#but that could stay with him for... Well... A long time.

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬

contents: fluff. satoru makes sweet promises about the future with you. 800 wc.

“What would you say if I retired today?”

The words left his mouth so easily—like they’re one of the many frivolous musings that comes and goes, an afterthought when the shared laughter and playful teasing had died down a bit. Behind his loose grin, Satoru carefully studies your face as he weighs the question in your mind, as though they bear no consequence and he wants to hear your answer no matter how serious or unserious he’s being.

“Retire…” You drawl thoughtfully, “You mean put your sorcerer work behind you?” You more than readily welcome the idea than you let on, it’s all you can think about sometimes and keeps you awake at night. You knew about the dangers and the shortcomings that his lifestyle posed, but your love for him outweighs the troubles and the fears and the risks that come with loving someone like him—that is Satoru Gojo.

Not the Strongest Sorcerer, the leader of something, just a normal person who has a fondness for the sweeter things and never lets good humor go to waste if he could help it. If he truly decided to retire from now onwards he won’t have to participate in another dangerous mission again, no more of those dreadful overseas assignments that keeps you both apart for long stretches of time, and you could get used to knowing that he gets to come home to you every night.

“Well, okay. I suppose I could become the breadwinner for once.”

Satoru lets out a pleased laugh. His arm that encircled your waist tightens as he squeezes you with great affection, receiving a small oof from you and quick gentle pats of surrender before he crushes your lungs. He’s sitting on an abundance of wealth for the both of you to lead a comfortable life, and you’re cute for worrying about finances in the foreseeable future. Maybe he doesn’t spoil his precious sweetheart far enough, he thinks.

“I guess you’ll need to work triple time in order to afford my expensive taste.” He teases, pinching your cheek between his fingers. “We can be a dynamic duo. You can work while I stay home.” He mutters softly, letting his hand settle against the nape of your neck while his thumb brushes against your cheek. “Would I be a good househusband?”

“You’d be awful.” You were a little quick to say, almost shuddering at the thought. He feigns a hurt expression with the slightest furrow to his brows and an adorable pout lines his lips. He had an affinity for sweets as shown in your fully stocked pantry but navigating the rest of the kitchen would cause quite an upheaval despite his best efforts. “Maybe at first anyway.”

“You think I won’t be able to clean or cook properly?” Satoru complains dramatically, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You attempt to push him away between your giggles as the ends of his hair tickles you and he gently nips away at your skin, but his large build unsurprisingly wouldn’t budge. He lays a light kiss here and there shortly after, his voice lowering into a playful whisper. “Giving up on me already, huh? Too bad, that was your only chance of seeing me in an apron~”

Satoru comes up to meet your gaze and he catches your lips for a sweet taste, the warmth of his body sinking into yours and your arms wrap around him to bring him in a little deeper. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you if I came home to you wearing an apron?” It was your turn to pinch his cheeks fondly and you consider something. “But it’s a nice thought—you wanting to lead a different life.”

“I want to make you a promise,” he begins slowly, and there’s a beautiful look behind his cerulean hues filled with just pure adoration and love that’s reserved only for you. “When my time comes and I’m ready to call it quits, I’ll retire with you by my side. We’ll move somewhere peaceful and quiet—as secluded as you like. We could even travel the world if that's what my baby wishes, just the two of us.”

“That’s a big promise you’re making me.” You raise an eyebrow at him. But you like the dream that he’s sharing with you, no matter how close or how far out of reach it may seem. And so, a warm smile softens your face. “Just me and you?”

“Yes, Angel.” He grins happily, pulling you closer so his heartbeat matches yours and the sound lulls into one under the moon’s gaze. As long as you keep giving him every excuse in the world to keep you within arms’ reach—forever, then it’s contentment and peace and everything else in between he’ll find with you. If you’re there, then that’s home for him. “Just us and the sky.”

꒰ note ᰔ still coping with everything that’s happened along with ch. 261 so hope you enjoyed this something silly and something fluff for our sweet loverboy satoru. ꒱

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hii can you pls do a nanami and gojo(separately) make out fic pls??

Okay, let's do this with a little twist...

Getting caught while making out with JJK men

Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Warnings: well, it's getting heated babes, not 100% proofread because I wrote this in my work break (again lol)

Geto Suguru

You know how wrong it is. This is not the right time, not the right place to stand in a lonely corner with Geto Suguru’s hands all over you and his lips hanging onto yours like you’re air and he cannot breathe.

“Fuck, we should get going”, you whimper into the lonely hallway.

In fact, getting going is the last thing you want to do right now. Not when Riko is busy saying goodbye to her former life, not when your emotions are all over the place. You hid your feelings towards Suguru for so long, tried to convince yourself over and over that you don’t hold those kinds of feelings towards him. But when he allowed Riko some privacy, when you saw the glimmer in his dark eyes shimmering down at you…

You were lost.

And you lose over and over again with his lips worshipping yours like no one did before, with him pressing you against a nearby wall. Countless nights, you pondered about the way it might feel to get hold like this, to actually feel him this close. But reality? Way too bittersweet, way better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“I don’t want to leave you ever again”, he mumbles against your parted mouth before starting a dangerous dance with both of your tongues intertwined.

That man who pierced through Satoru could be here every time, you need to fulfill this mission, need to concentrate on escorting Riko to Tengen-sama. After all, this might be the only purpose you have here at Jujutsu High: Completing missions after missions, doing as you were told.

No, fuck that.

This right here is what you live for. The sensation of Suguru hollering over you like a shadow, of him holding you like no one did before, putting together all your broken pieces.

“I love you”, you finally hush.

“I think I always did.”

“I feel the same way, (y/n). God, I adore you more than anything else.”

Just when you thought your kiss couldn’t get any deeper, couldn’t make you lose your breath even more, he grabs your chin in order to gain better access of your mouth. Now you’re all yours, whimpering under his touch like a little girl.

Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, allow your fingertips to grab his soft hair for hold.

“Huh, really didn’t expect to find ya here like that. Well, having fun before dying isn’t a crime, ya know.”

Your blood freezes instantly as you pull away and get greeted by the coldest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who fought against, Satoru. Without any doubt.

But…You eye him up and down, blood sticking onto his tight shirt without a visible wound.

Where’s Satoru?

“Leave her alone”, Suguru instructs the man seriously while positioning himself in front of you.

“You’re better off protecting ya little girlfriend from me. She’s cute. Maybe I’ll take her on a date when I killed you.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Your heart drops to the floor, Suguru’s widened eyes revealing the urgency of this situation all too urgently. Out of all people who could have caught both of you this vulnerable, why on earth does it have to be him? There is no way Suguru will allow you to stay here while that stranger now knows…

“She’s your weakness, isn’t she? Maybe I can teach you a lesson about how freaking dumb love is.”

“Get Riko and escort her to Tengen-sama as fast as possible, (y/n)”, Suguru speaks out firmly while your eyes make contact.

“I can’t leave you here alone, if he defeated Satoru-“

He doesn’t interrupt you with words. No, instead he pulls you close, presses his puffy lips against yours until you feel like drowning in emotions.

“Get going. I don’t want this to be the last time someone caught us together.”

Gojo Satoru

“Get away from me right now.”

Oh, how desperately you try to sound angry while the truth is, that you want Gojo Satoru as close as possible. Your eyes dart left and right, search for the unpromising opportunity that somebody catches you in this position.

This position.

You, caged between Satoru’s arms in the male dorm you aren’t even allowed in, to be exact.

“C’mon, you don’t want me to get away from you. After teasing me the whole day and giving me that looks, you want me to go? Try better next time, princess”, he teases you while throwing his sunglasses to the ground without thinking twice.

“If we get caught here by a teacher…I can’t afford bad reputation, Satoru! What would my parents think, what if I get grounded, what if-“

“I know something better than using that mouth for hysteric talking”, he purrs with his face drawing closer and closer.

“Please, you aren’t even listening to me!”

A mix of panic, excitement and desire rushes through your veins, makes your eyes widen in sheer horror.

If your parents find out you were caught with a boy while actually, you are supposed to be a good student, you’ll be screwed. Especially when they found out which boy you were making out with…

Even though Gojo Satoru is considered the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of your timeline, your parents seem to hate him to the core.

“I don’t care that he’s your classmate. If you ever get involved with him more than necessary, you will leave this school without a second chance.”

You swallow hard. No, there is absolutely no doubt in the fact that your father made his point very clear.

But Satoru does as well. When he wraps his arms around your waist, he catches you just in time before your wobbly knees give in. No boy ever touched you like that, no other boy ever swept you off your feet like that. The butterflies in your stomach become almost unbearable while you can’t help but stare at his eyes.

Those oh so gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t want to hide my feelings for you any longer. Fuck your parents, fuck their threats. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

You let out your shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

And then your lips collide with his. Slowly and sweet at first until your very own longing becomes too much. You grab his back, pull him closer, allow him to access your mouth. He tastes like your favorite chewing gum and strawberries, so sweet that you cannot escape. Longingly, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip until a whimper escapes your lips. This is so much better than you ever imagined, so much sweeter than you ever dreamed of. There will never be a boy apart from Satoru who sweeps you off your feet like this, who makes you feel this way.

“Out of all boys, why does it have to be him, (y/n)?”

Your heart drops so suddenly that you feel like dying right on the spot. That low voice you know so well by now, that low voice that means nothing but trouble at the moment.

“S-sir…Yaga-sama I…I”

You fail to find the right words. In fact, all you are able to do is staring at him with glossy eyes and messy hair that reveal oh too painfully what you just did.

You crossed the line you promised your father not to. You came to the boy’s dorms even though you aren’t allowed to. And you got caught by your teacher doing so.

“Why does a nice girl like you waste her time with trash like Gojo?”, he continues.

“C’mon, you don’t have to be this me-“

“Please don’t tell my father!”

You let yourself drop to the floor, your head resting on top of your hands.

“I know it’s not my place to ask for something like that. But if you do…I will have to leave Jujutsu High.”

Thick silence hangs in the air, so quiet that you’re able to hear your tears fall onto the ground. You shouldn’t see Satoru anymore, should end this relationship before it started.

But truth is…you love him. Despite all the differences and your father’s hatred towards him, you love Satoru. You don’t want to leave him and Jujutsu High, you can’t stand the sheer fact of never seeing him again.

Still, it’s Yaga-sama’s job to inform your parents about your behavior, that you were caught in the boy’s dorm. And from there on there is no way out for you, no way to escape this fate.

“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”

Your teary eyes dart towards him immediately while you have to blink a few times in order to process what he just said.

“You caught me in the boy’s dorm with Satoru. It is your responsibility to inform my parents about that”, you reply with shaky voice.

“And risking that you’ll have to leave Jujutsu High? You’re the only useful student of this year and probably the only one who is able to tame this idiot down. I didn’t see anything today.”

“I am not an idiot”, Satoru protests with a sly grin.

“You can call yourself lucky a girl like (y/n) decided to keep up with you. I hope you won’t hurt her, Satoru. Or else, I might tell her father about it.”

And with that, he turns on his heels and walks aways as noiseless as he came, leaving both Satoru and you standing there bamboozled.

“So…what’s the worst your father would do to me?”

“Oh, he’d totally kill you if he found we made out”, you reply instantly.

Nanami Kento

“I might be gone for a few days, darling.”

Gently, he caresses your back the way he knows you adore it while wearing a saddened expression on your face.

“What mission takes a few days? Why aren’t they sending Gojo like they always do?”, you question with a pout.

You weren’t really able to meet up with your boyfriend Kento for what feels like ages. During work here at Jujutsu High, you aim to be professional, to not show each other affection. After all, this is your job and both of you take that very seriously. But now that you haven’t really seen each other after works for weeks, you can’t escape the urge to simply hug him, to feel his warmth and take in his masculine scent.

Kento breathes out audibly while stroking your hair. Truth is, he misses you like crazy. Despite his desperate attempts to stay away from you at Jujutsu High, he finds himself wrapping his arms around you as well.

“This is something serious. I can’t let the students go out on their own”, he mumbles against your forehead before placing a gentle kiss onto it.

Your stomach drops in excitement immediately. After weeks without affection, just a tiny kiss on your forehead seems to be enough to drive you wild.

“I get that. It just frustrates me a little”, you reply.

When your eyes find his, they are clouded by a feeling you know all too well. Time stands still when his grip around you tightens and his gaze drifts towards your lips. Your oh so longing lips that cannot wait to get kissed.

Without hesitation, you close the tiny gap between both of you. Even though you’re standing in the middle of a classroom at Jujutsu High, even though you both agreed on keeping your relationship out of work life.

You simply can’t right now. A swift motion is enough for him to lift you off the ground with ease while pressing your back against the cool wall. A whimper escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, all senses directed towards him with your eyes closed by the sheer sensation.

“I missed you so much”, he breathes against your lips before continuing his sweet torture.

“Missed you as well…so…much…”

You allow your hungry hands to re-discover the valleys of his muscular back, his broad shoulders, his oh so perfect face. How are you supposed to stay away from a man like him longer than a few hours? Him with his character of gold, body of steel and brain?

“Nanami-sensei, I-…Oh.”

Your eyes dart open immediately and find a utterly surprised Yuji Itadori staring at you with his mouth open.

“Yuji, what are you doing here?”, you mumble while picking on your messy clothes in the most awkward way.

“Why didn’t I know that you two are a thing?”, the pink-haired boy continues, ignoring your lousy attempt to distract.

“Because this is our private life. Why are you here, Itadori-kun?”, Nanami replies in all seriousness.

“But…That’s awesome! You two go so well together! And I always thought that (y/n)-san is totally into you!”

“Watch your words, Itadori.”

“Yuji, can you please just…leave?”, you literally beg.

“Oh yeah, of course.”

“Wait, Itadori”, Nanami instructs the boy just when he’s about to leave the room.

“Don’t you dare to tell Kugisaki about anything you saw today.”

Yuji blinks a few times before nodding and leaving the room with a smile.

“He will totally tell her everything. You know that, right?”, you comment, still trying to catch your breath.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

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[vultbae]

negroni ✩

art donaldson x female reader

↳ summary: After winning against Patrick, Art takes the night off to grab a few drinks at the Ritz Carlton lobby bar. There, he meets a profound admirer. 

OR

Things go wrong with the girl who bought him a Negroni.

↳ warnings: fingering (minors dni), age gap (reader is 22), manipulation, infidelity, angst towards end.

↳ extra warnings: english is not my first language pookies + my first fic + yall I'm messyy so I added drama out of nowhere. if u read this I love u thank u for giving me a chance

word count: 4.9k

✩

"Excuse me, no smoking."

The blonde man lifts his chin to encounter a young waitress warning him about the cigarette dangling off his mouth. His middle and index fingers immediately approach the cigarette and gradually pull the filtered end from between his lips. "Sorry." Art frankly apologizes.

The waitress's purposeful avoidance of directly looking at him makes Art borderline giggle. He can't help but discreetly give her a comprehensive look; the girl is attractive, with velvety skin that impersonates caramel and peaceful facial features. He shushes all the pushy thoughts resembling the waitress to his wife staying upstairs. He is not that desperate, plus, everyone knows he is married to the Tashi Duncan.

Art audibly clears his throat and articulates before the young woman strolls away, "Can you get me a Negroni, please?" He requests, showcasing a courteous smile. The woman nods.

He didn't even realize when he positioned the cigarette between his lips. He had been anxiously waiting for an instance when he could be alone -at least since the match against Patrick. Tashi cheerfully agreed to let him descend to the lobby bar to grab a few drinks.

✩

Art had been attentively scanning his frame on the wide mirror and adjusting strands and strands of hair as he paid more attention to his hairstyle; his somber eyes descended from his impeccable hair to the unfastened buttons of his seersucker shirt, revealing a fraction of silk-like, gloomy skin from chest to lower stomach, his well-grooved muscles casting shadows under the bathroom's dim yellow lighting. 

"I'm going out!" Art shouted from the bathroom as he fastened the remaining buttons of his shirt.

From the corner of his eye, he sensed Tashi approaching the bathroom doorframe and standing by it. Art tilted his head up to encounter Tashi, his wife, silently grinning, dressed in a beautiful pearl-white silk robe, "I won't be gone for more than an hour-

"It's fine," Tashi interrupted. "I'll watch a movie with Lily. We can talk about it later."

Art nodded. His eyes stared at her with minor fascination. Tashi couldn't figure out why, but the feral spark on Art's orbs evaporated. She walked away.

Art slightly opened his mouth to say something but suddenly cut himself off, lips slamming together. He didn't say anything. He allowed the slim figure of his wife to vanish from his eyesight. He authorized himself to go out alone for the first time in years and think about his relationship with Tashi and tennis -if, at this point, they were not equal. And his relationship with Patrick, of course. 

After today, he felt things he hadn't felt in a while.

✩

An insistent tap on his shoulder provokes Art to flinch and abruptly land on earth again. 

"Excuse me, Negroni..?" Another waiter says in a quivering voice—a statement rather than a question—hardly maintaining eye contact. He is holding a tiny round silver tray with a bloody-looking Negroni sitting on it. 

Before the amateur waiter can shakily grasp the crystal glass to place it on Art's table, Art raises his arm and moves the Negroni himself. As soon as he places the glass on the marmol table's surface, his long fingers seize the thin wedge of orange embellishing the glass, bringing it to his lips and sucking on it instantly.

He doesn't realize that the one time he and the waiter are maintaining eye contact is while he sucks on a slice of orange -slowly.

"Thank you." Art says, dragging the wedge out of his mouth, detecting the scarcity of color on the waiter's facial canvas. "Why is he so pale?" Art thinks. The meddling stare from the waiter endures for maybe five seconds before Art frowns his eyebrows slightly in confusion; the poor guy nearly jogs away from Art's table.

Does he carry that much power over people? It has been long since Art calculatedly flirted with or attempted to gain someone's attention. To be accurate, since Tashi entered his life. He has officially lost the "open-to-the-public" charming spark and neglected his intrinsically flirty side. 

But today, for some reason, he feels different than usual. Not that he is trying to test it...

The Ritz lobby bar is moderately quiet. Art peeks at a few travelers relaxing with their baggage as they sip cocktails in miniature glasses and couples drinking -"probably pre-gaming before a night out," Art assumes. His gaze disembarks over two guys in their premature 20s, brunette, and blonde, chuckling and vividly chitchatting about topics he can't overhear properly. Art is hooked to the scenario in front of him as he stares enthusiastically: it bitterly reminds him of his friendship with Patrick, whom he hasn't heard of since the match. 

As he finds himself —once again— daydreaming about what once was, Art takes decent-sized sips of his Negroni, with his right hand hugging the crystal glass just right. He is sitting on one of the many hickory brown leather armchairs dispersed across the bar, manspreading as his left hand lays over his lap. 

Suddenly, a personal reflection pops into his mind like a light bulb unexpectedly turning on; what is he doing? Sitting submerged in loneliness in a 5-star hotel lobby bar will not change anything. It simply won't. He would rather go back to the suite and have some pleasing fucking sleep. He is feeling tired, and confused, and depressed, and—

Well, If anything, people who recognize him could come and disturb his night. 

Art locks eyesight with the first waiter wandering across his vision field; he pitches a writing motion with his hand and requests the bill. As the waiter walks in his direction, he chugs down the leftover sips of cocktail in the glass.

"Bill?" Another waiter wearing a burgundy uniform asks Art. The tennis player shakes his head up and down, murmuring a yes please, "Don't worry, on the house."

"I can afford it." Art stresses, with a robust sarcastic undertone tinting his voice tone while attempting to maintain the most benevolent smile on his catalog. 

The waiter chuckles in exaggerated glee. "I know, Mr. Donaldson. Your bill has been cleared by another customer," he clarifies, standing in front of Art with the straightest stance and hands intertwined in the manifestation of hospitality. The waiter clears his throat, "Actually, by the young woman over there," and discreetly points his finger at the stools by the bar gantry.

Art's gaze dashes over to a woman standing by the bar gantry. He can only see her back, not her complete complexion. Although he has internally accepted this demeanor as improper, he allows his eyes to scan over the woman's silhouette freely, lingering a little longer on her legs. In the background, he can faintly attend to the waiter talking about hotel-specific branch issues and how stays such as his and Tashi's benefit the hotel's branding -isn't this the Ritz Carlton?

"Yes, I agree." Art blurts out as soon as he realizes the waiter has concluded his monologue, his gaze glued to the enigmatic female standing five meters away from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Donaldson. Have a great night." Just as Art opened his mouth to greet him in return, the waiter had already shifted on his feet to approach another table.

Art reevaluates what he is about to do. Should he greet her, thank her, or gently communicate how unmannered it can be to buy a married man a drink? 

But also, what if it's an obsessed groupie attempting to instigate drama?

It doesn't matter. Buying Art Donaldson a drink is disrespectful. Literally everyone —quite literally everyone— who knows Donaldson knows he is married to Tashi Duncan!

Come on, a woman, unattended in a bar, buying me a drink? Art thinks.Of course, she has hidden intentions, he reassures himself. Art shifts on the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees, still pondering whether he should approach her. 

Why isn't he simply disregarding this and walking away?  

He hadn't felt so much excitement about something so childish in a while. It felt like being nineteen again. After hugging Patrick today, he sensed a heartwarming relief regarding Tashi cheating on him. But, on the other hand, he's a fucking human.

Fuck it. He just wants to chat with the girl and perhaps communicate that she shouldn't do that again. Right, that's it. 

Art picks up his belongings and strides towards her.

"Hey, sorry..." Art speaks, dragging the stool beside the woman and grinning warily at her. His soothing, recognizable tone of voice instantly captures her attention.

Art expected many things, but not a drop-dead gorgeous woman. A girl. She looks...young— not underage kind of young, but unquestionably not over twenty-five. On the other hand, as a well-known tennis player, he's had plenty of exquisite-looking women begging for attention; Tashi herself is stunning. Somehow, this woman left his lungs tightening for a sizzling second, which is concerning. 

Plus, her aroma. Jesus, the scent, Art thinks. He would continuously go weak on the knees when Tashi wore that damn tangy, dark cherry fragrance she had. He immediately identified the distinct smell.

"Mr. Donaldson, oh my god..." The girl's voice pitches high, and she extends her right hand in his stomach direction as if she had been rehearsing for this moment. "I didn't believe you would accept the drink," she adds enthusiastically. 

Her voice is too harmonious for his ears. 

Art stretches his hand and shakes hers. "Well, I didn't." Art retorts, unconsciously smirking at the girl's harmless bliss, "I was pretty much obligated to accept the free Negroni."

"Well, either way, I am honored," she says with a slight shrug and giggles, "Names Y/n; by the way, very nice to meet you, Mr. Donaldson. Big fan of yours"

"Nice to meet you too, Y/n," Art unpretentiously expresses. His facial expression goes abruptly blank as he realizes he might be snitching on himself. "Uh, Y/n, I don't wanna sound rude, but what you did... with the drink," he struggles to word it nicely, worrying about coming out as unpolite. He laboriously swallows as Y/n raises her eyebrows, expectant. "You shouldn't buy drinks to married men," he concludes.

Y/n lets out a gigantic gasp, "Oh my- this is so embarrassing," her hands fly over to her mouth, covering it in mortification, "I am so sorry, Mr. Donaldson-

"Please, call me Art," Art interrupts, a smirk rising on his face.

"Well, Art," Y/n corrects herself, now speaking with a mischievous undertone, still with an infectious grin plastered on her face. "I go to Stanford. I couldn't stop hearing about you —your skills. Well, I grew up in a household of tennis enthusiasts, and I, myself, am a tennis player. I just wanted to show my appreciation for what you've done for the tennis culture."

Art's cheeks feel hot. Heck, they are burning. 

"Oh.." he mumbles, mainly to himself out of amazement.

"I would never, don't worry, Mr. Donaldson- I mean, Art." Y/n reassures, emphasizing the never. But as she justified herself, a sad half smile crooked on her plump lips, "I mean... No one can deny you are very handsome, but I am a respectful woman-"

He unmistakably heard the last sentence but will bypass it for his mental stability. "It's fine, Y/n." Again, he runs over her words, interrupting, "I should be apologizing; I don't want to come across as an entitled asshole."

For some reason, Art can't stop feeding the conversation. You are a fucking horndog, Art internally insults himself.

"Let me buy you a drink as an apology," Art says bluntly, requesting clearance but simultaneously demanding. Y/n, on the other hand, has her eyes set on the blonde man in front of her, both gazes perforating each other. "I mean, if you are of age.."

She giggles.

"Twenty-two. Took a gap year," the girl admits, "and I wouldn't mind a Negroni," she adds, now faking a nonchalant accent.

Y/n can hardly believe the circumstances she has put herself in. She observes the man standing before her, deftly moving from how he calls the server to how he licks his lips after ordering the Negroni. He's so fucking hot, she thinks. She had only seen him through flat screens and once attended one of the numerous lectures he gave back on campus. 

But no, Y/n wasn't an obsessive stalker. Earlier that day, she had been at the New Rochelle Tennis Club with her father and the new newbie guy he was coaching —she can't even recall his name. Long story short, the guy had asked her on a date, and as a grandiose concurrency, Y/n had suggested the Ritz —they serve finger-licking cosmopolitans at their bar. It wasn't until she reached twenty minutes earlier by mistake that she contemplated bailing on her plans. Why? Because she laid eyes on the mouthwatering blonde man sitting by himself, ingesting a depressing ass-looking Negroni. 

She knew it was a hit or miss. But she would rather miss if it came to the possibility of messing around with the man of her most soaked dreams.

Y/n's nostrils pleasingly burn as she inhales a warmish, spicy fragrance emanating from Art's clothes and skin. She can't dodge the impulse to frequently peek at the opening of his shirt, revealing milky skin. Her breathing becomes erratic just by fantasizing about him without the fucking seersucker shirt. She knows he's fucking ripped.

Y/n chews on the bottom of her lip anxiously, contemplating her words. "By the way, what you did today was insane."

Art arches a brow. "You mean playing tennis?"

"That wasn't even tennis; that was an entirely different game," Y/n responds as if Art had offended her. "It felt as if the court was entirely yours," she overpraises him, feeling rewarded by the minuscule giggles escaping from Art's lips.

Art feels his heart warm up at the familiar sentence choice. "It is not a big deal, just a good tennis match," he elucidates. 

She rolls her eyes. "Sure... or maybe you are just too skilled for other players." Y/n softly laughs.

Art bits back the tiniest groan of frustration. He feels his dick hardening underneath the light-washed denim jeans he's wearing. He tries to comprehend if it is because of the sudden sensual undertone in her delicate voice, her unmistakable submissive look penetrated deep into her big eyes, or the fact that Tashi had not touched him below the hipline in months and turned him into a precocious motherfucker. Or it could be the alcohol making him horny. He hadn't noticed before how tight her clothing was —it took one swift glimpse at her body for Art to see her thighs spilling out of the hem of the strapless mini-dress. It took another one to realize she was now gently caressing his arm.

Art was convinced there was nothing left to wipe the carefully crafted agitated expression from his face. "Could be, yeah," he says, subsequently coughing to avoid strangling on his own spit. "I don't want to be seen as some kind of God."

"Well, you move like one," Y/n affirms, chuckling at her own filthy sentence, her fingers playfully stirring the brand-new Negroni sitting on the bar table with the cocktail straw. She licks her lips, "You know what I mean."

Bullshit. There is no way this girl doesn't want to fuck.

She dodges eye contact, but there is a peculiar shift in the air, and a smirk exponentially extends her lips.

"I know what you mean." Art snaps back, incapable of looking away from the cocktail straw now entrapped in between her glossy lips. 

His muscles and head feel more lightweight, but his ocean eyes remain entirely tied to her outline. 

Their bodies have shuffled negligibly closer—inappropriately closer. Art senses warmness filling his face from the subtle friction of their knees: the coarse texture of his denim and Y/n's smooth, bare skin.

From her peripheral vision, Y/n glimpses a security guard patrolling the hotel lobby. She makes eye contact with the robust man for a split second, whose facial expression reshapes in dull stunner as he peeks at who's sitting next to her. 

Y/n sets her crystal glass on the bar counter. "Thank you so much for the drink." 

"Wait. Are you leaving?" Art questions, with feigned etiquette that reeks of desperation. 

Y/n's eyes dart to the man standing near their stools. Art tracks her gaze and sighs. "You already gifted me minutes of your time and a Negroni. That's enough coming from Art Donaldson." 

Art hesitates. "They are not in my business." He practically whines, progressively revealing his despair to the young woman sitting before him.

"I still need to Uber home," Y/n excuses, pouting at her words. "A woman can't be alone that late-

"I can drive you." 

✩

The drive is around twenty-five minutes. 

Y/n quietly sits in the copilot seat of Art's Bentley Bentayga. By her left side, Art grips the steering wheel confidently, his fingers switching effortlessly over the controls as they drive through the streets of the suburban county of Westchester. She peers through the shadowy window glass on her side —there's a winter storm outside. 

"How many days are you staying in Westchester?" Y/n asks while her gaze stays fixed on the passing scenery framed by the window.

Art clicks his tongue. "Not much. Most likely leaving tomorrow morning."

"Did you do anything fun around the county?" 

"Well, a rich-people county isn't the most amusing place to visit." Art jokes, speaking with a devilish tease.

Y/n doesn't reply. Instead, her eyes quickly flicker to his silhouette under the fuzzy skyglow leaking through the car's transparencies. Art's blonde hair captures the faint illumination beautifully, each strand seeming to shimmer under the dim light. His muscles tighten at—

Red light.

When the car stops, Art twists his head to the right, his and her gazes collapsing. He runs his tongue over his upper lip before talking, "You mentioned something earlier..." he begins to say. 

In the stillness of the moment, the only sound is the soft hum of the engine idling.

"I mentioned many things," Y/n corrects. 

A faint crease of discomfort crosses Art's brow, and he shifts slightly on the red leather seat. Y/n examines each of his subtle hip and torso motions as he gets rid of the discomfort. Finally, again sitting still, he resumes. "Let me be specific. You mentioned I am handsome."

A sudden warmth spreads across her cheeks, an unmistakable flush of embarrassment.

"I don't think this is appropriate."

"I don't think neither of us cares about what's appropriate anymore." 

It feels as if the world has stopped for Y/n. It feels as if a spell had caught both of them, leaving them besotted, and fucking horny, and awaiting the other to give the—

Green light.

"I think there's a parking lot next to a store that shut down recently 3 minutes away."

That's all Y/n says. Art presses down the gas pedal and tightens his grip on the wheel to suppress some exotic sensations that rocket down his spine.

Raindrops splatter against the windshield and the car's roof, and the blonde guy continues to drive through a road of infinite rain-soaked side trees swaying in the wind's rhythm and closed shops. 

It takes four minutes and fifty seconds to reach a gigantic parking lot beside what once was a Dollar Tree. Although Y/n can scarcely appreciate the space due to the weather conditions and the tinted glass, she can see some faded, bright yellow parking lines now covered in dirt and droplets of rain. The place is totally empty.

Y/n's heart sprints ten times faster when the engine settles into a contented hum. Goosebumps flourish on her skin as serenity inundates the car interior—complete silence. The SUV has parked on a random corner.

And she doesn't want to look in Art's direction because she knows he's already looking.

She plays it credulously. "I think this is a great place to talk in peace," Y/n murmurs, finally turning her head towards him. 

The fleeting moment her eyes cross with his evokes a sense of vulnerability for the girl. Art's orbs shamelessly spark with a glimmer of mischief, like a predator stalking its prey. The unbridled desire is nowhere near disguised now, and Y/n knows the guy won't keep playing the innocent role anymore. Is buying him a drink disrespectful? Bullshit. But she's grateful the poor, troubled man will have some fun. She knew he'd surrender faster than expected. 

Yeah. Art had lifted the white flag as soon as he reached out a hand to grasp the door handle of his sexy ass Bentayga to open it for Y/n, and his eyes had flown by instinct to the girl's ass when she was hopping on his car.

Now, he can't tear his eyes off her lips. 

"I've had a fucked up day." Art suddenly breathes out. There's a steady rise and fall of his chest, but Y/n can tell he's struggling to maintain it. His eyes ascend to lock in with hers. "I want to forget who the fuck I am."

Y/n is drowning in the noise of her own accelerated heartbeat. "I can help you." Y/n's words shoot out in submission, haltingly batting her eyelashes at him.

It's humorous mainly because she has no idea what is happening in his life. She doesn't know the mess between Tashi and Patrick; the fact that Tashi allegedly fucked Pa—well, whatever. Y/n doesn't know. She understands the man is disturbed, though, because the instant she stepped inside the luxurious lobby of the Ritz Carlton, she could tell the man had no emotion on his face. She recalled watching his matches when she was younger, and one thing about Art Donaldson was the radiant vitality his presence brought to any room he was in.

It's evident that the radiance was gone. For whatever reason.

Their bodies draw closer, the only barrier being the gear stick and seat partition between them. Y/n can feel Art's warm breath clashing against her lips, a slightly intoxicating and crisp scent of gin climbing to her nostrils. She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue before grabbing Art by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into her mouth. He briefly widens his eyes but reciprocates instantly.

He is the sort of kisser who goes slowly but deepens as much as possible, inserting his tongue everywhere attainable. Y/n tastes good and, heck, excellent —sweet and spicy, as if she chewed cinnamon gum before assaulting his mouth. The flavor and the satiny texture of her lips push him to near insanity; Art pumps his tongue in and out, desperately, sweeping against hers because of the faint, delicate moans leaking from her side every time he does it —it makes him vertiginous.

It isn't until Y/n sucks on his lower lip that he splits off to breathe. "No marks." Art forewarns with his face dropped in soberness, heavily panting.

He discerns something shifting inside of him when Y/n's beautiful features soften for a beat, casting a veil of a peculiar sentiment he's too emotionally dumb to interpret —bitterness? sadness? He can't tell. The fuzzy thoughts fade when her lips attack again, parting his with ease, allowing her tongue to slip inside. "Shut up." Y/n spits lowly between kisses.

A couple of sizzling minutes of pure, obscene french kissing pass before Art realizes the pressure underneath the light-washed denim over his crotch is tormenting him. His left-hand glides over Y/n's thigh and gently squeezes, letting her know he needs to move forward. At this point, he has readjusted the position of his body over the red leather seat, facing Y/n straight; the hand resting over her thigh gradually shoves the hem of the mini-dress upwards, revealing more skin and dangerously approaching her pussy.

The tempo of Y/n's kisses becomes unsteady with the sensation of his physical touch near such an intimate area. It felt weirdly mortifying for her to be this wet this early —her pussy felt slippery and willing to take whatever Art proposed. She breaks off the kiss out of involuntary reflex, with her gaze immediately descending on Art's left hand, too big for her, and skillfully positioning the lace of the light-pink panties aside.

If Art was a magician and opening her legs was a challenging magic trick, goddamn, he'd be a good magician. Y/n had no idea how, in such an undersized space, her legs had managed to spread that wide. The specific moment when Art's middle finger comes in contact with her wetness is a blur, but the filthy, low-pitched groan that his mouth emits as the first finger rubs her pussy lips will never be forgotten. Y/n unconsciously rocks her hips in search of more friction-

"Stay still." Art demands, chest rapidly going up and down. Although he attempts to sound demanding, his voice is weak in want and ridiculously desperate. Y/n's cheeks flame up when he begins toying with her clit, rubbing slow circles, with an equally attractive and irritating cocky grin resting over his face.

But she wants that one finger to go in. Y/n sighs in eagerness, muttering a series of pleasepleasepleases.

"Art..." Y/n mutters between choked moans, bucking her hips forward into his hand. Art gazes at her, intoxicated by her facial expressions and the mild tone of her voice, delivering such nasty noises. His eyes don't leave Y/n's face as he thrusts his middle finger past her slick folds. He feels his dick twitch at her exaggerated facial response.

What was one finger quickly became two, picking up their speed and twirling inside, hitting the sweetest spot. "Not a virgin, right? " Art abruptly asks, terrified but astonished at the tightness her pussy held, clenching down on his digits and squeezing. 

"No... oh my god—" Y/n yelps, hardly managing to articulate words as his fingers keep steadily penetrating her pussy. 

Y/n tilts her head back and instantly feels a trail of sloppy, wet kisses on her jaw; Art is nearly over her body, working his way downstairs and upstairs, too. The accelerated rhythm of his fingering ceases for a hot second as his available hand reaches her chest to unashamedly pull down the neckline of Y/n's mini-dress, freeing her tits and letting them bounce out of the expensive cloth. 

As a sheer coincidence and dissolving in pleasure, Y/n's eyesight dismounts in one of the tall buildings in front of the parking lot. What she sees is practically ironic. An immense billboard with Art's face crammed inside, by his side Tashi Duncan's iconic facial features, and an oversized Aston Martin logo. "Game Changer," the thing reads. Funny, she thinks. He is a game changer, though —not sure if he is the same kind Aston Martin broadcasts. 

But seeing his face and Tashi's painfully reminds her the man is not hers. 

In fact, the man has a whole wife.

"Fuck me." Y/n requests, still a complete mess, moaning, arching her back, breathless. 

And nothing happened where she thought the fire test lay. Art obliged. In fact, he seemed enthusiastic. He wants to make her his. Y/n modestly smiled at the thought.

"Yes... fuck, yeah." With a deft hand, he reaches down and unfastens the button of his pants; he eases the zipper down, and the faint sound of it sliding makes Y/n nauseated of anticipation.

Art reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a beautiful, black leather wallet. He flips it open, his brows furrowing in concentration as he sifts through its contents. With a muttered curse under his breath, he begins to dig deeper; Y/n doesn't understand what's happening —is he searching for a condom?

After eternal seconds, the blonde guy lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head, resigned.

Y/n sits beside him awkwardly, unhurriedly pulling up the neckline of her dress, covering her now shivering body.

"...So?" she questions.

He remains silent.

"I don't have condoms." 

"I'm on the pill." Y/n offers.

The look Art shoots at Y/n isn't gracious. In fact, it triggers a big spark of frustration on his face, eyebrows knitting together in a light scowl as he looks at her incredulously.

Then it turns worse when, by mistake, his gaze falls on the same billboard Y/n had seen earlier.

"I can't. Sorry." 

Y/n slowly closes her legs and adjusts her neckline. "Why?"

Art's eyes fall to his lap. "Well, starting from the fact I have a family-

Y/n interrupts. "Well, you didn't seem to care when you offered to drive a total stranger."

It was most likely the sassiness and the blaming in her voice that unexpectedly threw him off. Really threw him off.

"That's none of your business. I just took the opportunity of a warm hole."

In one swift, rampant movement, her hand connects with his cheek with a resounding crack, the sound echoing through the air like a crash. His head jerks to the side. A slap.

She had fucking slapped him.

With a trembling breath, Y/n doesn't think twice before she pushes open with unmeasured force the door of Art's fucking ugly car —or that's how she thinks of it now. The storm still persists, rain pouring down in sheets. Tears accumulate over her eyes as she steps out into the downpour, grabbing her purse tightly.

"Hey, hold on..."

She completely ignores Art's words, which get easily lost in the roar of the rain. 

But she turns to face him one last time, sitting on the pilot seat, visibly ashamed of himself —and still with unbuttoned pants.

"Fuck you. I hope you lose every single fucking tennis match." And with a forceful push, she slams the car door shut. 

As Y/n steps away from the vehicle, leaving a splash in the puddles on the floor, she wishes the man she met two hours ago had run after her and begged forgiveness. But of course, he didn't. Instead, she watched as the vehicle got started again and drove past her, quickly rejoining the road and disappearing in the darkness. 

✩

[imaginaryf1shots]

Failed | Lando Norris

WC: 900+

Lando x reader

Summery: Failing your driver license test leaves you in tears, but Lando is here to comfort you.

A.N: Could've been much longer, but I've been writing long fics a lot lately. Also, this is for me and for everyone that failed their test(but I'm a crier okay, so you bet your butt i cried when the examiner told me ill be seeing you another time)

MASTERLIST

You trudge up the steps and unlock the door to the house you share with your boyfriend while you’re in England, feeling dejected and just about holding your tears in. Why was it so important to you that you got it? You wouldn’t be using it a lot anyway, so why bother. You just wanted to pass. You hate failing, even if a lot of people fail as well, you hate it.

Opening the door, you hear your boyfriend on the phone, you close the front door a bit too hard, and you wince, you didn’t mean to slam it shut. You hear the talking stop and footsteps coming your way, Land’s head pops around the corner. He still has his phone pressed to his ear, and he’s smiling. But that smile drops once he sees your face, you’re fighting your lips as they want to stay turned down, and you want to act unbothered, but you are failing miserably.

”Max, I’ll call you later, mate.” Lando ends the call before Max F. could say anything. He walks up to you and opens his arms. Before he can even reach you, tears are already escaping your eyes. “What’s wrong, love? Did something happen?”

You shake your head now, burying your face into Lando’s shoulder. Lando runs his hand up and down your back. His mind goes over everything that could’ve happened that would’ve caused you to be upset.

”Was it the test?” He asks, and you nod. He sighs and kisses your head. “It’s alright, love, you can take it again.”

”I-I don’t want to.” You mutter and Lando squeezes you harder. 

“Then don’t, you don’t have to.” Lando manages to pull back enough to see your face. He gives you one of his comforting and loving smiles. He quickly kisses your forehead and takes your hands in his. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

You follow him to the sofa, he sits down and pats the spot next to him, you sit sideways so your legs are over his, and you’re slotted into his side. 

“Oh, my poor baby.” Lando couldn’t help but feel bad for you. You looked so small cuddled up to him as you tried to find comfort in him. “It’s alright, love, you were just so nervous, you couldn’t sleep well anyway.”

”You knew?” You asked sniffing and looked up at him.

”Yeah, you were turning and shuffling most of the night.” You had no idea he felt you move. You thought he was sleeping.

”I’m sorry.” You mumble and your lips start to tremble again and Lando panics, he holds you close and gently sways you from right to left. 

“No, no it’s okay. I keep you up a lot of the time, and I’d be playing or watching a match or something.” Lando didn’t mean to make you feel guilty, and in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be this upset about it, but your emotions were running wide right now. “y/n, you never even wanted to get a licence. Why are you suddenly wanting it, you’re so upset about something you told me was just for fun.”

”It’s because you're a driver, and I always have to get you to. drive me everywhere, or I have to Uber, and what kind of girlfriend am I if I don’t know how to drive a basic car when you drive supercars for a living.” You admit and refuse to look at him, finding a loose string on his shirt far more interesting.

”y/n, look at me.” You refuse to do that. “Please.” You sigh and look at your boyfriend. “I love driving you around, you’re my passenger princess, and we spend quality time together whenever I drive you somewhere, besides didn’t we agree to stop reading the few bad comments online.”

”I didn-“

”Don’t lie.” Lando cuts you off with a knowing look. You bite your lip and sigh. “You as a girlfriend, are letting me do something I love, but giving me the honour of driving you around, and I wouldn’t let you drive while I’m around anyways.”

”I don’t think I tell you I love you enough.” Lando’s face lights up, his eyes sparkling in a way they only do when you say the magic words.

”Well, I love you too.” Lando says before he leans down and places a few small kisses on your lips, he’s smiling too much to do more than that. “You know, I think if you don’t pressure yourself, you’ll do well if you want to give it another go.”

”Would you help me practise?” You ask, giving him puppy eyes that you didn’t need to give for him to agree.

”Of course.” You hug Lando while you’re both sitting down, and you for a while you just stay wrapped up in each other’s arms, as the last of the sadness ebbs away. “Max wanted to meet us today. Are you up for it?”

”Is P going to be there, because I don’t want to third wheel you and your boyfriend.” You asked teasing Lando, you and P have this running joke that they’re dating, and you’re just always crashing their dates.

”Haha, very funny.” Lando pinches your side, making you squirm away from him with a squeal. “Weren't you just saying you love me?”

”I was, I was, but I’m no match to Max.” You say and jump off the sofa as Lando tries to get a hold of you. He may be fast in a car, but you’re faster than him, so you run giggling through the house with him chasing after you. All thoughts of the failed test are out the window. 

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3

[castiwls]

winner - a.d

Paring; art x coach!reader

Requested; no

Synopsis; art finally won and you both couldn't be happier

Warnings; mentions of cheating (reader and art mentioned to be having an emotional affair)

Notes; i saw challengers today and oh my god I am obsessed!!! i immediately had brain rot and had to write something so here's this! (p.s the reader is like a co-coach idk tbh but she works with him :) )

reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist

The feel of your nails biting into your palm seemed muted as your eyes stayed locked on the small green ball. The world seemed to slow as you watched it soar through the air back and forth. Back and forth.

Your breath seemed to stick in your throat every time the ball soared over the court and back towards Art. You held your breath waiting for the moment he’d miss yet it never came. It was almost like watching a machine, every hit was perfect.

This seemed to go on for a lifetime. The world faded away until suddenly the crowd erupted into a sea of cheers. The sound of Tashi yelling pulled you back to reality and you shot up from your chair on autopilot. Unsure if you should cheer or begin damage control you looked down to the scoreboard, a small gasp leaving your lips.

He’d done it. He’d really won.

A laugh escaped your lips as you felt a rush of relief and excitement rush through you. Art’s eyes found yours from his spot on the court and he grinned up at you. The relief on his face was obvious as he stood taking in the sight before him. It had been so long since he’d walked away from a match feeling this good that he’d forgotten how it felt to win.

How it felt to know that no matter what Tashi scolded him for it wouldn’t take away the fact that he’d won. 

“Art!” Your voice called out from behind him, your joy seeping into your tone. His smile only seemed to widen as he turned to see you walking towards him. Your body screamed at you to move faster, but you forced that need down. As you neared closer he quickly moved to meet you halfway, his arms engulfing you as the cheers continued.

The feeling of his arms squeezing around your waist left butterflies forming in your stomach. His body shook slightly as he pressed his face into your hair. “You won.” Smiling you pulled back slightly, his arms still encircling your waist.

“I won.” He repeated grinning down at you. You nodded another laugh of joy escaping you as he pulled you back in again, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

The feeling of holding you left him even more giddy than the relief of finally winning. His wife seemed like a distant thought as you stood there, both basking in the glory of his win.

You’d always been the one who kept him going. You’d always believed that he could come back from his slump, and you were right. 

Art pulled back briefly looking over to the stands. Tashi had disappeared and he frowned slightly. “Hey.” You touched a hand to his cheek drawing his attention back to you. “She went to go deal with the winnings. She’ll be back.” You assured him.

Art nodded before another grin broke out on his face. “I really did it.” He could hardly believe it himself. Part of him had believed that maybe he’d overstayed his welcome and that he was simply no longer good enough at the thing he’d dedicated his life to.

“I told you!” You laughed moving your hand from his cheek to his shoulder. “And I’m so proud.”

He felt his cheeks heat at the praise as he tipped his chin down. “You don’t have to-”

“I mean it, Art. You deserve this.” 

He looked back up to you after a moment, his eyes locking on yours. He felt himself get lost in your eyes for a moment and he raised a hand to your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into the touch your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

He knew it was wrong. He was married, yet when he looked at you he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. With Tashi the only thing keeping them together was tennis, but you were different.

You didn’t care about how well he played. You only cared about him and it felt so good to finally have someone who didn’t just see him as an extension of themselves and their stolen dreams.

Art had been in love with you for years and standing here now he felt it more then ever.

His thumb brushed against your lip for a moment before he took a deep breath. Drawing you into another hug he enjoyed the feeling of holding you yet again.

“Thank you.” He murmured, his lips brushing your ear causing a shiver to run through you. A slight blush grew on your cheeks at the closeness before you cleared your throat. Shaking your head you looked up at him. “You don’t have to thank me. You did this.”

He shook his head. “No. You never gave up on me. Even when she almost did.” Art dropped his voice leaning down slightly. His eyes darted down to your lips and you felt your breath catch in your throat again.

You knew it was wrong. Having a crush on a married man was bad enough but you knew your relationship with the man had passed the platonic marker months ago. Tashi was well aware of her husband's fondness for you, yet she’d never cared.

She’d openly admitted to you soon after you’d started working with them both that she couldn’t be the person to coddle him when things went wrong. And that was where you came in. 

Starting an emotional affair with the man you were meant to be training was an awful idea. But it felt so right. Art needed someone to fall back on when things went wrong, someone who would hold him and tell him it would be okay.

You’d fallen into the routine with him so effortlessly that it felt natural.

Before you could warn him of the people around you, you felt his lips press against yours. A small noise escaped your lips as one of your hands cupped the back of his head. 

One of his hands drew you closer by the waist while his other cupped your cheek. 

You both knew this was bad. Someone was bound to notice but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

All that mattered was that he’d won.  

[risuola]

▶ NEEDY AND SHAMELESS — Satoru was needy and couldn't deal with it himself.

contents: needy, whiny, whimpering Satoru (that's a warning!), college!au, roommates, nsfw, oral (m! receiving), reader discretion is advised — 2,5k words

a/n: dedicated to my dear 🎶 anon for creating the movement #HeadForGojo, love ya! but also, we're diving into dangerous waters with the trio and i'd like to think that the reader is closer physically with Satoru and mentally with Suguru but fear not, spicy Suguru is coming as well!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

You’re not the type to get easily surprised.

Usually.

Living with two boys and knowing them for most of your life had prepared you to expect the unexpected and it was the spontaneity that was at the base of most of your best memories. The impromptu hitchhike travels during which you’d sprawl on top of either of their lap, the tight spaces in which you slept sandwiched between them, the unplanned sleepovers and long, nighttime rides on their motorbikes.

You’ve watched the stars with them, spread-eagled on the dew-sprinkled grass outside the city, talking the nights away while getting eaten alive by mosquitos and you loved every second of it. You’ve survived few days on nothing but instant ramen just so you three could get the best time at the beach without robbing a bank. You didn’t blink twice when Satoru once dragged you into a kissing competition just so you could win a two nights’ stay in one of the most luxurious hotels in Tokyo for all three of you around valentine’s day — you won of course, and after that you partied like royalty, getting drunk with Suguru on expensive champagne (and getting Satoru drunk), and jumping on beds in hotel-branded robes.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” But this time you were flabbergasted. Blinking a little faster, you tried to force the gears in your head to turn and process what you just heard. There was no way he just asked you to—

“Can you suck my dick? Pretty please—”

—never mind. The question sounded just as unexpected as the first time, if not more. There was no reason to it, no background information, no nothing that could make it sound a little less out of place.

“Context?”

Gojo groaned. You watched his cheeks turning bright red, the tips of his ears crimson as well and his hand met his face, covering it, hiding it from your expectant gaze. He was nervous, he was embarrassed and you had no idea what the hell was going on underneath the white mop of fluffy hair, but it wasn’t hard to tell that there was smoke coming out of there. For a short moment you wondered if he’d be able to trigger the fire detectors in the building.

“God, this is so embarrassing. I can’t— fuck.” He stuttered and it was the first time in your life you herd him stumble over his own words. “I really can’t do this with my hand. I just can’t, it doesn’t feel right and I’m so fucking frustrated because I tried to get some girl from the campus to give me a head but I can’t force myself to get hard for them. I somehow go all limp and useless whenever they throw themselves at me and ironically the thought of you makes me so painfully, impossibly bricked up that I might just chop the thing off to feel some release.” He was speaking so quickly it was almost difficult to understand, looking everywhere but at you. His eyes were bouncing off the walls and furniture, windows and ceiling but not once settled on you.

“And you want me to get you off?” You questioned, making sure that you understand his rumble correctly and the moment you spoke, Satoru finally stopped fidgeting and froze. His gaze slowly made its way towards you and his breath hitched, his heart pounded in his chest, his whole body tensed up. His mouth opened and closed, and then opened again but nothing came out. It took him a good ten seconds to find his voce, and even then, it came out as barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said simply, the single word hung heavy between you. His hands were in the pockets of his sweatpants, fingers curling around something — maybe a coin, maybe his own sanity; knuckles turning white from the strain as he took another deep breath. “I know we’re friends and roommates and all sorts of things that should make this a terrible idea but, I swear to all gods out there, it’s not about me wanting you to get me off, it’s about me needing you to get me off.” He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him. This was so wrong, so incredibly bad and yet, here he was, practically begging you to touch him. To taste him. To swallow him whole. “I know it’s weird and fucked up and probably a huge mistake, but I don’t know what else to do here.”

You saw the vulnerability in those cerulean orbs, the raw honesty behind his confession. The desperation in his voice almost broke your heart, he looked like he’s about to pass out from sheer exhaustion — emotional, mental, physical; every kind imaginable, and you knew him. It wasn’t one of his whims, you can see through them in a blink of an eye. He was serious, he was trembling, his eyes seemed to well with tears as he begged you.

“Does it come from the day you asked me to judge your cock?”

“Yeah, I guess so. You said I make you salivate and fuck, the vision stuck with me.”

And then, he dropped onto the bed, sitting on the edge with elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. He swallowed thickly, gulping down the lump in his throat. He hated the thought of ruining what you had as friends, it terrified him.

“Satoru—” you let out a sigh and he flinched, straightening up and looking at you again.

"I'll do anything. I can eat you out after that to pay you back. I can clean the room for a month. Fuck, I can even give you money if you need it. I'm just fucking going to combust if it goes for any longer–“ He rambled, babbled, desperate to get his point across. "I'm so impossibly hard when you're around, it hurts and every time I try to get my shit together, it's just getting worse."

“You don’t have to pay me back, Toru,” you said lightly, laughing at his nervousness. “I love you, idiot, I’m not gonna let you suffer, though I warn you that I might suck at this, no pun intended.”

“You don’t even have to use your mouth, honestly, if it’s your hand I’m sure it’s still going to be fine, as long as it’s you.”

“Oh, no, if we’re doing this, you’re getting the proper, sloppy, messy head,” you teased and he nearly moaned. The very thought of your mouth wrapping around him almost made him cum in his pants.

His cheeks heated up, all of his body felt like it’s on fire and he loved the feeling. You were straightforward; there was never any pretense or games played between you and him and he adored that about you.

“Please,” he whimpered, paralyzed by the thrill of excitement. The nerves were churning in his stomach, ecstasy coursing through him like electricity through wires. He watched as you moved, putting down the phone, there was a grace in the way you were crawling to the edge of the bed and you made a little sound when you got down onto the floor. He was quick to grab a pillow to throw below your knees, and you shot him a little grin.

It felt odd to you, to kneel in front of your best friend like this with intention so explicit but you also felt at ease with it. It wasn’t pity that drove you, you just loved him genuinely and there was no forcing involved in the way your hands moved to give his thighs a little squeeze.

You chuckled, amused by how sensitive he was, how impatient when just the slightest touch of your fingers over his clothed legs was enough to make him jolt. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and as your eyes moved down from his face, you noticed how strained his cock was against the fabric of his pants. There was a tiny dark spot where his tip was underneath, precum soaking through the grey sweats and you leaned in, flicking your tongue over the cotton, teasing him and he moaned.

“Sweets, please, have mercy. Mochi, I beg you–“ he was a whimpering mess, he was flushed, his chest was heaving and you touched him just barely, through the clothes.

“Oh, patience Toru,” you grinned, reaching up and hooking your fingers over the waistband of his pants. The elastic snapped against his stomach, making him whine and you acted innocent as if you didn’t do it on purpose.

“I’d love to be patient but keep it going and I might just bust in my pants and then die,” he dramatized; his knuckles were turning white from the sheer force he was squeezing the sheets behind him.

Finally, you pulled on the band, taking both pants and underwear at once and his manhood sprung free. The tip hit his stomach, leaving a droplet of seed on his light skin and he twitched as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh. The sight of him made you swallow, the saliva gathering at your mouth because he did look delicious and yet again you were reassured at the belief that god has his favorites.

Dragging your nails across his thighs, you reached to wrap your fingers around him, feeling his weight against your palm and the girth you struggled to embrace at once. You stroked him few times, experimentally, and it made him writhe and fidget, with the whiniest of moans. Satoru felt like he’s going to go crazy, your touch was gentle yet firm and it sent sparks shooting up his spine. He bit his lip to stifle another moan, his hips bucked into your hand involuntarily, seeking more friction. Despite his best efforts to maintain control, he couldn’t help but squirm beneath your touch.

“Be a good boy,” you warned playfully, leaning in, and savoring the moan that broke his apology when you run your tongue along the curved underside of his dick, the veins there felt prominent against the flat of your muscle. The kiss you planted on the tip of it was almost tender, gentle; the salty taste of precum mixed with your own saliva when you twirled your tongue around him.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he managed to gasp out between his clenched teeth, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure surged through him. He could feel the heat, the tension coiling within him and he swallowed thickly. The sensation of your mouth was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and he felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you took him in. Satoru’s whole world narrowed down to the feel of your mouth on him — so wet and warm and wonderful — enveloping his cock in a velvety embrace that had him seeing stars. Your tongue was hot and slick, gliding expertly over his throbbing length. Each lick, each suck had him writhing in pleasure and he barely managed to hold his hips down, to not thrust them deeper into the dreamy embrace between your lips.

The mixture of precum and your saliva was coating his cock, dribbling down his length and your chin. Messy. You were bobbing your head up and down his length, taking more and more of him sloppily. You were greedy, your movements like a dance to an unknown melody with the main dancers being your tongue and his member. You were twirling, tasting, teasing him mercilessly. Your cheeks were hollowing and your nose meeting the few white hairs at the base as you took him deeper and deeper and he was moaning. Shamelessly, loudly and oh so sweetly.

“Swee–mhaah–‘m gonn—” he stuttered, whined, tried to warn you but the words came out incoherent and stretched along the sounds that were ripping through him. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm that matched the rapid beat of pulse in his veins. Satoru felt his body tensing, one of his legs bouncing as tried to keep himself from shooting his load into your mouth.

Panting, heavily, shakingly, he watched you below him. You looked pretty like this, so drop dead gorgeous and straight out a fantasy that he’s been pushing to the back of his mind for the longest time now. Truth is, he wanted you, needed you much more than a friend would long for a friend, but he was too scared to act on it.

You hummed, the vibrations of your vocal cords pushing him near the edge, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his balls. His cock throbbed in your mouth, leaking precum that coated your tongue with its salty sweetness and he squealed, reaching to grab your head, your hair, to pull you away before he—

A loud, lewd mewl cut through the room and Gojo’s body went rigid as wave after wave of pure, carnal pleasure washed over him. He saw fireworks underneath his eyelids, he felt them exploding inside his veins, and he exploded too. The feel of your mouth sent him spiraling right into climax, speeding with no brakes and he was delighted. His cock twitched, pulsed with each spurt of cum and his entire body trembled with ecstasy, head tilted back, spine arched and mouth agape.

Joyful. He felt so utterly, unapologetically joyful.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, leaving him panting and spent in their wake. He looked down again, catching the sight of you lapping at his cum, licking him clean and he finally went limp, falling back onto the bed with a weak, gleeful moan.

“Fuck… that was… oh god,” he panted, his blue eyes glazed oved with delight. His chest was raising and falling rapidly, each breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to regain control of his senses but he didn’t want to. He wished to bask in the afterglow a little more, a little longer.

You finished the job with a loud pop as you took him out of your mouth and finally let go. He was softening, his body deflating, relaxing and you took it as the job well done. Once fixing his underwear and sweats, you climbed back onto the bed and dropped next to him, taking in the sight of his flushed face and disheveled hair. He looked angelic, with teary eyes and parted, swollen lips, glistening from saliva. You committed the picture to memory.

“Good?” You asked, though the answer was obvious from the way he looked.

“Heavenly,” he panted out and turned his head towards you. He watched as you reached up to the corner of your lips, thumb wiping off the lone drop of cum that lingered there and he grabbed you gently, pulling it to his own mouth. You chuckled when he sucked on your digit, his warm tongue circling it precisely as his mouth enveloped it whole.

“Nasty,” you teased and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Look who’s talking,” he played back, his words muffled over your finger before he finally let go of your hand. A string of saliva stretched from the tip of it and to his mouth but he licked it off like a kitten. “Thank you, mochi.”

“You’re welcome,” you offered him a smile and got off the bed, heading towards the bathroom. “You’re cleaning for a month by the way!”

He whined and you laughed.

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[edenesth]

[5:45 PM]

'Don't wait up for me! Go home first, Woo. There's food in the fridge.' — future wifey💘

Your boyfriend pouted as he read the text you'd sent him at 5pm. He had arrived at your office building and was waiting at his usual spot when he received your message. Normally, you got off work sharp at 5, but today you seemed overwhelmingly busy. Unlike usual, you hadn't even been very responsive during lunch hour.

Wooyoung glanced up and noticed that the lights in your office were among the few still on. Although it was still early, it was a Friday evening, and most people preferred to leave on time and deal with any leftover work on the following Monday.

How long could she take anyway? I'll wait.

Refusing to go home without you, he patiently waited downstairs, hoping to surprise you when you eventually emerged from the building. His unease grew as he watched more and more people leave, the offices slowly emptying, and the sky darkening, yet there was still no sign of you. There were times when you stayed late at work, but never this late.

Nearly an hour later, he sent you a text to let you know he didn't mind waiting and was still in the same spot, asking how much longer you would be. If you needed more time, he'd go to the nearby café for a drink while waiting. But he frowned when 10 minutes passed, and you hadn't even been online; his message was sent but still unread. The final straw was when his call went unanswered.

Despite feeling panic creep in, he tried to stay calm as he walked into the lobby of your office building. Breathe, Jung Wooyoung, breathe. He tells himself you were probably just really busy. But why? You had told him the peak season ended a week ago, so this should have been a slow week. It didn't make sense that you were working so late now. What weren't you telling him?

Crap, is she cheating on me?

Slapping himself on the cheek, he chastised himself for even entertaining such a thought. You had been nothing but the best and most dedicated girlfriend he'd ever had. How could he think that way about you? Now, he only prayed you were alright. What if something had happened to you? What if you had passed out? What if someone at work was doing something untoward to you? He remembered you mentioning a coworker who persistently pursued you despite knowing you were taken.

Well, that wasn’t comforting at all.

"Come on, come on, come on!" he muttered through gritted teeth as he watched the elevator numbers climb slowly. He only needed to get to the ninth floor, but the trip had never felt longer. His mind conjured up all sorts of wild scenarios, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to see you right now, to have you safe and sound in front of him so he could be okay again.

Ding!

Before the elevator doors fully opened, he was already dashing out at full speed. The dim, empty reception counter of your department greeted him as he sprinted towards your office—the only place he knew to go. "I'm coming, love. Just wait for me."

He had no idea what to expect as he saw your door open, the light from your room spilling into the dark and silent office. Anxiety flooded him as he braced for the unexpected. And indeed, it was unexpected. His steps faltered as he stopped to catch his breath at the entrance of your office, eyes glued to the sight before him. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the extent of his overthinking.

Wooyoung let out a huge sigh of relief, his eyes softening as he took in your petite frame, now slumped over your workdesk, fast asleep amidst piles of documents. The glaring screen of your PC reflected off your glasses, which were crooked on your face as you snored lightly. Your phone, in silent mode, lay beside you.

This explained everything.

Your boyfriend approached you slowly, careful not to wake you yet. With one glance at your computer, he immediately understood why you had been so busy today. Your team leader's emergency leave had left you responsible for a case that ran into some hiccups. Scrolling down the trail of emails, he felt relieved to see that you had eventually solved the issue. The exhaustion must have hit you hard once the adrenaline was gone.

Gently, he removed your glasses from your face, placing them back in their case before running his hand through your hair, tucking loose strands away from your face. Unable to resist, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple.

That seemed to have stirred you awake. You emitted a small groan and fluttered your eyes open, prompting him to step back slightly. But you reached out and held onto his shirt.

"Woo? Wh-what are you doing here?"

He shook his head, planting another kiss on your cheek before standing upright, his hands resting on his hips. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you sleep in the office, hm? Pack up now, we're going home."

Your heart warmed at his words. Just when you thought it wasn't possible to love him any more, he continued to prove you wrong each time. "Yes, sir."

Despite his directive, he ended up doing all the packing for you as your sleepy form waited by his side. After shutting down your PC, he reached for your bag and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Come, let's go."

Suddenly, in the elevator, he found himself wishing the trip would last longer. He pulled your cardigan snugly around you, sliding an arm behind your back and resting his forehead against yours. Admiring the way your sleep-deprived eyes drooped adorably, he grinned softly, biting his lip. His other hand cupped your face as he whispered, "Just hold on a little longer, love. You'll get to rest soon."

You nodded with a pout, and the sight of your tempting pink, soft lips made a sigh escape his mouth. "Good girl," he muttered before leaning in to capture your lips.

His heart skipped a beat when, despite your exhaustion, you responded to his kiss almost instinctively, though a bit more sluggish than usual. His heart swelled with affection at how your body reacted to him, knowing it was only for him. Stroking your cheeks lovingly, he deepened the kiss, only to let out a disappointed whine when the elevator dinged too soon.

You giggled, gently pushing him away. "You know we can continue in the car, right?" His excitement reignited at the suggestion. Insisting he'd help you with your things and settling you in the passenger seat first, he felt his heart flutter as he hurried to the driver's seat. "Alright, where were we?" he asked eagerly, only to find you fast asleep.

Of course, she's asleep. What did I expect?

He chuckled in disbelief, securing your seatbelt and shaking his head in amusement. As he started driving, he slipped his hand into yours, smiling when he felt your fingers unconsciously curling around his.

God, how he loved you.

ATEEZ Masterlist

This is me failing miserably at my "try to stay loyal to Park Seonghwa challenge" because what the hell is Jung Wooyoung so attractive for? The way bro made me write the longest timestamp to date...

Also, guess who clowned herself thinking she could post the first part of Mingi's TWTHH spinoff this weekend?🤡 it's only 1k+ words in so far, I was out all day yesterday and didn't get to write much huhu but hopefully by next week, it'll be out! Hopefully🤞🏻

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[lichenes]

Velvet Ring

There's only one bed! And nightmares choose to not let you live them down. Prompt by the lovely @smdb-joost :D CW: nightmares, mutual pining<333, confessions, brief mention of kissin wc: 800

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

“Shit, uhhh what do we do now?” Joost said as you both entered the room. “Uhh… I’m assuming I'm taking the floor?” He laughed.

Giving the fact that you and Joost have been friends for a long time you didn’t mind sharing a bed but when he suggested taking the floor, a small piece of you thought about all the ‘accidental’ touches, his sweet smiles which seemed only brighter when directed towards you and the way he looked at you when he was sure you weren’t. You hoped for the cheesy fantasy to come true so you could finally admit your feelings for him, hoping he’d reciprocate.

“So what’ll be?” You asked, leaving it up to him to decide. “The floor ‘s fine.” You felt your heart sink but you didn’t lose hope yet. You both showered, admittedly - separately and took your places. 

“Goodnight!” 

You were surrounded by your loved ones, your friends, yet- why… why did you feel so alone, so… unwanted. ‘What was it that gave you the idea to come here and ruin all of this for us?!’ You heard opting to not answer the remark and instead shield another part of yourself from others. ‘I can’t look at you anymore, you disgust me.’ Said a familiar voice which soon manifested as Joost’s form with a malevolent grin on his face. ‘You’re nothing.’

You gasped as your body rose to accomodate for the sudden pain which you couldn’t quite place as physical nor mental. You put your hand to your chest and realised you were heaving. Joost called your name from the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?” You crawled from under the sheets towards him. “‘s nothing, just a n…” Your voice got stuck in your throat. “Nightmare.”

“D’you need to talk about it?” You looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can you please just hold me, please?” 

You were both lying on the bed, his arm around your waist, both spent from the day you had. You were more tired than ever, trying to keep your eyes open just to feel Joost’s warmth for a moment more.With the other hand he was tracing lazy patterns into your scalp. “You know you can tell me anything…” He said clearly expecting something from you. 

‘Not yet’ you thought. ‘Not just yet.’ 

“I know.”

You spent the rest of the night sleeping soundly. His strong arms gave away a pleasant heat which was comforting. You woke up feeling well rested which was a new but not an unwelcome feeling. “Hey, I just wanted to apologise for forcing you to comfort me yesterd- well, tonight.” 

He grinned at you with his usual charming smile which made your face get just a bit hotter. “You really didn’t force me, I was just helping a friend out.” A friend? No. You were more than that. You were stars, the moon itself, the way aurora borealis cast itself over the night sky. How could he ever convey that through words?

He saw them, the signs of your affection. The silly presents, the small touches, the playlists full of his songs, the love that radiated from you. Yet still he was unsure of your intentions, your feelings.

Next night went about as well as it could’ve. Joost still on the floor invited you jokingly to join him on the floor and you, as a joke - of course - did. “It’s not very comfortable, don’t you want to get on the bed?” You both decided after a while that actually, your idea was brilliant. 

You settled into the bed and so did Joost giving just enough space for the lord. You signed and scooted slightly towards him. He followed suit and put his arm around your waist staying mindful of your personal space so as to not scare you off. “Joost you can…” Your voice got stuck in your throat once more. “Alright!” He said enthusiastically, bringing you closer to himself. Your face got seriously hot when you could feel his breath on your neck and his eyes on you. 

“Wanna tell me something?” He said as if he knew and could feel your growing anxiety. “Joost.” You started. “I’ve been…” You couldn’t speak, your knees went weak despite you laying down. “Joost. I lo-” He interrupted kissing you deeply. You reciprocated the kiss not wanting to lose another minute without his touch on your body.

The kiss left you breathless and he looked even more content when you pulled back. “I need you. I need you so badly in my life.” You said, sounding increasingly desperate. “You know I need you too.” You went back for another kiss. That night you spent in his arms, this time not by chance but choice. His voice still echoing in your ears ‘I need you too..’

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masterlist

[kasagia]

Right Hand VI

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You're tired of listening to others and of being afraid of prophecies that don't make sense and that were made up by someone else. Your present belonged only to you. And hell knows, you're going to take your future too. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I was listening to 'Down Bad' by Taylor and I used quotes from a few of them; TEXT NOT CHECKED - I' barely managed to write it on time' I've just ended it and wanted to post it for you, since you are waiting for it so long; it took me ages but I hope you will like it; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~ Epilogue ~•♤♤♤•~

Feyd rarely felt pain he didn't like. The years spent on Giedi Prime—or rather, years of enduring his uncle's methods of making him a true Harkonnen, his worthy successor—made Feyd love pain. He found pleasure in it—something he had to learn if he wanted to survive.

But it didn't bring him any satisfaction or pleasure when you pierced his chest with one of his swords. He feels pure pain. Anger, betrayal, and hurt.

He hates the way he falls limply to his knees in front of you. He hates that he still looks at you like you're a saint. He hates that he hopes you'll at least look him in the eyes, as if that would bring him some kind of salvation. He hates how lost he feels now and how he's slowly losing awareness of his surroundings. He hates that even though you stabbed him, all he can do is stare at you, clinging to the sight of you more than to his life.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N."

He feels you unhook your poisoned dagger from his arm. Feyd thinks you're doing it to finish him off. Poetically kill him with the weapon he gave you. He closes his eyes and waits for the final stab or throat slit. But nothing like that happens. He doesn't have the strength to turn around and see exactly what you're doing, but your words alone are enough for him to imagine the scene that is happening behind him.

"I may not be a Harkonnen, but I've picked up a few of their habits. If you want an agreement between us, show me your hand." After your words, he can hear a hiss from Atreides when you plunge the dagger into your joined hands, piercing them both through.

Feyd would have laughed mockingly if he hadn't spent all his energy on breathing slowly. He remembered explaining to you how contracts, such as arranged marriages, were sealed on Giedi Prime. The Harkonnens shook hands and pierced them with swords, thus signing a blood pact. This also applied to marriages and other such things. Blood bound them stronger than any words or signatures on paper. He cursed himself for the fact that, seeing your scared face at his words, he withdrew from this idea and decided to make a verbal agreement between you. He should be the one to bind you with his blood, not Atreides.

The steel in his body rubs against his lower ribs, but it does not damage any major organs. He tries to keep the sword in the exact same position you stuck it in, but he feels like he's going to faint from all the pain, the blood, and the fear for you that he feels now.

You made him so weak that even after you stabbed him, all he could think about was your safety and your well-being. Every shaky breath he took, every slow beat of his heart as he fought to stay conscious—it was all for you.

He just hoped like hell that you weren't lying a few moments ago, that this would all turn out to be just one of your games, and that you would soon end Atreides' life. But it's not like that.

"Let this blood be a symbol of our union." Your sweet, dangerous whisper reaches Feyd's ears.

He's raging with powerlessness and anger. That Atreides dog didn't deserve to mix his blood with yours. Only Feyd should be able to do this. Only his black blood should merge with your crimson, staining your joined hands as you swore allegiance to each other. His heart hurts more than the wound you gave him as he imagine how you and this desert rat are now echanging each other's blood.

If he hadn't been placed in such a vulnerable state by you, he would have ripped Atreides' heart out with his bare hands for daring to mix his blood with yours. A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of Atreides connecting with you in yet another way. A way Feyd was robbed too many times.

He tries to get up, but he doesn't have enough strength. All he can do is place his hands on the floor, trying to take the weight off his torso. The blade scratching his flesh bothers him much less than the fact that Atreides has the nerve to touch you or that you're blatantly ignoring him while playing whatever game you're playing right now.

"Leave him to me. I want… to repay him for all these years of fulfilling his wishes." The cool, composed tone of your voice that you used many times when the two of you dealt with inconvenient prisoners did nothing to inspire his hope or quench his rage.

You really betrayed him. You, of all people. How stupid and naive he was to believe you. He should have killed you the moment his eyes met yours. You were an intruder. A spy in disguise. His bittersweet end.

The door slams shut behind Atreides. Feyd hears your footsteps, the sand from your soles falling back onto the ground—the same ground where his black, thick blood is now flowing. You walk over to him; if he could focus enough, he would see the toes of your shoes.

You kneel in front of him, gently tugging on his head, causing him to rest on your shoulder. He can smell your blood dripping from your hand. You stain his head with it. Under any other circumstances, he would have appreciated how close you were to him, but now, with the sword rubbing uncomfortably against his insides, your touch doesn't bring any comfort at all. Even your lips pressed against his forehead cannot calm the volcano of emotions boiling inside him. But he is helpless. He is unable to do anything; he is completely surrendered to your grace. It wouldn't bother him a few hours ago. Now he hated it.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, then use the voice on him to tell him to fall asleep. When he drifts off to sleep at your command, he is already planning how he will take revenge on you. And hell knows you're going to pay him for it.

"He'll be furious." One of your spies comments as she helps you carry Feyd's body out of the sietch.

Inessa was the only Harkonnen woman you could reasonably trust. She's done your dirty work many times, but... never THIS. You somewhat understood her concerns, but currently, when you both had to carry Feyd through the Fremen corridors and go unnoticed, you didn't necessarily approve of it.

"I am aware." You reply, looking around. Inessa and you somehow patched up Feyd's wound. Now you had to either drag him to the surface yourself and hope that someone would find him in the chaos of the fight or leave him with some of his soldiers.

You didn't like any of these ideas. But you had to do what you planned if you wanted to regain your freedom, even if it meant that Feyd would hate you for it for infinity.

"Fucking angry. I'm serious, Y/N." Inessa warns you again. You roll your eyes at her, for a Harkonnen she was very fearful.

You remember how her hands were shaking a few minutes ago as you both stitched up your new Baron. It was a makeshift dressing and still required treatment by a doctor, but it was enough to get Feyd to the ship and back to base. During this time, you will take care of everything here. You hope that by the time he wakes up, you will have finished what you set out to do. Otherwise, you don't see your future well.

"Just get him out of here." You grumble, turning into a side corridor, and encounter Harkonnen soldiers fighting the Fremen as they kill the last of them, their eyes shifting to the two of you. You nod at them. Without a word, they approach you and take Feyd from you. Inessa looks at you, worried.

"What if he wakes up?"

"You stuffed him with painkillers, and I ordered him to sleep. He won't get up until you're back on the ship." The woman sighs and shakes her head, looking at you intently as you speak.

"Y/N. You've had some… creatively stupid ideas, but this one is the worst of them all. He won't give up. You know it. So why are you doing this?" She asks, taking you off guard for a moment.

She was right. You could have returned to the ship with them, gone back to the safety of Giedi Prime, and let Feyd fight Paul alone. You could have let go and stopped participating in a war that wasn't yours. But at what cost? You've been obeying someone all your life. Bene Gesserit. Prophecies. Feyd. It's finally time for you to deal the cards. And you will do it. In your and Feyd's best interests. You just hoped that he could… forgive you, or see the reasoning behind your actions.

"For myself. For my freedom. For us. This is the only way to end the matter of Atreides, Fremen, and Arrakis. The only effective way."

"Don't you know it yet? You will never be free. We women will never enjoy men's freedom. There will always be someone to whom you must submit. You can't change your fate."

"Then I'd rather die trying." You say, turning on your heel. You don't look back to see her reaction to your words. You had too little time.

The burning sensation on your hand only reminded you of running out of it. The dagger that Feyd gave you must have also had an effect on Atreides. You don't know how advanced he is in Bene Gesserit teachings, so you had to hurry before he detected the poison in his body. Or, God forbid, neutralise it.

You wipe your sweating forehead with the sleeve of your hand as your body begins to fight the poison slowly accumulating in your body. The antidote rested safely in a small syringe hidden in the handle of the dagger you kept strapped to your thigh. You just had to use it when the time was right.

You hope you will get everything done before you die.

You wander through the corridors without knowing where you are. You just have a feeling in the back of your head about where you should go. Besides, the escaping Harkonnens kind of showed you the way into the sietch.

Your hands are shaking as you slowly approach the main room—the one where the Fremen usually gather for large meetings and in case of an attack. Still, you thank Feyd for forcing you to attend the Harkonenn war meetings. At least now you are more familiar with the location of the Fremen's rooms and methods.

The closer you get to the main hall, the more Fremen women push past you, and you feel a little more confident walking through the crowd with them, confident that they are leading you to your place of harm in case of an attack. Even though the Harkonnen were already retreating from the area, some of them were still fighting the Fremen, who craved the blood on their swords and didn't let them just leave. You can only imagine the Feyd's wrath that they will have to face. His men didn't come... fully armed. Apparently it was supposed to be a quick action—get in and out with you, then launch a full attack and invasion.

You know that once he wakes up and heals up a bit, he's going to paint these halls with blood before he burns them to the ground.

Entering the main room, you immediately take a seat by the wall, watching all the Fremen gathering, carefully looking for Atreides among them. He probably had to make sure they "cleared" the halls from the Harkonnens. It makes you sick to think of them bragging about this as a victory over the Harkonnens. It makes you wish you had a little bomb with you...

"Are you already hiding in the shadows?" You shiver when you hear him whisper in your ear. You haven't learned to recognise his steps yet. They were irregular, different, and hard to detect and remember—as if he were constantly moving through the sand like a feather.

"The quicker I adapt, the better, right?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge. He shakes his head in amusement and watches the Fremen gather with you. It's strange that somehow no one has noticed him yet.

"I'm starting to understand why my cousin kept you so close to him."

"Cousin?" You ask in shock, turning your head towards him so you can look at him. This time he ignores you, not shifting his gaze from the Fremen.

"A little surprise. Maybe we all have a bit of Harkonnen in us after all?" He banters without giving you any of his attention. You snort indignantly, looking at the gathering people again.

"You look tired." You comment, wanting to tease him. You can barely keep yourself from stabbing him with your poisoned dagger a few times. But since he was talking to you so... carelessly, it meant he couldn't detect the poison. Good for you.

"I always am. I will rest when I sit peacefully on the imperial throne."

You would laugh at him if you could. He might easily sit on the emperor's throne, but he wouldn't be able to hold power over all the families for long. Certainly not if you and Feyd had anything to say about it.

Your heart clenches as you remember the moment you stabbed him. You had to. There was no other way to get rid of him long enough for you to take care of everything here. Also, he wouldn't allow you to do that if he knew what you were up to. Besides, if you didn't stab him, Atreides and he would get into a fight. Unfortunately, you weren't that confident in Feyd's abilities. He would be in a state of distraction if your well-being was at stake.

Besides, Atreides' words convinced you of this decision more than anything else.

More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

If there was anything you could praise about Paul Atreides, it was his cunning. And you were sure that if Atreides was somehow going to defeat Feyd, it would be through intrigue and trickery. And then you weren't ready to save your baron. So you had to use drastic measures to get him out and allow yourself to function fully. You couldn't give Atreides any leverage or advantage over you. You certainly couldn't reveal what a weakness Feyd was to you.

"Hmm… you have to survive first." You answered thoughtfully. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head to look at you. His intense, analysing gaze makes you burn as you have to endure his unwanted attention.

"With such a talented Bene Gesserit as MY right hand? I have not the slightest doubt. You proved your loyalty by killing my cousin. I have no doubt that you are capable of great things. However... this sudden change of sides is shocking, I must admit."

"Why? Because I chose something better for myself? It was the same with Feyd. I could either stay among the Bene Gesserit and hope they wouldn't send me to breed with anyone, or I could take matters into my own hands. And I don't like blindly entrusting my fate to someone else, Atreides."

"I see... you look good with independence, Harkonnen witch, but don't forget who you answer to."

"Of course, Fremen messiah." The nickname you give him makes me chuckle. He reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You look carefully at his bandaged hand, which you pierced with a dagger.

You find yourself comparing his hands to Feyd's. Harkonnen's hands were hard, rough, trained from years of using all kinds of weapons. Atrdida's hands were smoother, less stained by effort. Another difference between them was that Feyd would never let anyone bandage the wound you gave him. He would rather wear them proudly until the wound heals itself. You should think it's sick, but years spent by his side have taught you… to appreciate such gestures. Maybe you really had a completely different perception of normality?

Atreides' fingers trace your jaw, caressing it gently. You look into his eyes and immediately see the familiar gleam of audacity in them. He looked at you like you were a prize—a nice thing that he managed to take from his enemy, which he can now put on his bedside table and look at to remember his victory. Under any other circumstances, you would have bitten his fingers off, but unfortunately, you had to behave. But only for a moment longer.

"What do you think you're doing?" An angry, cold female voice echoes behind you. Before you know it, you're being pushed sideways against the wall. A dagger at your throat. You act automatically. You attack a woman, disarm her, and push her against a wall. But before you can put a dagger at her throat yourself, Atreides steps between you.

"What's necessary, Chani. I would suggest you not attack my guest." The woman glares at him, and for a moment, you think she's going to attack him or spit on him. Then her anger shifts to you.

"This Harkonnen witch has killed more of our people than any of them. She should be dead, not taken in as a guest." She growls furiously, giving you a distrustful, mad look. You understand her perfectly. If you were in her place, you would do the same. Only Feyd, unlike Atreides, couldn't stop you from hurting your rival.

"It's not up to you to decide her fate."

Chani gives the two of you one last hateful glare and pushes past Atreides, moving into the crowd, away from the two of you. You look at the woman carefully, analysing her gait and posture. Similar to Atreides. So you found his teacher.

"Your…"

"Concubine." He finishes, thus answering your question. You raise an eyebrow at him in surprise.

"I see."

"Jealous?" This time, you can't help but snort in amusement, giggling at his absurd question.

"I would sonner be jealous of a sandworm than of you. What is bewteen us is just an agreement. Don't forget that, Atreides."

"That's why I like you. Give me a moment. We'll talk later. Don't go anywhere. I will find you."

He puts his hand on your shoulder. You assume he thinks it's a gesture of reassurance, but it's not for you. You anxiously wait for him to move away from you so he can speak to the crowd of Fremen.

You shiver as you briefly make eye contact with Chani, who is standing at the other end of the room. She's still seething with rage. You're not entirely sure why she's so devoted to Atreides, but after thinking about it longer, you realise what her reason is for being so protective over him. You would probably do the same things for Feyd as she did for Paul. However, you would be... more ruthless towards your rival. You wave to the woman, smirking. She looks away from you, focusing her gaze on Atreides.

You study him as well, carefully observing him as he speaks to the Fremen. He is imperious and powerful, but also arrogant and conceited. His overconfidence that he acquired among the Fremen—the belief that he was the chosen one—will lead to his death. You will lead him to death. Otherwise, no one will stand a chance against him. He had one significant thing that could ensure his victory: a huge crowd of people who blindly believed that he would bring them salvation if they obediently followed his every request.

And maybe you would feel sorry for these people and try to help them if your own freedom and future weren't on the line.

You play with the handle of your dagger. You press a small button. A small ampoule with a needle falls into your hand. You hiss, injecting the contents of the ampoule into your arm.

Atreides was right. - You think, listening carefully to the man's speech to the crowd. - More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

The faint hum of the ship's engine gives Feyd a clear indication of where he is. He opens his eyes and looks around the room. He's in the bedroom of one of Harkonnen's ships. He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and looks at his bare chest. He furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise when he sees no wound or bandage—just a tiny, sealed scar in the area where you pierced him with the sword.

"Where are you going?" Your quiet, protesting whisper makes him freeze. After a while, he feels your warm hands on his shoulders as you pull him back into the soft sheets and into your arms. You cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in the crook of his neck. "Stay. We still have a lot of time before we land on Lankiveil, so you can spend it in bed with your wife. I doubt we'll find a moment of peace for ourselves when our little Na-Baron demands swimming lessons from you and a tour around the new planet, so use this little moment of peace."

Feyd's heart skips a beat when he feels your lips brushing on the skin of his neck and hears you calling yourself his wife. He allows himself to drown in the warmth of your body and the feeling of your gentle touch on his skin. He buries his nose in your hair, shuddering slightly as you place small kisses on his neck and lick his skin, teasing him. However, one thing was still bothering him…

"Little Na-Baron?" He asks, confused, when you lazily stroke his head with your fingers, drawing patterns on its pale skin.

"Our son. I pleased you so well last night that you forgot about our son, or are you just not awake yet, darling?" You ask him teasingly, opening your eyes to look at him for the first time.

Feyd is speechless when he sees the spark of malice in your eyes and the beautiful smile you give him. Your beauty, the calmness with which you lie curled on his chest—as if it were the most normal thing you do every day—and the strange warmth that spreads across his chest because of it make him lose his ability to speak.

You giggle, pulling him closer to you and placing a tender, gentle kiss on his lips. You moan, enjoying the feeling of his plush lips, sucking on his bottom lip as you claim him as yours. Feyd feels himself starting to harden just from the feeling of your lips on his and the teasing movements of your fingers around his nipples.

"I…" He tries to speak, but then he hears the baby's soft whimpering. He tenses up, unaccustomed to any interaction with children.

His gaze goes from the cradle placed in the corner of the room to you in pure panic, as he has no idea what to do with the crying baby. But you don't seem to care about the baby crying as much as he does. You groan in protest and pull away from him, burying your face in the pillow.

"Mhm... go to her, it's your turn." You mumble, not giving him a glance, as you hug the pillow instead of him. He starts to be a little jealous, but that feeling fades away, replaced by panic as the baby's cries intensify.

"Now you're letting me go?" He asks, hoping you'll change your mind and take care of the crying demon in the cradle yourself.

"I simply found a better use for you elsewhere." He huffs, leaning towards you and ruffling your hair. You punch him in the chest and force him out of bed. He rolls his eyes at you and turns hesitantly towards the crib.

He feels his legs shaking and his heart beating with nervousness. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is stressed and nervous by a crying baby in a cradle. He breathes deeply as he stands over the cradle.

His world stops when his eyes meet small irises that are a similar shade of blue to his. And his heart stops when he sees a little copy of you. Your child is undoubtedly a reflection of you. She only has his eyes, but the colour of her skin and hair, the shape of her nose, mouth, and eyes are all you. Feyd's heart pounds as he stares at the small miracle before him. Suddenly, the sounds reach him again. Panicked, he takes the baby gently, making sure not to accidentally hurt her, and in a few quick steps, he is by your side again.

"I… I think it is hungry." He says, reaching out towards you to hand the baby to you as quickly as possible.

"Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, did you just call our daughter it?" You ask angrily, sitting on the bed and looking at him furious. You sigh at his helpless expression and take your daughter from him. "Forgive daddy, Katerina. He doesn't usually behave like this." You mumble sweetly to the baby, trying to calm her down.

Miraculously, because Feyd can't call it anything else, you manage to calm down the baby in your embrace, her little lips pursing in dissatisfaction as she waits for you to feed her. Feyd swears she makes the exact same face you do when you're impatient or angry. His heart melts even more at the image in front of him.

Feyd sits on the edge of the bed, watching in fascination as you feed your baby. This scene seems... unreal to him. He had never experienced anything like this before—the feelings of warmth, safety, and boundless love and devotion that appear in him when he looks at the two of you.

He may have had vague memories of his mother singing bedtime lullabies to him and Rabban, but... he had never felt the way he did with you and your daughter. He had never felt that disarming feeling of home that made him allow himself to become vulnerable for the first time in many years.

He uncertainly reaches towards the child and gently strokes his daughter's head. The colour of her hair is identical to yours. Feyd's lips form involuntarily in a smile when the child reaches her little hand to his fingers, tightening his fist firmly. As she gently moves his hand away from her head, she does not let her grip on his fingers loosen. She was strong for a baby. She certainly had a warrior nature inherited from both of you. Feyd couldn't wait to train her...

He found himself thinking that all he wanted was to curl up in this bed with you and hold you safely in his arms before he would be brutally torn from this beautiful dream or vision.

He sits on the bed, looking at the two of you, when suddenly the bedroom door opens. The thud of small feet on the metal floor echoes around the room, and that's all the warning Feyd gets before the little white-haired boy lunges at him.

"Dad! Dad! We'll be there soon! I can't wait. Uncle Rabban told me that there are huge oceans that can swallow our ships if we land wrong! Is it true?" Asks the child, sitting on his lap and holding him tightly.

Feyd hesitantly wraps his arms around the boy, making sure he doesn't accidentally fall from his lap to the floor. His gaze quickly shifts to you in utter confusion. Rabban as a caring, mischievous uncle? What the hell was that supposed to be?

"Your uncle has a habit of distorting some facts, Feydor. I assure you we'll be fine. And Lankiveil is wonderful, isn't it, honey?" You ask Feyd, resting Katerina on your shoulder and making sure she burps.

"Yes. It is beautiful." He says, unconsciously running a hand through his son's hair as he looks at the three of you, unable to get over the shock and awe.

"I want a hug." Your son demands. You laugh as you pull him closer to you. When you see that Feyd isn't moving to join you all, you grab his hand and gently guide him back to the soft pillows. You lie there curled up, you with Katerina on your chest, Feydor between you and him as you wrap your arms around each other.

His son mutters something to his sister, but Feyd doesn't hear him. All he can do is stare at the three of you in amazement.

"Now sleep. Both of you. I don't want to hear any grumpy complaints about not getting enough sleep, okay, my boys?"

'It only happened once." Feydor mumbles, manoeuvring your and Feyd's hands to hug him tightly. "Besides, Dad was whining worse than me."

"I have no doubt that was the case. Your dad is a terribly fussy and grumpy man." You laugh and lean in to place a quick kiss on Feyd's lips. He strokes your waist, moving closer to you and your son as baby Katerina mumbles something in a language only she knows.

Feyd can only watch tenderly as his little family falls asleep, curled up in each other's arms. And he believes that this is the best possible future that can await him. He doesn't want the throne. He doesn't want to become emperor. He just wants to be able to fall asleep and wake up with you in his arms and your children running around. It's all he dreams about.

The younger Feyd would certainly laugh at him and mock him for such a trivial goal he had set for himself, but what more could he want with the title of baron and you by his side?

He saw perfectly well how the lives of his uncle and emperor turned out and knew the tragic fate of great people in power who decided to devote their entire lives to achieving the greatest possible influence. Feyd didn't want to follow in their footsteps. He wanted you. He realised, with horror, that this was enough for him—the vision or dream he had now was his ideal future.

"I love you." He whispers to your sleeping form before the darkness overwhelms him again.

He wakes up again on the ship, in the same room, and on the same bed. The difference is that your warm body is not pressed against his, and the throbbing pain from his stomach spreads uncomfortably throughout his body.

He groans, sitting on the bed and looking around. His hairless eyebrows wrinkle when he sees one of your spies with him. He automatically grabs the hidden knife and attacks your spy before she notices that he woke up.

"My Lord Baron, I can explain…" The woman says this as he presses the blade against her chest. She stops talking when he cuts off her access to the air by tightening his grip on her neck.

"Where is my right hand?" He growls, sticking to the remains of his control when he refrains from killing her. However, he does not stop himself from making a light cut on your spy's neck. Years of experience have proved that people were more willing to talk after he took some blood from them.

"It really wasn't my idea. She decided so. She knew that you would not let her do what she was planning, so she had to somehow... get rid of you from there, my lord Baron."

"Hm... that sounds like her, but... I would like to hear more about that plan of her. Say something useful and I might even spare your life." Feyd purrs, lazily dragging the blade down her neck to her collarbone, making a small cut.

He preferred not to hurt your toy too much. He didn't know how you would react to the loss of this particular spy. She must have been someone you trusted to entrust him to her.

But that didn't mean that Feyd couldn't land his anger at you on her for leaving him behind and completely unaware of your actions.

"Long ago, the Bene Gesserit had only one reverend mother. Their order was small then, but it was developing well. A certain ritual was invented to ensure that the most powerful of them was in power. It… is about the struggle of life forces. I don't know exactly how it's done, but… lady Y/N said that they both have to die for one of them to survive. She… she knew you wouldn't let her, so she had to make you leave that rat's nest so she could get the job done." A cold shiver runs down Feyd's spine. He needs a moment to compose himself and process your spy's words before he speaks again.

"They both have to die? What do you mean?" He asks, unconsciously tightening his already painful grip on the woman. His hand, the one holding the dagger, trembles slightly as he impatiently stares at her, waiting for an answer.

"I... they have to... they... their hearts stop beating and... the one who is stronger and has more life energy takes over the other's powers and survives."

"So... she may lose and die?" Fed sees your spy swallowing heavily after hearing his question. Thanks to this, he already knows the answer to it.

Strangely, instead of the huge, red fury and bloodlust, everything he feels is fear. Since he arrived at Giedi Prime, he has never felt fear. His uncle made sure that this emotion did not prevent him from reaching the ideal that his uncle demanded from Feyd. But at this point, when the vision of your dead body appears before his eyes, Feyd feels almost paralysed by fear of your life.

"There is... a little possibilty, my lord Baron."

This information is enough for him to make a decision. He stabs your spy in the stomach and allows her to sit on a bed. He reaches the exit in a few steps and opens the door with a bang. A doctor and two soldiers are waiting in the corridor. They look at him with fear in their eyes when he comes out, covered in blood. Before they can speak and probably inform him about his state of health, Fed is already growling at them and giving orders.

"Heal her and bandage her. She was only fulfilling my fiancee's orders." Fed tells the doctor. He is pleased with the surprise he sees on your spy's face. He intends to enjoy informing everyone about his 'engagement' with you. If you could have your plans, he could have some of his too. "Tell the pilot to turn back. And call more ours. We will burn these rats' nests to the ground."

With this promise, he leaves the room, ignoring the pain in his trunk. He must have found you before Fremen left with you for another hideout. He had to be fast and precise if he wanted to have you safe by his side. Maybe he should also ask the doctor for a sedative. Just in case you were stubborn enough to fight him instead of cooperating with him.

"What do you think?" Atreides' question catches you off guard for a moment. You stop watching the Fremen as they prepare to leave the sietch and shift your gaze to Atreides, raising an eyebrow in question. "About them. About my speech there."

"Are you looking for praise?" You mock, taking a closer look at what exactly he's putting into his bundle.

"I'm looking for a second opinion. Objective. Analytical and thorough." He replies, tying the fabric as he waits for your response.

"They will do whatever you want. Isn't that enough for you?" You ask, licking your lips as you choose your words carefully. You can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Paul wipes them away with his hand, not yet aware of the poison that courses through his veins.

You wanted to make sure as much as you could that when the moment came to defeat him and take his life force, there would be no shadow of a doubt that you would emerge victorious from the duel between you. After he went through the Reverend Mothers ceremony, you could try to perform the old ritual of reclaiming power between you two. This hasn't been done for centuries. So you hoped that everything you remembered from the old scrolls was true and that Atreides wouldn't surprise you with anything.

Even if he was a Kwisatz Haderach, you're still going to defeat him. No one and nothing will decide your fate.

"For now, yes. But in the future, I will need their full devotion. After all, I won't be the one to rule them on Arrakis." You raise your eyebrows questioningly, curious as to what his big plan for the future might be.

"Who do you want to entrust them to?"

Silence falls between you as you both look at each other intently. You know he's judging you, wondering how much he can tell you and how much he can hide from you. And you have to be convincing enough to gain even a little bit of trust from him. You know that stabbing Feyd helped you a lot with that. No matter how much it hurt you to do it.

"To be honest, you have the best skills to serve as Governor of Arrakis. The only question is, will you be equally faithful to me?"

"Me? Why?"

"They're already afraid of you. Besides, I saw your power—you're quite a powerful Bene Gesserit. Even if you don't like being called that, you can't cheat or change your destiny, no matter what."

"But... it is not all about power and fate, though is it?" You ask, slowly approaching him. "It is... something more there. Much more than we know." You whisper, looking at him with your most captivating gaze. Feyd would have killed him and tortured you if he saw you flirting with someone else... but luckily he wasn't here. And you had to somehow lower Atreides' guard.

"Indeed." He mumbles back and takes a step towards you. His fingers gently caress your jaw, tracing it until his fingertips brush against your lips. "My mother told me legends about the birth of the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. A woman who could bring thousands to their knees with a wave of her finger, tamed the most bloodthirsty of all beasts. Stilgar... has suspicions that you may be the mother of the one, the one to come. Of course, this conflicts with his perception of me as the chosen one."

He spoke the truth. You were the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. But not because you were born according to their program. You simply had potential, and they had way too much time and no obstacles to train you differently. You were supposed to be their perfect pawn in their game, to provide them with the Kwisatz Haderach. And now… you will kill the one who was supposed to be him.

"Even so, you don't lose power. They still listen to you. More than anyone else." You say, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips. He licks them, holding your jaw tightly as he leans slightly towards you.

"I may be my father's son, but I'm not going to make the same mistakes. You know, it is much safer to be feared than loved because... love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails."

"The prince Machiavelli." You say, knowing a quote from the book. You're a little surprised that he would read something like that. He also seems amazed that you know what book he took these words from.

"Indeed. Hmm... Maybe you're not that cruel and bloodthirsty Harkonnen witch people think you are. After all, you're a bit educated." Under any other circumstances, you would have kicked him in... his tender place for this. But now you have to smile sweetly, comforting yourself only with the thought that he will soon die at your hands.

"Believe me, Atreides. I am everything they talk about and more." You mumble before leaning in to connect your lips in a kiss.

Kissing him is… different from kissing Feyd. Less intense, less hot, and less passionate. With him, you don't feel that familiar thrill of excitement you feel every time Feyd literally devours you. This kiss is... too polite. There's not an ounce of desire in him, at least not on your part. You try to be persuasive, though, caressing his lips, but it's not the same plush softness of Feyd's lips. Your mind refuses to be fooled, and you realise with horror how deeply your new Baron has managed to get under your skin when you haven't been able to enjoy the kiss of any other man.

Atreides reaches for your hips, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth. At least he was the only one having fun out of the two of you. You place your hands on his shoulders, slowly pulling your hidden dagger from your sleeve as you let the man kiss you and explore your body with his hands.

You almost sigh with relief when his lips finally leave yours. He moves to kiss your neck, and you decide that this is the moment to start the ritual.

"Stay still. Don't move or speak." You use the voice on him. He stiffens in an instant, his eyes widening slightly as the steel of your poisoned blade presses against his neck. "You were right. It's better to make them afraid of you than to love you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him grab his hidden knife. But before he can stab you, you place your hands on his temples and recite the old formula, beginning the ritual. You feel yourself slowly starting to lose strength. You both kneel to the floor, life draining from the two of you.

It has begun. - you think as darkness takes over you.

This... is different from what you expected. Nowhere is it written what happens after the connection between the brains of the Bene Gesserit combatants is made. Or what kind of test are the two of you being put through to find out which one of you is stronger. You thought you and Atreides would stand in some imaginary arena and fight until one of you killed the other.

At least you would prefer this to the burning pain that overwhelmed you. You feel like you're immersed in pure, wild fire. All your nerves were burning. You felt your body, but at the same time, you were far from it. And all you could see and hear was blackness, screams, whispers, and songs in a language foreign to you. You feel like you've gone mad. Any pain you've felt doesn't compare to what you're going through right now.

You feel every cell in your body tear apart, and at the same time you remain in a void, unaware of anything except the feeling of pain.

But you endure it.

And suddenly, everything disappears. For a moment, you feel or hear nothing. It's just you and your consciousness as you anxiously await the turn of events.

Then various images begin to appear before your eyes—visions of the future and the past. You see every possible course of events that could occur and every single scenario that may happen. In some visions, both you and Feyd die; in others, it's just him or you; and in others, you both live to old age together. One element is constant. Only one. And you shudder every time you see the familiar figure of your future son ascending the throne as the Emperor and taking care of the entire world, restoring balance and peace.

All of Atreides' power has passed onto you. You knew everything. All possible futures. And they scared you more than you thought they would. And you feel completely different than you thought you would...

After some time and tens of thousands of visions, you return to your body. You begin to feel everything around you—the soft sheets beneath you, the softness of the pillow beneath your head, and the quiet beeping of the machines keeping you alive.

You struggle to open your eyes, hissing as the light hits your eyes. You look around, expecting to find a familiar hospital room, but instead you find yourself in Feyd's chambers. On fucking Giedi Prime.

"Welcome among the living." Feyd's hoarse voice reaches your ears. You turn your head towards him—too quickly, making you feel a little dizzy—but you open your mouth to speak anyway.

You have a terrible coughing fit, and your throat is drier than it has ever been on Arrakis. As you curl up on Feyd's bed, coughing up your lungs, you see him quickly fill a glass of water from the corner of your eye. He sits next to you, pulling you against his chest. You lean your back against him and drink the water greedily.

Feyd gently strokes your back, watching carefully as you drink the water. His gaze is watchful and attentive as he makes sure you drink the last drop from your glass.

When you finish, he takes your glass and walks over to the table to set it down. A cold shiver runs through you as you feel the absence of his presence. You remember how the last time you saw him, he was unconscious and injured. Because of you.

"I was more expecting to be chained to a wall in a prison cell. Or to have your harpies hovering over me and waiting for you to cut me up for them." You say jokingly, teasing him. But he doesn't laugh. You see him tense at your words before he slowly turns to face you.

"I had such an idea in my mind a month ago, when I found you pale as death in the arms of the equally dead Atreides. But I guess enough time has passed for me to get over it… or I just killed enough Fremen and doctors and Bene Gesserit women who couldn't bring you back to calm myself down."

"Month?" You ask, swallowing thickly as you bravely endure his stern glare.

"Mhmm… a month, two weeks and five days to be precise. This whole time, you were either losing your pulse or screaming until your throat was torn. Also, you had a fever that we barely managed to break down, and you were pronounced dead a few times, but who cares, right?" He asks casually, but you can clearly see the rage bubbling inside him despite his obvious concern for you.

"Oh… that's… a while."

"A little bit more than a while." He growls at you, playing with his dagger—the exact same one he gave you. You shudder as you see how much the blade has bent from the blood of the people you used it on.

"What about Atreides?" You ask, confused, wondering if it was really a good idea to bring this up now. Especially since he is playing with a poisoned dagger in his hands. And you used up the antidote to it (apparently) a month ago.

"I have his head. Do you want it on a silver platter, or should I just frame his tongue and hang it on the wall? Maybe right next to yours for being a liar and a traitor?" He asks furiously. But that's not what scares you the most. He's calm. Too calm and composed. And this was often how his anger manifested itself before he killed his victims.

"I... you know perfectly well that I had to do it. If I had done it differently, his... skills would have been lost. And I... now I see everything. I can prevent everything, I can make everything fine. Isn't that a big advantage for you? Have an oracle next to you?" You ask, slightly nervous about what he's going to do next.

"Depends on what this oracle wants to show me and what it doesn't want to show me. But since you know everything and the entire future, you probably know what I will do now." He says and heads towards the exit.

Your heart clenches, and you feel an inexplicable panic as you see him walk away from you. You can't stand how cold he was towards you. You have to do something. You can't just let him go.

"Feyd." You call after him and get out of bed to follow him. When you're on your legs, you lose your balance, and you would have fallen to the floor if Feyd hadn't caught you in his arms.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as you breathe quickly. You look at each other for a moment, allowing yourself to immerse yourself in the closeness of the other one.

Feyd places his hand under your knees and picks you up in bridal style. He puts you on his bed again and pulls away to leave. You grab his elbow tightly and hold on, forcing him to stay by your side as you give him a desperate, pleading look for him not to leave you.

Feyd sighs, sitting next to you on the bed. He leans towards you and rests his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against yours. And you feel really calm for the first time in years.

"You have no idea... I have killed men for smaller things than that. The only reason you're still alive... is because I prefer to destroy you myself. Without the help of any sick rituals or poison. You'll be begging me to kill you, little witch. I'll make you go through the same damn pain you put me through. You'll be begging me to stop making you scream. Oh, and I'll make you scream much louder than becasue of this stupid ancient ritual."

You know he's mad at you. And he has every right to do so. But you can't take his words seriously. Not when you have irrefutable proof of the depth of his feelings for you. As he said, he killed for less. If he wanted to, he would have gotten rid of you or hurt you by now. But he didn't.

"I'll happily scream because of you, my Baron." You reply, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs, trying to memorise every little bit of his skin.

"I… I'm serious." He growls at you. He places his hand on your neck and squeezes it gently. You smile and press a kiss just near the corner of his mouth.

"Me too. Do it. Show me how loud you want me to scream for you." You challenge him, placing small kisses on his face.

"Y/N... I should have killed you ages ago, woman. You poisoned my mind, you stabbed me with a sword, you left me alone to deal with the mess you made, you forced me to worry about you while you slowly died in front of me day by day, and I couldn't do any-fucking-thing. So tell me, how can I get past this? Why is it that all I want to do is fuck you until I feel like you're really alive and around me?"

You bite your lip, trying not to moan at his words. You lick your lips and lean towards him, kissing him. He moans into your mouth and tries to pull away from you, but you grab his neck and pull him towards you. Your heart speeds up as your lips caress his as you give all of yourself to him in that kiss.

You gently massage his scalp and lie down on the pillows. You pull him with you as he starts to kiss you back. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his hips. He pulls away from you with a growl and presses his forehead against yours, trying to calm down for your sake. After all, you had just woken up... too bad his cock wasn't as sympathetic to you as you rubbed against him.

"I… my mother was a Harkonnen, you know? Maybe that's why I was so drawn to you. Like calls to like or something like that." You gasp, remembering the memory you saw. Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise. A shiver runs across his skin, realising the power you've taken from Atreides.

"What else do you know?" He asks, caressing your cheek. You turn your head and press a kiss on the palm of his hand. You surprise him even more, but he's not going to protest when you show him affection. This was very rare in his life, and the fact that this small, voluntary gesture of adoration was coming from you made him even harder.

"That I don't want to lose you for some visions that may or may not happen. That you love me and that these months have been torture for you. That you hated me as much as you needed me to come back to you. That I… only want to think about us. I only care about our future, and I'm willing to watch this world burn if it means I can hold your hand until the end. with no fear that fate will make us hate each other. That I want you to be the only prophecy I care about."

"What about your escape from fate? You never wanted… to be part of this Kwisatz Haderach thing. Will you run away from me when you see that the path we are following leads inevitably to what you were so afraid of?"

His doubts are absolutely right. But that doesn't change the fact that you need him close to you right now. That you need his reassurance that everything will be fine, not his resentment. And you know it was wrong of you to demand from him things like that, but... nothing about your relationship was healthy anyway.

"Fuck it if I can't have us. Fuck it if I can't have you." You say and pull him in for another kiss. He moans in shock into your mouth but quickly responds to you with equal passion. You gasp as he grabs your waist tightly and lifts you up, making you sit on his lap.

"You said you love me." He gasps as he slowly removes your nightgown that he dressed you in himself.

"I did... I also stab you." You say as your hands reach up to start undressing him as well.

"You did. And you killed Atreides." He purrs against your jaw, placing kisses and hickeys there.

"I did." You groan, your hands shaking as you try to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible.

"You handed me over to our people."

"I did. You are quite heavy." You giggle as he blows on your neck, tickling you, before sinking his teeth into it. You dig your fingers into his back, pulling him close to you.

"Why did you do this?" He asks, pulling away from you to look at you carefully, gauging your reaction, making sure you were always on his side, and doing everything for your mutual good. For his good.

"Because I decide about my fate. Not Bene Gesserit, not any Atreides, not you or anyone. Only me. And I want you. And love you. And need you. But only as my equal... and if you will have me."

"I won't let you go anymore." He warns, laying you down on the bed and towering over you.

"I will never want to leave." You promise, looking into his icy blue eyes and stroking the scar on his lower stomach—from the wound you gave him.

"Good."

"Good."

"Say it again."

"Good?" You ask teasingly, pressing kisses to his neck and giving him a few hickeys, marking him as yours with more than just his scars.

"No. You know what."

"I love you."

"About damn time." He growls, devouring your mouth. You moan as he bites into your lower lip. You both don't hold back anymore. Feyd marks you like a map, as if he wanted to memorise all the sensitive places that made you moan and writhe in pleasure, pressing into his muscled body.

You forget for a moment the whole world, everything you've done for him, everything you both should have discussed—all you can think about is Feyd. About wanting to be closer to him, about needing him as desperately as he needs you. So how can Feyd resist you when you're so willing to take him in? When he had dreamed of this moment for years? When can he finally satisfy his desire for your body?

He trails his kisses lower, gently taking your nipple into his mouth and cupping your other breast, massaging it. You moan, scratching his scalp, throwing your head back against the pillows, and grinding your hips against his.

You're both starting to get annoyed by the underwear that's preventing you from clinging to each other the way you want. Feyd rips your panties off of you, wasting no time in pushing his fingers into you. You whine, thrashing around on the bed, wanting more and yet too sensitive for anything else. You open your eyes and gasp at the sight of his full, erect length rubbing against your thigh. Feyd pinches your nipple, making you moan and shifting your gaze to him.

"Eyes on me, little witch."

"But... ach!" You moan as his fingers speed up inside you, tears forming in your eyes as your hips move in time with the rhythm of his fingers as you chase your orgasm.

"Listen to your Baron. Eyes on me." He pauses to slap your pussy. You moan, biting your lower lip. "And don't hold back any sounds. Or I'll punish you like I should have since you woke up."

It's very hard to keep your eyes open for him. Especially when his fingers massage your clit so perfectly and fill you up. You reach your hand to his hard cock on your thigh and rub it gently.

He growls, kissing you hard and punishingly, as you try to speed things up and make him lunge at you in a frenzy of lust, when he wants to tease your pussy and punish you accordingly first.

For a month he waited by your bedside, bravely holding you through the stages of your screams and high fevers, making sure you were alive, breathing, and your heart was beating in a rhythm he had memorized. He deserves to have some fun with you...

"Feyd... please..." Your moans, the kisses you place on his jaw, and the way your fingers caress the scar on his muscled stomach—the one you gave him yourself—make him lose his restraint, which was already frail and weak. At least that's how he explains his desire to immediately fulfill your wish.

His arms wrap around you tightly as he gently pushes into you, making sure his entire alabaster length will fit inside you. He stops, cursing in his tongue and resting his forehead against yours as he gives you a moment to adjust to his length. Finally. He finally feels you all around him. And you're tighter than he dreamed.

"Damn… you little witch…"

"I know..." You gasp, wrapping your arms around him, and kiss him hungrily, basking in the feeling of fullness as his length perfectly fills the void inside you. It's warm. It's nice to feel him so close to you. It's nice to be with him. You moan as he starts to move slowly, testing how far he can go.

Feyd growls, picking up his pace when you don't protest, his hips bucking wildly against yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer.

He grips one of your hips and cups your cheek with the other, making sure your eyes are focused on him. He kisses away the tears streaming down your cheek, licking them off your face. He kisses you fervently and hungrily, catching every moan and grunt you make as his hips grind against yours. A wet sound echoes through the room, occasionally interrupted by a moan from either of you as you finally come together in the most primal, animalistic way, demanding each other.

"Mine. Only mine." Feyd growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful Baroness. Fuck. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around his chambers.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. I will never let you escape again, I will never again let you out of my sight for more than a second, I will never again let you fight against the world and fate alone. We are the two sides of the same coin... WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss.

And for that moment you knew what cosmic love really meant. And you would fight with anyone to be able to experience it whenever you wanted.

"I love you." Feyd whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple and tightening his grip around you.

He slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you, still holding you in the iron grip of his arms. You lazily snuggle into him and trace the scar you gave him with the fingertip of your finger. Guilt grows within you, and for a moment, you think that he purposely allowed this scar to remind you of what you did.

You decide to talk to him about everything tomorrow. It was just the two of you for now, and you were going to enjoy this as long as you could. You place your head into the crook of his neck and take his hand in yours. You tangle his other hand in your hair and snuggle into him, sighing as you feel his touch, warmth, and scent around you.

You both fall asleep cuddled together. And for a moment, you allow yourself to be in bliss of his touch and closeness, not worrying about any politics or issues that you should discuss instead of... giving in to something you have wanted for a long time.

From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you and Feyd.

That's why you make sure that your first child will be a daughter.

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t  @oneandonlybbygrl @alexa4040 @lowlyloved @toertchen @em-100 @caintheking @justarandomflowerchildofthenight @hrtifyeren

[lightsoutnaway]

Hellloooo can I request Carlos x Reader meeting his dad/family for the first time??

Thank youuu!!!

Meet the Family

PAIRING: Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: You meet Carlos' family at the Spanish Gran Prix.

WORD COUNT: 1,114

A/N: Thank you so much for this request! Sorry it took so long for me to get too. I've just gotten through a big series of projects at work though, and I have a lot of free time opening up! I appreciate your patience.

You were hanging your clothes in the closet of the hotel that you were staying at. You really wished they would build a track in Madrid so you could have one race where you and Carlos got to sleep at home. You picked up your last dress, sliding it onto a hanger and placing it in the hotel closet. 

“What do you want to do for dinner?” You asked Carlos as you started putting your shoes away. 

“My dad has a dinner reservation for all of us tonight,” Carlos told you. You froze. 

“Your dad?” You asked.

“Yes,” Carlos answered. “My mom and sister too.” 

“You didn’t tell me they would be here!” You exclaimed. Carlos looked over at you. He hadn’t realized your panic until then. 

“It’s the Spanish Grand Prix. I assumed you would know,” Carlos replied. 

“I assumed you would give me a warning before I met your family,” you told him. You ran a hand through your hair. Carlos tried to hold in a smile at your anxiety. “I don’t have gifts for any of them, Carlos.” 

“You don’t need gifts for them,” Carlos said. 

“My clothes aren’t nice enough either,” you continued. “I didn’t bring anything that’s right for dinner with your parents.” 

“You look perfect right now,” Carlos replied. You weren’t really listening. You stopped and looked at him. 

“Carlos, what if they hate me?” You asked. Carlos frowned. 

“They will not hate you,” Carlos assured you. 

“How do you know?” You pressed. 

“Because I love you. And they’re my family,” he answered. You took a deep breath. 

“Are you sure they won’t hate me?” You asked. Carlos chuckled. 

“They’ll love you, mi amor. My mother has been asking about you for months,” he told you. “She tells me how much happier I seem every time we talk. She knows it’s because of you.” Your cheeks warmed and your heart skipped a beat. 

“What about your dad?” You asked. You knew how much Carlos loved and respected his father. The approval of Carlos Sainz Sr. was something that you found yourself wanting the same way his son did. 

“He’ll love you too, amor,” Carlos assured you. “They all will. You’re going to fit right in.” You took a deep breath and nodded hesitantly.

“Do you really think that they’ll like me? You’re not just saying it?” You asked. Carlos reached up and pushed a hair out of your eyes. 

“Yes, mi amor. I have no worries. They will love you almost as much as I do,” he assured you. “We’re meeting them in an hour.” Your heart leapt in your chest. Meeting your boyfriend’s parents with one hour notice wouldn’t have been your first plan, but it didn’t give you much time to worry. When you arrived at the restaurant Carlos Sr., Reyes, and Blanca were all there already. You weren’t late, but the idea that you had kept them waiting already had you expecting that they hated you. Instead when you walked up Reyes wrapped you in a hug, quickly followed by her husband and daughter. 

“Y/N! It is so good to meet you,” Reyes greeted. Reyes hugged her son as Blanca kissed your cheeks. “Ella es muy bonita, Carlito,” Reyes praised her son. 

“My son never stops talking about you,” Carlos Sr. said as you sat down. “He tells us all about your job.” You looked at Carlos, a bashful expression spreading over your face. 

“Yes, I love my job. It’s not quite as exciting as being a racecar driver, but I like it,” you said. 

“I’ve asked him some questions, but I’m not sure he listens to you as well as he should…” Carlos Sr. proceeded to ask you about your career, clearly impressed by the fact that you were so advanced in your field. Blanca quickly took to you, her sense of humor matching yours–similar to her brother. Reyes didn’t say much but as she watched her son fawn over you, she didn’t find the need to ask you anything. 

“Do you want the last bite?” Carlos held out a forkful of chocolate cake to you. You smiled and let him feed it to you. 

“Thank you, my love,” you gushed before kissing his cheek. As sick as the sight made her, Blanca couldn’t help but be happy for her brother. Reyes and Carlos Sr. had knowing smiles on their faces as they watched their son. You were the one. They knew it just as well as their son did. Carlos Sr. paid for the meal before Carlos pulled your chair out for you, offering his arm to you as you exited the restaurant. Reyes and Blanca were chatting with you about where you would meet in the paddock tomorrow as Carlos went up to the valet stand with his father. The two of them handed their tickets to the valet before he walked off to get their cars. Carlos was watching you laugh with his mom and sister, his father observing the way his son stared at you so fondly. 

“Don’t mess it up with this one,” Carlos Sr. warned his son. “You’re never going to do better.” Carlos looked over at his dad and chuckled. 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Carlos assured his father. Carlos opened your car door for you before all of you headed out. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You called to Carlos’ family through the open car window. Carlos smiled to himself before reaching over and innocently resting his hand on your leg as he drove back to the hotel. 

“I told you that they would love you,” Carlos teased you. 

“You were nervous when you met my parents,” you reminded him with a huff. 

“Your dad is scary,” Carlos said. 

“I told you that he would like you though,” you replied. 

“And you were right. And I was right that my family would like you,” Carlos said. “We are just one big happy family.” You giggled. 

“We’re family?” You asked softly. 

“Yes,” Carlos said firmly. “Soon enough it will be legal too.” You looked at Carlos with wide eyes. 

“What?” Your voice was small and hopeful. Carlos smirked. 

“I thought I could adopt you,” he said. “Charles and Oscar made it seem fun.” You laughed at him. Carlos pulled up to the hotel. 

“I don’t need to be adopted though. I’ve got parents,” you teased as Carlos helped you from his car. He smiled as he wound his fingers between yours. His fingertip rubbed against the empty spot on your left ring finger that would be occupied soon enough. 

“That’s okay,” Carlos assured you. “I can think of another way to make you my family."

[moonchild9350]

Please Can I?

Summary: You and Minho have been best friends for a while and life has been great until one fateful movie night.

Pairing: idol dom Minho x fem reader (Hyunjin, Jisung, and Changbin make an appearance)

Genre: smut, friends to lovers- 18+ sooo MDNI please

Word Count: 4321

Warnings: cursing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), edging, denied orgasm, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up), voyeurism, masturbation.

Note: All my biases in one fic? yes please! I hope you like it!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :) Let me know if you would like a part 2!

This is in no way how the boys are in reality. This is only for fun.

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

You and Minho had been friends for years, best friends even.  You met at a dance intensive, both of you being in the same class.  Minho was there to get some extra instruction so he could do his best for the band he was in.  You, however, were only there for fun.  You had been dancing since you were little and just loved the hobby, therefore, continuing into adulthood.  The dance instructor had just dismissed everyone for a break, when you bumped into Minho.  You couldn;t help but stare at him.  He was gorgeous, which was honestly an understatement, with chocolate brown eyes, wavy hair, and the cutest freckle on his nose.  

“Are you ok?” Minho asked, steadying you, as you were about to topple over.  “Hmmhmm” you said, “sorry about that.” Minho smiled, shaking his head while saying, “no worries kitten.” Kitten, he called you kitten.  You swooned at this man even more.  Minho eyed you carefully, giving you a once over.  “Would you like to practice together sometime? I saw you dance and you’re really good.”  

‘This gorgeous man is asking me if i want to practice with him, oh my god, don’t panic, don’t panic.’  You were having an internal dialog with yourself, not realizing you never answered Minho’s question.  Minho cleared his throat, giving you a look of concern.  You snapped out of your thoughts, “Oh, um, sure.  I’d love that!”  Minho chuckled, “Great! Let’s plan for a day after practice.” You nodded your head still not believing your luck.  Before you could say anything else, the dance instructor came back in the practice room, declaring break time over.

The first time practicing with Minho was amazing.  You loved watching him move his body, he was graceful with his movements, kind of like a cat.  You found yourself joining in on many dance sessions with Minho, both of you growing closer with each passing day.  You found yourself reaching out to him more and more, with Minho doing the same.  You eventually found out he was a part of a band, a popular one at that. Eventually, he introduced you to his bandmates and with time you became friends with them too. 

Despite the busy schedule and sometimes long absences due to tours and other events, your friendship with Minho grew deeper.  You were both very fond of each other. iHowever, there was one slight problem.  Yes, you were best friends and would do anything for each other, the only problem was, you had fallen in love with Minho.  You never said anything to him about your feelings, happy that your friendship was going well, not wanting to mess that up with messy feelings.  You decided you would just toss those feelings aside and focus on your friendship.

Minho was coming over to your apartment after rehearsal, some of the other bandmates joining in a little later. The agenda of the night was movie night.  Minho came over frequently, you two feeling so comfortable with each other that he even stayed the night sometimes.  He stayed over so frequently that he left some of his things at your place, that way he wouldn’t have to lug an overnight bag with him everytime he came over.  He even slept in your bed, often the two of you cuddling into the night, comfortable in each other’s embrace.  You loved feeling close to Minho, his arms wrapped around you as you laid in bed together, talking about anything and everything.  You loved how he would tuck your head into his neck and rest his head on top of your hair as you two fell asleep.  Was it good for your heart? No, but nothing to you was a good enough reason to stop this tirade.  

You heard the key rattle in the lock signaling that Minho had arrived.  Yes, Minho had a key to your apartment.  It was easier that way and plus he was your bestfriend so why not.  You heard him set his keys down on the hallway table, “Hey y/n.”  You turned in your spot on the couch, looking at Minho.  “Hey Min.  How was practice?” 

“Too long,” he giggled, “was dying to get here so I can relax and we can watch that new movie!” You smiled at this, knowing that the movie that you guys planned to watch was one Minho has been wanting to watch for a long time.  “Will your wish will come true,” you replied.  “Hurry up and shower so we can start! What time are the others coming over again?” Minho nodded and said, “much later tonight if that is still ok.  They had to finish some last minute things at the studio.”  He then made his way to your bathroom to shower.  

Thirty minutes later, Minho came out of your room, hair still wet from his shower, and wearing a t-shirt and sweats.  You tried not to ogle at him, you really did, but it was hard to do with him standing in front of you in all his glory.  “Kitten move over.”  You realized he was speaking to you.  You scooted over, making room for the man.  Minho took your legs and draped them over his lap.  He then grabbed the blanket you had and rearranged it so it could drape over both of you.  “Ok, I’m ready, let’s start this.  I’m so excited to watch this.” Minho said.  You chuckled at his outburst and pressed play.

Everything was going well, the movie was actually really good, filled with lots of action scenes.  However, what you didn’t expect was the romance scenes that popped up every now and then.  You watched as the couple on screen would hold each other and kiss, which wasn’t all that terrible.  You could handle a few kissing scenes, and being snuggled up to your crush.  Yeah, you would be fine.  But, what you definitely did not expect was the sex scene that came later in the movie.  The man was pleasuring the woman on screen, running his hands up and down her body, giving special attention to her breasts.  You couldn’t help but wonder how that would feel with Minho.  Would he drag his hands all soft and gentle down your body, gently giving your breast a squeeze before lightly brushing across your nipple? Or would he be more forceful, grazing his hand over the mounds before roughly pinching your nipple causing pleasure to shoot up your spine.  You tried to shake these thoughts from your head, but to no avail.  

Minho could tell something was off with you, but he didn’t say anything.  He knew you would tell him whatever was on your mind in time.  He just kept watching the movie, absentmindedly rubbing your leg that was on his lap every now and then.  You were definitely aware of this, each touch of his causing you to internally shiver.  Each touch Minho gave you went straight to your cunt, which was dripping at this point, soaking you panties.  You tried to pay attention to the movie, at how the couple on screen were going at it like bunnies, the woman’s breasts bouncing up and down as she rode the man, his head tossed back in pleasure.  You mind wondered once more, thinking of how Minho would look as you rode him.  Would he smirk at you while he guided you over his cock? Would he scrunch up his cute little nose, with the cute little freckle, as you gave him pleasure, causing his mouth to open, showing his bunny teeth as he moaned out.  You were brought out of your reverie by Minho pinching your leg and then rubbing it again.  You couldn’t help but let out a little whimper.  You froze, staring straight ahead, hoping Minho didn’t hear your little moan.  

Little did you know, Minho did hear your moan. It was really quiet, barely audible, but he heard it.  He thought you sounded heavenly.  Honestly, he wished he could have you.  He’s wanted you for so long, but he didn’t want to blur the lines of your friendship.  He highly doubted you wanted him in that way either, that is until this moment when he heard your moan after he pinched and rubbed your leg.  He looked at you through the corner of his eye.  He could see the blush on your cheeks and ears as you stared straight ahead at the tv.  He didn’t think you were watching the movie, or if you were, you weren’t really giving it your full attention.  He thinks he knows why and he hopes to god he’s right.  

The scene ended, flashing back to another action scene.  You breathed out a sigh of relief.  Now you could focus on the rest of the movie and not Minho’s hand on your leg, or the fact that you actually whimpered when he touched you, or that your panties were soaked, staining your flimsy pj shorts.  That was your hope at least.  You were surprised when you found yourself actually intrigued with the rest of the movie, it having a happy ending.  You watched as the screen faded to black and the end credits started to roll.  “That was a good movie Min, good pick!” you said, trying to forget the not so nice thoughts that had run through your head while watching.  Minho hummed at your critique. “It was, wasn’t it.  They did well with all those action scenes.”  You nodded your head in agreement.  Minho untangled the blanket from your legs, giving them a pat before removing them from his lap.  “Bed before the guys come?” he asked, “we can watch more tv there.”  “Okay,” you said.  You weren’t sure why you were nervous. You had slept in bed with Minho many times before, why should this be any different?

You shook your head to get rid of your thoughts before getting up and following Minho to your bedroom.  He tossed the covers back and snuggled in, opening his arms so you could come cuddle with him.  You obliged, sliding under the covers and scooting next to Minho.  He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in close, just like he always did.  You felt your heartbeat quicken, hyper aware of how close you were to him.  “Go ahead and pick a show to watch,” he said to you.  You picked up the remote, scrolling through the options before settling on a comedy.  You rested in his arms, feeling truly at home.  You were warm and felt safe and before you knew it you were starting to drift off.

“Y/n?” Minho asked.  You opened your eyes and looked at him.  “Why did you moan after I pinched your leg earlier?”  You held your breath at his question.  You couldn’t believe it.  He did hear you.  You felt embarrassed and felt the heat rise to your face.  

“Ummm….I….I’m not sure.”  You wanted to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.  Why couldn’t you control yourself? Why did you have to be so horny that just a pinch on the leg caused you to moan like a dog in heat?

Minho thought for a moment.  “It wasn’t because of that sex scene on tv right? Did you get turned on from that?  Surely it’s not from the fact that I pinched your leg?” You froze in your spot, heart beating so fast, you were surprised Minho couldn’t hear it.  “You want to know what I think?” Minho began.  “I think you liked it, liked how I pinched your leg and then rubbed the pain away.  I think you were thinking dirty thoughts, kitten.  Wanna tell me what you were thinking?  Don’t be shy, you tell me everything, right?”  You were at a loss at what to say.  He was right, you did tell him everything, no matter how obscene or crazy it was.  

You cleared your throat before quietly saying, “I was umm, I was thinking dirty thoughts.”  Minho smiled at the confession, giving your arm a squeeze.  “Tell me what you were thinking, kitten.  I wanna hear about it.”  You paused for a moment, not sure if you should tell him.  If you did, it would probably change the dynamic in your relationship.  But, what if you did tell him and it didn't.  What if he feels the same way about you? You made a decision and said,” I was thinking about you Min.”

“Yeah? What about me?”  You cleared your throat, “I was thinking about how it would…how it would feel to be with you Min.”  

“To be with me? In what way?” Minho pushed.  “To be with you in that way, Min.  To give you all of me.”  Minho lifted your head by the chin so you could look him in the eyes.  “My kitten has been having some dirty thoughts hmm? What should we do with you?” You just stared at Minho, not sure what to do or say.  It felt like minutes had passed when it was really just a second or two.  You watched as Minho looked down at your lips as he said, “What if I was thinking about you in that way too?”  At that he leaned down to press his lips against yours.  It was a feather light kiss, his lips brushing lightly against yours.  “Is this okay, kitten? Tell me now, I will stop if you want me to.”  You whispered against his lips, “please, please kiss me Min.”  

That was all he needed to hear.  Minho crashed his lips onto yours, pulling you closer to his body.  You let out a whimper, deepening the kiss.  Minho brushed his tongue across your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in.  He moaned out, grasping your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap.  You wrapped your arms around his neck, not wanting to let go. Kissing Minho was heaven.  His lips were soft, tasting like the cherry chapstick he likes to use.  Your lips fit perfectly together, as if he was made for you.  

You were wet, you had been since the movie.  How could you not be?  Minho’s hands were sliding up and down your legs.  As his hands gave your hips a squeeze, you could feel more arousal slipping out of your cunt into your panties.  You rolled your hips against him, feeling his hard cock slide through your folds through the shorts you were wearing.  You were probably going to have to throw away the panties and shorts you were wearing, as they were soaked through. 

Minho grinned against your lips, grasping your hips harder, helping you grind against his bulge.  “I want you to cum like this kitten.  Can you get yourself off?” You whimpered and nodded and sped up the motion of your hips.  You found the right spot and rhythm to where his clothed cock continued to slide up against your clit, making you clench repeatedly over nothing.  You were a whimpering mess, gasping against Minho’s lips, chasing your high, as he guided you over his cock.  You felt the coil in your belly tighten, ready to snap at any moment.  Right when you were about to cum, Minho halted your hips, your high slowly ebbing away. 

“Why, Min why,” you huffed.  Minho giggled saying, “I changed my mind.” 

Minho lifted you up off his lap and laid you down next to him.  He got up to take off his sweats and t-shirt.  He was left in only his boxers, his large bulge sticking out, and his sculpted chest on display.  You couldn’t help but drool at the sight in front of you.  The many years of dance and discipline clearly did its job.  He grabbed your legs and pulled you down to the edge of the bed.  He quickly pulled off your shirt, tossing it aside before taking a hand and grasping your breast.  He flicked your nipple, causing you to moan.  “Pretty tits kitten,” Minho groaned as he squeezed them.  He leaned down and gave you a peck on the lips before hooking his fingers in your waistband, and dragging your shorts and panties down in one go.  He then spread your legs so he could see your bare pussy, puffy and pink and glistening with your arousal.  

“My god kitten, cunt is gorgeous,” breathed Minho, his eyes glued to your center.  “I need a taste.  Can I taste you?”  You nodded your head, “go ahead Min.”  He got on his knees, pulled your ass to the edge of the bed and brought his face to your center.  He was addicted to your smell.  He knew you would taste good.  This was a scene straight out of his wet dreams.  

You watched as he brought his tongue to your cunt and licked you from your entrance to your clit, causing you to jerk your hips up.  He grasped your legs tighter to keep you in place and repeated the motion once more before shoving his tongue into your entrance as far as it would go.  He licked and sucked like a mad man, moaning at your taste.  Minho’s hands kept you spread open, giving him the access he needed to pleasure your sweet body.  He moved his tongue to your clit, giving it kitten licks before suckling the bud between his lips.  You threw your head back, lost in pleasure, grinding your hips against Minho’s face.  Minho had spit and your arousal dripping down his face as he ate you out, never slowing down.  Minho inserted a finger into your hole, slowly dragging it in and out.  He added another finger, moving a little faster, before adding a third.  He curled his fingers upwards, searching for your sweet spot, grinning against your pussy once he found it, your mewls rising a pitch.  

Minho continued to suckle your clit and scissor his fingers in your pussy, bringing you close to the edge.  “Min, Min, I need to cum..please let me cum this time,” you whined, feeling that coil in your belly again. Minho continued lapping at your folds, arousal dripping and clit swollen.  Just when you thought he was going to grant your request, he pulled away with a grin on his face.  You let out a wail, a tear falling down your eye as you felt your orgasm fade away…again.  You absentmindedly reached down to finger at your clit, desperate for your release.  Minho slapped your hand away, “Nuh uh kitten.  You’ll cum when I say you can.” You whined at his words, but nodded your head anyway because you wanted to be a good girl for Minho. 

You watched as he removed his boxers, his cock slapping up against his abdomen, and what a beautiful cock it was.  It was long, with a vein running along the underside of his cock, with a mushroom tip leaking with pre-cum.  He stroked his cock a few times, before slapping it against your clit.  You moaned at the feeling, needing any form of stimulation you can get.  He started rubbing his cock through your folds, before sliding the tip into your entrance and bringing it back out again.  He repeated this motion again and again, watching you gasp and whimper at the feeling. 

You were so tight, his tip breaching your cunt each time he pushed in.  He couldn’t wait to sink into your wet, hot cunt to the hilt and fuck you like you deserve.

As he was about to slide back into your warmth, there was a knock on the door. Minho withdrew his cock and went to grab and put on his shorts.  You had forgotten that some of the other members were coming over tonight, being too preoccupied with trying to cum on Minho’s cock.  

“Oh they’re here, kitten.  Wanna sit there all nice and pretty? Keep your legs spread out just like that.  I’ll go get the boys.  Wouldn’t you love for them to see your wet, sloppy cunt?”  

At his words, you mewled out, clenching down, more arousal sliding out of your cunt.  “Yes, yes, please go get them.  Want to be a good girl for them too!”  Minho chuckled and watched as you grabbed your legs behind the knees to open them up further.  Your puffy cunt was open on display, pretty swollen clit peeking out between your folds. 

“No touching kitten, I’ll be right back.”  You whined in response, “hurry Min, please hurry.”

You watched as Minho left your bedroom, listening for when he opened the front door.  You heard multiple voices, Minho’s being one of them, getting closer to your room.  Minho opened the bedroom door, walking in and stepping aside to let Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung into the room.  As they filed in, Hyunjin was the first to see you.  His eyes went to yours before trailing down to your dripping cunt.  He sucked in his breath at the site, the prettiest he’s ever seen.  

“My god hyung,” Changbin said, shocked at the scene, “When you said you had something to show us, this is not what I expected.” Minho chuckled, “Thought I’d surprise you.  Y/n’s been a good kitten.  She’s held out for so long.”  Walking over, Minho reached out to slide his finger through your lips, before giving your cunt a slap, “Isn’t that right kitten?”  You whimpered, shaking your head yes.  

“Need your cock, Min.  Need….need something, please.  Need to cum.”  

You were desperate at this point.  The four men looking at you with lust and awe in their eyes was too much.  You needed someone, anyone’s cock inside.  Minho smiled and brushed his hand down your face, “Don’t worry kitten, you’ll be cumming on my cock soon.”  He pushed his boxers down once more and tossed them away, not caring that there were some of his other band members in the room, his only focus being you in the moment.  He gripped his cock and brought it to your cunt once more, spreading your slick around.  He pushed in with one fluid stroke, bottoming out, groans coming from both of you. 

“So tight kitten, you’re clenching around me so hard.” He pulled out to the tip just to slam his hips back into yours.  

You mewled out, lost in how his cock dragged against your walls.  You were sensitive at this point, ready to cum at any moment from Minho’s earlier constant edging.  You looked over at the boys and saw them palming their cocks, their eyes trained on you.  

“How does it feel, baby?” Jisung whimpered out, giving his cock a squeeze.  You watched as he slid his hand past his waistband to fondle his cock directly, never taking his eyes off of you.  “It’s talking ain’t it baby, that pretty cunt is so wet oh my god.  

Hyunjin then asked “Is Minho fucking you good baby?” You turned your head to see him grind against his hand as he had pulled his cock out.  

You whimpered out, “yes, yes, yes, yes. Mmhgg…I’m so close, please don’t stop. Please Min.”  

Minho looked at you, bringing his fingers to your swollen clit, dragging out cries of pleasure from your lips.  “Should I let her cum? Hyunjin? Changbin? Ji? What do you think?” 

“Fuck yeah, I want to see her face when she cums. I bet it’s a beautiful site,” Changbin replied, stroking his cock faster at the prospect of you cumming soon.

Hyunjin huffed after squeezing his cock, “hyung, let her cum.  Look at her, I don’t think she’s gonna hold out long.”  

Minho continued to pound into you, “You hear that kitten, the boys wanna see you cum.  Think you can do it? Let go for us?”  

“Yes, yes, I can cum. I want to cum.  Please, so close Min.” You held your legs tighter, feeling your cunt clench and flutter around Minho’s cock.  You felt that coil in your belly build up again, but this time, you were able to let it go.  Letting out a wail, you felt your belly contract before you felt something flood out of you.

“Ahh shit, she squirted, look at that hyung,” Jisung said.

Minho smiled and kept pounding into your cunt, riding you through your high.  “Can I fill you up kitten?” Minho looked at you lovingly, wiping a tear from your face and stroking your cheek.  You nodded your head and whispered, “yes please.”  Minho’s thrusts became sloppy, feeling you clench around his cock again and again.  He couldn’t hold out anymore, he had to fill you up, show you that you were his now and nobody else's.  With a grunt he stilled his hips and came, flooding your walls with his cum.  He stayed inside you for a moment as he leaned down to give you a kiss.  

He slowly pulled his cock out, his release dripping out of your cunt and down onto the sheets below.  He moved out of the way, pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.  “Let the boys see kitten, let them see my cum dripping out of your cunt.”  

The boy’s eyes were locked onto your cunt, watching as Minho’s cum leaked out.  The sheets were an absolute mess, your arousal soaked through the sheets, most likely ruining them.  You looked good enough to eat and god did they want to, take a taste of your precious cunt and coax more orgasms from you. 

You leaned into Minho’s touch, more than satisfied. You then made eye contact with Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung, pushing Minho’s cum out of your cunt. Moans were heard from all three men, as they stroked their cocks and watched you and Minho’s cum leak.  You unhooked your arms from behind your knees and took your fingers to open your lips so they could get a better look at your gaping hole.  Minho smiled down at you, proud of his kitten.  

“So,” Changbin said. “Can I be next?”

I hope you enjoyed it if you read this far. Let me know if you would like a part 2 ;)

[tayytayy12]

Daisy | AA23 x Reader x Lily Muni He

Feels like series part two | Part one | Series Link

Series Summary - Lily and reader are childhood best friends, they’ve always been there for each other no matter what. So when reader has a bad brake up Lily and her boyfriend Alex step up and help reader get back on her feet, the last thing they all expect was them all mistakenly catch feelings for each other along the way.

Part Summary - Lily comes to get you after your rough fight with George.

Warnings - Breakup mentioned, swearing

Type - Written work

(Daisy is Lily’s nickname for reader!)

Not been proofread

“Oh, Daisy.” Lily muttered as she pulled her car to a stop where you was waiting for her on the pavement down the road from yours and George’s shared apartment, your best friend quickly jumping out of the vehicle to pull you into a warm high which you instantly returned of course. You couldn’t help the small smile that crept up onto your lips at the use of the nickname she had given you when the two of you were kids.

Lily had been your person for as long as you could remember, you couldn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t your best friend.

You had first met the girl when the two of you were in third-grade, you was new to the area, you and your parents having just moved, and you had joined halfway through the school year when everyone had already had established all of their friend groups, even in third grade people weren’t very open to opening their friend groups to new girls from halfway across the country such as yourself.

So, at lunch you was sitting by yourself in the corner, picking at the food your mum had packed you when you saw a person sit down in front of you, you looked up as saw a young Lily, her warm eyes looking welcoming as she had a smile on her face that could light up an entire town, you still remember the first interaction you two had to this day.

She introduced herself, her wide grin never once faltering as she asked for your name, but, you being a shy eight year old in a brand new place didn’t answer, but that didn’t make Lily give up, not at all. Instead, she looked at your lunchbox, the object having daisies printed all over the fabric, so she just said, “It’s okay, I get nervous sometimes too, for now I’m going to call you Daisy.” Eventually you told her your name of course, after a day of her wearing you down, but the nickname never dropped, so still to this day, you was her Daisy.

“Hey Lil.” You whispered into her shoulder as you tightened the hug, feeling good to finally be able to relax now that you were with her.

She pulled away slowly and tucked your hair behind your ears as she wiped a stray tear away that had managed to escape your eye, “I hate him Daisy,” she whispered slowly, “I really fucking hate him. I don’t care if he’s Alex’s friend okay, he can’t keep doing shit like this to you.” She said sternly, you knew she wasn’t angry at you. Jts just every time you and George had an argument she was always the one you would go to, to try and find some sort of comfort, that she always provided, but seeing you so upset this time really made her hate him.

“I know,” you said as you wiped another tear, “I know Lil. That’s why I ended it with him, for good.”

“Oh, Y/n.” She said as she pulled you to come sit in the car as she jogged back round to the drivers side, “I know this must hurt, Daisy, I know it will for a while. But you have me, and I will be your shoulder to cry in for however long you need me too, okay?”

“Are you sure Alex doesn’t mind me staying with you? I just dumped his best friend.” You said with a small laugh as you pulled your knees to your chest.

“Trust me baby, Alex would never be seen with anyone who treats a woman like that bastard treated you, he respects people too much,” she looked over at you from her spot in the drivers seat, “and for what it’s worth, Alex really likes you.”

You smiled and laughed lightly at her words, you had always gotten along well with Lily’s boyfriend Alex, you met George through him and Lily, he was your favourite boyfriend that your best friend had ever had.

“I like him too,” you said with a small laugh as Lily looked over at you once again, but the small smile she had in her face disappeared when she saw the dried blood from the small scratch on your hand, you had completely forgotten about it.

“What the hell did he do?” She asked as she gently grabbed your hand as she stopped at a red light, “my god I’m going to fucking murder him.”

“Lil it’s okay.”

“No it’s not fucking okay, Daisy. That asshole hurt you,” she said softer this time as she sighed, “god I should’ve convinced you to leave him sooner.”

“Hey,” you said as you gently pulled your hand away, “he dropped a glass and swim if it hit me,” you said, not including the part where he smashed the glass onto the ground, “nothing related to our argument, okay? Don’t blame yourself for anything at all because it’s not your fault.”

She nodded as she sighed, “I’m glad you finally left that bastard.”

“Me too, Lil. Me too.”

-

@marshmummy @nikfigueiredo @nichmeddar @thedudeusimpfor @iloveyou3000morgan @woozarts @samantha-chicago @revrse @jexxy04 @biancathecool @leilanixx @tellybearryyyy

[ordowrites]

been dealing with insomnia so...

cw: suggestive themes, mostly fluff. mdni, minors dni. establisher relationships. gn! reader, no pronouns used!

chars: diluc, kaeya, arlecchino, wanderer & how they each deal with their beloved struggling with insomnia

diluc would be worried at first - you not sleeping, he blames himself for. after all, he causes you undue stress with his time as the dark knight hero and all his secrets. he is more than happy to keep you company on these long nights until you do drift to sleep.

("my beloved, it is late. are you alright?" "yes, just...stay with me awhile, diluc. just for a bit." "of course, my flame." anxieties eased, his warmth is a blessing. for a moment, you think he'll finally stay home for you.)

kaeya understands sleepless nights. he understands that sometimes, the shadows whisper of words from so long ago that they haunt even now. you look as tired as he feels. And normally, he has a quip, a thought but it dies on his lips as he sits next to you. perhaps another presence to soothe anxiety can help you these nights.

("i'll be right here for you, my dove." it's a promise, a vow. a soft kiss. you are never alone with the man who understands isolation.)

arlecchino is used the children not sleeping. they are young and staying up late is normal. but you are not a child and you have spent how many days awake, pacing and disoriented from no sleep. this won't do. so, as if you were a child, she'll pull you into bed next to her, and rub your back and tell you stories. the alternative would be no fun, after all. and you seem content to listen, even if you don't really fall asleep.

("i suppose i could tell you fairy tales." "...no thank you." "fine. i shall update you ln the children." a peek into her life is distracting from your own stressful one and you're sure she loves talking about the Hearth. As you rest against her, she wraps her arm around you)

wanderer in his immortal and perfect life understands the boredom of sleeplessness. times passage moves ever slower as the world quiets down. it's his favorite time but you are a human, not a create of immaculate perfection. so, he keeps you company - helps pass these frustrating nights and shows you a side of him nobody else is privy too. it's just you, him, and the stars as your witness.

("well i guess we can stay up here and stare at the stars. look, a shooting star. make a wish." "do you believe in those?" "...sure. what'd you wish for?" "can't tell you or it won't come true." "...how annoying." and for a moment, his hand touches yours.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: another week...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside. 

As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk. 

Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?” 

You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.” 

“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is. 

“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head. 

“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.  

“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.” 

“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.” 

“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.” 

“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.” 

“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges. 

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.” 

“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.” 

“We all gotta start somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.” 

“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes. 

You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it. 

Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying. 

🃏

You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat. 

Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss. 

“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?” 

You shrug, to fraught to answer. 

“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.” 

“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.” 

“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.” 

“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.” 

“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--” 

“No, I owe you.” 

“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.” 

“Sure,” you accept grimly. 

She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off. 

You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.  

You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over. 

‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’ 

You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit. 

‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’ 

You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night. 

Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.

Oh no. He’s calling! 

You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say? 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.” 

“No, er, we’re done.” 

“Ah, and are you alone?” 

You frown, “yes?” 

“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.” 

You gulp. You don’t know what to say. 

“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle. 

“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question. 

“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders. 

“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.” 

“Early night, huh?” He asks. 

“I guess, I was going to watch a show.” 

“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?” 

“Not... yet,” you croak. 

“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.” 

“You... did?” 

“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.” 

“Uh, oh...” you stutter out. 

“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.” 

“A favour?” You echo thinly. 

“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes. 

“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall. 

“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.” 

“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?! 

“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.” 

“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...” 

You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind. 

The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day. 

You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.” 

You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer. 

You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one. 

“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow. 

You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?” 

“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.” 

“No,” you burst out without thinking. 

“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?” 

“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.” 

“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.” 

You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game. 

“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end. 

More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation. 

“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp. 

Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious. 

“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.” 

“I...” 

“You like what you see?” He asks coyly. 

You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you? 

“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.” 

“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says. 

You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it! 

It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver. 

“I should... sleep.” 

“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.” 

You giggle nervously, “really?” 

“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?” 

You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...” 

He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.” 

“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges. 

“I don’t... know.” 

“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?” 

“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.” 

“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show. 

[hyeinism]

୨୧ MAKING ME SICK .ᐟ

⟢ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⠀ you're the tylenol i take when my head hurts . . .

遊玩 ⎯ you find out that park sunghoon really isn't that bad. ◝ words928, ⠀WARNINGS?! · playful banter, sickness, really rushed e2l, proximity, mentions of food, brother's bsf!sunghoon x f!reader, nothing else i don’t think % for @sainns get well soon ily!!

ever since last night, you’ve been feeling like your intestines had a death wish against you. your nose was stuffy, throat sore, and worst of all, your freaking phone died, and the charger was too far for your aching body to reach!

a comically loud groan left your chapped lips as you reminisced over the days where you could properly breath and swallow.

‘good times,’ you mumbled to yourself, before going back to wallowing in your sorrow.

a small, sudden knock on your bedroom door ruined your despairing, making you upset. “go away!” you shouted like the angsty, brooding teenager you currently were.

you heard a tsk, then, “fine, i’ll leave.” a voice you recognized to be sunghoon’s called from the other side of the door, followed by footsteps as he left.

knowing him, he probably expected you to urge him to stay. you might’ve been sick, but certainly not desperate, so you stayed put, slowly falling back asleep.

but, things sadly didn’t stay peaceful for long.

your door flew open, and there stood sunghoon, staring at you with a prideful glint in his eye and a smirk to match, like he was your savior or something. his expression made you scoff and roll your eyes.

“i prayed upon my lucky stars that you’d leave me alone, why are you here?” you grumbled, running your fingers through your messy hair.

“that’s certainly one way to welcome guests…” sunghoon sighed with mock disappointment, just like a parent would to their misbehaving child.

“oh please, you come into my room, ruin my self-pitying session, and then expect me to like, i don’t know, praise you or something? as if!” sunghoon clearly didn’t get the message (which was to get out!), because he completely dismissed your words and walked forward, settling himself on the edge of your bed.

“this is forced entry, y’know?” you mumbled, nudging sunghoon with your foot in fruitless attempts to push him off your bed, but he didn’t budge.

“anyways, i came over because i noticed you weren’t at school today, so i asked your brother where you were, and he told me you were sick; i felt bad.” sunghoon explained shyly. he gently grabbed your shoulder to help prop you up against your headboard, and the softness of his delicate tone and touch surprised you. you quickly dropped your attitude (not really), due to sudden a wave of guilt that overcame you.

“you felt bad? oh, so now what? you’re going to talk to me about your amazing day without me at school and hope that makes me feel bette—“ your snarky insult got interrupted by a fit of unpleasant coughs. gosh, did sunghoon have a voodoo doll over you or what?

sunghoon stared at you with what something that resembled concern displayed on his face (you never knew when it came to him). he awkwardly pats your back, avoiding eye contact to spare you from any embarrassment. once your coughs reduce to mere sniffles, he reached back into his bag, digging around for something; you peered over at him out of curiosity.

he pulled out a bottle of newly bought grape medicine and a dvd of one of your favorite ‘00s movies, ‘27 dresses.’ “i know you don’t like grape, but it’s the only thing they had.” you bit back a smile at the way sunghoon’s voice got smaller and his cheeks got redder; it was cute.

“also, i heard you geeking about this movie like the nerd you are, and i decided to get it for you; it was on sale, so.” sunghoon held up the dvd, and you grinned, taking the box from his hand to examine it.

“really? thanks! i don’t know what happened to you, but you’re being weirdly nice…” you teased, to which sunghoon responded with something along the lines of how you should stop being ungrateful and that he was just trying to make you feel better. it made you wonder: had he always been this nice? why did you dislike him so much, anyway?

a dose of medicine in front of your eyes distracted you from your thoughts. “drink this.” sunghoon urged, and you did. the uncomfortable taste of grape on your tongue was quickly washed away by a sip of water (of course, provided by sunghoon.)

after that, you impatiently grabbed your computer, eager to watch your movie.

sunghoon cleared his throat and stood up, “well, i think i’ll leave now. enjoy your movie though, nerd.” just like that, it seemed he was back to annoying you. but this time, it didn’t make you mad; rather, it made you laugh.

“wait!” you held onto sunghoon’s wrist, gently pulling him back towards you. the confused expression on his face beckoned for you to continue. “do you want to maybe watch this movie with me? like, as a thanks for… caring.”

biting the inside of your cheek, you half-expected sunghoon to say no. so you were surprised when he smiled at you and walked back, sitting down once again in your bed, but this time a little bit closer to you, prompting you to throw your cozy blanket over sunghoon.

“okay, i guess i will, as long as you don’t get me sick, too!” sunghoon pretended to be annoyed, but it must’ve been obvious that he didn’t mind being with you; the way he smiled a little every time you giggled at his comments didn’t really help conceal his happiness.

“oh shut up, we both know you have nowhere else to be tonight; just enjoy the movie, sunghoon.”

TAGLIST & NETWORK . . @sainns , @en-gelic , @thenastone , @xiaoderrrr , @belovedsthings , @a-dream-bookmark ⎯⎯⎯⎯ back to THE LIBRARY!