even there, reacting like a child of Christmas morning when you register she’s right next to you; auburn locks a wild mane around her head. 
“Hi!” 
Wanda’s scream of shock is muffled by your shoulder and you both end up rolling into Carol. 
Who isn’t impressed. At all. 
“Separate bedrooms, Romanoff. I told you.” She glares at the red head who has her face in her hands. “Why the fuck have I been woken up by Y/N talking about dumplings?” 
“She’s drunk.”
“Tipsy!”
“Oh I love tipsy, baby!” Wanda snuggles into you closer. “Hi tipsy baby.” 
“Hi none tipsy mommy!”
“I cannot - ” Carol jumps up out of the bed just in time to avoid being flattened by the two rolling bodies. “Nat, what?”
“It’s a long story.” 
“Tell me tomorrow. You’re on your own.” The blonde walks past Natasha and kisses her before vacating to the safety, and peaceful, spare room. “If you can’t control them, you know where I am. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.” 
“Or order enough dumplings to feed 5,000 people. Get off your phone, Wanda!” 
The other woman looks at her a little sheepishly. 
“But dumplings sound so good right now.” 
“Have fun babe!” Carol shouts. 
Natasha sighs, watching as you and Wanda roll around the bed excitedly. You’re part way through telling her about your adventure, far too sleep deprived to notice her dommy side appearing when you tell her you walked by yourself. It’s quickly squashed down when you mention Natasha’s brave and daring rescue and you mount her legs to stare into her eyes. 
“Dumplings, mommy. We need to get them.”
“We really do.”
With an over exaggerated eye roll, Natasha slams her head on the bedroom wall. 
“I give up.”
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may I request an angst with evan buckley
"keep your eyes on me." promt with an established relationship please! but hes been through a lot give him his happy ending please, i love him so much 🫶🏻
Lightning Strike.
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28. "Keep your eyes on me."
Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. my soft sweet buck. thank you for this request <3
Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - sad buck. mentions of a sort of panic attack.
Word Count - 500 ish maybe??
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
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Buck is the king of putting on a brave face.
Always strong, never faltering. He reassures everyone he's fine time and time again, smiling and cracking jokes. But you see right through him.
You've always been able to read him like a book. You don't even have to try.
After the lightning strike, Buck doubled down on his brave face. He wouldn't let anyone see him upset - not even Eddie. Which is rare. And worrying.
He seems to be coping surprisingly well, desperate to get back to work and resume normal routine. While he's stuck at home, he's been cooking, doing puzzles, watching football. You're greeted with a lovingly cooked meal and a glass of wine every time you walk through the door.
Until today.
Today, you walk into the apartment, and it's dark. No lights on, no TV blaring sound. Nothing.
"Buck?"
Silence.
"Buck? Baby? I'm home," you call.
Now you're worried.
You start striding through the apartment, navigating your way through the darkness. When you hear a sniffle, your head whips around. There's Buck, knees pressed to his chest, jammed in between the nightstand and the wall. He's curled up on the ground, head resting on his arms that are protectively wrapped around his legs.
"Buck? Hey, did something happen?"
"Yeah," he murmurs hoarsely. "I got hit by lightning."
"I remember," you say gently. "Did something happen today?"
"I don't know," he whispers. "I think I've been distracting myself. And today it all came crashing down."
"Talk to me," you urge.
Buck's lip trembles, and so do his hands. Warm, salty tears drip down his face, and his breathing quickens rapidly.
"Hey, hey. Keep your eyes on me, Buck."
He locks his gaze onto yours, and mirrors your breathing carefully. Eventually, he calms down enough to speak.
"I died. I've been so close to death so many times that I'm kinda numb to it. But this time was so real. How am I supposed to go on living my life like nothing happened, when I literally died?"
"You don't have to live like nothing happened, baby," you reassure, moving to sit down in front of him. "No one expects you to do that."
"I just -," he sighs, trying to formulate a coherent thought. "I just don't know how to carry on."
You reach out gently and place a hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that are spilling over. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone carefully, grounding him back down to Earth.
"I know you're like, totally anti therapy -," you begin, and he laughs. "But talking to a therapist or a trauma counsellor might really help. Or maybe we find a support group. This is LA, there's groups for everything."
"You think there's a lightning strike support group?" he jokes.
"I honestly wouldn't be surprised," you chuckle. "And if there isn't? Well, we'll start one."
"I might be the only person who attends."
"Fine by me," you tease, nudging him lovingly.
You stand up, and offer him a hand. He takes it gratefully, getting up and instantly wrapping his arms around you. He inhales the scent of your vanilla shampoo, and the tension leaves his shoulders rapidly.
"I love you," he murmurs into your hair. "I'm so lucky."
"I'm the lucky one," you reassure. "Well, technically you are, since you got hit by lightning. And survived."
"I've always been one in a million," he chuckles, squeezing you a little tighter.
"Yes, you have. My one in a million, Evan Buckley."
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outofconcheol · 4 months
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Collision (LMH x F!Reader)
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pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.
warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students
word count: 14k
a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!
smut warnings under the cut!
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smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)
The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.
You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?
You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?
You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.
“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”
“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth. 
Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.
As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.
While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.
Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left. 
Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.
“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.
“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.
“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”
His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.
“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.
“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”
You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.
“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”
You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.
“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.
You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind. 
Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.
Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.
Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams. 
And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer. 
The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.
Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.
“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”
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Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.
“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”
You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.
“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him.
“____.”
“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”
“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”
You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?
Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated. 
Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.
“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”
And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up. 
Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.
Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?
Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet. 
“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.
“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.
“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.
“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”
You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.
Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…
“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.
“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”
“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow. “Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”
“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”
You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.
“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”
“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused. 
There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.
“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.
“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 
“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression. 
Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.
“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”
Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.
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The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class. 
Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.
“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.
“I thought no one would come.”
“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.
The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.
“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.
“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”
“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained. 
“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”
So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players. 
You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.
If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.
The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.
“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”
“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”
Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.
“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”
Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.
“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”
His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long. 
“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.
“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”
Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest. 
“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days. 
“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder. 
You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.
. . . 
“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.
It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.
But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer. 
Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes. 
Damn it, he was turning soft for you.
He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.
“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.
“What do you mean?” 
“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”
“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”
“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?” “Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.
“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”
“Y-you do?” 
“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”
“I could?”
“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.” “Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”
And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next. 
“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”
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The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.
You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort. 
Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.
Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.
You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”
“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him? 
“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Thanks for catching me.”
“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.
“Oh yeah.”
You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.
“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”
Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.
“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”
Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.
“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”
In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.
“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”
You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now. 
“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”
“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”
“Fermentation sciences?”
“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”
You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.
. . .
Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.
While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.
The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.
“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”
“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”
For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.
Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.
“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this? It’s our final year.”
Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football. 
“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”
Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.
You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”
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“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper. 
“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.
“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”
“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.
“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips. 
Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.
He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over. 
“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”
He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.
Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour. 
“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.
“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”
“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.
“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”
Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.
“___? RA ____?”
“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.
“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”
“What would you suggest dumbass?”
“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”
“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.
“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.
. . .
“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.
A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din. 
“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.
“Did you have fun?”
“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.
“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”
“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left. 
It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.
Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.
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“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.
“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was. 
“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.
You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.
The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.
Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.
A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless. Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here. 
Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.
You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.
“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”
“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”
Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.
“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”
You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?
“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”
“What is my life?” you groan out loud. 
“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”
“In your dreams, Kim.”
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You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.
It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside there. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance. 
The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking. 
You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time. 
You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.
He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.
“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin onn his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”
“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”
Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry. 
“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”
“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”
“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight. 
“You caught me.”
“I told you, I’m good at that.”
Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame. 
When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you. 
“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders
“No, no I’m fine—”
He’s throwing it around your shoulders before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.
“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”
“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again. 
His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pulling him away.
“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”
“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”
His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.
“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”
“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”
Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.
“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”
“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.
“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.
“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”
He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths. 
“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.
“And now we jump.”
“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.
“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing. 
“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you. 
Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction. 
The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket. 
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“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.
“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”
Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.
You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best. 
An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer. 
Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of ��� to call a friend and maybe something more one day.
He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.
“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”
“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.
“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject. 
But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.
And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you. 
He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.
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You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.
And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now. 
When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.
“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”
You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had. 
“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”
“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”
Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought. 
“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.
All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it actually would feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.
“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”
“It could,” Felix counters.
Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later. 
Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it. 
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You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week. 
A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish, but then the thumping starts. 
At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did someone set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you. 
Room 103.
You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. The semester was new, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night? 
Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night of a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies. 
Throwing your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you. 
It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.
“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you. “Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of the being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.
“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.
“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”
“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face. 
You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.
“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.
The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.
You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.
“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”
“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”
“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”
“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.
“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”
Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho. 
Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.
“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”
Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.
“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.
“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”
“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”
“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.
. . .
The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.
You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.
“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”
“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.
“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain. 
Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.
You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.
“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”
No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.
“Kiss me,” you whisper, heavy gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.
“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”
“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.
“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead. 
You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet. 
“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours. 
“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please-”
Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.
“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” 
“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.
“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.
You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top.
Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you. 
It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno. 
The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.
Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.
“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.
“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.
“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.
“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.
“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.
That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.
His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”
And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin. 
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Dawn spills into Minho’s room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again. 
But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.
Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.
“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”
“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.
“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”
You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours. 
Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.  
It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes. 
But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.
. . .
The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.
You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.
You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.
“___, my office, now.”
. . .
Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.
“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”
The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.
“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.” 
You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.
“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.”
He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”
You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours. 
Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.
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Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water. 
Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead. 
He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.
His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different. 
And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.
“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”
“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.
“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.
“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”
“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding it’s about you.
The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.
. . . 
The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear,  along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.
Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.
The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.
All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.
He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.
The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework. 
People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.
Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.
He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.
“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.
“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.
“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain. 
“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”
“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”
Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth. 
“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.
“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”
“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, and I learned that sometimes, stars collide, and then they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then the next, remnants of the collision float through the universe.”
Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.
“Can I have one more memory then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two. 
Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.
Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.
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Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high. 
Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.
Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.
A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.
“____, I’m so sorry, MInho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?
“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”
You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.
“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.” 
And then you rush out the door.
. . . 
The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.
“_____? What the hell?”
“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?”
“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”
Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.
“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath. 
“____? What are you doing here…”
“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”
“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. “You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.
“You like it though,” he smirks. 
“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”
“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”
“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. 
“And you?”
“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”
“I don’t know who the hell that is.”
“Good thing you have time to learn then.”
“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” you ask him. 
“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”
“Watch it Lee.”
Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.
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a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜
tagging: @mal-lunar-28
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samandcolby-ownme · 2 months
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TRIGGER WARNING: This one shot will contain mentions of a knife. If you are at all uncomfortable with that type of thing - PLEASE SKIP THIS CHAPTER!
Summary: Anon request - "Jake smut with knife kink????"
Warnings: SMUT18+, KNIFE PLAY!, strong language, teasing, hair pulling, scratching, biting, dirty pet names, unprotected sex, begging, praising, use of a knife during sex, maybe some breeding kink, filth.
Word count: 3.9k | not edited
I will going off the 'trying every fast food fried chicken sandwich' video on Johnnie's channel, but I will be adding some stuff to make you fit into the story - but I did shorten it a lot to not make it as long. Enjoy !
You sat in the chair behind the camera as Jake and Johnnie prepared to start recording. You and Jake had plans to hang out, but he totally forgot he already had a date with Johnnie to rate chicken on a scale of one through five.
"Have you ever wanted a chicken sandwich-"Jake cuts Johnnie off, "yeah." Johnnie continues, "well now you can-"
Jake stares into the cameras trying not to laugh, "yes."
"Well today -"
Jake interrupts him again, " yep."
Johnnie says nothing else as he leans over and grabs, what looks to be the handle of a knife. You and Jake both stare at him as he struggles to open it. You watch as Jake closes his mouth and reaches over to take it from Johnnie's grasp.
In one swift flick, the silver blade pops through, revealing its sharpness. Johnnie raises his hands, "Okay. Okay. Take it easy."
You felt relieved that Jake was staring at Johnie while holding it because that gave you time to get your cheeks back to a normal color. That was one of the hottest things you've seen Jake do, even if it was just as simple as him opening that knife.
It still got your mind going and blood pumping a mile a minute.
Jake glances at you as he sets the open knife on the table and you smile at him, sitting up as he looks away because a nasty and dangerous, yet super sexy thought, sneaks its way into your mind.
You don't even know how Jake would react to what you just thought of, but you knew that you weren't going to stop thinking about it until you got an answer from him.
You pull yourself from your thoughts and wind up listening to a very strange, yet normal Jake and Johnnie, comment, "..and and we're gonna be putting lots of meat in our mouth and we're-"
Your weird look turns into quiet laughter behind your hand as you watch Jake's face change quickly into a caught off guard confused stare.
He blinks a few times and looks at you and just shakes his head as Johnnie continues to ramble on. Then, the conversation turns into dissecting frogs before Johnnie says something about his merch.
"I'm proud to be an Americas favorite lady.." Johnnie sings and you just stare, thinking about why you agreed to sit in on this when you knew it was going to be hard to be quiet.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
"Alright, the first one we're trying is- mm-blah- uh- fuck." Johnnie looks down and Jake points to him, "Ha. You stuttered this time. Ha, ha."
You watch as Jonnie stares at the table for a few seconds in silence before he reaches for the knife again, and your eyes instantly move to Jake.
Jake watches as Johnnie struggles again and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as Jake reaches over, waiting to watch his thumb slide up to open it once again.
"It's got a child lock on it." Jonnie says right before Jake takes it from him, popping the blade out of the top.
You don't know why, but you are so turned on by Jake opening the knife. You thought the first time was bad, but the more he does it, the more you feel like you can't breathe.
Jake closes the knife and hands it back to Johnnie, watching as he finally figures out how to open it. Jake raises his hand as he laughs, "Okay, okay. Now I'm scared."
Jake glances over at you and back to Johnnie, "Now I'm scared."
"Who stuttered what?" Johnnie asks in a funny voice and you can't help but laugh.
"Let me see that." Jake says and your eyes snap back to his hand that's reaching out for it, "Let me see that."
"Wait wait wait." Johnnie says and Jake drops his hand, "Come on. It's not a toy."
"Well it's real, it's dangerous, and illegal." Johnnie says and that just fuels the fire.
You watch as Jake takes the knife, laughing as he sets it down. You look up, eyes meeting his as he sets it down and you tilt your head with a smile.
He squints his eyes, picking up that there's something going on with you and you cross your leg over the other as you lean back against the wall.
He smirks slightly before going back to doing the video.
Every time Jake laughs, you smile because it's like you fall in love with him all over again, even the weird comments, you can't help but love him more.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
You have your head resting on the wall, watching Jake do his reviews when all of a sudden your eyes go wide and your hand slaps over your mouth.
Jake looks at you, tilting his head before looking over his shoulder.
"Hello!" Johnnie, or as you call it, his alter ego, Timmy yells. Jake's eyes go wide and he snaps his head back to you, "Oh.. my god."
Jake covers his mouth as Johnnie walks up, grabbing the sandwich, "Chicken sandwiiiiich." He screams as he clings to it for dear life.
Jake's hand is still over his mouth, "Oh my god. No way."
Johnnie continues to scream before taking an obnoxiously loud bite. Your hand slowly moves off of your mouth as you try to contain in the laughter.
You were super turned on, ready for this video to be done, but now thanks to Timmy, you were no longer focused on Jake dragging a knife across your neck.
"Holy shit." Jake lays a hand on his chest and drags it down to drop it into his lap as Johnnie slowly walks up to him, "If I just sit still, he won't know I'm here."
Your eyes flick back and forth from him to Johnnie, "oh my god. This isn't real." You whisper into your hand, "Holy fuck."
It's quiet, all but the sound of Johnnie eating as he walks up to Jake. Jake's eyes are on you, fighting to not look at Johnnie.
Johnnie leans down, "Want eat?"
Jake laughs, "No." he turns his head to look at Johnnie, "Get back." Johnnie moves back and yells something that's muffled by the food in his mouth before touchdown slamming the sandwich onto the floor.
Jake's mouth drops as he leans over, looking at you for help. You shrug, "I don't know what you want me to do. We just have to.. wait it out."
Johnnie leaves the room and you sit there staring at Jake, "What the fuck was that?" You watch as his fingers drag on the table against the knife and he looks up at you, "I'm going to stab him."
You laugh slightly, "Oh my g- Jake. No you're not going to stab him. He can't help it." You hold back your laughter as Johnnie walks back into the room.
And that feeling you had before returns, all it took was for him to touch the knife.
"Anyways." Johnnie says walking back into the room, like nothing even happened.
Which makes it a lot funnier.
You lean back against the wall, falling back into your thoughts after Johnnie's little Timmy outburst.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
Johnnie picks up a hammer, holding it up and Jake quickly picks up the knife, giving you a quick glance. 
You bite down on your lip, watching as he brings it up and opens it with no trouble.
You wanted him. And you wanted him to play with it, press it up against your neck.
Drag it down your body.
You wanted him to tease you with it.
Do whatever he wanted to you with it.
You never thought you'd bring a knife into sexual pleasure, but hey. Things can change, right?
A short time later, they wrap up the video and Jake stands up, "I hope you know you're cleaning this up yourself."
"What? Why?" Johnnie groans with a laugh, "No, don't answer that. I had an outburst didn't I?" He hangs his head and sighs loudly.
"I swear to god you're schizophrenic." Jake shakes his head and turns to face you, "Ready to hang out?" You nod, "Yeah, but first.." you lean around him and grab the knife off the table, "Close this for me."
He gives you a confused look but complies, taking the knife from your hand, closing it with ease, "Can I as-"
You cut him off, "Not here."
He tilts his head, "You're being weird."
You roll your eyes, "If anyone's weird here it's-"
Johnnie lets out a random scream and Jake spins you around, "Let's get out of here before he sees us." He pushes you forward and you walk out laughing.
Jake lays his arm over your shoulder, "So are you going to tell me what's brewin' in that noggin of yours.. or do I have to guess?"
You bite your lip, resting your head back onto his arm, "I mean, you can guess."
"Does it involve sexy time?" He wiggles his brows and you laugh, "that's not a guess, but yes, babe."
He pushes open his door and walks you in, turning around to close it.
"Okay. I'm just.." you sigh, looking up at him, "I'm just going to say it because it's a pretty.. wild request."
He holds up the closed knife in his hand, "It doesn't have anything to do with this.." he dangles the knife in his fingers, "..does it?"
You bite your lip, locking your hands together behind your back, "I told you it was a wild request."
He purses his lips together, eyes moving to the object in his hand, "You.." he laughs slightly, looking back to you, "You want me.." he points to the knife, "To do.. what exactly?"
"I'm not asking you to stab me, Jake. Just.." you walk up and take the knife from his hand. You try to get it open, "there really is a child lock on this isn't there."
Jake smirks and takes the knife from your hand, holding it up between your bodies and he flicks it open.
Your eyebrows raise and you bite your lip, "Uh huh." You nod, "You are so hot when you do that."
He smirks, looking away and back to you with a smile, "Oh shucks." He raises his shoulders and tilts his head all cute.
You move closer to him, wrapping your hand around his wrist, "I just.." your eyes move from the knife in his hand, up to his eyes, "I want you to, I don't know, intimidate me with it.. tease me with it."
"Isn't.. this a little bit dangerous?" He stares down at you and you shrug with a slight smile, "I mean, yes it's dangerous." You grab his shirt and move closer to him, "But that's what makes it fun right?"
A smirk toys with his lips as he brushes hair from your face, "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. I trust you." You tilt your head back, "We don't have to if-"
The sudden gentle graze of the blade across your cheek shuts you up instantly.
Jake's eyes bounce from your eyes to the knife resting on your cheek, "You know.. you have such an angel face." He bites his bottom lip, "But these thoughts you have, baby.. they're the devils thoughts."
He bends down, quickly lifting you up. Your legs circle his waist and you look down at him, "Only for you, baby."
He smirks, "I sure hope so."
He walks you over to his bed, moving his hand with the knife before letting you fall backwards onto the bed, "What do you want me to do?"
You lean up onto your elbows, "You're holding the knife, babe. You're in control."
"Oh shit. Okay." He laughs slightly and twirls it in his fingers, "if I see blood." He points the blade towards you, "I'm stopping."
"Deal." You smile and lay back, watching as he moves in between your knees after taking off his shirt. He drops his hand, dragging the point of the blade gently down your fishnet covered thigh.
He reaches up to undo your jean shorts, slowly pulling them down your legs until they're off and dropped to the floor.
You watch as he picks up the knife, slipping the sharp side of the blade against each thin piece of fishnet, cutting all the way up to your hip.
He moves to the other side, "I hope you didn't like these."
"I have more." You glance up at him, biting your lip as you feel the loose fabric sliding off your legs. He moves up, leaning down to press his lips against yours.
"How do you-" you reach over, pulling his hand with the knife over, "Just.. like. This." You lay the blade against your neck, "Just enough pressure for me to feel it."
"You're fucking crazy." He smirks and you tilt your head back, "You love it."
"I love you." He pulls the knife away, crashing his lips into yours. Your lips move in sync as his hand slips under your shirt, a small moan slipping from your lips as his fingers twist and pull at your nipple.
"Please don't tease." You whimper out.
He sits up and pushes your shirt up. He reaches over picking up the knife and dragging it down your torso, "I thought that's what you wanted?"
You fight back a smirk, knowing he's right, "Mhm."
He smirks, slipping it into the thick band of the fishnets, "Thought so."
With a swift swipe up, the band splits. He finishes cutting the fishnets and pushes the loose pieces away.
He spreads your legs more and you bite your lip as you feel the blade rest against your clothed pussy. Your eyes lock onto his and he drags it down, "Jake.."
Your words are barely audible, "P-please."
Your adrenaline was pumping. Any second that blade could puncture your skin, but the amount of trust you have for Jake, especially when it comes to you, make it even better.
"Please what, baby?" He drags the knife gently down the inside of your thigh, "Where do you want it?"
"Anywhere.." You breathe out, "I just.." you whimper as he presses the flat side against your clit, tapping a few times. He tilts his head, continuing to tap, "You just what, baby?"
"I need you." You move your hips slightly, "Please."
He leans down, kissing up your torso, "Fine." He rolls over, sitting his back against the headboard, "But you're ridin'."
You sit up, slipping your shirt up over your head, "okay." You smirk at him, kicking off the torn fishnets before moving up to straddle him.
He reaches behind you, making sure to gently drag the blade down your spine. You arch your back slowly, pushing your chest out and he kisses in between your boobs.
"You are so fucking hot." His other hand moves to grip your ass, squeezing before sliding it around to pull the band of your panties outward.
He drags the knife over your hip before slicing the band of your panties. You watch as he moves to the other side, cutting it and letting it fall between your legs.
He looks your body up and down and slides his hand up your back, gripping the back of your neck before pulling you in for a kiss.
Your hands move to the sides of his neck as you grind down on him, earning a low groan.
Your hands slide down, undoing his jeans before moving off of him so he can kick them off. He moves his boxers down and pulls you back over, "I hope you know, I love watching you ride me."
He spits into his hand, moving it down to rub the outside of your pussy. You moan, gripping his shoulders as his fingers move to rub circles on your clit, "Fuck."
He moves his hand to hold his cock steady, "go ahead babe."
You let out a loud moan, clenching around him as you sink down onto him. Your moan is cut short by a gasp from the knife against your neck.
"Why didn't I think of this?" Jake groans as you slowly move up and down, "This is fucking.." he groans, eyes gawking at the knife pressing against your skin, "Do you like it?"
You moan out, "Yes, yes."
"Tell me what you like, babe." Jake moves his hips upward and you sigh, "I love how you hold this knife against my skin."
"You look so fucking hot." He drags the knife down your neck and over your boob. He moves with your motions, pressing it a little harder into your skin.
You let out an excited whimper as you dig your nails into his shoulders, biting your lip as you roll your hips into his, "Jake.." you moan out, "You feel so good." 
He tilts his head back and you act quick, taking the knife from his hand and pressing it against his neck. His eyes widen slightly as his hands move to grip both of  your hips, "Fuck." He swallows, keeping his jaw up, "You're such a demon." 
You giggle slightly, a moan following quick as you sink all the way down, letting his cock rest inside of you, "You're so hot." You lean in, pressing your lips to his as you gently drag the knife down his skin. You replace the blade with your lips, sucks a mark into his skin which earns a low groan from his lips. 
He slides his hands up to the front of your shoulders, pushing you back as he leans forward. He pins your wrist down by your head before he starts thrusting into you, "Fucking shit." 
You arch your back, moaning loudly as your legs tighten over his thighs, "J-Jake." You gasp, "So c-close." 
He slips his hand up, taking the knife back into his possession. He leans down, holding up his weight on his forearm as he drags the knife down the side of your torso, "Cum for me." 
Your breathing shutters as the knife grazes over your skin. Your eyes roll back as you tilt your head back, whining loudly as he kisses down your neck, biting and nipping at your skin. He proceeded to give you a matching hicky, groaning lowly as he feels you tense around him. 
You let out a loud moan, digging your nails into his back as you cum. His thrusts slow down as he guides you through your high and then come to a stop, "Hands and knees baby." 
Jake pulls out, sitting all the way up to watch you lazily roll over. He lays a hand on your hip, biting his lip as his eyes gaze down to your soaked pussy on display, "You're so fucking wet." He brings the knife up, dragging it down over your ass and tapping it gently against your pussy. 
You gasp, trying not to move. Your fingers ball up the comforter underneath you, whimpering as you grow more impatient for him to be inside of you again.
"Please.. you whimper out, "Jake.." your words are breathless and Jake loves it. 
"Please what?" He moves the knife up, dragging it down over your other cheek. 
You sigh, "I need you." 
He rises up to lean down, pressing his lips against your shoulder, "I want to cum in you so bad. Fill you up completely." He groans at his own words, "Fuck, you would look so sexy pregnant." 
Jake has never said anything like that before. You guys were always careful, you didn't think he was thinking about anything like that. 
"W-what?" You ask, making sure you heard him correctly. 
"You heard me." He leans up, dragging the knife down your spine as he moves his hips to rub the tip of his cock against your pussy, "Would you like that?" 
You push your hips back, biting your lip as you try and think, but your mind is so scrambled right now, "I-I-" you gasp as he thrusts into you, knife pressing into your skin, "Yes." 
"Yes what, y/n?" Jake reaches up, gathering your loose hair into his hand, "want me to cum in that pretty pussy of yours?" 
You nod against the hold he has on your hair, letting out a whine when he pulls harder, "Fuck, yes. Yes. Yes!" 
Jake bites his lip harder as he starts thrusting, groaning as he watches you push your hips back to meet his thrusts.
He drops the knife, moving his now free hand to grip your ass, "That's it."
He lets go of your hair, moving it back to lay on your hip, fingertips digging hard into your skin, “Fuck, I’m so fucking close baby.”
You moan in response, moving your hips up and down repeatedly until he grabs them, pulling you fully down onto him as he pushes all the way in.
You squeeze his cock, moaning as you feel him coating the inside of your pussy white.
“Fuck.” He sighs, “That was surprisingly fun.”
You laugh as you lay down on his bed, “It was.” You look back at him, watching as he picks the knife up to close it.
“Open it, again.” You bite your lip as you watch him smirk, switching the blade open, “Wanna see me do it again?” He jokes, but you nod, “I could watch you do it all day.”
“Really?” He asks with a laugh, “What’s so hot about it?”
You sit up, “Just you.. and that knife.. it just.. gets me going.” He moves to stand in front of you, resting the blade under your chin, “You know I can’t let Johnnie touch this again, right?”
“I would hope not.” You smile and lick your lips, “That would be kinda weird now that it’s been on .. places.”
Jake laughs and closes the knife, “Yeah, that’s going to the dresser drawer with its new friends.” He walks over, opening the drawer that you store all of your other sex toys in.
You shake your head, “I’m stealing a shirt.”
“Yeah, take whatever you want babe.” Jake smiles at you as he shuts the drawer. As you go through his closet, there’s a knock on the door, “Jake, where’s your knife? I want to practice opening it. I can beat that fucking child lock.”
You and Jake lock eyes and it’s instant laughter.
Johnnie is silent for a few moments, “You didn’t have to laugh at me, holy shit.”
“Sorry Johnnie.. that knife is out of commission.” Jake yells as he tries not to laugh.
“Aw, did you break it? Stupid fuck.” Johnnie yells and Jake sighs, “You’re the stupid fuck, but yeah I guess I broke it.”
Jake looks at you, shaking his head as he smirks.
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
I know this was long awaited, so I thank you for being patient and for reading. I hope you enjoyed 🖤
Likes and reblogs are appreciated!
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neocentral · 5 months
Note
frat boy sungchan feeding you ~totally normal brownies~ and taking advantage of you for hours later while you literally can’t move…
!
moved to: @riizeblr
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: noncon, drugging, upperclassman!sungchan x freshman!reader
you fantasized about the day you would finally go to university. countless nights of imagining how welcoming and homely it would feel and how you would grow to be independent and strong. unfortunately, it wasn’t like that. some people were mean and closed off, deceptive and manipulative. but being a naive freshman, you still had hope that it wasn’t all bad.
when you met some upperclassman frat boy in your lecture, you were ecstatic. he was so different from the sleazy, creepy guys that tried to hit on you the moment you walked on campus. he was cute and nice. until he wasn’t.
he attempted to force himself onto you, and he was so close to succeeding until the door was being thrown open. you quickly got away from him and right into the arms of the man of saved you.
he was kind enough to take you to his room where he tried to calm you down. his brown eyes and soft touch grounding you. he helped guide you to take deep breaths and you realized that you vaguely remembered him from high school. sungchan, maybe?
he smiled gently when your heart stopped racing so fast, only leaving your side when your grip on his wrist loosened. he was quick to come back, a gooey chocolate brownie wrapped in a napkin in his hands, “get some sugar in you. it'll help with the shock.”
gently, he encouraged you to nibble on the dessert he held in front of your mouth. "i got you," he'd assured, "don't worry. just finish it.”
you nodded, guard down and relaxed. he began to talk to you, ask you questions about where you live and who you’re friends with, questions you would have thought twice about answering if you weren’t so focused on the actions of his frat brother.
you body felt heavier and heavier, responses slowed and slurred. even your tongue felt heavy and difficult to move. sungchan didn’t seem phased, only moving you from his shoulder, laying you down against his sheets.
you blinked slowly, feeling the slow pounds of your heart against your chest and an unfamiliar weight dropping on top of you.
you registered the ghost of fingertips over your skin moments after they had passed, swipes of a hot, wet tongue against your flesh. you didn’t have the energy to pull away from the touch. faint thoughts of discomfort and disgust weighing on your stomach growing and growing at a sudden intrusion between your legs. you mumbled words even you can’t recognize, a slight wrinkle between your eyebrows. sungchan’s scorching breath fans your face, his nose sliding against yours as you tried to shake the thoughts away, sinking deeper and deeper into his mattress.
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illiterateaffairs · 11 months
Text
DISTRACTIONS III | YOU’RE KINDA CUTE
pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)
rating: T
word count: 5,528
summary: so you’ve just had a one night stand with one of the star footballers on the team you work for. you can be totally normal about it, right? 
A/N: ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING AND LEAVING THE NICEST AND FUNNIEST COMMENTS, I ADORE YOU ALL! this is kind of a long one, and i finally dip into jamie’s POV, which I’ll do more in the upcoming chapters. also as you can tell, this series takes place in season 3, but very loosely. like, roy is just going to have to deal with sharing jamie with the reader and not hogging him for training :)
distractions masterlist | previous chapter
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Waking up the next morning is harder than you thought it would be. It's not because of the champagne flutes you were knocking back at Sam’s restaurant. In fact, you feel the most comfortable and well rested you have in a long time. It’s because of this that you absolutely loathe the idea of opening your eyes and getting out of bed when your alarm goes off at 7AM. Instinctually, you’re quick to turn off the grating noise, but when you begrudgingly try to sit up, you’re held down by a weight you don’t recognize. Opening one eye, you see it’s a person and their arm is wrapped securely around you. And not just any person; Jamie fucking Tartt. 
After pushing through your grogginess, you’re able to recall the events of last night; driving home with Jamie, kissing him and inviting him inside, sleeping with him. It was so out of character for you to hook up with a guy you barely knew. Sure, Jamie wasn’t a stranger and he wasn’t a complete jerk, but normally you wouldn’t even consider having sex until at least the third date. Not that you were planning on dating Jamie. That would be absurd. 
You didn’t regret it though. If there was one thing about Jamie’s reputation that he could be proud of, it was that he was indeed good in bed. Excellent even. It's probably why you slept so well last night. Even if Jamie came off as a bit self-centered, he definitely wasn’t when it came to knowing how to please you. 
Your eyes narrow, flashing back to a brief moment last night after the two of you finished round three. Did you say…thank you? God, you hope it was just something you thought in the haze of it all before falling asleep. 
Brushing past that, you angle yourself toward him more, as well as you can pinned under his left arm. Your eyes scan his face as he sleeps soundly beside you. He didn’t seem at all disturbed by your phone alarm a few moments ago. You’re not used to seeing the man so relaxed, because when you’re with him he’s either focused on playing football or annoyed with Zava. But right now he looks at peace. Glancing over, you also take note of his sleeve tattoo for the first time, tracing the designs on his arms lightly with your fingers. You’re once again confronted with the fact that you know so little about this man, and yet here you were in one of the most intimate situations you can be with a person. Observing his face again, you wonder what the two of you will do now. Jamie’s probably done this a million times, but you certainly haven’t. And you work together; you’ll see him everyday. 
You’re momentarily pulled from your anxious thoughts as Jamie lets out a long, quiet breath, but doesn’t wake. For a second, you’re distracted by how cute you find him in this moment. No. No. You are not getting attached to Jamie. This was a one time thing. That's all you wanted. That’s probably all he ever wanted. And you’re in no shape for a relationship right now. 
You take the risk to test just how heavy of a sleeper Jamie is, sliding out from beneath his arm. You mentally cheer when he just rolls over and continues sleeping. You quickly throw on a robe and some clean underwear before tiptoeing out of the room. In an effort to calm your nerves ahead of an impending conversation when he does wake up, you decide to make breakfast. Normally on work mornings you’d settle for something light, like toast or oatmeal. However, those meals will not take long enough to provide ample distraction from your racing thoughts. So, you decide in addition to toast that you’ll make some omelets. And bacon for good measure; Jamie probably likes bacon. You also wash some fruit because why the hell not. 
Everything is plated on your kitchen table when you hear movement from back in your bedroom. You’re pouring yourself a glass of juice when Jamie wanders into the room, buttoning up his shirt from last night. Before turning to face him, you psych yourself up and plaster a smile on your face. Be casual. However, once the two of you make eye contact, you both freeze and say nothing.
After a few seconds of silence that feel like hours, you force words to come out of your mouth.
“Apple juice?” Nice.
Jamie’s head jerks back in surprise, but a barely there smile forms on his face. “Apple juice? That’s what you’re offering?”
You shrug, deciding to push past how bizarre this is and try to roll with it, “What? It's the superior juice. Sorry I don’t have tea. I don’t really know how to make it- or care to- since, you know, it's disgusting.”
Jamie laughs softly, but gives you a curious look. You must’ve not done a good job at acting normal, because it seems he caught onto your nervousness, “You alright?”
You let your shoulders drop and decide to be honest, “I’m sorry, I just…I’ve never had a one night stand before.”
Jamie quirks an eyebrow, “You don’t say?”
You smile in spite of yourself, “I know, such a shocker, right?”
The footballer takes a moment to glance at the table behind you, “Well, first thing you should know is that most people don’t make breakfast for their one night stands.”
Despite saying that, Jamie takes a seat at your table and starts chewing on a strip of bacon. You roll your eyes playfully, but join him.
“I cook when I’m nervous,” not letting him linger on that admission you question him, “What about you? Do people usually stay the night after a one night stand?”
Jamie smiles through mouthfuls of egg and cheese. “Are you kicking me out?”
“No!” You assure too quickly, “I guess I’m just wondering what you’re thinking. And wondering how I’m going to look you in the eye at work to be honest. Like I said, I don't usually do this kind of thing.”
“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about. And I promise it won’t be weird. We can just carry on and keep making fun of how annoyed Roy gets at Ted’s jokes.” 
You let yourself laugh as you push a grape around your plate with your fork. 
“But last night was okay?” Jamie asks, showing his first hint of unsureness, “It was good for you, yeah?
“Oh yeah,” you nod eagerly, touched that he was a little nervous too, “Last night was…really great.” 
“Good,” he smiles again, “Just want to make sure it was at least a step up from the last guy.”
You snort, “Try five steps. At least.” You turn back to Jamie and a satisfied smirk is growing on his face, “Oh, don’t let that go to your head. That is not a difficult accomplishment, trust me.” 
“Well, like I said, it’s good you left him.” You nod in agreement. 
The two of you chat for a few more minutes as you finish up your breakfast. You get up, wanting to grab a shower before work. 
“Can I walk you out?” you ask.
Jamie shakes his head, “I think I remember the way.”
You nod with a tiny smile as he heads toward the kitchen doorway, “So, I’ll see you at the club then later, probably?”
“You will.”
You bid each other a goodbye, but as you turn to put your dishes in the sink, Jamie speaks up again.
“Oh, and one more thing. You’re welcome.” Jamie shoots you a wink before leaving you alone. 
Fuck, I did say that out loud. 
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You know you’re being paranoid but it feels like everyone is staring at you when you arrive at the club later that morning. There is no reason anyone would know that you hooked up with Jamie last night but you can’t help but feel your face get hot as you pass coworkers on your way through the halls. You’re so in your head that you fully run into Sam on the way to your office. You can hardly meet his eye as he enthusiastically greets you. 
“I hope you slept well last night.”
“What?” your eyes bulge in panic and you laugh awkwardly, “Why would you ask that?”
Sam gives you a weird look, “When you were leaving, you said you had been exhausted so I was just wondering if you were more rested today.”
You relax; you did say that. “Oh, right. Yes, thank you, I slept great last night. Amazingly. Not too amazing. Just a normal good night's sleep. Snug in my bed. Alone.”
Sam still seems confused by your energy, but nevertheless smiles again. He seems none the wiser as he jogs off to the locker rooms before training. However, once he’s out of your view, your eyes lock onto Rebecca’s who had been watching on from behind him. Her expression lets on that she’s definitely onto you. 
“Good morning,” she greets pleasantly, with a mischievous look, “Can I walk you to your office?” 
You don’t even try to argue as you lead her down the hallway in silence. You try not to roll your eyes as she makes a show of getting comfortable on the couch in your office. 
She wastes no time once you shut the door. “So, you had sex last night.”
You groan, lightly pressing your head to your office door, “How could you possibly know that?”
“I always know,” Rebecca shrugs, “You look a lot less tense today.”
You turn to her sharply, “You’re saying I looked tense before?” 
“Not in a bad way. You just look lighter today. And very suspicious.” 
You walk over to her, crossing your arms. “Okay fine. I slept with someone. But I’m not telling you who it was.”
Rebecca stares at you for all of five seconds before she says, “Jamie?”
You let out an exasperated sigh as you plop down on the couch, burying your face in a cushion, “How do you do that?”
The blonde woman gasps and sits up a bit straighter, “I was going to say it's a gift, but maybe it's a curse. Jamie was just a hunch, since he left the restaurant last night a couple minutes after you did. You actually had sex with Jamie Tartt?”
You peek out at her from behind the pillow, “Yes?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs.
“What's so wrong about that?” you move to sit up, hugging the pillow to your chest. “I haven’t been with anyone since Mason, and the opportunity presented itself with Jamie. Don’t I deserve a good time every once in a while?”
“Of course but with Jamie?”
“He’s not that bad,” you protest softly.
Rebecca nods, “I know that. Jamie is a good guy. I just wonder if he’s good for you. When he was with Keeley-”
“Oh, my God, he dated Keeley?” you gasp, covering your face with the pillow again. Muffled you murmur, “Is she going to hate me?”
“No, Keeley will not hate you,” Rebecca assures, playing with a few pieces of your hair to coax you back up to her, “I’m sure she could care less what Jamie does. That’s my point - he was not a good boyfriend when they were together. 
“Well, that’s my point. I’m not looking for a boyfriend. It was just a one time thing. I just needed to distract myself from spiraling over Mason.” 
Rebecca still feels unsure, but she gives you a tight smile and nods. “That's fair.” She reaches out to take your hand, “I know you don’t like talking about it, but if you ever need to vent or talk through anything regarding your breakup, I’m always here. You know that I get what all that's like.”
You smile, giving her hand a squeeze. “I know. I appreciate it, but I think I’m alright for now.” 
“Good.”
“One more thing though. Can you not tell…”
“I promise I will not tell Ted.”
You grimace, “Okay, him too. I was actually going to say Keeley. I know that's asking a lot since she’s your best friend, but I don’t want to risk losing her friendship over a dumb one night stand.”
Rebecca gives you another reassuring smile, “I won’t tell her either.”
“Thank you.”
“Just call me Rebecca Welton: keeper of your secrets.” 
“Oh, my God, I am so sorry.” you sigh, “I need to stop doing things I don’t want other people to know.”
Rebecca laughs, squeezing your hand one last time before standing up, “You are fine. You’re young. You’re allowed to be messy and have secrets.” She smooths out her attire as she grabs the doorknob. “But you need to relax and stop acting so weird around the office. You had sex, so what? That's not a bad thing. You don’t need to shout it from the rooftops but you can be proud of it.”
“I’ll do my best,” you laugh. She nods encouragingly before heading out the door. 
You do feel yourself walk with your head held a bit higher after that. 
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The rest of your work day goes a lot better. You help Rebecca with some paperwork, shadow the team during training, and round out the evening by having dinner in your office with Ted. The only time you saw Jamie was during their practice. He didn’t act out of the ordinary, so you didn’t either, both of you exchanging polite smiles like you always did. 
You don’t notice the way he looks over at you a few times between drills. 
Now you and Keeley were headed to the locker rooms, with coffees in hand, to assist Shandy with the Bantr video shoot. You’re proud that you play it totally cool and don’t manage to accidentally confess you’d hooked up with her ex last night. 
As if Father Time knew when you were coming, Jamie is the next player to hop in front of the camera. You smile unconsciously as he gets touch ups, before snapping yourself out of it to refocus on the conversation Shandy and Keeley were having. It was about Jamie of course. 
You start to find your cardboard coffee cup really interesting when Shandy comments on how attractive Jamie is. And you try not to sweat as Keeley starts listing off his red flags, only to follow up with comments about how he’s grown recently. You peak over at her as she looks at him on the monitor. Please, please don’t still have feelings for him. If you get back together I really won’t be able to look either of you in the eye. 
“He only thinks with his dick,” Keeley muses jokingly before continuing thoughtfully, “Yet, I don’t think he’s seen anyone in ages.”
You busy yourself by taking a sip of coffee so you don’t pull a face.
Shandy gives Keeley a look, “I just want to know if I can bang him, babe.”
You almost choke on your drink. 
“Oh,” Keeley manages a laugh, “I don’t know, you should probably ask him. It’s his dick.”
Shandy laughs along with her, nudging your arm. “What do you think?”
You try not to let your eyes become saucers. “Who, me?” She nods as if that's a dumb question - which it is. “I hardly know the guy. But like Keeley said, it's his dick. Consent is key.”
Shandy smirks, “Alright works for me. I’ll have to see what he’s doing later.”
You try not to be bothered by that. 
Later, Keeley and Shandy let you head out while they close up shop on the shoot. Most of the team has cleared out, but you say goodnight to the few players you pass on the way back to your office to pick up your things. You’re caught off guard when you find Jamie waiting in one of the chairs in front of your desk. 
“Hey, what’s up?” you ask curiously, shutting your door behind you. “Thought you left after you shot your promo.”
Jamie shook his head, “Nah, wanted to check on you first.” 
That makes you feel nothing. 
“Oh? Why?”
“I dunno. I knew you were feeling weird about everything this morning. Wanted to know how your day went.”
You smile softly at him, “I appreciate that.” You recall Rebecca’s pep talk this morning, “But, I’m feeling a lot better. In fact I feel great.” 
“Good, you should,” Jamie smirks standing up, “And just so you know, I had a good time last night, too. You were also much better than the last girl I was with.”
You almost feel flattered, before your face twists in disgust, “Please don’t tell me that girl was Keely. Not that I need to know where I stand in comparison to Keeley, because I really do not, but I do feel weird knowing you two used to date.”
While Jamie is amused by your nervous rambling, he also appears a bit dejected at the mention of his ex, “No, Keeley was not the last person I was with. You also do not need to worry about that. Keeley could not give less of a shit what I do anymore, I’m sure.”
Both he and Rebecca made a similar comment to that effect. You’re dying to know more but you know it's none of your business. So you give him a reassuring smile instead, “Okay, cool. How was the rest of your day?”
Jamie shrugs, “Not as good as it started,” he winks, “but alright I guess. Roy has me doing extra training between practices now.”
You ignore his cheeky remark, “Really? That sounds awful.”
“S’not so bad. If I want to be the best player on the team, I got to put in the work.”
You nod thoughtfully, “Well if it means anything, and I'm sure it doesn’t since I don’t know shit about football, but I think you’re already pretty great.”
An unfamiliar expression casts over Jamie’s face as he blinks at you. He awkwardly breaks eye contact before responding, “Um, thank you.”
“‘Course,” you let the silence blanket the room for a bit before you’re making a comment you know you’ll regret later. “So, I think you were right. Shandy definitely does want to take a bite out of you.”
Jamie lets out a surprised huff, looking back up at you, “What? Why do you say that?”
“She was really enjoying your promo video earlier.”
Jamie hums, nodding. “And what did you think?”
You shrug innocently, “I thought it was fine.” 
“Uh-huh. And if you saw me on Bantr, would you swipe right?”
“Not how that app works,” Jamie gives you a look and you give him one right back, “I think you already know my answer.” 
“Hmm,” he smiled, pleased with himself. 
“Would you-?”
“Swipe right on you? Thousand percent.”
“No,” you roll your eyes but bite back a smile, “On Shandy?”
“Oh.” he pauses, “Would it bother you if I did?”
You shake your head semi-quickly, “I’ll remind you, we just had a one night stand. I have no jurisdiction over any of your other nights.”
The side of Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Fair enough. Well, I will leave you to it then. I’d offer to drive you, but I have to meet Roy soon for another training session and he’ll be even more grumpy if I’m late.” 
“You’re going to train again?” you ask in disbelief as he opens your office door.
“Yeah.”
“God, I can’t even get myself to work out once a week.”
“I dunno, you were pretty athletic last night.”
You groan, shoving him through the door, “Okay, get the fuck out of here, Tartt.”
“I’m really glad we can joke about this.” 
“Get out!”
He laughs as he strolls down the hallway and around the corner, you unable to not watch as he goes. 
You can’t help but note he never confirmed or denied interest in Shandy. Once again, you try not to be bothered by it.
When you leave a few minutes later, though, you catch Shandy and Keeley in the parking lot, and note that Jamie’s car is already gone. This time, you try not to be pleased with this information. 
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On Saturday, you join Rebecca and Keeley in a suite for Richmond’s match against West Ham. You learned this match was a big deal for two reasons.
One: Rebecca’s ex-husband, Rupert, owned the club. As soon as Rebecca introduces him when you run into him and his new wife, Bex, a chill runs down your spine. Even through forced pleasantries, he just oozes sliminess. 
Two: Their head coach used to be an assistant coach for Richmond; Nathan Shelley. A few weeks after you moved, Beard informed you that the man blew up at Ted for some reason. That was only after he leaked information to the press about Ted having a panic attack during the game. Beard made you swear you wouldn’t tell Ted that he’d told you this. Not because Ted wouldn’t want you know about his anxiety; you’d actually had a sweet conversation with him after the news broke last year, even confiding in him about your own mental health struggles. But Beard knew that Ted wouldn’t want you worrying about the Nate situation. So you promised his best friend you wouldn’t mention it. 
That still didn’t stop you from rooting for his- and Rupert’s- imminent demise. On the field, of course. 
You sneak away from Rebecca and Keeley to grab some locker room footage for AFC Richmond’s socials. When you arrive in the doorway, you look to Ted for a signal that everyone is decent before entering. The energy in the room immediately feels different than usual, especially following their win streak. You know they’re going into today’s game with something to prove. You knock on a locker softly to grab their attention and two dozen pairs of eyes land on you. 
“Hey boys. I don’t want to keep you, but would a few of you be open to doing some videos for our stories?”
A few team members including Sam, Zoreaux (who’s going by Van Damme now), and Jamie for some reason kindly volunteer, and you pull them off to the side. One by one, you have the boys record a video on how they’re feeling about today’s match, that you’ll post to Instagram. You don’t know if you do it on purpose or not, but you save Jamie for last. You hope he doesn’t notice the cadence. Now, just the two of you, he flashes you a grin before you record his segment. 
“Can I see?” he asks after you’re done, “Got to make sure you’ve got my angles right.”
You snort, but nod him over to look at your phone. You hold your breath momentarily as he leans in next to you. Nodding after the video replays, he turns to look at you, your faces inches apart.
“Looks good.”
“Yeah,” you breath out, “You’re a one take wonder.”
His lips turn into a smirk. Neither of you say anything for a while, as your eyes study each other's faces. You wonder what he’s thinking. You know what you’re thinking; his eyes are somehow really pretty in this terrible fluorescent locker room lighting. 
You blink for maybe the first time in sixty seconds as you hear Ted calling for the team to huddle up for a pre-game pep talk. 
“That’s my cue,” you whisper. “Good luck out there today, Jamie.”
His smirk melts into a genuine smile, “Thank you.”
You return the gesture before pulling yourself out of his orbit. You skip past the rest of the team, wishing them all luck. Beard and Ted give you nods and you high five Sam on the way out.
Back in Rebecca’s suite, you join her, Keeley, Higgins and some of Keeley’s coworkers. One of them turns out to own the company that finance’s Keely’s PR firm, Jack. After sipping on some drinks, your group settles into your box seats. You clock Rupert a couple boxes over. Glancing at Rebecca, you see that she’s noticed the same thing. You subtly squeeze her hand and lean over. 
“No matter what happens today, he’s still going to be the only loser between the two of you.” you quip softly. 
You’re pleased when you see her visibly relax. She gives you a grateful smile and squeezes your hand back. 
Unfortunately, her relaxed state doesn’t last very long. At half time West Ham is up by one. The match had been tough to watch. At one point, Richmond had the opportunity to score, had Jamie passed to Zava, but you felt your stomach twist when Jamie went for the goal himself and ended up missing. You could understand why he did it, but you wanted to see them win this game. You knew he and the whole team must be feeling the pressure three times as much as you were. You never thought you’d care this much about sports.
You and your friends try to make small talk while the teams regroup in the locker room, but everyone’s still feeling the stress of the game. Rebecca had even left to go who-knows-where to shake off her anxieties. Although, you get a moment of reprieve when Keeley asks Shandy if she’d gone out with Jamie yet, and the girl exasperatedly informs everyone that he turned her down. You manage not to outwardly smile. 
Everyone in your section is immediately alert a few minutes later when both teams start making their way back to the pitch. West Ham enters first, energy high, followed by the Greyhounds who look…less than thrilled. You can feel the tension radiating off of them from your seat, as they all seem to throw death glares at Nate. 
You’re not sure what happened in the locker room to cause this shift in attitude, but you hoped it meant they’d play tougher this half. 
Oh how wrong you were. 
The team was practically feral, pushing, shoving and literally throwing the West Ham players to the ground. You found yourself wincing on multiple occasions at the violence. You were shocked that even Sam was engaging in the aggression. By the end of the game, Richmond was down half their players and lost the match 4 to 1. 
You can barely comprehend what you just witnessed. After digesting everything, and hopefully giving everyone time to cool down, you let Keeley know you’d meet her and Rebecca out front, Rebecca having already vacated the suite, mumbling expletives in her wake. You head down to the locker room again to find the team in what could only be described as different states of denial. They also looked a bit…ashamed. 
As if sensing your presence, Jamie’s eyes snap up and land on your figure. Despite the fact that he feels like absolute shit right now, seeing you alleviates half of his stress. He nearly stands to meet you in the doorway, when Sam approaches you and you engulf him in a hug. Jamie’s nervous energy shifts into a feeling he doesn’t recognize. All he knows is he wishes there was someone that could comfort him after this loss, or any loss, really. But he doesn’t have the relationship with you that you do with Sam. Maybe if you got to know each other better, you’d consider him a closer friend; one you’d go to when you knew he felt shitty. One he could go to when he wanted to talk about something. Anything. But you weren’t those kinds of friends yet. He briefly wonders if you even consider him a friend, but he’s not lingering on that thought right now. 
He tries not to stare as you continue talking to Sam, before Sam leaves to hit the showers. You exchange what he imagines are words of affirmation with Colin and Isaac, too, before you’re heading back to the door. You pause and turn around again, eyes scanning the room before they land on his, as if that were their destination. He lifts his head out of its place in his hand. You only give him a sad smile and a head nod before you’re turning around again. You nearly run into Ted when you do. He watches as you and Ted exchange words briefly, before you squeeze the coach's arm and disappear around the corner. 
Jamie sighs. You’ve had sex with him and all he gets is a fucking head nod, while Ted Lasso gets a pat on the arm. 
He doesn’t think the day can get much worse, until Zava sashays into the room, with a disappointed look plastered across his face. He doesn’t waste any time hiding his frustrations with the team for their actions in the second half, as if he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Jamie rolls his eyes and heads to the showers himself. 
Jamie slugs through the rest of the evening in a daze. He barely registers going from the match to the bus, and then back to his home. He tries to find something on TV to distract himself from his anxious energy, but he can’t focus on anything. He briefly considers going out to some bar or club, but he’s really not in the mood. He settles on texting Roy to see if he’s up for a late night workout, but for some reason the guy chooses tonight to be a reasonable human being and tells Jamie to take the night off. 
He’s pacing around his living room when he gets one last idea. It's not a great idea, and he’s definitely going to regret it, regardless if it went well or not. But before he can talk himself out of it, he’s grabbing his keys and slamming his front door shut. 
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You’re camped out on your couch as one of your favorite The Nanny reruns plays on the TV. You find yourself zoning out, though, replaying the events of the match. 
Sam had given you insight on what went down with him and the team. He informed you during half time, they learned that Nate had destroyed the Believe sign that hung in their locker room. While ripping a piece of paper hardly seemed like a reason to go full attack-mode, you understood when Sam explained that the sign, and Ted’s belief system, had been what began to unite them as a team a couple years ago. Your heart warmed at how much Ted clearly meant to Sam and the team, and while their methods may have not been perfect, you admired how protective they were over your uncle. 
You wonder how Jamie’s taking it. Even though you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him, you still felt awkward approaching him in the locker room in front of the team. But you secretly longed to ask how he was. Despite not knowing a whole lot about him, he always seemed especially attached to Ted, so you could only imagine how he’d taken everything this afternoon. Although, you don’t remember him participating in most of the fighting. He’d just played a bit more aggressively. 
You’re typing and retyping a text to Jamie, figuring out the best way to check in without seeming invasive. Before you have the chance to debate your words any longer, there’s a knock on your door. Your heart rate spikes. Who the hell would be knocking on your door at 10PM? You slowly approach the door, your mind making up some crap about London being a crime-free city to put your anxieties at ease. You quietly peek through the peep-hole. Letting out a loud sigh of relief, you unlock the door and pull it open. 
“Jamie, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”
The footballer gives you a once over before shaking his head decidedly, “No.”
Worried, you part your mouth to respond, but don’t get the chance when he’s suddenly cupping your face and kissing you, firmly but gently. Your hands automatically find his arms to steady yourself, as the two of you stumble further into your apartment. You kiss him back for a few more seconds, before parting slightly.
“Jamie,” you whisper in question against his lips.
“I’m sorry, I know you wanted this to be a one time thing but do you think you can make an exception tonight?” he breathes heavily, nestling his forehead to yours, “Today was shit and I just, I need…”
You nod furiously, not needing him to continue, “I know, it's okay.” You kiss him once, twice. “I can do a two-time thing.” 
He huffs out a laugh in relief before pulling you closer for an even more passionate kiss. He kicks your door shut before pushing you in the direction of your bedroom. 
Later that night when you’re both coming down from your highs, and Jamie’s laying on top of you, with his head buried in your neck, you hear him whisper cheekily, “Thank you.”
Leave it to Jamie to make you flush with embarrassment and laugh out loud, as your naked bodies tangle together. 
What a fucking prick. 
A/N: CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT Y’ALL THINK! also this gif, hello??
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desceros · 2 months
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INT DISCORD - EVENING @thejudiciousneurotic: i'm drawing a comic where leo talks about how he accidentally sent someone his nudes me: oh. now i wanna write a fic where leo flirts with you by "accidentally" shooting you his nudes me: ...trade u for the comic thejudiciousneurotic: 🤝 me: 🤝 leonardo/reader, female reader, rated m
You’re having a very nice lunch with April and Casey when your phone vibrates where it rests next to your plate.
neon leon (12:41 p.m.) [image]
Oh boy. What does this goober want?
Normally, you aren’t one to check your phone while eating with others. It’s kind of rude, and you don’t get enough time with the three of you hanging out like this. But April’s busy trying to make Casey laugh so hard his drink comes out of his nose, and—and you’re curious, because it’s Leo, and he’s sent you a picture.
You open the message app, and blink. It's not a meme, or a dorky selfie, or something pretty like he sometimes finds while he's wandering about and shoots your way to share.
It’s… a picture of him. The kind that he’d usually put on his So-Shell, you note, wondering why he’d sent it to you specifically. A little bit of a suggestive pose: his arms curling in just a manner to accentuate the way his arms have been getting big lately, one leg crossed over the other to show off how long they are, fingers framing that smug smirk he gets sometimes when he—
—oh.
Oh, god.
Leo isn’t wearing his mask. Or—or anything, you suddenly realize. No wraps. No socks. 
…Are these… nudes?!
Quickly, feeling your face burn hot, you look up to check in with April and Casey. They’re both still fucking around on the other side of the table. She’s tickling him, he’s giggling. Normal. Normal. They haven’t noticed that you’re a few degrees shy of combustion. Cool, cool. No one’s noticed that your best friend—friend friend just a friend!—has sent you his smoldering-hot naked body.
Quickly, you stop yourself, inhaling deep before you go too deep into it. No, that’s silly. He’s a fucking turtle. So he’s not wearing socks. Or forearm wraps. Or—Or his mask, which you’ve never seen him without before. So it’s a sexy pose in front of a mirror. It’s—It’s not anything salacious, if you don’t make it such. 
You start typing, just the usual compliment that you usually give his pictures on So-Shell, maybe a fire emoji, and—
neon leon (12:41 p.m.) oops! didn’t mean to send that!
neon leon (12:41 p.m.) just uh. pretend i didn’t just accidentally send you a nude. haha :)
“Oh my god,” you quietly whimper. It is a nude. 
The proper thing would be, of course, to do as he asks. Spam a bunch of junk until it disappears to the void of the past conversation. Laugh it off with him. Tell him a joke to make him feel better when he’s probably fucking mortified. 
…A little like how you’re mortified the moment you tap on the picture, making it bigger. 
God damn it. It’s… It’s so unfair how good he looks, you think, biting on the inside of your cheek. He’s finally hit that growth spurt Casey has warned everyone was coming, and he’s just so—so big. Towering over you easily. Putting on muscle like it’s as easy as putting on a shirt. Moving like silk through the air. Comfortable in his skin and knowing he looks good.
A fresh memory comes to mind. How the other day, he’d picked you up in one hand to snag the blanket you��d been sitting on to hand to Donnie where he’d been whining about being chilly. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon uncomfortably wet and turned on, hoping to god his sensitive turtle nose couldn’t pick up on it as he draped an arm on your shoulder for the last half of the movie and pulled you to lean into his plastron.
(...Friends cuddle, right? Totally. Friends totally cuddle.)
Plus he’s just… pretty. The way his cheekbones curve, the markings on his face cutting beautiful lines around his eyes, eyes that you can see without his mask in the way. The breath catches in your lungs as you stare into where they’re half-lidded in the picture, turning the smirk into something sultry. The smirk, framed by fingers that are long and thick and—
“Oh fuck,” you choke, clenching your teeth so hard your jaw aches. 
(...Friends think about getting fingered by their friends, right?! Right?! Oh god, oh fuck—)
“You good?” April asks, finally looking away from Casey who is dabbing at his face and bellowing with agony. Oof, carbonation up the nose. Not fun.
“…I’m so good,” you tell her around the knot in your throat, fingers going tight on your phone. Gah. You have to leave now or else she’ll suss out what’s wrong and you’re pretty sure you’d rather die than admit you’re getting flustered off of Leonardo’s mess up. “Say, uh. I—I have to go to the bathroom. Right now. For a while. I’ll be back.”
You can feel her eyes between your shoulder blades as you flee her knowing eyes, quickly going into the stand-alone bathroom in the cute little café and snapping the door shut behind you. You slump back against it, whipping out your phone and looking at it a bit like it’s a ticking time bomb. 
Which it kind of is, you realize with a sudden terror. You haven’t responded to him yet. He would have seen the little dots where you’d given away you were typing. That you’d had his picture in your face. He knows you’ve seen it. You’ve seen it, and time is passing while he’s sitting there, knowing there’s a fucking nuke on your screen. Oh god. Oh fuck.
Stupid sexy turtle, you think, hands trembling as you compose a very normal, very chill response. You only delete three before you settle on the last and send it.
sent (12:45 p.m.) no worries! i didn’t see anything, haha :)
neon leon (12:45 p.m.) hm. you sure? you sure took a while to respond
Oh god. Embarrassment lights your blood on fire. He knows. He totally knows. Fuck, it feels like he knows how you zoomed the fuck in and had to press your goddamn thighs together beneath the table. Swallowing thickly, you try to do as much damage control as you can. 
sent (12:45 p.m.) i mean, of course i saw it. i was curious!
neon leon (12:45 p.m.) oh yeah? what were you so curious about?
sent (12:45 p.m.) i. you know. i’ve never seen you without your mask. 
neon leon (12:45 p.m.) you know you can ask, right? i’ll take it off for you whenever you want.
You fumble your phone. What the fuck. Is this happening. Quickly, you look up. Yep. You’re still here. A quick pinch reminds you that it isn’t a dream. It’s quarter til one on a Saturday, and your childhood friend has sent you a nude on accident and then said that. 
neon leon (12:45 p.m.) is that something you want? seeing me without my mask?
neon leon (12:45 p.m.) i’d do it. for you.
neon leon (12:45 p.m.) no wraps. no socks. no mask. 
“…Holy shit,” you mutter, feeling a little dizzy. You gape, unsure of how to respond, how to fucking breathe. Then, you nearly jump out of your skin when the phone of your screen fills with a selfie of you and Leo in a photobooth at Alberto Land, feather boas and silly matching heart-shaped glasses stupid on your face. 
Oh fuck. He’s calling you. 
“Where are you right now?” Leo asks as soon as you answer the call, not waiting for you to find your voice, his words velvet in your ears.
Defensive at how you’re reacting, protecting your friendship with him tooth and nail, you claw out of the fog that had settled and made you stupid. You narrow your eyes at the hand dryer next to you. “…Did you actually ‘accidentally’ send me that picture, Leonardo?”
His laugh fills your ears like wine; rich, decadent, intoxicating. Warmth blooms in your chest. “Where are you, beautiful?”
That’s about as close to an admission as you’re probably going to get, you think. The pet name, familiar in shape but foreign in tone, makes your stomach dip. Licking your lips, you try one more time. 
“…Why are you sending me your nudes?” you ask, air catching in your throat, voice quiet but feeling loud in the privacy of the bathroom. 
“Why are you looking at them?” he responds cheekily. You bite down on the snarky response that reflexively comes to the surface; am I not supposed to, goober? There’s something glittering in the air, an invitation for something, and it makes you hesitate. Makes you look at the boundary of the lines you’ve drawn around him. Wonder what they’d look like a little smudged. 
“I… wanted to see,” you admit, feeling a little breathless, wondering if you sound so. If he can tell you’re on the edge of a cliff, feeling a bit like maybe you’re ready to take a step and fall.
“See what?” he asks. Voice lower still. Umbrous. Hypnotic. Tantalizing.
“You. Without—Without your mask. Without… any of it.”
His phone ever so slightly picks up on a sensuous rumble that comes from deep inside his shell. The sound of it makes you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. Your eyes fall shut. It’s an easy fantasy, thinking of feeling it in your flesh.
Leo says your name. It’s not a way you’ve ever heard him do so, before. It pricks your attention, hooking into it, pulling it where he wants it. “Where are you?”
You tell him. A second later, your eyes flare with familiar blue light. Two seconds later, your back is against the bathroom door, the sound of the lock clicking loud in your ears as he reaches over and ensures no one will be interrupting.
“Leo, you—!” you gasp, the barest amount of protest that he cuts through as easily as if he’d taken his katana to it. 
“I got tired of waiting. And you want to see,” he says, his fingers finding your chin and holding you in place, his mouth hovering over yours, his breath hot against where you can’t breathe. His other hand finds the curve of your hip, pulling it to meld to his own, his plastron pressing you to the door. “So look while you still can, pretty little thing. Because you’ve got about three minutes before I plan on getting my face between your legs for a long, long time.”
Later, much later, after you nearly bite through your palm trying to keep quiet through the several orgasms he easily eats out of you, after he portals you back to the lair and he pins you to that cursed mirror in his bedroom so you can see how good he looks while fucking you stupid, after he crawls over you in his sheets and slowly curls his fingers together with yours while rolling his hips to get slow and deep to drive you absolutely insane, your phone vibrates again.
This time, you ignore it, fully fucked out, completely disinterested in moving from beneath where Leo’s snoring into your shoulder, having everything you can possibly want within arm’s reach for the foreseeable future.
ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) lmao did you fall in?
ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) hellooooooo
ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) …since leo’s also not answering i’m guessing you’re with him. girl u Gotta let me know when you dip so i don’t worry >:T
ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) also. ugh. can you two just make out already? the pining is getting ridiculous. and don’t tell me i’m just imagining things again. i’m sooooo bored by your excuses
ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) grabbed your leftovers for you. love you ttyl byeeee
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monzamash · 1 year
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possessive!Carlos is one of my absolute faves, so no. 27 for him pls?
27. “i'm not jealous, you're just mine.” rating – mature 18+ (smut, swearing, possessive language, google translated spanish because i'm an uncultured swine) word count – 1.3k a/n – look, i love carlos - think he's gorgeous, but i struggled ya'll. i've learned a lot from writing this so that's something! hopefully you enjoy it x masterlist
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The softest giggle you’d been suppressing slipped past your tightly zipped lips, your body completely betraying you as you read over the text you’d just received – a stupid but insanely cute dog meme from your new work colleague, who just happened to be a man.
The reason you tried to quash your amusement was sitting right beside you, huffing every time your phone vibrated between the two of you on the lounge, completely taking you away from him and into your screen. And you sympathised. If the tables were turned, tables would’ve physically been thrown upside down.
You and Carlos were fiery and the passion had been palpable from the moment you locked eyes at a mutual friends wedding – he could blame it on his Spanish heritage but you had nothing. Nada. You were hot headed, strong willed and stubborn, which was why you couldn’t just ignore someone because he didn’t like it. Hell, you almost wanted to do it more whenever his thick eyebrows furrowed and he peeked over at your phone silently. Nosily.
“That better not be the work friend again,” He murmured under his breath, eyes now back on the mounted television that was lighting up the dark room.
“He’s just being silly, darling – relax and watch your game,” You soothed in response, hands still cradling your phone as Carlos grumbled and turned his eyes back to the Real Madrid vs Man City match filling the now awkward silence.
That was until your phone started ringing, your mystery friend’s caller ID in bold letters spelling, Cameron popped up and caught the full, undivided attention of your otherwise sweet, unruffled significant other. And he wasn’t happy – you could almost say he was seeing red. Before you could decline the call and salvage the situation, Carlos lunged over the discarded bowl of corn chips and snatched your phone, eyes black and uncompromising.
Hello? No she’s busy right now having dinner with her boyfriend. Yes she has a boyfriend… Carlos’ eyes narrowed, fuming that you'd failed to mention him and you shrugged, the one sided conversation giving you way more entertainment than the football playing in the background. No, you cannot call her back. Call ended.
“You done?” Your question came out a little more vexed than intended. Carlos’ head snapped your way, eyes darker than the night sky above as he flipped your phone back into your lap with a scoff.
“I think he got the message, no?” He muttered, arm slinging around your shoulders and resting on the couch behind, closing the gap between you. Possessively.
“And I think you’re an arsehole.”
“Ahh, I’m not an arsehole. I’m just making him know what’s what. No worries.” He replied, nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just totally crossed the line with your co-worker and made you feel like an idiot.
“You making him ‘know what’s what’ makes you look like a possessive dick, baby and I know you’re not like that normally so what the hell? Is it because you’re jealous? You’re jealous aren’t you!?
Carlos was beyond exasperated now, hands flailing about expressively as he tried to conjure some kind of response – but coming up short as his temper started to take over. He wasn’t possessive by nature but he didn’t like people taking what was his, especially not the woman he’d chosen to spend the rest of his life with. Not on his fucking watch.
“No soy!” I'm not was all he could come up with and you were unconvinced, wickedly grinning as you slung your leg over his lap, straddling his hips and literally pinning him down for an answer.
“Yes you are – I can see it in those dark, mysterious eyes,” You teased, cracking his stoic façade little by little.
Carlos huffed and toyed with the hem of you skirt that was mocking, eyes glued to the dip of your waist, begging to be gripped. And so he did, firmly, holding you in place and ever so slightly rocking you forward, tauntingly. The mood had shifted – you both knew that but you still wanted him to admit that he was envious of not having your full attention, it turned you on thinking that he’d ruin any man who ever put a move on you. On his.
“I’m not jealous, mi amor.” Carlos started, fingers skimming down your inner thighs, “It’s just you’re mine – and I’m yours. Simple como eso.” Simple as that.
It was hard to hide the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips, internally cheering your small victory but he sounded so genuine, too sweet to gloat and he was speaking truth. “All yours.”
Carlos hummed in agreement as you felt the pad of his thumb brush over your clit – the rough, sudden circles causing your mouth to fall open in a moan. You fell forward and rested your forehead on his, trying to form a coherent thought but coming up with absolutely nothing except soft moans, the only noise you could muster before your lips were seized, captured by his. Soft kisses turned to desperate ones, deeper ones as you freed him from the confines of his shorts – the Ferrari logo looking better on the floor than on his thigh.
“So pretty on your knees for me.” Carlos’s husky voice rang through your ears, mouth watering from the anticipation, “Where you belong.”
Mmm-hmm, you hummed, mouth full and eyes watering as you took every inch he had for you, tongue wagging. A hoarse moan tumbled from his throat as he occupied yours, loving nothing more than watching Carlos unravel and succumb to the pleasure that your lips were so graciously giving him. Sharp panting, fingernails digging into your skull and the tight grip on the crown of your head were all tell-tale signs that he was right in that sweet spot. Ascending to heaven. 
Mutterings of thick Spanish tumbled from his parted lips as he fucked your mouth, chasing his high, head banging back against the lounge. Mierda, he whispered, spilling all over your tongue before he slid down your throat again, now pushing you to the limit. You gagged, and looked up through hooded eyes, observing the man you loved completely under your control.
One last languid snap of the hips and he was done. You could tell he satisfied with his work as he peered down and watched as you licked your salty lips, mascara and sweat staining your flushed cheeks. You were fucked and you looked it as his fingertips brushed over your tensed jaw, Gracias.
Carlos tenderly interlocked your hands in his and carefully tugged you back into his lap, desperate to taste himself on your tongue. And you happily obliged, snaking your arms around his shoulders and sinking into his warm embrace, lips intensely locked.
“I have a secret to tell you,” You finally mumbled, pulling apart and taking a deep, revitalising breath. Your fingers were entrenched in his thick locks of hair – combing them back into place after all the tugging he’d done during his frenzied high.
Carlos hummed, eternally eager to know all of your secrets, “We’re having dinner with Cameron and his husband next week so that'll be interesting now, won't it?”
It took Carlos a couple of seconds and a flurry of blinks of his wide eyes to process your words. Husband. This man had a husband. His typically sharpened jaw slacked in shock and his grip around your waist took your breath away, again. “No, no, no! Mi amour! Why didn’t you tell me before I did what I did?"
“Because I like it when you lay down the law and I like it even more when you show me that I’m yours… How could I resist?” You cooed, smoothing your hands down his thumping chest with a smile that was mirrored on his handsome face. Head shaking.
“Give me your phone so I can call him back, plēz.”
Carlos wasn't defeated. He sounded more relieved that he could scratch one person off his hit list, wishing it was that easy to fight off the rest of the men who crossed your path. He trusted your judgement, always, but that didn’t mean he sat back, by standing while they made their move. And you loved how protective he was, how loved you were by a man with such integrity. Even if it was a little silly from time to time. But that's what you signed up for.
You were his and he was yours – for life.
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let me know what you think!
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mediumgayitalian · 1 month
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Blue, blue, blue eyes, wet and red-rimmed. White knuckles clenched around worn canvas. Salty cheeks and bitten-bruised lips.
“I’m running away.”
Echoes in a too-large room, quiet breathing in stale air. Freezing toes on marble floor. Struggling lamplight, gaunt shadows.
“Gimme a minute to pack a bag.”
———
“Shh,” Nico hisses, clamping a hand over Will’s mouth to muffle a shriek. A too-warm hand clutches his hip, scrambling for balance. The rickety wooden lattice creaks under their weight.
The freeze, for one, two, three seconds. Nico strains to hear, watching the crystal-clear, freshly-polished Jalousie window.
No light.
They let out their breath at the same time, Will’s exhale making Nico’s cold hands tingle. At Will’s glare, he removes his hand, wrapping it back around the rung.
“Be more careful, you clumsy fuck.”
“I’m trying!”
To his credit, he really is. He checks and double checks before putting his full weight on the lopsided strips of wood only meant to hold up vines. He doesn’t let go of the rung above him until his feet are firmly planted, and he doesn’t stray far enough from Nico that he couldn’t catch him. He knows the drill.
And, yet.
(Truly, Nico has no idea how he climbed up by himself.)
Thankfully, they make it to the soft lawn in one piece. Will stumbles into a hydrangea bush the second he lets go of the lattice. Nico lands with much more grace, snickering.
“This house hates me,” he whispers, pouting. There are several blue flower petals tangled in his hair; Nico decides not to tell him. “Like, actively.”
“You and me both.”
They sneak quickly across the lawn once Will’s upright again, booking it to Nico’s Jeep. Will takes their bags, tossing them in the back, then slides behind the massive, creepy gargoyle-thing that sits between the garage doors as Nico opens the driver’s door as quietly as physically possible. Once he’s seated, he glances over at Will, waiting for his signal — hand held up in wait, four seconds, five, six — then a rapid shooing motion, eyes trained at the security camera. Fast as he can, Nico shifts into neutral without starting the car, craning his neck to watch out the back window as he peels out of the driveway and onto the street. Once safely behind the massive pine tree that marks the edge of the property, he parks, turning the car on and wincing at the noise.
Two minutes later, Will comes barrelling down the driveway, nearly tripping over untied shoelaces.
“I fucked up, they totally saw me, go go go!”
Nico doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s in drive and racing down the empty street before Will has the door closed.
For a while, he lets their heart rates settle back into something normal. The headlights are dim, no streetlights to make anything brighter, and he squints through the windshield, tense. If a deer jumps out, they’re fucked.
“So,” he says, relaxing as they turn onto familiarly torn-up roads. No street lights here, either, but he knows the woods on either side of the road are a farce. Hardly more than a copse of trees — nothing but farmland for hundreds of acres. No risk of death by Cervidae, thank God. “Running away?”
“There’s a rest stop an hour east,” Will says instead of answering, face buried in a map. “We can sleep there and keep going in the morning.”
Go where, Nico wants to ask, but he knows better than that. There’s a tenseness to Will’s jaw, and something transparently pleading in his eyes.
“Okay,” he finally relents. Will’s obvious relief eases his discomfort. “You gotta direct me, though. And, I swear to God, if you get us lost again, Solace —”
And Will laughs, finally, and it’s small and stilted and there are still tears drying on his cheeks, but it’s real, and stars shine brighter, brighter, brighter.
The two hours to the rest stop pass quickly. Nico is used to long drives, and thankfully he’d filled up a couple days ago, so all he worries about is staying awake and watching for cops. There shouldn’t be any, really, because he’s been the only car on this road the entire time, but Nico isn’t going to chance it. Not again. (He doesn’t have Piper to talk them out of trouble, this time, although Will could possibly manage.) 
(Maybe.) 
(Well, never say never.)
“How prepared are we to run away?”
Will is quiet for several long, telling moments.
“Well,” he says finally, and Nico sighs. “I think there’s still blankets and pillows in the trunk from last time.”
“Christ alive, William.”
“It’s June! We’re – sheltered! We’ll be fine.”
“Christ alive, William.”
“Oh, can it.”
He bites his tongue, grinning. He doesn’t actually mind – it is June, and they have blankets, and their certainly not going to succumb to the elements in the Jeep. Will, too, is like a goddamn space heater; if anything, they’ll wake up in the morning with the windows fogged. 
“I suppose I’ll manage,” he says, watching with interest as a flash of bare skin as Will leans over the seat, sweatshirt riding up his arched back as he digs around for the blankets. He turns back right before Will does, huffing dramatically. “Since there are no other options.”
He fully expects the pillow to the face.
“You’re a dickhead.”
“Dickhead with a license and a vehicle, Sunny Boy, so maybe count your blessings.”
“...Lou Ellen has a car. So there.”
Nico snorts, thinking of the piece of shit Bug that broke down for the twelfth time this year in her driveway, earlier this week. Likely story.
“And, yet.”
“And, yet,” Will agrees, voice significantly softer. He’s fully burrowed in his blanket when Nico looks over; seat reclined as far as it’ll go so he can curl up, knees to chest, all six two of him compressed to something small, delicate. The pillow smushes half his face, and the blanket is pulled up to his nose, and Nico swallows, roughly, because his eyes are bright in the moonlight, and his hair fans, frizzy and damp, slightly, out onto the pillow, and Nico doesn’t need to be a poet to compare his freckled forehead to the starry sky. There is a fragility in him, one he keeps firmly locked inside the deepest parts of him, and as Nico watches it he can see it spilling, pouring, bleeding out of him. In the car, in the dark, in front of Nico. “Goodnight, Nico.”
“Goodnight,” Nico says hoarsely. 
By the time he gets the courage to look at Will again, his eyes are already closed, breaths slow and even.
———
“Neeks. Neeks. Nico. Hey, Thanatos. Anubis. Gerard Way. I got more, man, I made a list –”
“Will you stop fucking poking me,” Nico groans, peeking out from his blankets to glare at his aggressor. He regrets it immediately, hissing as the sun burns his retinae.
He can feel Will smiling. “Up and at ‘em, Sunshine. It’s road trip time.” He pauses. “And, also, I’m starving. I packed granola bars for us but I ate them all already. Sorry.”
“Fucker.” Reluctantly, he tugs the blanket fully off, sitting upright and stretching his arms above his head. His back cracks satisfyingly. “Don’t suppose you know where the nearest Dunkin’ is, then.”
“Uh, no.” He looks back to find Will’s eyes snapping back to his, face flushed. “We’re just outside of Arcadia, though? So. I’m. Sure there’s one –”
“Are you good?” Nico asks, squinting. “It’s too early for you to be a weirdo, Will, it’s only –” He checks his phone – “Oh, you motherfucker, it’s like six thirty in the morning! Why the hell are we awake?”
“Road trip!” he says. His face, no longer all screwed up and blotchy, returns to its usual blinding beam. 
Great. Now there are two things trying to blind him.
“C’mon, you dork,” Will says again, laughing. He tugs the blanket from Nico’s grip, tossing it haphazardly in the back and pestering him until he scowls, biting out a “Fine, you prick, Jesus,” and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.
He’s still not all the way awake, but he dutifully sits up, buckling his seat belt and starting the car. “Nav,” he mutters, tuning out Will’s chatter.
He loves the guy, but, fuck. It’s six thirty in the goddamned morning. He hasn’t seen six thirty in the morning in a long ass fucking time – even before he graduated at the end of May, he was late to homeroom every single day, without fail. Six thirty is an absurd time to be awake. 
“Left here, straight for a bit, and it’ll be on the corner.”
“You’re pointing to the right,” Nico says, patiently, not bothering to fight the smirk cropping up on his face. "Am I turning right?"
This, he’s used to.
“I meant right,” Will sulks. “...I said right in my brain.”
“Sure,” says Nico generously, grin widening.
“Fuck off.”
“What? You try very hard, Will. I’m very proud of you.”
“Choke.”
“Few more years, and you’ll be caught up to the kindergarteners.”
“That’s it, di Angelo –”
He laughs, batting away Will’s smacking hands. “Hey! Hey! No hitting the driver, do you want me to crash –”
By the time Will is done trying to beat him up, Nico has long spotted the sad-looking Dunkin’ Donuts, pulling into the empty parking lot and peering inside.
“Is it even open?” he asks, frowning. The lights are on, but it looks…more soulless than usual, somehow.
“Yep,” Will chirps, clicking off his seatbelt. “The chain opens at five. There's a location in Omaha that's open at 4:30, but as far as their policy goes, five is go time.”
“Nerd.”
“It’s okay, Nico. I’ll stay friends with you even if you get dumber than you already are.”
He grins wickedly. “Least I know my lefts and rights.”
He cackles when Will slams the door, stomping to the Dunkin’s entrance. He’s not really mad – he gets quiet when he gets mad – but it’s good to know that he’s won. (Not that it’s hard. Will is witty, sure, and wicked smart, but his buttons are just a smidge too easy to press. Great fun for Nico, who has raging ADHD and could not resist the allure of a shiny red button if it was going to blow up the Earth with him on it.)
Will is nowhere to be found when Nico gets inside, so he assumes he’s in the washroom and walks up to the counter to make their order. A bored girl a couple years younger than him flips a magazine behind the register, nodding as he comes up.
“I’ll have a black coffee and a…” He squints. “God. A butter pecan swirl signature iced latte.”
“With whipped cream and caramel drizzle?”
Nico sighs, resisting the urge to physically wince. “Yes.”
“Anything else?” says the girl, smile pulling at her lips. “I can put sugar in a cup to go, if you want.”
“He’d probably take that, too,” he agrees snorting. “But nah. Just a couple breakfast sandwiches, if you don’t mind.”
“‘Course.”
She rings him up, letting him know it’s gonna take a minute as the machines boot up. He wanders while he waits, curiously observing a wall of what appears to be scrawled pencil graffiti. Nothing talented, but he has to fight the urge to walk out to the payphone he saw outside and call a few of the numbers, just to see what would happen. 
“Hey,” Will says, startling him. He’s changed his shirt and tied his hair back, looking a million times better than last night. Nico finds himself relieved, shoulders slumping imperceptibly.
“Hey.”
“D’you order for us?”
“Got you your morning milkshake monstrosity, don’t worry.”
Will grins. “Drinking black coffee doesn’t make you cool.”
“It does, actually. At any given time I am forty-seven percent cooler than you. More, if you’re wearing cargo shorts.” He glances down. “It’s a forty-nine percent day, apparently.”
“Go wash your face,” Will laughs, shoving him. “I’ll get the food, then we can look at the map.”
He doesn’t take nearly as long as Will did. He brushes his teeth, splashes water on his face, decides his hair looks awesome the way it is – of course he didn’t forget a brush, why would he be a big enough dumbass to forget a brush and also more than one pair of socks – and walks back out. He finds Will tucked in a booth in a corner, chewing on a pink straw, eyeing their giant map intently.
“So,” he says as Nico approaches, handing him his coffee, “I did some math.”
Nico notices a napkin scrawled with ink that he could not read even if he wasn’t dyslexic.
“Geek.”
Will chucks his balled up straw wrapper at him. “We can go five hours-ish on a full tank of gas, and you’re a bit above a half tank, so we got maybe three hours before we need to stop.” He circles a little dot about a quarter way into the state, letters too small for Nico to read. “And since going anywhere near Orlando in the summer is asking to stick us in bumper-to-bumper traffic, that puts us in Anthony.”
“I did not know there was a town named Anthony,” Nico says sagely. “That’s a shit name for a town, if I’m being honest.”
WIll shrugs. “Welcome to Florida. Anyways. Want me to drive? You drove last night.”
“Barely,” Nico dismisses, waving his hand. He likes driving – it’s just scattered enough that he doesn’t get antsy. It’s being a passenger that kills him, although he’s sure they’ll switch on the way back so he can rest. “I’ll drive.”
“‘Kay.”
Will turns his attention back to the map, tapping his pen against the table in between bites of his breakfast sandwich. Every so often he returns to the napkin, scribbling something down and making little hums of concentration. 
Nico begins to notice the route he’s drawing extends a ways past state lines.
“So,” he says carefully, eyes trained on his best friend. “Running away.”
Will tenses, again, at the mention of it, although this time he looks more stubborn than lost. Good.
“Road trip,” he corrects. “It’s our last summer, Nico. I turn eighteen in a couple months, and then…” He trails off. Nico waits out the silence, seven seconds, eight, nine. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? One last huzzah, road trip around the nation, or whatever?”
“Did you happen to tell your mother about this road trip?”
Will shrugs. “I left a note.”
Nico hums. “Sounds an awful lot like running away. I would know. I’ve been picked up by social services in three separate states.”
“Road trip,” Will corrects again, stubborn set to his brow. 
Nico decides to let it go for now.
“Road trip,” he agrees. Will looks at him gratefully. “Where to?”
“That defeats the point of a road trip.” He rolls up the map, looking at Nico like it’s obvious. “Duh. Journey, not the destination, et cetera, et cetera.”
Privately, Nico bets that by tomorrow, Will be be restless and guilty and they will be on their way home. Outwardly, he says, “You have seen a truly disgusting amount of movies,” and Will laughs, and Nico follows him to the Jeep, and knows, as he always does, that he will follow him regardless; across the world, across the country, even back to Shit Fuck, Florida.
———
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sluttywoozi · 1 year
Text
Whenever We Breathe Part Two
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Summary: Wonwoo knows he's fucked up by avoiding you after you, him, and Seungcheol slept together. He doesn't know how exactly he can fix it, but he figures begging for your forgiveness might be a good start.
Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: ~5.1k (2k plot, 3.1k smut)
Part One
GN version
Warnings: not a threesome, best friends to lovers, swearing, pining, hurt/comfort, angry cheol (hot), shy switch wonwoo, weed mention, lots of talking during sex, grinding, cumming in pants, multiple orgasms, fingering, clit stim, oral f. rec., facesitting, slit/thigh fucking, condomless piv sex, creampie, cum eating, aftercare 
Reader Notes: she/her pronouns used, has vagina and breasts
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Fuck, oh fuck, Wonwoo’s made a terrible mistake. 
He thought that day was the perfect opportunity to get to be with you without having to confess his feelings, but what he didn’t consider is that getting to be with you would make him want to be with you.
Wonwoo isn’t sure why that didn’t even cross his mind. Maybe because it was clouded with smoke and the disbelief you even said yes when Cheol made the offer?
God, it felt like a wet dream, literally, you were so wet, so fucking soft and hot and tight, and Wonwoo still regrets not coming inside you when he had the chance, especially since it was probably his last. 
He hasn’t seen you in weeks, and he misses you like hell. 
He supposes he can’t complain though, considering that it’s his own fault. 
Wonwoo’s been avoiding you, skipping your weekly best friends sleepovers, making up excuses for dinner invites, responding to your texts far too late for a conversation to be possible. 
He feels awful, and he knows you know he’s avoiding you, and he knows Seungcheol knows too. 
He might be ready to beat him up soon, if the glare he’s sending Wonwoo right now means anything. 
They’re sitting across from each other in the diner down the street from his apartment, and Seungcheol has been scolding him for the past seven and a half minutes. He only knows because he keeps glancing at the clock to escape Seungcheol’s glowering. 
Wonwoo honestly feels like he’s in the principal’s office, with the way Seungcheol has his hands folded (clenched) on the table and the way he’s being berated. 
“And if you didn’t think you could handle this, you shouldn’t have participated. You could have just watched, but no, you wanted to join and you wanted to go first, and now you haven’t seen her in weeks.”
Seungcheol takes a deep breath to continue, “Do you know how sad she is? She totally knows exactly what you’re doing, and she thinks it’s her fault. She thinks she did something wrong. We wanted her to feel better but you’re making her feel worse!” He finishes on a shout. 
Diners in the nearby vicinity shoot Seungchheol a look, and he raises his eyebrows in response, staring back until they look away. 
Normally, he’s much more polite, so Wonwoo must have really pissed him off. 
“I’m sorry, Cheol, I really thought I would be okay. I didn’t realize how bad it was until you made her look at me while you were-,” Wonwoo looks around and continues in a whisper, “Fucking her, which by the way, what the fuck was that?!” 
“What do you mean ‘what the fuck was that’?” Seungcheol mocks him.
“That was me making you realize how you feel! I knew you’d be jealous seeing me with her like that and I needed to rub it in so you’d finally fucking understand! You’re in love with her!” Seungcheol’s eyes are blazing, and Wonwoo’s starting to wonder if he should fear for his own wellbeing, but Seungcheol wouldn’t hurt him. He thinks.
He’s not ready to respond to that last part yet, needs some time to admit it to himself, but he knows he can’t just not say anything. 
Especially if he doesn’t want Seungcheol to launch himself over the table and throttle him. 
“I know I fucked up, and I’m sorry. To both of you. I’ll figure out how to fix it, I just need a bit more time,” Wonwoo pleads, trying to implore Seunngcheol to let him deal with this his own way. 
“I don’t know how much longer she’ll wait. She’s talking about joining the dating apps again.”
The food arrives but Wonwoo doesn’t notice. White noise fills his ears, and he feels very dizzy suddenly, bracing his hands flat on the table for strength. 
He tries not to remember all the short little dresses you’d wear on your internet dates, and the way you’d complain about their inability to make you cum, and the way he used to wish he even had the chance to fail. 
But now Wonwoo’s had the chance, and he didn’t fail, he was successful. He made you cum, multiple times, fuck, he even helped make you squirt! 
So honestly, what the fuck is he doing?
He is in love with you, and he can make you cum, and he’s your best friend, and you’re his. 
And now he’s starting to feel like the fuckup wasn’t when he slept with you, it was not taking the chance to tell you how he feels after.
Shit. 
How is he supposed to fix this?
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Wonwoo has come up with a plan, and the first step is showing up at your apartment with your usual from the cafe you always go to together. 
The rain wasn’t part of the plan, but Wonwoo figures his pathetic appearance may actually help his case. 
He’s soaked to the bone, his glasses covered in drops of water, his body shaking like a leaf, his cold hands even colder than normal, but it’ll be worth it if you open the door. 
And that’s a big if, because Wonwoo knows you know it’s him, and he’s honestly not sure you’re going to let him inside.
He wouldn’t blame you, after the way he’s been ignoring and evading you for weeks, but he really hopes you’ll at least give him a chance to explain himself. 
He’s fully prepared to tell you everything, to lay his soul bare at your feet, to grovel on his knees for forgiveness, but he’s not too hopeful when you open the door and shout, “Are you fucking insane?”
You grab him by the collar and haul him inside, pointedly avoiding his gaze as you shut and lock the door before heading to the bathroom to grab him a towel. He drops the food and travel cup in your kitchen and waits for you to return. You stop at your bedroom on the way to get some clothes he’d left here, pointing at the bathroom until he obeys and scurries in, turning on the shower and starting to strip. 
You stand at the door with your arms crossed, glaring into the hallway and waiting for him to hand over his soaked clothes, and he tries to avoid looking at your ass in your little pajama shorts. Now simply is not the time.  
Not when Wonwoo’s never seen you so closed off before, to him at least. He worries he won’t be able to repair the rift he created between you, fears you won’t let him back in. 
He steps into the shower, the heat scorching his freezing skin, and he tries not to shy away from the steaming stream of water, lets it be punishment for hurting you like this. 
He stays until he can feel his fingers and toes again, then just a bit longer because he’s terrified to face you now that he knows you're sad and angry. 
Eventually, Wonwoo gets a bit too warm and knows he can’t put off explaining himself any longer. Shutting the shower off, he roughly towel dries his body and pulls on the clothes you brought him, shaking his hair out enough that it won’t drip onto his shoulders before cleaning off his glasses with the edge of the shirt. 
You’re puttering about in the kitchen, heating up the food he brought you, sipping at the drink, and whispering angrily to yourself, about him most likely. He doesn’t blame you, could curse himself too for mucking everything up this badly, and he can only hope you’ll let him tell you what happened. 
Wonwoo lets himself linger in the hall for just a few more seconds before taking a deep breath and shuffling into the kitchen with his head lowered in penance. He stays silent, senses your eyes on him and hears your movements stop, and almost wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 
But, knowing he owes you this, Wonwoo raises his head and meets your eyes meekly. 
Fuck, you look so mad, and so hot. Under the anger and hotness is hurt, and he chooses to focus on that. 
“Well?” You begin flatly. “What do you have to say?”
“Um,” he clears his throat after squeaking on the first attempt, “I want to apologize, and beg you to forgive me, and also I should probably tell you something.”
You squint at him, tilting your head back to stare down your nose, and Wonwoo tries to pretend your derision doesn’t turn him on. 
“Go on, then,” you raise a brow, and Wonwoo lets out the biggest sigh of relief when he realizes you’re letting him explain himself. 
“Okay, apology first. Well, the apology will probably have some of the thing I need to tell you so I hope that’s okay,” you nod slowly in confusion. 
“I’m really sorry I shut down after we slept together. It was everything I ever dreamed of, except not really because I don’t just want to sleep with you, and also because Cheol was there, and I definitely didn’t dream about that. Not that I didn’t like it!” Wonwoo rushes to clarify, “It was great, and kinda nice not having to think for a bit, but when I pictured our first time, it was… just us.”
You stare at him, processing his words, your face softening incrementally, before you ask, “What do you mean, ‘everything you ever dreamed of’?” 
Wonwoo’s eyes grow wide, knowing he’s at the point where he’ll have to explicitly tell you his feelings. 
“Um, so the thing is I might possibly be in love with you and it’s also possible that after I got to be with you, I couldn’t stop thinking about being with you and made myself sad that I wouldn’t get to so I didn’t want to see you because whenever I thought about seeing you, all I could think about was being near you and touching you and getting to actually love you like I’ve always wanted to,” Wonwoo says in a rush, clenching his eyes shut at the end so he doesn’t have to see your face. 
You stay silent for a while, considering his jumbled confession. 
He peeks an eye open to find you deep in contemplation, your jaw set and your arms folded, and fears that he’s officially ruined the friendship. 
“You’ve always wanted to love me?” you ask softly, quietly, like you’re scared of the answer. 
He nods, keeps nodding, biting his lips between his teeth before speaking just as timidly, “Yeah, I’ve always loved you, sorry.”
Your face scrunches, eyes turning to a glare to hold the tears in, and you whine angrily, “Don’t be sorry, you idiot, I love you too even though you’re so fucking stupid.”
Wonwoo’s heart stutters, squeezes hard, then explodes, and he feels like he might pass out. 
“Do you need to sit down?” you ask tiredly, waiting for his dazed nod to roll your eyes and walk over, tugging him by the arm to sit on your couch before crouching in front of him. 
“You… love… me?” Wonwoo asks dumbly, eyes moving up sluggishly behind his glasses to find yours. 
“Yes, Wonwoo, I love you,” you confirm gently, speaking slowly so he can understand you through the fog your confession put him in, grasping his tepid hands with your own. 
“Wow, that’s so crazy,” he breathes, feeling almost as high as he did that day. 
“I know, right?” you agree, pulling him closer until he shuffles off the couch to sit on his knees in front of you. 
“So, what do we do now?” Wonwoo asks, truly having no idea. 
“Um, I mean we should probably date right? And tell Cheol so he’ll stop being pissed at you. And maybe also have sex without him.” 
Wonwoo loves those ideas, all three, but has a request for the order, “Can we do 1, 3, 2? He’s so mad at me and so scary, and I think I’ll have to grovel more for him to forgive me than I did for you.”
“Mmmmm I think you could afford to do some more groveling for me too, though,” you tease, playing with the collar of his shirt and smirking. 
He feels lightheaded again and hopes you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying.  
“Can I kiss you?” Wonwoo asks as he starts to lean in, waiting for you to tell him yes. 
“Yeah, I think that would be a good start,” you mumble as you press your lips to his, your sentence trailing off into his mouth. 
Wonwoo sighs, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue until you open for him, loosening his hands from yours so he can place both of them on your cheeks to pull you closer. You come willingly, climbing into his lap when he sits down and crosses his legs, straddling his hips and grinding down against his rapidly hardening cock. 
Fuck, the pressure and heat of you feel amazing. 
He hasn’t been able to jerk off as much as usual because when he closes his eyes, he can only see you, squirting and crying and writhing, and he cums way too fast for it to even be enjoyable.
He’s a bit scared that will happen with you, but he plans to make you cum a few times before he even gets his dick in you anyway, so it should work out fine. 
Or at least, that’s what he thought before you started touching him, running your fingers up and down his abs, palming his pecs, squeezing his deltoids, and shit your hands are so warm and so soft, and he’s wanted you to touch him like this for so long, and if you keep grinding on him like that he’ll-
“Fuck, stop, stop, stop, baby, you have to stop,” Wonwoo pants, stilling your hips with an iron grip, pushing them away from his dick. 
“What’s wrong?” you ask breathlessly, cupping his face and looking into his eyes even as he tries to avoid your gaze out of embarrassment. 
“I was just really, really, really close to cumming,” he whispers, pursing his lips and hoping you’re not judging him. 
“Oh. You don’t want to?” you sound confused, your brows furrowed and your hips twitching in his grasp. 
“Of course I don’t want to, I wanna be able to fuck you,” Wonwoo explains shyly. 
“Well, how long does it take you to go again?” 
Wonwoo can feel his ears turning red and his eyes wavering behind his glasses as he stares at you in awe. 
“Maybe fifteen minutes,” he replies, astonished. 
You grin, pull his hands from your waist to slide them up onto your breasts, and dig your hips into his. 
Wonwoo can’t stop himself from tipping his head back to rest on the couch, his neck suddenly too weak to hold up the weight as he feels himself start spiraling again. You’re so soft under his hands, so sweet, and Wonwoo wishes he could see you, starts tugging up your shirt until you get the hint and whip it over your head. 
Fuck, you’re not wearing a bra, just like last time, and he tells himself to surprise you at home more often, then remembers he’s your boyfriend now and he’ll get to see you like this whenever you want him to, and that’s enough to push him over the edge. 
His head spins as his cock jumps underneath you, spitting hot cum into his boxers, and he knows he’s being noisy, knows he’s groaning and moaning and possibly even whimpering your name, but he just can’t shut his mouth. 
It feels too fucking good, the first fulfilling orgasm he’s had since you slept together, and now he knows for sure that cumming by himself could never be as euphoric as cumming with you. 
His brain feels heavy, but empty at the same time, and his head tips forward to rest against your sternum as he catches his breath, air puffing out over your chest and raising goosebumps on your skin.    
“Quick question,” you start with a thready voice. “How did you cum that last time? Both of your hands were busy.” 
“I don’t know,” he tries to figure out how to answer without sounding pathetic. “I just- you- when you squirted, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I don’t know, it was like I blacked out, and when I woke up, my cum was drying on your stomach.”
Okay, so he still sounded pathetic, but you whine, almost like you… 
“Do you like that?” Wonwoo asks slowly, realization growing, “And you liked making me cum in my pants too, didn’t you?”
You squirm in his lap, and Wonwoo smirks, leans forward until you tip onto your back and he can plank above you. He drops a kiss to your nose and shifts up on his knees to yank his shirt off and push his wet boxers down, trying not to cringe at the cold air on his slick cock. 
“You like knowing what you do to me, huh?”
Wonwoo trails kisses down your neck, letting his tongue dip into the hollow space between your clavicles before grazing his teeth over your skin.
“Well, baby?” Wonwoo waits for you to answer.
You stare him down, biting your bottom lip and squirming slightly, before answering, “Yes, I like it, Wonwoo.” 
“I’ll tell you all about your effect on me then,” Wonwoo begins, nipping the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. 
“When you wear these tiny little pajama shorts at sleepovers, I have to keep a pillow in my lap all night, just because your thighs are out and pressed right up against mine,” he says through sucking kisses along your collarbone. 
He grins at your shiver, continues, “Sometimes, I can’t tell you’re not wearing a bra until you hug me, and when I feel your tits on my chest, I have to pull away because I get too hard to hide it.”
Sucking marks down your sternum, Wonwoo keeps going, “I always take the couch and let you have my bed, even when you offer to share, because I know I’ll wake up hard or with dried cum in my pants if I get to sleep next to you.”
He slides back up to your mouth, swallowing your moan and biting your lip between his teeth before sinking down your body again. 
“If you wake up hard tomorrow, can I suck your dick?” you ask, as if he’d say no, and he has to push his face into your stomach to contain the loud fuck he wants to let out. 
“Are you in my brain? How are you my walking wet dream?” Wonwoo almost sounds annoyed, frustrated, and his kisses turn to sucking bites, leaving indents of his teeth all over your soft skin. 
“Don’t get mad at me because you think I’m hot, that’s not fair!” you whine, arching your back into him and making his focus shift to your breasts. 
“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he lavishes your tits in soft kisses, sucking alternately at your nipples and squeezing the plush flesh with his fingers. 
He presses his face into your chest and smushes your breasts against his cheeks, breathing you in, surrounding himself in you, and realizes there’s another way to be encompassed by you, a better way. 
“Will you sit on my face?” Wonwoo asks, a bit scared you’ll say no.
You look down at him, smile softly, and reply, “Sure.”
Fuck, Wonwoo thinks he might die.
He tries to smile back before laying down next to you, waiting for you to finish stripping and climb on. 
Shit, why didn’t he notice how wet your shorts were? There’s a visible dark patch, and he figures he was messy enough not to notice but fuck, is he noticing now. And of course, of course you’re not wearing panties. Wonwoo honestly thinks you were created to kill him. 
What a way to go though, he thinks, as you send him a shy grin and straddle his hips, shuffling forward on your knees until he can grab you by the hips and pull you up to his face. 
He groans when your scent hits him, groans deep in his chest, and you shiver at the air flowing over your soaked pussy. That makes you rest more of your weight on him, and Wonwoo can’t wait to drown in you. 
You’re still holding yourself up though, looking a bit nervous, and Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs so he can smooth his hands up and down the length of them, soothing you slowly until you relax enough for your folds to brush his lips. 
This is already the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and it only gets better when he rubs his nose over your clit and you grind into it. 
Flattening his tongue on your cunt, he drags it from your entrance to the top of your pussy, laving over your bundle of nerves before sliding back down to dip inside you. 
You taste even better than last time, no lingering traces of weed in his mouth to cloud your essence, and Wonwoo already knows he’ll do this every day if you let him. 
It might just become his favorite hobby, if the way his cock is already hardening again says anything. 
He sucks your clit into his mouth, pulling you down harder on his face, wanting to smother himself in you, and slides two fingers inside you from behind. You clench down immediately, whimpering above him and sinking your hands into his hair to tilt his head back. 
He gets the hint, just holds his tongue out flat and lets you do what you want, lets you ride his face and his fingers, feels his cock jumping against his stomach. 
“Wonwoo, another, give me another, please,” you ask breathlessly, crying out when he tucks his ring finger inside of you too, and curls all three into the patch of nerves deep inside. 
He feels like he’s drowning in the best way, partially because you’re so wet, but mostly because he can’t hear anything, can’t see anything. All he knows is your pussy on his face and shit, he could probably cum untouched from this too. 
You break before he does though, bowing over him, and now he can smell your cunt and your hair and your skin, and thank fucking god you’re already shifting away from his tongue out of sensitivity because he seriously could cum right now. 
He helps you lift off of his face, and gazes fondly as you curl up on your side and catch your breath, staring incredulously at him. 
“How are you so good at that?” you demand, eyebrows scrunched and eyes boring holes into him.
“I’ve been dreaming about you sitting on my face for years, that’s probably it,” Wonwoo responds matter-of-factly, dodging the pillow you lob at him in retribution. 
“What, baby, you liked it before,” he laughs, avoiding the finger attempting to poke his belly.
“Yeah, that was before you made me cum so hard I lost all sense of time and space,” you mutter, shifting to rest on shaky elbows, staring at him contemplatively out of the corner of your eye. 
Wonwoo’s still trying to recover from your previous statement when you say, “I think I want you to bend me over the couch and fuck me from behind.”
He chokes, sputters on nothing but air and the need clawing up his throat, forces his eyes shut and curses you, curses you forever, but not really because he loves you too much and he does want to bend you over the couch and fuck you from behind. 
In fact, he thinks he’d both kill and die for the chance.
So he stands on wobbly knees, extends both hands towards you to pull you up, and drags you over to your couch. The arm is the perfect height for him to fold you over, and you pull a pillow to you so you have something to hold onto as he runs his cock up and down your slit. 
“Can I try something first?” Wonwoo asks tentatively, “I think you’ll like it.”
“Yeah, just don’t put anything in my butt, I’m not ready for that yet,” your voice is muffled in the couch, your ass tilted up, and Wonwoo smooths his hands up your back to squeeze your shoulders, then back down to push your thighs together. 
Placing each hand on a cheek, Wonwoo pulls your ass up and apart so you’re spread open, cunt glistening in the daylight, tempting him to take another taste. 
He’s always wanted to try this and never thought he’d have the opportunity, though, so he needs to make the most of it. 
And make the most of it he does, sliding his cock between your thighs and bumping the head against your clit, over and over and over, until your thighs glisten too and his dick is drenched in your wetness, until you’re squirming beneath his hands and whining, until he can see your entrance clench and release, tightening around nothing. 
He thinks he can make you cum like this, but honestly, he’s getting too close, and if he wants to fuck you tonight, he needs to do it now. 
Maybe he can hold out just a little bit longer though, he thinks, rubbing the head of his dick insistently on your clit until you claw at the couch and cum with a wail. 
“In me, get in me, Wonwoo, I swear I’ll-,” your voice cuts out when he sinks into you, stretching your pussy around his cock and bottoming out in one stroke. 
You squeak, and Wonwoo squeezes your ass in his hands before moving them to your hips and holding you to the arm of the sofa as he pulls back and thrusts in again. 
“Good?” he asks, waiting for you to respond, “Yes, Wonwoo, fuck yes,” before starting to pound you into the couch. 
You cry out every time he roots his cock inside you, and he moves a hand to press down on the small of your back, tilting your hips up more and angling his down, giving you searching thrusts until he hits something and you seize up around him. 
Targeting that spot each time, Wonwoo fucks in and out of you at a steady pace, ignoring the way his balls are already full and starting to draw up, wanting to get you there one last time before he cums. 
He knows just his dick won’t be enough, so he slides one hand around your hip and sinks it between your thighs, finding your clit with two fingers and starting the circles you seemed to like last time. 
Fuck, you get even tighter, and wetter, whining and wiggling under him, trying to meet his thrusts but he’s going too fast, too hard, and your walls start to spasm around him, arousal gushing out of you and dripping down his dick as you cum. 
And shit, Wonwoo wants to fuck you through it, he does, but he just can’t stop the tidal wave swallowing him, can’t stop the roaring in his ears or his eyes from squeezing shut, and he definitely can’t stop the way his cock twitches and starts to spurt white hot cum inside you.
It’s so much better than the orgasm he had before, and Wonwoo can’t stay standing, tips over until he’s spread out on top of you, his hip bones digging into your ass and his dick flooding you with what feels like weeks worth of cum. 
By the time his cock has stopped jumping in you, you’re reaching behind to poke at him, whispering in a strained voice, “Wonwoo, babe, can’t breathe.”
He blinks his eyes open, still dizzy from his orgasm, and lets his body melt to lay on the floor by the couch. You stay on the arm for a second, and Wonwoo has to close his eyes again when he sees his cum starting to drip out of you, white globs seeping from your entrance and sliding down your pussy.
“Can I-” Wonwoo starts, but you interrupt him, responding tiredly, “Yes, please do it, whatever it is. I already know I’ll like it.”
He crawls over, trying to steady his breathing, and spreads your cheeks again, opening up your stretched pussy even more. Your entrance is still fluttering, and your walls probably are too, and he needs to feel you on his tongue. 
He licks into you again, gathering up the cum on your swollen clit and guiding it back to your cunt, pushing it inside before lightly sucking at your entrance.
You still taste so good, even tinged with the salty bitterness of his cum, and he knows he’ll never get enough, shoves his tongue deeper, starts fucking you with it, rotates one hand so he can get his thumb on your clit, and with that, you tumble over the edge again.
Your walls weakly contract around his tongue, and he pets your bundle of nerves gently, bringing you down and licking you clean. 
Wonwoo lets you recover for a bit, but eventually suspects you can’t move so he wraps you up in his arms and hauls you off the couch, settling on the floor with you in his lap. 
“You okay, baby?” he asks, only a little bit concerned. 
“Yeah, I just… I think you broke me,” you mumble into his chest, fatigue obvious in your voice, and Wonwoo tries to hold in his giggle, tries to stop the pleased grin from spreading his lips, but he’s not successful, and you swat feebly at his chest. 
You get distracted by his pecs, caressing the firm muscle, and Wonwoo shivers, looking forward to coming up with more ways to distract you.
For now, he just tries to stand, finds his knees too shaky to carry both of your weight, and deposits you on the couch before hobbling away to get you a damp cloth and new pajamas.
He thinks he has another pair of boxers here too, and finds them in your top drawer along with some sweats and a big t-shirt for you. 
He cleans you up, wiping softly between your legs and making you promise to pee soon, before dressing you and himself and plopping down on the couch, pulling you into his arms. 
You’re warm, always so warm, and you smell so good, and Wonwoo loves you so much, and he remembers he doesn't have to hide it anymore. 
“I love you, baby,” Wonwoo murmurs into your hair, cupping your cheek in his hand and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. 
“Love you too, Woo,” you breathe, holding his gaze and puckering your lips to press a kiss to his thumb. 
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palajae · 1 year
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i like you.
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PAIRING ▸ dancer! niki x dancer! reader
GENRE ▸ dancer! au, a2ls, romance, fluff, humor
WORD COUNT ▸ 4.5k
SUMMARY ▸ a collab with one of the best dancers at your studio might not sound too bad. it would’ve been amazing, except for the fact that in the ten years you’ve known nishimura riki, you’ve only spoken a total of two words to your beloved dance partner.  
AKA a try not to be awkward challenge.
NOTES ▸ like one kiss? not proofread, if i missed anything please let me know! // a merry merry christmas to anyone who celebrates it:)))
PLAYING ▸ i like you by post malone (ft doja cat). | series masterlist.
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AS THE MUSIC ENDS, THE SOUND OF YOUR HEAVY BREATHING FILLS THE AIR. 
Another day of practice, another day of exhaustion and a lot of sweating. Unbeknownst to you as you wipe your forehead with your shirt, a small group stands outside the door to your practice room, peeking in through the tiny window. 
They whisper in awe after experiencing your performance, just separated by a mere door from a few feet away. Your fluidity, attention to even the tiniest details, the look in your eyes, it was all different. 
No wonder it seemed like you were on another level, separated from the others since the beginning by an invisible barrier known as raw talent and skill. 
The only other ‘one’ like you was Nishimura Riki, or more commonly referred to as Niki. Between all the trainees at your dance company, you two were different. You just stood out the minute you walked into a room. 
If you were being honest, you’ve only interacted with Niki before at the company studio like... once. A total of five minutes in each other’s presence that consisted of bowing politely and greetings before he was called away by his sister. You forgot but probably said something along the lines of “good morning,” or literally anything else that couldn’t have made it any more awkward than it already was. 
That was your first impression of Niki. Before that, you only heard of his impressive skill when you first joined over ten years ago, especially since he was the studio founder’s son. You heard all about how he started dancing when he was three and had kept going since. 
Besides that, most of your time was spent practicing alone and occasionally with friends or instructors. And when competition season came around, it was even worse. 
That was when more than half your day was spent in one of the practice rooms, going over your multiple routines and rehearsing until you physically couldn’t anymore.
Today was no different. The first competition was in about a week and everyone had been on edge. That meant no time to waste on trivial matters like- in your case- watching others dance. 
Your friends understood how seriously you took dancing, because they were the same. Maybe they didn’t have as much passion as you, meaning they weren’t willing to sacrifice as much of their normal lives, but again that was what separated you from the rest.
There were plenty of events and sections that your studio entered in, and you yourself were no different, having entered in numerous ones already. All trainees were busy preparing for competition day, countless routines performed simultaneously. 
A figure coldly pushes past the small crowd of dancers, knocking only once on the door before entering the room you occupied. They whisper in alarm and shock at how urgently he entered. 
You gulp down water, head turning towards the sound from the entrance. You tilt your head in acknowledgment, “Instructor Woo. What’s up?”
The serious expression on his face sends alarms ringing through your body, but you try to keep calm. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Your teacher was always known as the cold and strict type when you first met, but after years your relationship had melted into a respectable junior-senior one. 
“Follow me.” 
Confused, heart rate beginning to pick up, you grab your stuff and follow him, ignoring the fellow bystanders waiting outside the door. 
Once you’ve reached the safety and privacy of his office, you falter. Mainly because you weren’t alone- it wasn’t just the two of you. 
Niki stands there with unreadable look as he  spots you the same time you spot him. Recognition flickers in his eyes for split second before he glances away. 
You cross your arms, barely addressing him. “What’s going on?” 
You give your instructor a purposeful stare as if to say, why in the world were you alone in a room with him and Nishimura Riki?
He sighs, clasping his hands together. “Two dancers who entered in a couple performance just got into a minor accident. They’re on bed rest for at least a week.” 
It was just like him to go straight to the point. You know exactly what he means, but you don’t understand why he’s letting you know.
You frown. “I’m sorry to hear that… but why are you telling us that?”
Niki side-eyes you, mumbling something along the lines of, “isn’t it obvious?” 
You glance at him for a second before returning your attention to Instructor Woo. 
“I apologize for bringing this upon you so late, but we need you two to sub in.” 
No. No one does that. No one is given an event with less than a week to prepare. Especially not, your eyes slide to the boy next to you again, especially not if you had to work with someone who was essentially a stranger to you. 
It’s like your instructor already knew what you were about to say before you opened your mouth, holding up a hand to stop you in your tracks. 
“I know we’re asking for a lot, but you two are the best dancers at the company. That’s a fact. We decided on you two for a reason- because we all know you can pull it off together.” 
You’re speechless while Niki just stands there. With no reaction, Instructor Woo sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps the screen before turning it to show you and Niki. 
Two people, you’re guessing the two that got in the accident, dancing to… 
Havana? 
Immediately, you shake your head. “No. I’m not doing that.” 
He sits up straighter, “You don’t get to make a decision-“
You turn to Niki, “No offense, but I barely know you, and there’s no way we’re dancing to that song together.”
He shrugs, “None taken.” 
“Y/n y/l/n.” At that, you almost shrink. 
“What happened to your professionalism? You have less than a week to learn a new dance, what other choice do you have?”  
Perhaps you should’ve taken the time before to watch Niki dance- even seeing him perform once would’ve helped and provided some familiarity. 
Regardless, the stubbornness in you just tells you that it doesn’t fit your own style, and you don’t want to- you just can’t do a dance if it won’t be executed up to your standards. You won’t ever be satisfied. 
You clench your hands into fists, “I’m sorry but I know I can’t possibly perform that dance as well as I want to in less than a week. Perhaps if I had more time to work on it, then I would agree but I don’t have the luxury, so I can’t. There’s only one other option we have and I’d rather take that risk for a better performance. I’m fully willing to take responsibility if it doesn’t work out.”
For the first time, Niki agrees with you, nodding along to your words. 
Your dance instructor grumbles and you look at Niki before speaking up again. 
“We’ll choose a song and choreograph it ourselves,” your voice sounded much more confident than how much confidence you actually had in yourself. 
He drops his phone on his desk, eyes widen and mouth set in a firm line. “Do you know what you’re saying? A whole new dance in six- technically, five days?” 
And you nod. 
By the end, Instructor Woo has given up and left it to you two to figure things out. You feel grateful for the immense trust he has in you because honestly, you don’t have even close to enough trust in yourself. 
The walk out of his office is silent. In all the times you’ve seen Niki around the company, this is the first time you’ve been so close to him. It’s strange seeing him up close, he was much more defined (and taller) than you thought. 
“Hey, uh,” you say hesitantly, “I just wanted to apologize for saying all that without discussing with you first.” 
Niki recognizes your words with a tiny nod and you bite your lip, unsure if you’re about to regret your next words. 
“If you really want, we can just do the previous dance.” 
But to your surprise, Niki frowns. “No, I’d rather make a new choreography that fits us better too.”
And he sees you smile for the first time. 
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You were grateful for the fact that you spent the previous month practicing and getting the hang of your other routines. Only because originally, your plan was to spend the last week leading up to competition day just finalizing moves and reviewing until after the bombshell that Instructor Woo dropped on you and Niki and your plans were mostly scrapped. 
You supposed Niki’s plan was the same, due to one night that you walked into your planned meetings and caught the end of one of his performances. Judging by the slight shine off his skin and heavy breathing, he must’ve been dancing for a while. 
“Hey,” you reply meekly. He gives a short greeting back before focusing back on a certain part of the choreo. As you get your things settled and start warming up, you realize you can’t stand the silence. 
“Are you, uh, ready for competition? Besides our performance together?”
“Yeah. Maybe not as much as I would like but as Woo said, we don’t have a choice.” 
You nod silently. “Then… should we decide on a song?”
“Okay.” 
So far so great, you think internally with a grimace. You knew close to nothing about Niki and now you have to work with him for almost a week straight. Not to forget the fact that you’re almost always the first to speak to him. The long silence was starting to get to your head. 
“Since this is a couple performance…” you inhale, “what kind of song would you rather do?” 
Obviously his preference wasn’t the sensual and slower type, and if it was, it obviously wasn’t a dance he would want to do with a stranger like you (and neither would you). Even so, you could just tell that wasn’t a song he would pick. 
He drums his fingers on the wooden floor, seemingly in deep thought. You forgot he also knew close to nothing about you as well and was probably taking your impression into account. 
“How about Hip hop? RnB?” He looks at you questioningly, and you’re a bit shocked. Was that a lucky guess or did you just have similar styles? 
Niki must’ve noted the look on your face because he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Do you not like that?”
You’re quick to shake your head, “No no, that’s not it at all! Actually, I’d prefer to do those.” 
“Oh. Cool.” He smiles thoughtfully to himself, although you miss it. 
You hum, “I like you?”
Niki suddenly shoots up, mouth gaping as he blinks at you. “E-Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I barely know-”
You roll your eyes, becoming a little flustered as you realize the double meaning behind your words. “I-I meant the song, you idiot. Who would suddenly confess like that..” your voice ends in a grumble. 
“It’s i like you by post malone,” your words come out unintentionally louder to get your point across. 
“Ah.” He pauses for a moment before agreeing, ears reddening. “Sure. I like his music.”
Then came the real challenge. Creating a whole new dance from scratch.  
Actually, you wanted to use that song for your own dance but seeing a bit of Niki’s dancing, you realized it would be a good fit for him too. You even brainstormed some moves but thinking about Niki’s reaction made you unsure. 
It’s fine, you reassure yourself. You’ll come up with something,  no matter what. The instructors chose you two for a reason. You needed to trust yourself and your partner. 
You suddenly clap your hands. “Let’s get to it.” 
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You prided yourself on making others, especially strangers, comfortable with you. Even if it didn’t seem like it with your usual blank expression and valued independence. Yes you prioritized dance, but time with others was something you enjoyed. Niki wasn’t an exception, except that he was pretty shy by himself. 
It surprised you a little, as from what you’ve heard from others he wasn’t like that at all. Then again, people said he was scary and like an annoying little kid at the same time so you couldn’t form an opinion right off the bat. 
As you mapped out ideas, pieces began to fall into place. That was one of the things you enjoyed most about choreographing your own performance. The satisfaction as parts began to connect and your hard work began to show its efforts, it was the best feeling for you. 
It helped that you two had a lot of experience under your belt- but that didn’t mean it was easy. 
You both fall to the floor, drained. After more than 12 hours spent on experimenting new moves, you check the time. 4am. 
You were used to it but adding on the burden of knowing you had about four and a half days left, your body felt heavier. 
“How far did we get?” You breathe out, eyes closing. 
“Almost one minute.” The sound of his husky voice makes you shiver and your eyes open. He must be tired. 
You sit up, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s more progress than I thought. We’re almost a third done,” you remind. 
“You’re right.” He groans while sitting up and your forehead creases in concern. 
“Niki, here.” 
You toss him water and he thanks you with surprise evident on his face. “Thanks.” 
“How much sleep did you get?” Although your actions seemed like they were out of concern, you simply didn’t want your partner passing out on the dance floor. Not when you had several more runs to get through.
Niki runs a hand through his hair, “Three hours, maybe? I was practicing and didn’t realize the time…”
His words strike you in gut. Real hard, because you were the exact same. You don’t know the amount of times you had answered in almost the exact same way when others asked you. 
You huff, “Go home and get some sleep, Niki. I want us both to be in our best condition since we have such limited time.”
He lets out a half scoff and half laugh. “You sound just like Instructor Woo. Why should I listen to you?”
“Okay,” you hold out your hand, “I want the water back. I bought it with my own money since the water here tastes like the sewers.”  
He pauses mid gulp and you can’t hold back your laugh. Swallowing, he stares at you indignantly.
“Hey, take that back. Our company water is perfectly fine.” 
You forgot he was the son of the CEO, but that still didn’t change your opinion. You make a sound of disapproval, “I don’t ever see you drinking it.”
Okay, so you got him there. He makes an expression like he’s been caught before breaking out in laughter and you can’t help but join in. 
The song you chose, you think it really united your styles together. That could’ve played a factor in why you and Niki got along quickly. Or the shared pressure that you both felt in order to get this dance executed as close as you could to perfect.
It had only been a few days spent with Niki and yet you could (and would) already consider yourself friends. After 10 years of passing each other in the halls silently, it was suddenly like you knew him all that time.  
Practicing was fun with Niki. He got you. Your humor matched, and the fact that you both learned the choreo quickly lightened a bit of the heavy load off your shoulders and made you less pressured. Countless hours of working hard paid off, making your miniature breaks with him even more worth it. 
To the point you would go out for a treat to reward yourself for the hard work. 
When he suggested ice cream, you gladly agreed. You paid for the both of you as Niki protested, leading to hours of bickering that didn’t stop during your practices. It only ended with a promise of next time, he would get it. 
“I said it was fine, Niki.” 
Your hands are on your hips, lips blowing out exasperated air as you shake your head again. 
You knew he was stubborn but not this stubborn. He rolls over to lay on his stomach, eyes peeking up you. Even when half of his face was covered by his arms, you could see the displeasure written all over his face. 
“You didn’t even let me pay you back!” He childishly objects, kicking his feet off the ground. You bite back a smile, fingers hovering over the play button. 
“Are you done? So we can continue practicing?”
You hear a muffled no as he gets up, warming up his body. 
“I’m not gonna give up,” he reminds as you approach him, getting into position. “Sure,” you agree with a grin, waiting for the countdown. 
“Next time. I’m getting it.” 
Next time? Taken by surprise, you start a second too late, glaring as Niki watches you with an amused yet fond look. You didn’t mean to get flustered but the longer Niki gives you that sly smirk, the harder it is for you to continue going on. When the section ends, you shove him and he snickers. You’re both breathing heavily but with matching smiles on your faces.
“Why were you looking at me like that?”  You try your best to seem annoyed. 
“What do you mean?” The fake clueless shrug makes you narrow your eyes at him. 
“Oh, so now you’re playing innocent?”
“Who was the one that couldn’t focus again?”
It’s because of you, you think silently. 
You weren’t sure if you were the only one that looked forward to working with Niki all day, seeing his face light up and laughing for hours on end until your stomach hurt. 
You really enjoyed seeing the side of him that many others couldn’t see, because it meant you had reached a deeper level. 
It meant Niki trusted you- he trusted you to be a little more vulnerable and show more of himself to you. 
You weren’t sure if you were the only one that felt it. 
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With about two days left, you two had been over the routine countless times. As much as you enjoyed the song, you were starting to get sick of hearing it again and again. 
Everyone else at the studio recognized it too. They saw your dedication and time spent together, the younger trainees whispering a lot in awe. 
Even at home in your bed quite late at night, while you were up texting your friends, they noticed it all too. 
Don’t you think you’re spending a lot of time with Niki?
I’ve never seen you around hang someone so much.. 
him neither-
You frown while reading the messages, fingers already flying across the screen to type out a response. Your reasoning? 
You both had an insane drive to win, and if that meant practicing 15 hours a day together, so be it. 
Your friends didn’t believe it. 
hmmmm nah 
We keep hearing that niki never spends this much time with someone else
like, not even with his friends 
You frown. You don’t even know what they’re getting at. With that, you leave their questions on read. 
But those messages stay in the back of your head leading up to the performance. You don’t think it’s a good idea to dwell, all your time and energy needed to be on this final performance and your other ones, and you didn’t want to break the groove. So you hold back. At least, you try to the night before competition day. 
The song ends and you don’t realize how much you’re ready to never listen to this song again. As much as you liked i like you (ironic, you know), the stress and trauma of the whole situation kinda ruined it. 
At least you had Niki to share it with. 
Satisfied with your performance, you look over at him and laugh, holding out a hand for a high five. He easily high-fives you back, grinning in content. 
“Good luck, partner.” 
Your smile unconsciously grows. “Good luck to you tomorrow, too.”
“Don’t sleep too late and stress about it, okay? We got this.” He must see through you and into the anxiety settled in your system since he was the one reassuring you, not the other way around. 
“Yes sir,” you joke. “You too, though,” you add warmly and he nods, almost shy? to the point where you can notice the sudden shift in the air. You cock your head-
“I just wanted to say thank you… and I’m glad that you’re my partner.” 
Your eyes widen at his confession, wandering around before deciding to settle on his shoes. You felt your heart pounding as the texts your friends sent echo in your head. 
“Me too,” you reply softly. 
The day of competition, you feel the familiar jitters in the pit of your stomach. Your duo with Niki came at the end after your solo performances, so you had some time to prepare yourself. 
With all the chaos of calling performers and getting hair and makeup done, you hadn’t seen him at all. But you knew he was going to ace it. You only hoped you would too. 
Your name is called and you exhale. It’s time. 
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By the end of your solo performances, you’re exhausted. But you can’t stop now. Ten minutes until you’re supposed to be called for your duo performance and you don’t know where Niki is. You were already dressed and waiting for your partner. 
You asked several people if they saw him but to no avail. Just for a second, you decide to sit down somewhere with free space to rest your tired legs. Competition day was high energy and constantly draining, but that’s what you loved about it. 
“Y/n!” 
Your head whips up, glancing around to find the owner of the voice. Niki pushes past a few people, getting over to you while panting. 
“Niki!” You call out, surprised. 
He stops in his tracks. You say his name again, slightly concerned this time. 
“You look really good.” 
You cough, trying to hide your embarrassment at his sudden compliment. 
“You do too.” 
He fiddles with his hands, biting back a smile. “Thanks. Sorry I was late, my event ended 15 minutes later because of someone who didn’t show.”
You roll your eyes, “That’s sucks- I get it, don’t worry.” Eyes shining, Niki takes a step closer and your mouth falls shut. 
It felt like he was about to say something, probably something important, but you hear your names getting called. You give him a look as if to say, go ahead and say it quickly, but he shakes his head. 
Instead of words, Niki offers a hand and you gladly squeeze it, heart feeling like it was going to burst as you made your way to the stage. 
Showtime.
Needless to say, you aced it. The cheering crowd and endless compliments from your fellow friends and dancers made it even more obvious. You didn’t get much alone time with Niki after the performance, but it was okay because you knew you would see him at the award ceremony.
Even Instructor Woo approached you both, clapping with an impressed look. “No wonder you two are the best, you did not disappoint me. I’m proud of you guys, keep it up.”
You share amused looks with Niki, having already joked and laughed to the point of tears from Woo’s cold persona.  
The hardest part was the time for awards.
As they called out different categories and sections, you zoned out in your seat. How could you not? After a long week of practice, practice, and more practice, your mind flew through the past couple of days. 
Meeting Niki again, getting to know him, adjusting your dancing together, having fun together, stressing together- all in the span of a week. Yet as he sat a few chairs from from you, you realized you didn’t want it to end. 
You wanted to keep doing all those things with him. It felt like you had known each other for years, and besides the fact that most of those years were spent as strangers, you realize your time together was precious- it had just started. Regardless of if you won or not, you didn’t want Niki and you to be strangers again. 
You didn’t want to lose him.
Just as that realization hits you, you hear the announcer call out your and Niki’s section. Your breath hitches as your hands grow clammy. Unbeknownst to you, Niki’s eyes flick over to you. 
“And the first place is…” 
You can hear your heart pounding, blood rushing. In that second, your eyes meet his. Everything without any words, you understand with that single glance. 
You don’t, or do, expect your name to be called, followed by Niki’s. 
Without even thinking about it, you rise up from your seat, fellow trainees and dancers cheering so loud the sound echoed in your head for days after, and even through all of that you can only focus on Niki. 
People get out of the way as your body moves on its own, directing you towards him as he gets closer. Suddenly, you’re engulfed by Niki, his scent filling your nose as he picks you up and spins you around. That’s when you break out of it. 
He’s laughing, you’re smiling. 
“Congrats, partner.”
You laugh brightly, reaching to tussle his hair. “Congrats too. I’m proud of you.” 
His gaze sucks you in- it’s like you can’t even force yourself to look away. You could care less about the surrounding people. 
“Maybe after,” he starts carefully, and you swallow, “after the competition is over- do you wanna like, get out of here?”
A huge wave of relief washes over you. Maybe it’s the relieved pressure of finishing this performance or the way that Niki’s staring at you while biting his lips in what you think is nervousness. 
“I would very much like that,” you pause and Niki looks visibly happier at that compared to just seconds earlier when you two were just announced as the winners. You shyly cough, 
“-and I very much like you.” 
Niki freezes at you abrupt confession. You avoid his stare, swiftly regretting your heat of the moment decision.
Without realizing it in your embarrassment, Niki swoops down to give you a quick peck. Very much in front of your whole company. Gasps and squeals fill the air, unless you just imagined it. 
Now you’re the one taken aback. 
“Me too,” he smirks while murmuring, 
“I like you.” 
Those three words you thought you were sick of didn’t sound too bad coming out of Niki’s mouth.  
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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months
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📖"Jilted" - part 2
Rated: Explicit
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Tags: boyfriend's dad au, left at the altar, father-in-law, hurt/comfort, forbidden attraction, silver fox Steve, age gap, size kink, strength kink, Dom/sub elements, daddy kink, fingering, oral sex, grinding, sex, dirty talk, cheating
Summary: You may be a jilted bride, but you don't feel like one for long when Steve soothes the hurt in unexpected ways.
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Part 2 - "Taken to Bed by a Man" (Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)
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Only hours ago, you were walking to the altar to marry a boy, and now you’re being taken to bed by a man—that very boy’s father. The reality of it becomes very clear as Steve walks into his bedroom with you in his arms and sets you down. Your toes dig into the room’s soft carpet.
“Turn around,” he whispers.
You obey, shivering as he steps in close behind. You can hear his breathing, can practically feel his desire for you. Somehow, he seems more tangible than he ever has before. More real, more solid, and you’re painfully aware of how close he is. “S-steve,” you breathe. “I—”
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, cutting you off. “I’m sorry I never told you. A woman like you should hear it every day.”
You want to say something, tell him that this is wrong, you can’t do this. He’s … he’s Pat’s father, decades older than you. He’s Captain America, for Christssakes. You shouldn’t want him the way you do. And now he’s got you doubting everything, every interaction you’ve ever had with him, every lingering glance, every brief touch, every polite word. From that very first time Pat brought you home to meet his father, the famed “man out of time.”
Steve doesn’t age normally, that much is obvious. You know about the serum, know that he was in his late twenties when they defrosted him back in the ‘nineties. And thirty years later, he doesn’t look as old as he should. His body and face are still those of a forty year old, betrayed only by the edges of his eyes, by the grey creeping into his hair and beard. He’s a total daddy, a thought that you’ve been shamefully repressing for the past two years. You’ve been so embarrassed by it, thought you were being such a creep, thinking about Pat’s father that way. Has Steve really been looking at you too all this time? You open your mouth to say something, offer some protest or reason why you can’t—
“Ask me to take your dress off.”
Your whole body clenches at how deep his voice is, how close he’s speaking to your ear. You tremble, able to feel the heat of his body behind you. “Steve, I …”
“Ask me,” he whispers, fingers skimming over your neck and shoulders. “Come on, Honey. Ask me. I promise I’ll only make you do it once.”
God. You manage to choke out an overwhelmed, “Please,” and thankfully it seems to be enough for him. His fingers find the laces of your dress and begin to delicately undo them. He goes slowly, almost like he’s relishing the act of removing your wedding gown. He peels off the dress that his son was meant to remove from your body that night, the fabric falling to the floor in a quiet ‘whoosh’, and his hands landing on your waist.
“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding amazed. You whimper and try to move away, skittish, but he stops you, pulling you back firmly against his body with a tut. “You’re okay,” he soothes, arms wrapping around you to hold you close and calm you down. “Shhh. I got you.”
“S-steve,” you breathe, overwhelmed by how wrong this is, how turned on you are when he touches you. “We can’t, I shouldn’t.”
“Why shouldn’t you?” his hot breath fans out against your ear, then he starts kissing your neck and his hands slide covetously over your body. “Wanted you for so long, Sweetheart. Wanted to give you what you were aching for.” You whimper and try to pull away, but his hand slides over your tummy and pulls you back. “It’s okay. I’ve known. You think I didn’t know? Think I didn’t see you looking at me?”
“I – I didn’t …”
“Shh. There’s a girl. Let me touch you.” He’s so effortlessly strong and it feels so good to be held still by him. He rubs your belly and his other hand slides up your ribcage. “So beautiful.” He cups your breast, fingers dipping under the cup of your bra. “God, Honey. Look at you.”
You look down and exhale shakily, your cunt pulsing at the sight of his huge hand against your skin and the delicate lace of your bridal underwear. “Steve,” you breathe, shaking from nerves and arousal. “I want …”
“What do you want?” he whispers, lips trailing over your neck. He places a kiss on your pulse point, feels how fast your heart is beating. “Want me to take control?” he offers softly, almost kindly, like he can sense how overwhelmed you are. “I can do that, Sweetheart. Make it easy for you, make all the decisions. Is that what you want, hm? Want me to lay you out on this bed and do all the work?”
It’s pathetic, how fast you whine and nod, wanting that so badly. “Yes,” you say, grabbing at his hands where they’re feeling you up. “Please, Steve. Yes.”
He chuckles, low and with just a touch of condescension, the sound going straight to your core. You squeeze your thighs together to try and get some relief, but it doesn’t do any good. “Come on, then,” Steve says, moving you with capable hands. He guides you over and pushes on your shoulders until he’s got you sitting on the edge of the bed. You’re left staring at him, standing there in front of you in his tux, looking obscenely handsome, confident, and—oh …
His cock isn’t even fully hard yet, and it’s still a healthy bulge at the front of his slacks. You feel your cheeks heat as you can’t help but stare at it. It is right there, after all. You flush all the harder when he notices you looking and chuckles at you. One of those enormous hands brushes up against the front of his pants, and you nearly moan at the sight of him touching himself.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You’ll get it. But first …” he sinks down to kneel in front of you, reaching for the straps of your bra. You tense when he starts to pull them off your shoulders, moving to reach behind yourself and unhook the bra, but he hushes you and stills your hands. “Shh, no. Let me do it, Honey. I want to do it.” He gets your bra off and tosses it aside, groaning as he kneels in front of you and looks his fill. “God, you got no idea,” he murmurs, sounding distracted by what he’s seeing. “No idea how long I’ve been wanting this.” His hands make an abortive move, as if he doesn’t know where or how to touch you first. “Shit, lookit you.”
“How long?” you ask on impulse, surprising even yourself. His eyes shoot up to your face, and you swallow heavily under his stare. “H-how long, have you wanted to?” you breathe.
He smiles, then his eyes trail back down and he sighs happily. He reaches out and just sort of … pets the tips of your breasts, brow pinching with want as he watches your nipples harden into firm peaks. “Jesus.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe he’s getting to touch you. “Oh, Doll ... Since I met you.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” he says distractedly, big hands cupping your tits, making them look small and delicate against his rough palms. You’ve never noticed how masculine his hands are …
“S-since—”
“Since the first time you came in my house looking like you do, yes,” he growls, giving your breasts a squeeze. “Shit.”
His soft cursing makes you flush, feeling warm and exposed and needy and seen. “Steve,” you say, voice warbling with audible worry. You wait until his blue eyes come up to meet yours—God, are his eyes ever blue. You swallow heavily.
“What is it, Sweetheart?”
You chew your lip. “If we do this …” you fret, thinking about the wedding, about Patrick, about how fucked up this is going to make your life.
Steve’s hands smooth over your thighs. “Do you really want him back?” he asks you—knowingly. He meets your gaze without doubt, shaking his head the barest bit. “No going back,” he murmurs. You whimper, and he hushes you. “I know, Honey, I know it’s scary. But you can trust me.”
Delicately, he reaches for the clips of your garters and begins undoing them, one at a time. You’re stuck watching, helpless, as he looks you in the eye and gently eases your stockings down your legs. They’re the real deal: silk, seamed, non-elastic, and a strange feeling rolls through you as you watch Steve’s fingers move over them deftly and you realize that he likely knows what he’s doing because these were the sort that girls wore back in his day.
“Don’t worry, Angel.” He kisses the inside of a knee. “This isn’t just for tonight. I have every intention of keeping you.” His eyes flash upwards again, and you feel heat course through you at his face being right there between your legs … And at his words. He sees your face pinch with doubt and he nods. “Yeah. I told you you’re mine, now. I don’t say things like that unless I mean ‘em.”
“But …” you falter, not sure what you’re even planning to say. But I’m supposed to be engaged to your son. But I’m supposed to be married to him. But people will know, people will—
He slides his hands over your hips and starts edging your panties down, maintaining that all-consuming eye contact as he does it. “But what?” he purrs. “You worried about what people will say?”
You shake your head in denial, but the truth is that you are. Buzzfeed and CNN had been at that cathedral, goddamnit, and there’ll be articles tomorrow about what happened. What on earth will the headlines say when word gets out that you’ve traded in Captain America’s son for the Captain himself?
“You worry too much,” Steve says, easing your panties down your legs and guiding you to let them slip from your feet. He lifts your calf and kisses the inside of your ankle, smirking. “I’m Captain America, Everybody loves me. And I’m allowed to have nice things.” His gaze slides down to the vee of your legs, and you watch as his eyes rapidly darken to something greedy and ravenous. He makes a gruff sound in his throat, utterly possessive, and the next thing you know he’s shoving your knees further apart and forcing his way in, arms hooking underneath your thighs and wrapping around to hold onto you.
You squeak as his broad shoulders push your legs apart and you tip backwards. You catch yourself on your hands and prop yourself back up in time to watch the inaugural press of his mouth against your sex. And oh, it feels almost as good as it looks. You inhale sharply and your hips jump up of their own volition. He’s only pressed a chaste kiss against you, right up high on your mound, but the sight of Steve Rogers’ face between your legs, his head of silver-blond hair and his dark lashes resting against his cheeks as he noses against your most intimate place … it’s enough to have you clenching hard on nothing, slicking up so much that you can feel it getting messy and wet.
You whimper in arousal and impulsively reach with one of your hands to try and hold his head. “Jesus, Steve,” you whisper, turned on beyond belief. It only gets worse when he looks up at you again. You exhale shakily, belly heaving at the way his eyes scald you in their intensity.
“Tell me,” he rasps. “Tell me what you want me to do with my mouth.”
Jesus fucking Christ, that’s not fair. You whine and pant down at him. “Nnn, Steve …” You can’t. You can’t.
“Come on, Sweetheart,” he coaxes, voice like sin. “I know what I promised. And I meant it. I’ll take control. I’ll make it easy for you, and so goddamn good you won’t remember your name.” He turns his face and kisses the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want it. “But I want to hear you say it, first. Please. Just do that for me, Babydoll, and then I’ll make you feel so good.”
You swallow thickly, turned on beyond belief and knowing that if you want him, you’re going to have to put your big girl panties on and do this one thing for him. So, despite the fact that most of your brain cells have liquified and run out through your ears at this point—and despite the fact that you are not one for dirty talking in the bedroom—you look him right in the eyes and croak out a breathless, “Kiss my pussy, Steve. Put your mouth on me and lick it, suck—ogn …” You cut off in a moan when he seals his mouth right over your clit and sucks hard. “Oh my god.”
“Mmhm,” he groans. He sucks your folds into his mouth and flattens his tongue, rubbing it firmly against your clit and working methodically at it until it’s puffy and swollen. “Mmm. Mmph.” His sounds of enjoyment only make it filthier, and you can’t hold back your own choked off little moans and gasps at the eager way his arms grab onto you and haul you in for more, the way he purposefully grinds his face against you and uses his nose to give you more pressure from above your clit.
You wind up sobbing and tossing your head back as you feel yourself gush, and for a long moment you don’t even realize how much you're humping his face, rubbing yourself off against him, trying to get more of that sucking mouth and that lashing, sinful tongue. “Oh, shit. Holy shit …”
You should be mortified by your own desperation, by the sounds you’re making. Maybe you would be, but for the way that Steve responds to it. He growls and jerks you in harder against him, grinding his face into your cunt, sucking and slurping and then hurriedly freeing up one hand to push his fingers into you.
You cry out sharply as he tries to start with two but quickly halts when he can tell that it’s too much. He softens and slows down, kissing your clit in gentle apology, slipping one finger inside your drenched pussy instead. “There we go,” he hums in response to the pleasured sigh you give and looks up at you while he works his finger gently. “That feel good, Sugar?”
You’re gonna die from the fucking pet names, and that is perfectly okay. You nod dumbly down at him, eyes glued to his gaze once again as he fingers you. “Y-yeah,” you say shakily. “Steve …”
He kisses the hood of your clit and drags his lips over it. “Has it been awhile?” he asks, with all the tender concern of a lover who wants to please.
It makes your belly swirl just as hard as his mouth on you had, and you whimper and nod, working your hips down a little against his finger. “I h-haven’t,” you stutter, “Nn … not, oh, not in a while.” You don’t elaborate, and you sure as shit aren't going to admit it now, but the truth is you’ve been avoiding sex with Patrick the closer the big day got; telling yourself that it was to make the wedding night more special, when in reality you suspect it was something else entirely. You whimper and shake your head shyly, and Steve seems to understand that you don’t want to talk about it.
“Shh,” he soothes, kissing your thigh again as he keeps working his hand against you so gently. “That’s okay. We’ll take it slow. We’re not in any rush, ain’t that right?”
You can only whimper and nod, and he coos and smiles at you and how you’ve gone nonverbal already. “Yeah,” he purrs, smiling. “Don’t even worry about it, Babygirl. Daddy’s gonna treat this pussy right. Gonna make you feel so nice, get you real good and relaxed, teach you things you didn’t even know you could do.”
You cry out at how excruciatingly intimate those words are, at the way he kisses your hyper-sensitized clit and changes the angle of his hand, finger dragging up against your walls slower and more purposefully and firm. Your eyes clamp shut and you toss your head back with a pitiful keen. “St-eve, oh, please, please …”
“Mmhm.” He keeps going, still gentle but picking up on what you like, figuring out what makes you get louder and squirm harder. He fucks you on his hand and nurses at your clit in a constant, pulsing rhythm—steady, steady—reading your body’s cues and committing himself to the task, breaking away every once and awhile just to murmur little things against your cunt:
“That’s it, Sweetheart, just like that. Such a good girl. Keep going baby, yes. Let it come, let it happen for me.”
When you get close he stops talking, sealing his mouth to your pleasure and humming his praise straight into your skin instead. And it’s so good, building and building, and he’s doing it just right, holy fuck …
You fall to your back on the bed, Steve following right after you as it makes your pelvis tilt up, never breaking contact, never faltering as your hands scrabble and claw at his hair and your cries get louder and sharper. He holds you down as you start to thrash, desperate for the edge you can feel so close, so close …
Your legs wind up around his head and your heels dig wildly into his back, and still he doesn’t falter, grunting and slurping against you, giving you what you need so good that you sob.
“Oh please, please, Steve! I’m gonna cum, I’m–I’m gonna … ohhh …”
He groans right along with you as it happens, keeping that same exquisite pressure and pace in such an ungodly competent way that you just about scream from how grateful you are. He’s perfect. You sob as the pleasure crests and wanes so sharply, leaving you trembling and gasping breathless little “thank you’s” at him over and over again as he eases off and climbs up your body.
“Shh, sh sh. There we go. Aww, I know, Angel, I know. It’s okay. Did that just feel so good?”
He coos a rhetorical litany of gentle praise at you as he climbs up and rearranges your body fully on the bed, telling you how beautiful you are, how good, how much he wants you. His hands are everywhere, attentive and comforting, petting your legs and smoothing over your belly and chest as he gazes down at you adoringly. It’s romantic, intimate, and like nothing you ever had with Patrick.
You sigh happily and whisper Steve’s name instead, which only seems to please him more. He sidles up alongside you and slots one thick thigh between your legs. That’s when you realize that he’s still completely clothed and you make a tiny noise of protest. Though there is something deliciously dirty about him clothed and you bare, the fabric of his tux over the firm muscle of his thigh pressing up against your soaked core, you still want to feel him. “Steve,” you breathe, pulling at his shirt impatiently. “You too, please.”
He chuckles and nods, hushing your protests as he continues to luxuriate in smoothing his hands over your body. “Hang on, Sweetheart. I will, I will. Let me do this. I’ve always wanted to. Always. Don’t make me rush.”
“Steve,” you sigh.
“Shhh. Good girl. Just let me have this first.” He continues on, heedless of his own body and fully intent on yours, keeping you on that cloud of hazy, post-orgasmic pleasure.
It’s as he’s hovering over you like that, pressing you into the sheets and kissing tender affection all over your face—worshiping you, for lack of a better word—that you realize:
He’s treating you like a groom treats his bride.
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Masterlist
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This has been a fill for:
@steverogersbingo
Card: #sb3088 - stark-contrast
Square D2: "I've always wanted to do that"
@allcapsbingo
Card: sarahyellow AC1105
Square: FREE SPACE (wedding night)
@marvel-smash-bingo
Card: sarah-writes-stucky
Square N4: daddy kink
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paddockbunny · 1 year
Note
Hey! Could you maybe write Either Lando/Charles smut with 2&5. like Max walks in and he‘s the resders Brother and it‘s embarrassing and stuff. Maybe its like soft Sex if you know what i mean? Like all Gentle and stuff as Max walks in and is like: What the fuck! That‘s my Sister! Maybe could you do it like they were having a secret relationship? If you don‘t like the Idea or can‘t write it bc i am really bad at explaining, that‘s fine don‘t worry. Hope you have a great Day/Night!
“That’s my sister”
Summary: You didn’t mean to fall for Lando Norris- your brothers opponent - and what started as just sex quickly turned into a lot, lot more….but what happens when your brother Max finds out? Rating: 18+. Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader (Max Verstappen’s younger sister). Word Count : 3,869. Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult material, adult language, PinV sex mention, sneaking around, J*s Verstappen, angry family situation, angsty vibes. 💞 Authors Note : Im so sorry this isn’t the best work I’ve put out but I am choked full of the cold and convinced I have the flu I’m feeling so bad rn. Anyway, I’ll put the “read more” thing in when I can because I know that annoys some people.
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His loud groan flowed into your ear as lazily his hips jerked a few more times till he was totally spent. His breathing was just as crazed and erratic as yours. The mutual high that electrified both of your bodies was by now addictive and you weren’t sure you could quit it even if your life depended upon it. Lando’s forehead pressed against yours momentarily, still trying to catch his breath, before he pulled back and glared down at you. He drank you in. Wanting to savour the look on your face as much as you did with his. Until finally, he gave you what you wanted. He kissed you. His lips pressed firmly against yours and the action distracted you from him pulling out.
Your eyes followed him as he rolled off of you and lay on his back, a smirk dancing playfully across his mouth turned into a somewhat boastful smile when he saw that you were still watching him. He didn’t need to ask if you were satisfied, the fact you had just been breathily moaning his name repeatedly for the past few minutes as he edged you closer and closer to an orgasm told him that already.
The pair of you stayed like that for a while. Just simply laying there side by side, not saying anything at all, just listening to each other as breathing became less of a task and returned to normal. You knew you had to move, get redressed and return back to your hotel, and yet there was nothing in the world you wanted to do less. You wished you could stay here for the night. In Lando’s arms, perhaps having a round two (or three) and then falling asleep curled up together but that wasn’t possible. Instead you took a deep breath and slipped out from under the covers. “Already?” He asked sounding a little melancholy. You couldn’t find words as you looked for your disregarded underwear so only nodded. He sat up, resting his head on the headboard and watched you while you began to get redressed. You didn’t want to look at him. You didn’t want to see his face tinged with something that resembled sadness or worse, annoyance. “Are you leaving tomorrow? After the race?” “Uh…” you pulled your bra up your arms, situated your boobs and and reached around to clasp it around your back. “Yeah, I think so. Seven I think.” You shrug knowing exactly what was about to come out of Lando’s mouth. “Do you have to? Can you stay another day? Fly home with me on Monday night?” “Lando….” His name rolled off your tongue with a sad frustrated sound. You had been here before. He did this all the time. He always attempted to guilt trip you into staying, with him, longer than you actually could. “And what do I tell Max? Huh? Why I want to stay here another day?” You sighed and found your jeans. Shoving your feet into them before yanking them up and over your ass while he watched. Silently.
By the time you had put all of your clothes back on, gone to the bathroom and made yourself look presentable again, Lando had come up with a response to the little problem of your brother.
“Why don’t we just tell him?” You couldn’t hold back your sarcastic sounding laugh. “I’m serious.” “Because he will cut your balls off, publicly.” Lando knew you were right. He knew Max would have destroyed him, especially as he had warned him several times not to even think about you or look in your direction because you were off limits to him.
“Fuck!” He let out a frustrated, piss off expletive and banged his head back on the headboard he had been resting it against. The thing was, you weren’t ready to tell your brother yet and it wasn’t because you were scared of how he would react. It was because it made you and Lando official. And by being official with Lando you would become a target for his fans just like his ex-girlfriend had been. But it would be worse because you were a Verstappen and so you’d have your older brothers army coming after you as well. So if you were being completely truthful, you didn’t know if you’d ever be ready to be “out” with Lando. But right now, you hated leaving him like this. So pent up and frustrated, not at you but at the situation. You glanced at him as you checked your bag to make sure you hadn’t left anything and your heart pinged in your chest. He was so fucking handsome and you always had to play a war between your heart and your head when it came to him.
“I’ll see you next weekend.” You sat, pausing for a tender moment right beside him on the hotel bed that the pair of you had just made love in. He sat up right and pressed his forehead against yours.
“I love you. That’s why this whole thing is…” Of all the things you had expected him to say that was not one of them. He hadn’t told you he loved you before so it was all you could focus on. Three stupidly small words that you couldn’t remember ever hearing from another before let alone a guy. And you realised you had frozen when you felt his hand brush tenderly over your cheek as a wave of guilt hit you because you weren’t sure if you could repeat the words back to him just yet. “Lan….” You breathed out his name but he shushed you immediately. “Just because I’ve said it doesn’t mean you have to say it back, not yet. I just wanted you to know.” Your stomach flipped that he knew you better than you knew yourself and then when he kissed you you felt like you were suddenly underwater. You tried but you couldn’t quite place the emotions that were wracking through.
“See you next week?” He asked against your lips and you nodded. “See you next week.” You repeated back to him before taking a deep breath and raising from the bed.
When you closed his hotel room door and headed down the corridor you realised you were broadly smiling. Lando just said he loved you.
He loves you.
And you love him. You just needed to summon the strength to admit it.
But it posed one monumentally large challenge to you. How the hell do you tell your brother?!
One week later
Max had been wittering on about something still bothering him from yesterdays press interviews the whole car ride to the track. You added in the occasional “uh huh” and “yes, Max” to satisfy him but your mind was elsewhere. It was firmly fixated on the back and forth rapid texting going on between you and Lando the past few days. Particularly last nights texts, because those were emblazoned in your mind. They started off innocently enough until Lando outed the fact he had just gotten out of the shower and he was having a especially hard time since the excitement of seeing you soon hit him. And then the inevitable happened and the pair of you had FaceTime sex. And now, as much as it disgusted you as you sat in the car with your brother, you had to cross your legs to try and stem the uncomfortable palpitations going on at the apex of your thighs.
Thankfully, you managed to escape Max as soon as the pair of you arrived in the paddock. Media grabbed him almost immediately (much to his annoyance) meaning you were free to go grab a nice ice cold glass of water to try aid how hot you had gotten from the memories of last nights dirty escapades. As you walked toward the Red Bull hospitality suite you made sure to flash a smile at some of the familiar TV reporters that always seemed to ride your brothers dick. The phoney hello and wave only made you mutter a “fucking prick” under your breath even more. And you were just about safe. Moments from being home free and ascend the stairs to get that much needed drink of water when you saw Lando across the way leaving the McLaren camp with his race suit tied low around his waist. Your mouth salivated at the mere look of him dressed in his race suit. You paused for a second in pure admiration mode until he looked over and caught you staring. If you hadn’t just remembered the thought of his face as he came while getting off to you over video call, you’d have been embarrassed about staring but right now you smirked and looked at him up and down. You watched and Lando tried not to laugh at your response then said something to his media girls before heading over toward you. Your mind went into pure panic mode momentarily as you glanced around to check that Max (nor anyone else that could have gotten you into trouble) would see. Thankfully, everyone seemed far too busy to be bothered.
“See something you like?” Lando grinned cheekily. “You have no idea how much….” You purred right back and he rolled his tongue side to side to stop himself from getting as excited as he did last night. But then he flashed his eyes around and you watched as his jaw clenched as if he was trying to think of anything but you naked. You were just about to tease him further by telling him how hot and bothered you were seeing him with his race suit around his waist and that your panties were growing wetter by the second but he spoke first.
“Are you coming over tonight? I can’t stop thinking about you.” Fuck. He always managed to set you on fire and as you became convinced you were blushing he had accomplished that job. “I can’t tonight. My dad’s flying in and wants to have a family dinner with Max and I.” You rolled your eyes. The thought of sitting at an awkward dinner while your father spoke mainly of racing to Max and ignored you completely, pained you but you didn’t want to tell Lando that. He groaned lowly and rolled his head back dramatically which made you snigger at him. And as he opened his mouth to say something else - no doubt rude and implying you were giving him blue balls - your name was loudly shouted across the paddock.
“Fuck!” You groaned and followed it up with a sigh. “He’s heading over.” Lando stated and although you figured it was better that he left and avoided any sort of conversation with Max in that moment, Lando stayed put.
“What’s going on?” Max eyed the pair of you suspiciously. “Trying to make a move of her again Norris?” You gritted your teeth through sheer embarrassment. Max had consistently played the role of the overprotective older brother since, well, forever. Ever since the dawned on him that his baby sister was something of a stone cold fox Max went into overdrive with the scaring off any and all potential interested males role. Which was exactly why you had to sneak around behind his back. I mean, he would have an absolute coronary if he knew you and Lando had secretly been hooking up (and become a thing) for months. “Perhaps it’s me making a move on him, Max.” You sassed him back and Max just glared at you without a single shred of amusement in his face.
“I’m just going to leave before I get in the middle of a Verstappen V Verstappen fight. I’ll see you around, y/n.” Lando bowed out of the awkwardness of the situation Max had caused but not before he made sure to send you a knowing smug look. And now that you were utterly frustrated with your brother you turned to continue your earlier task and fetch an ice cold glass of water.
Unfortunately for you, Max happened to follow you. “What did he mean by that?” He asked as you reached one of the fridges that sat in the hospitality suite - which was usually full of solely Red Bull but had a secret stash of bottled water down on the bottom shelf behind the branding - and took out a bottle. “Mean by what?” You played dumb. “When he said he would see you later?” “It’s a turn of phrase, Max.” You rolled your eyes, hoping he would buy it. When you turned to him and finally looked at his face you could see the familiar pissed off look that he always had when it came to the thought of you and any guy. It was one that reminded you of your father and that was certainly something you didn’t like. Nervously you swallowed because you knew what was coming. “I don’t like the thought of him getting friendly with you. Norris. He’s not….he’s too immature, to childish for you not to mention a fucking driver and fancies himself as a player.” And there it was. The reason it was so hard for you to tell Max about your budding romance with Lando and the exact reason you had been sneaking about behind his back.
Your leg bounced anxiously under the table. Not because you were nervous but because you were desperate for this fucking shit show of a family dinner to end. You could see it in Max’s face that he wanted to be anywhere but currently sat in the expensive restaurant and you probably mimicked it in your own too, but your father continued. As suspected he spoke about racing the whole time. He sat and went over all of the things Max needed to improve on to win this weekend and you could see the pressure getting more and more piled on your brother by the minute. However, you were almost thankful your father was paying you no attention as it meant you could continue texting Lando under the table and zone out of the awkwardness of the evening altogether. Lando sent you a few funny memes when you complained of being bored and wanting nothing less than a meteorite to come smashing down to earth to get you out of the restaurant. He sent you a photo of his sad face and then another of his empty bed with a stick figure drawn on it that was supposed to be you. You chuckled at that one which you had to cover up with a fake cough.
“Everything ok?” Your dad glanced at you and you nodded. But then it dawned on you this was a perfect way to escape. You could fake illness. Your dad would be so paranoid that you might get Max sick that he would order you to go back to your hotel room and stay away from your brother so not to ruin his chances this week. Max would probably be miffed with you for doing it because it left him alone dealing with Dad but it was a price you were willing to pay to relinquish you from the hell you were currently in. You coughed again and grabbed your water. It was a little over the top and dramatic but you clutched at your throat and rubbed your glands to plant the seed.
“What’s wrong with you?” Once again, your dad glanced in your direction. “I don’t know. I’ve feel a bit yuk all day. I have a sore throat and this funny cough.” Max lowered his head and looked at you with a furrowed brow. He was on to you all most immediately. “Why didn’t you say earlier?” You shrugged at your Dad’s question. “You shouldn’t have come. You could have passed whatever you have on to Max!” He exclaimed.
“I think I should go back to the hotel. Get an early night. It’s probably nothing but I agree, I don’t want to get Maxy sick.” Your eyes darted toward your brother who had a face full of thunder. Your Dad agreed with you and made a hand gesture to hurry your departure up. You heard him tutting as you got up and grabbed your bag. You knew he was about to call you selfish or stupid for endangering Max’s race this weekend but you couldn’t give a fuck. You were out of that room as fast as your feet could carry you and your fingers could text Lando to tell him you were free. As you expected, Lando text you back almost immediately and you laughed loudly when he suggested he sneak into your hotel.
It wasn’t until you walked through the lobby of the Red Bull team hotel and were accosted around the middle by a pair of arms that you realised he was completely serious. A shriek escaped you till you heard Lando saying;
“Shhh, it’s me!” In your ear. You seriously thought he was joking when you initially text him and hadn’t for one single moment thought he was serious. You snapped around and found him with his hood up and hat on, practically trying to disguise himself in an opposing team hotel. “How are you…” You couldn’t even get the words out to ask him how he was even here in the hotel of the competition. “Told them I was meeting with Horner.” He was still pressed up against you, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him and you about lost your mind. Well in fact, you did loose your mind because suddenly you found your mouth on his. Your lips grazed across his but it was Lando that deepened it by running his tongue across your bottom lip and begging you to allow him in. As you did and his tongue collided with yours his hands gripped your body tighter, holding you even closer to himself. But then, as you were utterly lost in the moment, your name was practically shouted across the hotel lobby.
Snapping back, ripping your lips away from Lando’s, you looked straight to the sound of the voice and met your brothers eyes. His face was one of shock and utter pure horror. And suddenly your heart pounded mercilessly in your chest and panic began to ravish your body as he crossed the floor thunderously. You were frozen. Utterly and completely frozen. You had never disappointed him before and this was way beyond disappointment. You’re breath caught in your throat and just before he reached the pair of you you tore yourself off of Lando and stepped away from him toward a Max with your hands stretched out. You saw the slightly manic look in his eyes and you were genuinely concerned. You had seen him angry before but this was a whole other level that reminded you of your father and that terrified you.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” He roared, by passing you completely and promptly gave Lando a very firm shove backwards. “THATS MY SISTER!” He yelled.
“Max!” You tried to pull him back as he pushed Lando again. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” He continued and by this point he was causing a scene and the hotel were very obviously calling team security. “Max please, calm down.” You tried to order him but his head snapped to you and his look was one that warned you to stop. As he raised his hands to push Lando again you grabbed hold of him and ducked in between them.
“I love him, Max.” You said it so plainly. “I love him.” You repeated and you realised you hadn’t even said it to Lando yet and here you were telling Max this before him. You hoped that in that moment you declared your love for his fellow driver but also one of his competitors that he saw the expression all over your face and comprehended it as genuine. That you were completely and utterly telling the truth.
An eternity seemed to pass. Silence falling between the three of you. Max stared at you as if you would burst into flames any moment and it killed you seeing him so furious with you because you were so incredibly close as siblings. You felt tears begin to sting your eyes. Then as you thought things were about to go nowhere and this Mexican stand off would continue Max held out a room key to you.
“You forgot this.” He stated bluntly and tentatively you took it from him. Then without a single shred of warning he took off toward the elevators and you turned at breakneck speed around to Lando. Flinging your arms around him and tipping hold of him tightly you felt the sudden, built up tension release from your body. “This might not be the moment but…did you mean it? Do you love me?” You looked into his beautiful, captivating green eyes and nodded. “Max will come round.” “I don’t know, Lando. I know what he’s like and how stubborn he will be. I’ve disappointed him by lying to him, I don’t know how we’ll recover from this.”
Six Weeks Later
“Will you just stop staring at them like that! It’s becoming creepy!” Max’s girlfriend groaned as she noticed how Max had not stopped staring at you and Lando walking hand in hand through the paddock. “Besides, look at her, she’s glowing.” “I fucking hate this.” He gritted his teeth together when he finally attempted to look away but found himself looking back at them again. It was like he was rubbernecking on his sisters new relationship.
“I thought you were coming round to it? You said she seemed happy just last night.” Max had said that. He had said it as he was about to get into bed and had a horrible wave of guilt wash over him about the situation. He saw them together yesterday on media day and they seemed so suited. As much as it killed him to admit it he couldn’t help but think how good they looked with each other. Which meant he now felt like was the worst big brother ever. He had probably overreacted to seeing them kissing in the lobby of the hotel a few weeks ago, and he wasn’t sure she would ever forgive him for that. But now as he watched you throw your head back in riotous laughter as Lando’s face was filled with adoration, he knew he had to accept you had chosen one of his opponents as the man to make you happy.
“I did. I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” He sighed frustratingly. There was nothing he had said in the six weeks since he found out that he hadn’t already said. He went through all the stages of being angry, hurt and pure denial in short succession. However now, as he observed Lando slipping his hand into yours he accepted he needed to concede defeat and acknowledge that his baby sister was indeed in love with Lando Norris.
“Just go and talk to her. Settle it. Please.” His girlfriends voice seemed like the voice of reason because Max missed you and hated not talking to you. “She might not even want to talk to me….” He sighed heavily because this had been weighing on him all this time and he simply missed her baby sister. “I will…” Max conceded “but not here, not in front of cameras.” He knew he would probably have to grovel and you wouldn’t make accepting his apology easy but he was willing to try because he loved you and that was that. He simply loved you.
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