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fxrmuladaydreams · 7 months

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i’m sorry i love you (ln4 + op81)

poly!landoscar x reader

summary: after being placed last in qualifying, oscar and his girlfriend comfort lando, but what happens when it’s revealed lando feels more deeply about the two of you than a friend should?

notes: !!CONTAINS SMUT MINORS DNI!! omg guys it’s my first ever poly!landoscar full length story

warnings: panic attack, threesome, p in v, oral (male receiving), sub!lando, dom!oscar, sub!reader

Lando practically throws his helmet into the arms of someone from his pit crew. He storms off, uncaring of any cameras that may be around to broadcast his tantrum.

He’d just finished qualifying, finished on pole position. He was going to start at the top of the grid, when the news had spread. The FIA had done checks on some of the cars, and his was against the rules. It was stupid, something that wasn’t in his control at all, yet he still had to find out in a public setting, just after he felt on top of the world.

Oscar’s car wasn’t pulled for the check, so he was still able to drive in his qualifying position tomorrow. He felt his frustration grow worse and worse the more he thought about it. This was just another chance for Oscar to show him up, to show everyone just how much better he was than Lando in his rookie year.

And yet, Lando couldn’t be mad at Oscar. He wanted nothing more than to hate the Aussie just a little, to feel some type of anger for him, but he couldn’t. Oscar was a good guy, he was nice, he was funny, he was great to be around when he finally opened up.

He was fine with this sudden fondness growing inside him for his teammate, he felt the same way about Carlos when they were teammates. Then he met you.

You were the adoring girlfriend to Oscar Piastri. Perfectly sweet, and equally beautiful. You had been nothing but nice to Lando. And there was his problem.

You and Oscar were perfect for each other. You brought him out of his shell, gave him more confidence. And he made sure to always keep a smile of your face. That was why he refused to do anything about the feelings that slowly grew in his chest for the both of you.

Lando knew that tomorrow would be hell for him. That he’d have to see Oscar do well, likely earning another podium finish, then see him scoop you up in his arms and show the whole world how much he loved you. All while Lando would have to attempt to climb back to the top of the grid just to get in the points.

He avoided anyone he could on the way back to the hotel, steering clear of reporters and McLaren workers. He drove his car back to the hotel, and strode through the lobby to the elevator with his hood pulled up over his head and dark sunglasses over his eyes.

He was able to shower, to try to scrape the shame from the day off himself before the knocking started. He figured he could just ignore it. Whoever was on the other side of the door would just assume no one was there and they’d leave. But whoever was on the other side of the door was persistent.

“Lando! We know you’re here!” The Australian accent called through the door.

Lando sighed, pulling himself up off his bed then dragged himself to the door to swing it open.

There you stood with Oscar next to you. Oscar was still in his McLaren team kit, and you were still in the same McLaren shirt you’d worn to the paddock. Neither of you had made it to your hotel room yet, too concerned with Lando’s disappearance.

“I’m not really in the mood guys-” He starts, but stops when you walk past him, entering his room.

“That was fucked. Telling you in front of all those cameras like that? What the hell?” You sit down on the bed.

Oscar gives Lando a sympathetic smile then follows you inside.

Lando was surprised by your colorful language and the anger you seemed to have for the FIA. He shrugs sitting down next to you.

“There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Mate, if they had checked my car I’m sure we’d be in the same position.” Oscar says as he sits down at the desk across from the two of you.

“But they didn’t check your car. They checked mine. So now I’m P20, while you get to start on pole.” Lando snaps. He can feel you shrink at his sudden outburst. He sighs. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault.”

His head falls to his hands as he takes a few deep breaths trying to regain his composure. He can feel your hand softly stroking up and down his back.

“You two don’t need to stay. You can go celebrate Oscar’s pole.” He says once he lifts his head back up.

His eyes are red, almost bloodshot, welling up with tears he’s refusing to let fall.

You wrap an arm through his and lace your hand with his. “We’re not leaving you alone right now Lan. We care too much about you.”

Lando groans. He stands up pulling himself away from you and takes a few steps away. He wants to put some distance between the three of you. He wants to make sure that he doesn’t let himself fall for the both of you even more than he already has.

“You can’t say shit like that.” His words are quiet.

“But it’s true.” You say standing up.

“Lando-” Oscar starts, standing up.

“Stop! Stop! You both need to stop!” Lando holds his hands out in front of him, backing away from the two of you. “I can’t-I can’t do this.” He whimpers leaning against the wall. He can feel the tear falling down his cheeks now. He quickly tries to wipe them away from his eyes.

He can feel his breathing start to pick up as his heart starts pounding in his chest. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. The qualifying results along with your insistence on comforting him has made him feel like he’s choking on nothing.

Oscar immediately clocks the panic coursing through his teammate. He slowly reaches out and pulls Lando back down to the bed. You stand up, giving him space as Oscar grabs a bottle of water from Lando’s fridge, uncapping it and handing it to him.

Lando slowly sips on the water, taking a few minutes to calm down. He closes the cap and places the bottle on the table next to the bed. When he finally looks back up at you and Oscar his eyes are filled with shame.

“I’m sorry…” He murmurs.

You sit down next to him again and wrap an arm over his shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for Lan.” You tell him softly. “It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry I’m like this. I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Mate, it’s fine, it’s okay.” Oscar says as he sits down on the other side of Lando.

Your arm slips from Lando’s shoulders as Oscar’s wraps around him, pulling his head to lean against his shoulder.

Lando finds comfort being sandwiched between the two of you. With Oscar’s arm around him and your hand now softly playing with his fingers he feels like he can finally breathe again.

“I’m sorry you guys have to help me with this, that I need you here with me…” Lando says, his voice slightly muffled in Oscar’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Oscar asks, looking down at him.

You hear Lando take a deep breath, lifting his head from Oscar’s shoulder, then looking back and forth between the two of you. He sits up and moves away from Oscar, pulling his hand away from yours as well.

“I’m sorry I feel the way I feel… I’m sorry I’m in love with you.” His last sentence comes out in a breath. He stands up from the bed again, trying to put some space between you. “Both of you. I’m really sorry. And I don’t want things to get awkward now, because you’re my teammate,” he gestures to Oscar “and you’re my teammate’s girlfriend,” then he gestures to you “so it’s impossible to avoid either of you after this.”

You sit on the bed silently, watching as Lando paces back and forth now, rambling about how nothing has to change, and he’ll be able to move on with time.

“We don’t want you to move on.” Oscar cuts him off.

Lando stops mid sentence. “What?” The sleeves on his hoodie fall past his hands as his fingers fidget. “What do you mean?”

“Lando,” you stand up, slowly walking towards him “we both have feelings for you too.”

“You do?”

Oscar nods. “It was weird at first, both of us admitting that we liked you to each other, but we felt like it was something we could work through. We didn’t want you to find out and get freaked about it.”

“Oh.” Lando still doesn’t look convinced as he shifts his weight on his feet.

You take a few slow steps until you’re standing in front of him, tilting his chin up so his eyes meet yours. “Can I kiss you Lando?”

He nods his head and breathes out an answer. “Yeah.”

You raise a hand to cup his face, tracing your thumb over his cheekbone. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed.

He’s almost surprised to feel your lips against his, like this was all some dream he’d made up in his head. You feel just the way he imagined, soft touches and slow intimate movements.

The hands that hold his waist do surprise him. He can tell they’re Oscar’s, the size alone makes it obvious, but he can feel them holding onto him firmly.

Oscar stands behind Lando, trailing kisses up and down the side of his neck.

Lando feels his heart pick up again, but this time for an entirely different reason. What once filled him with anxiety now sends a thrill through him. He’s excited to be with you, both of you.

He’s getting far too hot pressed between the two of you, pulling his lips away from yours to take a much needed breath.

“Should we move over to the bed? To get a little more comfortable?” Oscar asks as he softly sinks his teeth into Lando’s neck.

You pull Lando to the bed by his arm, and push him so he’s sitting down on the edge of it. Oscar sits down on his knees behind Lando, running a hand through his curls. You crawl onto Lando’s lap, straddling him as you tug at the bottom of his hoodie.

“Can I take this off?” You ask.

He’s quick to nod his head in response. You tug the hoodie up over his head and throw it to the side. His bare torso is revealed, the tanned skin on display. You reach out and run your hands down his chest, over the lines of his abs. He sighs, and leans his head back against Oscar’s shoulder.

“He’s so pretty Osc.” You say as you admire the boy under you.

“He is.” Oscar nods.

Lando blushes under your gaze, turning his head to look at Oscar. Oscar looks down at him with a smug smile on his face. He knew the affect he had on the British driver fairly early into their partnership, but finally getting to act on these pent up feelings was something new and exciting.

Oscar leans down to press a teasing kiss to corner of Lando’s mouth, smirking as Lando practically chases his lips as he pulls away.

“I think Y/n wants your attention.” Oscar nods to you.

When Lando turns back to look at you he can see that you’ve removed your McLaren shirt and bra and start to softly tug at the waistband of his sweatpants.

His hands reach out to hold your hips, pulling you closer to him as his lips attach themselves to your collarbone. His teeth leave little indents in your skin, red patches appear alongside other older marks left behind by Oscar.

You roll your hips against Lando’s as your head falls back from the pleasure. Lando whines against your chest, lifting his hips slightly to meet yours.

Oscar palms himself through his jeans as he watches you and Lando. It’s clear the two of you are starting to lose control, and he’s more than happy to take the reins.

“Is Lando making you feel good?” He asks you.

“Yes, so good.” You whimper.

“Then maybe you should make him feel good too.” He says.

You slide off of Lando’s lap, pulling his sweatpants down to his ankles. You tug your pants and underwear down and toss them to a corner of the room.

You knew that Lando was attractive, anyone with eyes would be able to see that, but you didn’t think that his cock could be just as pretty.

It’s not as long as Oscar’s, but it’s thicker, the girth alone makes a wave of arousal travel down your core. You wrap your hand around it, and softly stroke it up and down.

Lando lets out a soft groan, letting his eyes flutter closed. You climb back onto Lando’s lap, continuing to stroke him slowly as Oscar tilts Lando’s head back to him. He leans down and kisses the Brit, smirking into the kiss as Lando moans against his lips. Oscar’s hair hangs down as he kisses Lando, slightly blocking their eyes, brushing against Lando’s face.

You grind yourself against Lando’s thighs, desperate for more attention as you watch the two boys kiss.

“Can I ride you Lan?” You ask as your hand slows down against him.

Oscar pulls himself away from Lando and nods in your direction.

“Do you want her to ride you?”

“Please.” Lando whimpers.

His whines quickly turn into moans as you slowly sink yourself down on him.

He feels different than Oscar, his thick cock stretches you wider than Oscar’s has as you struggle to take all of him.

Lando struggles to hold himself back from thrusting up into you, wanting nothing more than to buried completely inside you. You’re warm and soft, and wrapped so tightly around him that he swears this is what heaven feels like.

You’re finally able to sit completely on Lando after a few minutes of rocking back and forth on him. You take a second to catch your breath before slowly grinding down further on him.

Lando can’t pull his eyes away from you until he hears the metal from Oscar’s belt clink around.

He turns to see Oscar watching him with a smirk. “She feels good, doesn’t she?”

Lando can only nod his head, his eyes squeeze shut when you start to slowly lift your hips up then sink back down onto him.

Oscar pulls his pants down, then tugs his boxers down as well. He wraps his hand around his cock, slowly pumping it. His other hand tangles itself in Lando’s hair and gives it a sharp tug backwards.

Lando huffs out a breath as he stares up at Oscar, his eyes now a bit glassy from the pleasure he feels from you. His eyes drop down to Oscar’s cock, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Want a taste?” Oscar asks.

Lando leans towards him and licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, letting his tongue brush against the head and collect his precum.

Oscar sucks in a sharp breath as Lando’s tongue licks around the head. His grip in Lando’s curls gets tighter as he pushes his head closer to his cock.

Lando takes the tip into his mouth, softly sucking and swirling his tongue around it. Oscar can feel vibrations come from the occasional moan from Lando as you start to ride him faster.

The room is filled with a mix of sounds coming from the three of you. Your slick as you ride Lando, bouncing up and down on his cock, Lando gagging as he tries to take more of Oscar down his throat. And none of you are being particularly quiet. Your moans mixed with Lando’s muffled moans, and Oscar’s deep groans bounce off the walls. God help whoever had the room next door to Lando’s.

Oscar is the first to cum. How can he not when Lando looks up at him with big doe eyes as he hollows his cheeks around his cock. Lando can feel Oscar’s release shoot down his throat, the warm salty cum coming out in spurts as Oscar has his head thrown back, thrusting himself into Lando’s mouth.

You can’t help but clench around Lando at the sight. You’ve given Oscar head before, but you don’t know if it’s ever actually felt as good as what Lando had done.

Oscar’s chest heaves slightly as he pulls himself from Lando’s mouth. A string of saliva connects Lando’s lips to Oscar’s cock. Oscar gives him a lazy smile.

“Why don’t you help Y/n cum just like you helped me? Play with her.” He instructs Lando.

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move his hands to your body, playing with your tits, pinching your nipples. One of his hands finds it’s way down to where you two connect, and softly rubs at the little bundle of nerves.

You yelp and lift yourself higher on his cock before dropping down again. Your thighs feel like they’re on fire, the muscles getting sore from the constant movement. Lando presses his fingers against your clit again, now much more sure of himself than before.

Tears begin to form in your eyes as you struggle to keep your pace. Lando begins to thrust up into you to help keep the rhythm you’ve set. His arms flex as they hold himself up on the bed. Yours wrap around his neck as you bury your face in his shoulder.

“I’m gonna cum Lando.” You whimper as he presses harder against your clit.

He feels you clench around him one last time before you cum. You moan out both his and Oscar’s name as you cum, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your release triggers Lando’s as he shoots his cum deep inside of you. He hold you down onto his cock as he continues to thrust up into you, pushing his cum as far as he can in you.

You slowly peel yourself off of Lando, whining at the empty feeling between your legs. You glance over at the two boys now laying down on the bed. Both are covered in a light sheen of sweat. Oscar has now pulled his shirt off as he lays back, softly stroking Lando’s hair.

You lay down on Lando’s other side, resting your head on his chest.

“That was… wow.” He says, his voice a little gruff. “Is it like that every time?”

“We don’t have threesomes Lan.” You softly giggle. “We only sleep with people we love.” You press a soft kiss to his flushed chest.

“So you better get used to it, because now you’re stuck with us.” Oscar tells him as he buries his face in Lando’s neck.

You and Oscar let sleep wash over you, wrapped up around the British driver, who just smiles to himself pulling the two of you closer to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I loved you sooner.” He whispers into the darkness.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #poly landoscar x reader #formula one x reader #ln4 #op81

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nichuuu · 7 months

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Beats Me - 6: Come As You Are

Word count: 8k+

Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

---------

A call from Kim Minju at this hour is never good news.

To give context: It’s one in the morning on a Saturday. Office workers and the youth above the legal age for drinking are patronising drinking spots, throwing back a couple of beers and basking in the euphoria that alcohol brings them. Perhaps they're using alcohol to cope with the stress of their lives, or maybe they're trying to numb the pain of recent difficult experiences. In both cases, emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through their systems, memories are resurfacing, and maybe, just maybe, tears are streaming down their cheeks—nothing too out of the ordinary. If you were to receive a call from anyone else at this hour, you would've thought it a request to be escorted back home, or a soused friend dialling in to say incomprehensible things before truncating the call.

But for more context: Kim Minju has been the bearer of bad news since highschool. If you are to combine this with the information above, you know that something has probably gone down, and you’re the only man she can trust to help them. She never calls you on a whim; every call from her is a desperate cry for help.

As you stare at her caller ID on your phone that vibrates on the table like it’s possessed, you start steeling yourself for what is to come. You’re hesitant to answer, but basic human decency gets the better of you. You can hear the deafening roar of club music in the background when you pick up, and Minju’s yelling into the phone. Even in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t make heads or tails of what she’s trying to convey to you. Even as you holler I can’t hear you at the top of your lungs, she continues to blabber her intelligible words over the pulsing bass of that horrible song that’s playing in the background.

Then it suddenly gets quiet on the other end, and for a moment, you only hear the sound of your heartbeat crunching in your ears. When Minju speaks again, you can hear the wind blowing by in the background, your indication that she’s exited the club. Her voice rings loud and clear in your apartment.

“Eunbi’s driving to your place, she’ll explain everything,” she’s telling you. “She’ll text when she arrives, get ready to be picked up.”

The urgency in her voice drives you to acquiescence, and you throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. Couple of minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of your singer’s car. She’s running you down on the events that have occurred tonight, and the multiple mentions of Chaewon makes your heart sink further and further.

It was enough dealing with her in the band. That shrill frequency she could produce with that trumpet was often aptly used to deafen you whenever she could (she sat on your direct right so she could be a bitch with ease). The bowl she used to collect her saliva was often “accidentally” (the way she said that word with such bogus innocence really brought you to your boiling point sometimes) spilt on to the leg of your jeans when you walked by, her trumpet case “coincidentally” (again, bogus innocence with this one) be in the way of your shin as you tried to get to your kit. Her behaviour wasn’t the culprit behind your irritance towards her, rather the fact that her behaviour failed to reflect what she had requested for when the two of you schismed—a clean break.

“She’s thrown up twice now.” Eunbi’s tone is a mish-mash of frustration and commiseration, “She refuses to move, and she's been groped twice. We don’t mean to drag you into this, but you’re the last feasible option.”

There’s an odd feeling of nihility in your chest as the two of you come to a stop at a red light. In the band, you dealt with her on a physical level. But when Kim Chaewon and alcohol merge, you know that you’ll have to deal with her on an emotional level, and that somehow fails to engender any spite or frustration of the ilk. The silence that hangs in the car is unsettling in light of the confusing sensations you’re experiencing (and also due to the fact that usually chatty Eunbi is finding it hard to start a conversation in this atmosphere), yet you find that you’re poised.

“I’m uh… I’m actually your highschool senior,” Eunbi decides to input, “I used to go to the same school as you, Chaewon and Minju…”

You remain reticent. Eunbi takes the cue and returns her eyes to the road.

The bouncer almost didn’t let you in because of your shabby fit, but a quick wink and a, he’s with me, from Eunbi was enough to get him to let you through. You easily spot Minju amidst club-goers once you get in. Those long, luscious jet black locks that flow just past her shoulders and those large round eyes that always seem to be doleful quickly catch your attention as you wade through the sea of people together with Eunbi. She looks the same as she did all those years ago. She stands when you approach; Kim Chaewon’s slumped over the table they’re at.

“Thank god you’re here.” Her expression tells you that she’s been through quite the ordeal tonight. “I… I hope you understand that—”

She stops mid sentence when you hold up a hand. You understand that such a gesture is impertinent of you, but you can’t help it—there’s too much to process, too much to take in, and a club isn’t the best place to assimilate it all (or to find a lover, an ex lover in this case). Minju steps aside, and you take a moment to look at the sorry sight of your ex—face down on the table of the booth seat and an empty shot glass in hand.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask them. The two girls look at each other, then Minju tells you to do whatever it takes to get her out of here.

So there you are—contemplating on whether you should dump a bucket of ice on her or gently wake her up. Basic human decency gets the better of you, and you slide onto the couch next to Chaewon, gently tap the bare shoulder that’s exposed in her outfit. When she raises her head off the sticky, glossy table, you’re momentarily reminded of the countless times you’d woken her up in the same way when she fell asleep in the school library.

Then those eyes—half-lidded and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. The volume of her voice pales in comparison to the blaring House remix of the Barbie theme, yet when she calls your name, it’s the only thing you can hear. She shifts closer—close enough to rest her head on your shoulder, close enough for you to smell the vodka on her breath as she silently sobs against you; Don’t go, don’t leave, she slots in between those heart wrenching cries. Right now: emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through her system, memories are resurfacing, and tears are definitely streaming down their cheeks.

Eunbi and Minju look on in silence. Eunbi’s lips are pursed, Minju’s eyes are somehow more doleful. Their looks are doing nothing to assuage the turmoil that you’re feeling. You find yourself saying things that you were never prepared to say.

“She can stay at my place for the night… I doubt she’d want to go anywhere else.”

They look apprehensive, but deep down—they know you’re right.

***

“Uh… Are you sure you want to present this?”

Chaewon looks up from her presentation script to give a simple, “Hm?”. You were scratching your head as you read over the vivid description of Kurt Cobain's death that she’d included. It detailed the nature of his death, the brutal imagery of small, tiny shotgun pellets blowing a hole through the skull of Nirvana’s frontman on the night of his suicide described in an unnaturally calm tone, as if people shooting themselves through the head with a shotgun was an everday occurance.

“I mean…” You were doing your best to not sound reprehensive, “I don’t think Miss Kim would appreciate the… Visceral imagery.”

Her look was one of innocence as she asked, why not, and proceeded to further justify her vivid depiction (her argument was that Lee Chaeyeon had presented on Aviccii’s death in equal vividness and your teacher enjoyed it). The theme of the presentations for the week was “the talented die young”, and she’d decided to talk about one of her favourite bands at the time. She was blasting their hit song Smells Like Teen Spirit through the speaker in her room, and you were finding it hard to focus over all that grunge (you didn’t tell her of course, cause that would’ve made her pouty for the rest of the day).

That was one of your fondest memories from dating her. It showed you her tenacity and her stubbornness in insisting that she was correct. It showed you just how determined and strong-willed she could be. You found that you could still recall every detail of that moment as vividly as she described Cobain's death while you watched her walk around your kitchen from the doorway to your room. Her hair is in disarray, the set of clothes that you’d passed her baggy on her slender frame. For the record: She knows how she got here, she knows where she is, she knows you’re awake, and she knows that you’re watching her. In spite of all this, her movements are calm, her hand taking its time to trail across your cabinets as her eyes slowly soak in her surroundings.

“You know, for someone that said that they wanted a clean break—you’re making things messier than they should be,” you can’t help but tell her. Her hand stops on the handle of your cabinet, her index finger affixing itself there for a minute as she lowers her head. With a sigh, you stuff your hands into your pockets and tell her, “Get out once your hangover wears off.”

You retreat back into your room to get some work done. When you emerge around lunchtime, you find that she’s taken liberties in your kitchen, a piping hot bowl of noodles sitting opposite her at your dining table as she silently slurps on a bowl of her own. You stand there for a moment, then you accost the eating space and stop just before her.

“Are you being for real?” You can’t help but let the revulsion seep into your words, “You’re telling me that your hangover has lasted this long?”

She’s unwontedly silent. Her pugnacious, bratty nature seems to have dissipated into thin air, replaced by one of taciturn and timidness as she stares blankly into her noodles. She doesn’t look up when you sigh and slide into the other seat, nor does she say anything when you start digging into the noodles that she’s prepared for you (you aren’t one to pass up on a free meal, even if it’s prepared by your ex).

It’s when you're halfway through your bowl that she finally pipes up, “thank you for taking me in.”

You go still for a moment.

Then you choose not to reply to her.

After washing up, you communicate to her that she has till sundown to leave your abode before you head back to your room. You know that she’s going to stay like that stubborn patch of mould beneath the snare drum in the recording studio when you hear her playing Smells Like Teen Spirit on her phone through the door. Once again, that damn song is reminding you of how tenacious and stubborn she can be. Those two traits of hers were really double edged swords for that woman.

Night comes; she still hasn’t left. When you exit your room, you find that she’s asleep on the floor. It seems that she’s found it congenial to sleep on the carpeted surface, even though the futon that you provided her last night is literally an arms length away from her sleeping body. Seeing her that way, you’re momentarily reminded of the times she’d stay over at your place while you were dating, and she’d choose to nap on the floor while you worked—even though the bed was empty. The reasons as to why she chose to do so are still unknown to this day—one of the many unsolved mysteries in your relationship, second only to why she’s being the way she is despite what the two of you have previously agreed on.

To be absolutely clear: the two of you know why you broke up. It wasn’t a case of a one-sided sudden change of heart; there was a reason behind it that you both understood (even though you did need a lot of time to come to terms with it). Yes, it was painful. Yes, it was unexpected. Yes, you did miss her for quite some time. But there wasn’t much you could do about it. She’d set her mind on the breakup, and her stubbornness and tenacity had her on wits end when you tried to talk to her.

Was there a possibility the two of you could’ve stayed together? Your answer—yes. Her’s—only God knows what goes through that confusing brain.

Once more, basic human decency drives you to do things you don’t want to, and you end up cooking a share of fried rice for her. You lay her bowl next to her on the floor along with a spoon before seating yourself at the dining table to eat. You’re about halfway through a video essay about some game you’ll never play when she stirs from her slumber.

She spots the bowl, then her gaze wanders to you. Silently, she picks it up and rises to her feet. Now it’s her turn to accost the eating space, except she isn’t belligerent, nor can you sense any hostile intentions.

“Can I sit?” She’s oddly genteel as she points at the chair opposite you. You’ll just end up sitting even if I say no, is your reply. She allows a soft, short chuckle before she slides in. You think about turning off the video essay, but then you decide to not let basic human decency get the better of you this once.

So with some random guy’s voice filling the air, you and Chaewon partake in your meals in silence. You try not to look at her, but you can’t help but throw a few glances her way as she eats. She decided to grow out her hair over the past few weeks, dye it auburn, and now it drapes elegantly past her shoulders like silky curtains. You can’t read her expression (though you never could to begin with), and you certainly can’t understand why she’s become so quiet. She’s trying to make you lower your guard, soften you up then launch some manipulation tactic is what you’re considering. You won’t put it past her to use a facade of milquetoast nature to try and break past your boundaries.

“I’ll be out by tomorrow morning,” she suddenly tells you. That was the first time you tore your gaze away from your phone for more than five seconds. How would one normally reply to such a statement? Oh, okay, seems to be one of the better options, yet you choose to go with, “Good, cause I’m not planning to overstay your welcome.”

Chaewon plucks a rice grain off her top lip. “But you’d let Eunbi or Ryujin stay, right?”

There you were, hoping that she’d be as timid and quiet as she’d been for the rest of the day. The nap must have gotten rid of the rest of the hangover, cause you can hear the haughtiness in her voice.

“Are we really going to have this conversation?” you ask her. The firm look she fixes you with tells you, I’m gonna run my mouth on you whether you like it or not.

“And here I was thinking you’re being a decent human for once,” you can’t help but mutter. “You’re fucking confusing you know that?”

She bristles in her seat. “You watch your fucking mouth player.”

You’re not one to take offence from such comments. Normally, you’d understand that in the heat of the moment, people can say hurtful things that they don’t mean. It’s natural, completely natural—the adrenaline, the emotions, the tension… All of it can melt together in the form of nasty words that spew forth from a person’s mouth.

But when it comes from Kim Chaewon’s mouth however… You can’t seem to find that sympathy in you. She knows that you’ve slept with your singer and bassist, she knows that they’ve had you more than once—it’s right for her to feel this type of anger (even though the two of you aren’t even together anymore), yet there’s no part of you—not even a single atom—that wants to take the time to try to understand where she’s coming from and why she feels this way.

“Player?” You don’t mean to sound as pissed as you do. “Player?” you echo again, just for good measure, “What gives you the right to call me that? I’m not the one who couldn’t wait for their partner!”

“It was two years!” Chaewon cries.

“Well you could’ve at least tried.” You’re not even bothering to filter your words now. “You’re a hypocrite for calling me a player when you couldn’t even wait for me.”

“Two fucking years! Do you really expect me to close my heart to love for two whole years just so I can wait for you to get out of the damn military!” The way her tone conveys how right she thinks she is pisses you off, “I’m a human! I need love! Do you really expect me to wait for it for that long?”

She’s on her feet now, hands on your table, breaths heavy.

She screams, “It’s your fault for signing on so early! It’s your fault for ever thinking that I’d wait!”

You shoot up from your seat and cry, “Well then damn me for ever trying to believe in you!”

Her face contorts into a snarl. She skirts the table, accosts you with her arm whizzing through the air; she slaps you across the face. As the sting lingers on your cheek, you find your fingers curling into fists.

“You’re horrible!” She’s hollering at the top of her lungs, “I wish that I never met you!”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of her heavy breathing. Then those eyes—bulging in their sockets and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. She looks just as she did the night the two of you broke up: hair slightly messy, face twisted in a mix of woe and fury, right up in your face as her face starts to flush under the intense assault of emotions and thoughts. She’s close—close enough to grip you by your collar and pull you towards her, crush her lips against yours, kiss you like she did when you were teens.

And she does just that.

A soft cry slips past her lips, travels into your mouth as she kisses you; It feels exactly the same as it did all those years ago—the meraki, the slight tension in her upper lip, the light quiver in your bottom lip—a familiar comfort you had no idea you missed. Her small waist is captured in your grasp, your face in her hands as she pulls you deeper, kisses you harder. It was like she never left, like she never walked away from you because you had decided to enlist in compulsory military service early so that you could get it over and done with, like she never said, seeing you on the weekends isn't enough for me, I’m sorry. This won’t work out the way you think it will. Let’s just end things off here, nice and clean.

And get this: the whole moment is sweet and all, but deep down, there’s still a small flame of anger alit within you. Even though you kissed her back with equal vigour, you were silently cursing her for making things messier than it had to be; while your hands run through her hair, you find yourself berating her in your head for making you vacillate between missing her and hating her. You aren’t one to be flippant, but Chaewon had the tendency to bring out sides of you that you’ve never seen for yourself.

Her tongue dives into your mouth, her hand pressed flat against your chest. She’s tugging at the fabric of your shirt, and you’re not sure if she’s trying to pull you closer or signalling for you to take it off. You realise it’s the latter when she guides you hand beneath the fabric of the shirt you gave her, your fingertips grazing the soft skin beneath it. Your palm rests on the flesh of her waist. Her skin was warm to the touch.

Your mouths part, and you’re quick to ask, What the hell are we doing. She takes a second to catch her breath, then she replies, “I have no clue, but I’m not stopping whatever’s coming next.”

Going with the flow—that was so her.

You grasp onto the hem of her shirt and gently pull upwards. She’s quick to respond, raising her hands above her head for ease of removal. Then her hands are on your waist band, tugging down at your shorts while your hands skim across her bare skin. She pulls your underwear down together with your shorts, lets them fall and pool around your ankles; her hand is quick to grasp onto your throbbing shaft.

“Chae.” You can’t help but whisper your pet name for her. She starts placing kisses on your clothed chest, her other hand resting on your shoulder while the hand on your cock begins to stroke it with consideration. She leans in and whispers, “Can we pretend like we never left each other? Just for tonight?”

A foolhardy request. She doesn’t know what she’s doing by asking this of you, nor does she care to consider the possibility that the fulfilment of this request can and will invoke unwelcome emotions in both of you. Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

Her hand on your dick leaves to join and assist the other in undoing her bra. She lets the intimate garment fall to the floor before her, her bare breasts on full display. She’s certainly grown more voluptuous as compared to her eighteen-year-old self, and with that change you find an increase in desire for this woman before you. Chaewon cups her tits with her hands, lifts them up, then lets go; she’s putting on a sordid show.

“Christ.” Christians certainly wouldn’t approve your usage of the name of their saviour in this abhorrent, impure context. “You’ve… Grown.”

“Puberty works wonders, no?” She’s taken on a playful tone, one that she was always fond of using while the two of you were dating. “Feel them. I know you want to.”

No sane man would ever turn down such an invitation. You can feel her erect peaks poking against your palms as your fingers close around the mounds; your breath hitches when you realise how firm they’ve become. Her hands join yours on her breasts, aiding you and squeezing and kneading while she lets a sigh leave her lips. Then in a whisper, she tells you how much she’s missed this feeling—your hands caressing her just the way she likes, your breath in her ears as you silently play with her like you used to.

Then she asks you, “Do you ever think about me when you fuck those other girls?”

You consider your words carefully. If you’re to be perfectly honest, there were a few times where the sight of Ryujin’s rippling ass cheeks made you think about her; sometimes the way Eunbi moaned reminded you of her.

But if you’re supposed to pretend like you never left her, some teasing would have to come into play.

“Depends.” You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are, “In what way are we talking?”

She gives you a look, one that says, you cheeky little fucker, but she plays along of course, offering a soft, Hm, as she pretends to go pensive.

Let’s see—she speaks as she (much to your chagrin) practically rips your hands off her body, all so that she can start circling you—Do their moans sound as cute as mine? Are their bodies as tight as mine?

She leans in to pop the final question: Do their pussies feel as good as mine?

For the record: No to the first one, a fifty-fifty between yes and no on the second one (they all had amazing bodies). As for the last question, you couldn’t say (not because you didn’t have an answer, but more because ranking them in terms of how good they feel would be doing all of them an injustice).

Dunno, is the answer you offer her, then you follow up with, “Why don’t we find out?”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Segueing—impressive.”

“I’m a laconic man,” you tell her, and, Oh shut the hell up, is her reply as she takes you by the hand and drags you to your room.

It’s crazy to think that just mere minutes ago, she was on her feet, yelling at you and telling you how odious she finds you; now, she’s on her back, her head propped up against a pillow, still yelling, but she’s telling how good you’re making her feel—Fuck, and, Oh shit is all that’s really leaving her mouth, but the message is implicit—as your tongue applies painfully slow strokes to her soaking pink folds. The hand that slapped you is now scrunching up in your hair, the palm that made your cheek sting pushing your head against her crotch while her toes curl into your mattress. You’re wondering if she’s intentionally pitching up her voice as she moans, or if she’s purposely dragging out her sighs, but it doesn’t take away from the utter sublimity of the act.

Chaewon’s slick is sweet; it’s tangier than Eunbi’s and tickles your taste buds better than Ryujin’s—you won’t tell her this of course, but it’s not like you’ll have time to communicate all of this while your head being shoved into her pussy. Believe it or not—this is one of the calmer moments of pussy-eating that you’ve experienced, one of the rare occasions where you actually have time to savour the taste of your partner, assimilate the intimacy of it, a far cry from when you were with Eunbi or Ryujin, where the goal was always to make them cum as fast as possible because that’s what they’re craving for. But believe it or not—even though her needy actions make it seem as if she’s desperately chasing her high, Chaewon’s really just trying to make the most of each and every swipe of your tongue, enjoying the way it skirts her clit and laps up her juices that leak out from her pretty, pink folds; all while she’s squeezing her thighs around your ears and begging you, Oh god, put your fingers in me.

You start with your index finger, using the pad of it to trace the outline of her pussy. Then—just to make sure that she knows that it’s going in too—you let your middle finger join the fray. Your digits graze the skin around her flushed lips, taking their time to cover ground while Chaewon’s reduced to a moaning, mewling mess. What you’re really trying to do here is test the limits of her patience, see how much teasing that small, tight body can really take before her will breaks. It’s a sadistic game you’re playing, but you know that she’s enjoying it as much as you are, even though she is practically screaming at you to stick your digits inside her already.

If there’s anything that this world has taught you, it’s that patience is often rewarding. In this case: Chaewon’s patience was rewarded with the fulfilment of her request. The moan that leaves her half-parted lips is one of satisfaction as you dig your digits into her waiting depths, and they soak in her juices for a minute or two before they start to explore. Her nails dig into your scalp when your fingers dig into the soft flesh on the roof of her pussy. Your name flies out from her lips in a tone of surprise, like she’s taken aback by the fact you remember the exact spot inside her that makes her tick. The smugness on your face says it all, really, and you start to stimulate that spot of sensitive flesh.

“Oh… Oh my… Oh…” She’s barely able to form the simplest of words. The pleasure you’re providing is racing through her body, filling her from head to toe with perverse need and taking over her bodily functions. You’re not doing anything fancy down there; your fingers are just wiggling against the same spot—a simple action that makes her body react in all sorts of complicated ways: twisting, trembling, twitching… It’s working wonders really. You’re amazed that she’s still as sensitive as ever.

“Look at you Chae,” you can’t help but deride. “You’re getting so fucking turned by fingers. I don’t remember you being this needy.”

Even if she’s hellbent on retorting, there’s no space for words to leave her mouth—the moans are filling the space in her throat, bottlenecking and filtering out of her mouth in the form of strained cries. From the limited view between her thighs, you make out the image of her biting down on the nail of her index finger. Meanwhile, the nails in your head dig deeper into your scalp, hardly caring for the fact that they may be drawing blood as their owner manages to beg, Keep going.

Your mouth—now rested enough to continue—rejoins the busy scene; the drawn-out guttural gasp that slides out of her mouth tells you all you need to know—Oh my god. You’re driving me crazy—and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her pleasure stricken face. Chaewon’s barely keeping it together at this point, the dignity that tightly wraps her body is slowly loosening—unravelling at the mercy of your mouth and fingers. The haughtiness, the sheer brattiness—crumbling under the sensations that overwhelm every fibre of her body; now that these perverse thoughts have entered your mind, you find that a dark part of you longs to own her, right here, right now. But of course, patience is rewarding.

You’re willing to wait.

To say that you’re taking your time to eat her out would be inaccurate. If you’re to be honest, it’s difficult to describe the pace you’re using. Inside of her, your index and middle finger move frenetically, as if you are using them to press the same key on a piano repeatedly to produce the same note—her moans. Outside her, your tongue’s movements are almost sluggish, the broad base of it dragging up her flushed lips before the tip flicks the swollen nub at the top. You’re fully invested, scrupulously ensuring the uniformity of your movements to drive Chaewon to perdition. The movements are neither simple nor complex, rather a middle ground between the two (but you do feel that it leans more towards the former), but it’s enough to drive her crazy. Even if she’s a complicated mess to deal with, deep down—she still enjoys some form of simplicity.

“Baby.” The way Chaewon’s calling you sends a shiver down your spine, stirring the emotions in your chest and letting some nostalgia bubble up from the depths of it, “I-I’m… I’m…”

Cumming, you complete just as her head violently whips back into the pillow. Then, in arguably the hottest ways possible, Kim Chaewon orgasms. Her thighs clamp around your head, becoming earmuffs as an onslaught of juices assail your mouth. You can hear her mewling past the flesh that surrounds your ears, and the muffled sound is enough to deluge your heart with depraved satisfaction while her body twitches, convulses and strains violently. The last vestiges of dignity that once enveloped her have fallen away, carried off by the sighs and cries escaping from her trembling lips, and as you lift your mouth of her soaking slit and withdraw your juice-slicked fingers, you know that she’s reached a point of no return.

Patience is truly so rewarding.

“Jesus…” she pants. Once again, believers probably wouldn’t approve of the usage of his name in this context, but something has to cleanse the filth from her body, “When did you get so good at this?”

“Always have been,” you grin. You can tell she wants to roll her eyes, but she hardly has the strength to do so. For a tender moment, you gaze into each other’s eyes and appreciate this moment of inexplicable intimacy, re-living the emotions that were once so present between the two of you. It’s just for tonight. After this, we’ll go back to fighting, you’re telling yourself, and it makes you want to stay like this for a little longer.

But when Chaewon flips herself over onto her belly, the warmth in your chest is shut out and replaced by warped desire. With the tender cheeks of her ass on full display, Chaewon wiggles her behind, inviting you to take your liberties with her body. You take a moment to admire how full they’ve become.

“Been working on it?” you ask her as you squeeze a handful of flesh.

“To the best of my ability,” is her reply, followed by, “you like it?”

Your reply is to deliver a soft spank to the right ass-cheek. She barely even yelps upon contact, a small grin on her face as she watches you spread the flesh apart to reveal her entrances. Then she urges you, “Come on now… Pick a hole, fuck it till you fill it with your cum.”

“What if I want both?” You can’t help but be a little cheeky. Chaewon’s bottom lip furls behind her front teeth.

“I’m not stopping you,” she whispers, “just promise me to cum in me.”

Not a trace of dignity in her words.

Alright, is what you tell her before your head slips inside of her pussy. You can pinpoint the exact moment where her body almost becomes the only thing to exist in your mind—it’s when those walls clamp down around your shaft, pulsing ever so slightly and still twitching from her orgasm, and it’s enough to make you clench all your muscles while you hilt yourself in her. The sigh you let out hardly synchronises with Chaewon’s gasp. Yet, you find that your thoughts are perfectly in sync as your hands grip onto her small waist, and she props herself up on her elbows and knees. Her hair falls off her back, cascading down her shoulders as she turns her head, catches your gaze to tell you—Own this pussy.

No more words need be said. Eagerly, you begin to pump yourself in and out of Chaewon’s slick, tight pussy, her body tightening around your cock with every thrust in and out, lathering your length with juices that glisten in the low light of your room. The sound of her sighs and gasps quickly rise in volume, a beautiful backdrop to the sounds of your wet shaft penetrating her slick pussy again and again.

You’ve already lost yourself in her from the moment you stuck your member into her, but you find your grasp on reality somehow slipping further and further with each thrust you make into that amazingly tight body. It’s the nostalgia—that feeling of being able to hold her again, the feeling of being able to fuck her like you did on those nights after you graduated high school, those nights where her parents weren’t home and she wanted you in ever way possible—that’s making you sink deeper and deeper into this new reality that is Kim Chaewon’s body.

Then her moans start once more; you give in to the carnal emotions that you’ve been doing a really bad job at suppressing, and almost at once, Chaewon becomes the only thing that matters. Her flesh suddenly feels softer than before, her moans and sighs and cries sounding closer and closer to a melody than a haphazard arrangement of notes, and when she rasps for you to fuck her harder, you’re quick to oblige.

Screw patience, you’re going to take what’s yours right here and now.

Your hands drift up from her waist, grip her shoulders and pull her till her body is almost upright. Your left hand slides down, wraps around her flat tummy; your right follows suit—you’re practically hugging her. Chaewon’s arms reach behind her, lock themselves around your neck and pull her face closer to yours. She doesn’t turn to kiss you—that’d take too much energy, energy that she would rather put into moaning—so you settle on capturing her earlobe between your lips, sucking on it softly while she starts to moan your name. Then, her confessions start.

I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you… Oh god, I fucking missed the way your cock stretched me out. So good… So fucking good… This pussy was made for your cock.

Those were just some of the many things you managed to make out. The words were hastily assembled, phonics loosely strung together, and then expelled from those beautiful pink lips in a precipitate manner. There were other things like: I love you, I fucking love you and Oh God I love you as well, but your tried not to make to much of it. Even though you’re lost in paradise, lost in her body, your subconscious is still actively fighting to keep her influence out of your head. Things are already messy—both figuratively and literally—as they are, and the last thing you need is to fall in love with memories of Chaewon while you’re fucking her in such a callous, unrelenting manner. Sex and alexithymia towards an ex is never a good combination—yet here you are, rearranging the insides of Kim Chaewon after agreeing to whatever it was you agreed to before you started (it’s not because you chose to forget, but because you truly can’t remember anything past the point where you stepped through the doorway to your bedroom).

You push away the thoughts (for now), letting them exit your body together with the growl that you release into her ear—Chaewon, why are you so fucking wet?—as your shaft continues to plunge itself between her slick, wet folds. The cheeks of her ass ripple deliciously with each strike of your crotch against hers, eliciting a raunchy exclamation from her body each time she hilts you to the base of your cock. You’re not going particularly fast—Chaewon suddenly has the capacity to reply, I’m always wet for you, baby—but you’re so utterly deep inside her that it’s driving the both of you to perverted elation. The position compromises your speed, but you know for a fact that Chaewon is more than happy to make the trade off, savouring the feel of every inch of you filling her insides at a considerate yet fervent pace.

“Baby.” Her pet name for you is really doing dangerous things to your feelings, “Harder. Let me feel all of you, just like last time.”

She turns her head to meet your gaze, and it’s only then that you see the tears streaming down her cheeks. Your best guess: just like how nostalgia has its effect on you, it's impacting her too. Her emotions are being dallied with, just as yours are. She’s feeling things that she can’t describe, and she doesn’t know if it’s the rock-hard meat drilling in and out of her that’s making her feel this way, or if it's the fact that she may very well be falling for you again. You may never fully comprehend the intricate workings of human emotions, but as you lean in and gently draw her lips to yours, you hope to help her make sense of her feelings.

Why does she always make things messier than they have to be, your asking yourself, all while her hand finds your left cheek, gripping it tightly as your lips part and she whispers, “Fucking own me. Make this pussy yours, just like you used to.”

Just like last time, just like you used to—two statements that unwittingly conveyed that she’s dabbling in the past in a foolhardy manner. Damn it Chae… Why are you doing this? You’re thinking, even as you’re riotously making her bouncing breasts you handlebars, pinching her stiff peaks with between the gap of your middle and forefinger as you double down on her. You’re wondering, Why do you have to make this so damn complicated, as she leans back into you, and you mark the skin of her neck with your lips. Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Things wouldn’t have to be this way if you just had some damn patience, you’re pondering, all while she starts to throw herself back onto your cock. It’s hard to tell if she truly understands the emotional state she’s put herself in, you tell yourself. The irony of this statement is not lost on you, and you’re inwardly chortling at yourself as you pull yourself out of your own head.

You return to reality, and you find that Chaewon’s cumming once more. Did she announce its arrival? You don’t know. All you know is that her pussy is tightening rapidly around you, her body is shivering and shuddering against you, and her knees start giving out on her. You steady her against your chest, slowing yourself to a halt as you realise how dangerously close to the edge you are.

When she taps you on the knee, you take it as a sign to gently lay her back down on the bed. With her belly flat against the mattress, Kim Chaewon reaches behind her and spreads her asscheeks with her fingers. She gives you the slightest of nods; you pull out of her freshly fucked pussy, point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass, and begin to press forward.

Chaewon gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first—but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Chaewon squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her. Her hands tighten into fists, scrunching up your bed sheets; a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you lean down to kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the bed, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving, Chaewon lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“You okay?” You’re checking on her out of genuine concern. It’s basic human decency, you’re trying to tell yourself, but you have a sinking feeling that she’s unknowingly broken past your defences.

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to—”

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. I want this. I want you. I want you in my ass.”

The soft sigh you let out makes the hair atop her head flail a little as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. She isn’t crying anymore, but she certainly seems a little embarrassed that she let her emotions get the better of her.

“Keep going.” She can’t seem to raise her head as she speaks, “Fill me, please…”

Basic human decency drives you to compliance, and so you press forward—all the while, your eyes are affixed to the back of her head, your left hand still grasping hers while she shifts around slightly, adjusting herself to take you in better. The small yelps she occasionally lets slip tells you that she’s in discomfort, but not enough to make you stop entering her asshole. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.

It felt like years, but soon you're fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Chaewon’s ass.

You slowly draw your shaft outside of Chaewon’s tightly gripping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Chaewon’s body wrapped around your cock. You’re glad that the sheer sublimity of the sensation is removing your ability to think, allowing you to steep yourself in the moment with a turmoil free mind.

Chaewon’s tightness is overwhelming to say the least. Her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. This would be the first time you’re entering her like this, and you aren’t sure if you’re doing it right, but soon she’s taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Chaewon lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt—one that takes her by surprise given the slight look of shock that you make out on her features. You reach down with your right hand, gingerly grip her chin and tilt her face up so you can get a better look at her face. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, locking to yours as you start pumping in and out of her asshole. After a while her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to hold yours, and she pulls it down her chin until it’s at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never made you do it before. Then again, you’ve never had her ass before either—there’s a first for everything.

You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you: succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane. The novelty of fucking Chaewon’s ass, your hand around her throat, the carnality, the surprising tenderness of the moment–it’s all so damn overwhelming.

“C-Chae,” you call out to her. Her gaze flickers from the wall to your eyes, and you whisper, “Do you… Do you really want me to—”

“Just fucking do it!” Chaewon gasps, barely attempting to filter the want out of her voice, “Choke me! Cum in me!”

With her permission, you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge at this point.

Chaewon’s hand—the one that stops your hand at her throat—tightens, as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her—you already feel guilty for causing her pain and discomfort (physically and emotionally). But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Chaewon’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

Do it… own me—her voice is straining—Make yours again. Choke me while you fuck my ass… Use me! Fill me… Fill my ass with your cum!

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Chaewon’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Chaewon’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you. As you cum, your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Chaewon’s throat turns into a gasp—the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever—longer than any other orgasm you’ve had. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Chaewon’s shaking body beneath you and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Chaewon’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass. Your eyes remain glued to Chaewon’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly, she turns on her side, her whole body heaving like she’s completed a marathon. Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flow down her naked skin. It's now that you remember what you agreed to before you started: Just for tonight…

“Hey…” Her voice has a lilt as she beckons you to her side. “Cuddle with me… Just for tonight.”

There she goes again.

Yeah, right... you sigh inwardly. The way she's looking at you tells you that the feelings brought forth tonight will persist as long as she permits. Maybe, just maybe, you should have turned her down, made her come as she was, and kept her at a distance; but she’s already snuggled up in your arms by the time you finish this train of thought. She kisses you on your jaw, then on your neck, then utters a soft good night baby before nuzzling herself into the crook of your neck.

Physically and emotionally, you've made a mess of her. And, in turn, she's made a mess of you too—physically and emotionally.

But you choose to forget that, just for tonight.

***

She slips out of your apartment at God knows what time, leaving like a thief in the night and leaving a note in her wake: I took one of your shirts. Will return it if I feel like it.

Then below the message: P.S. Forget that last night happened. Go continue being a player.

“I… Can’t believe this bitch.” You’re leaning against the door—the place where she’d stuck on the note—as you finish reading it. You decide to crumple it and toss it away—it’s the easiest thing to forget about her anyway.

To be clear: You had no clue what your opinion on Chaewon was anymore, nor did you know what your status with her was (though the note suggests that she’s going to return to her usual bratty behaviour). Sometimes, you wish that there could be a bright digital sign perpetually hanging above her head, providing interpretations to her erratic behaviour.

Yea… That would be great.

Just as you throw out her bowl of fried rice, there comes a knock on your door. You’re surprised to find Hwang Yeji standing there by herself.

“O-Oh… Yeji,” you mutter.

“That has to be the most asinine statement I’ve ever heard,” she derides. You purse your lips and scratch the back of your head, then you ask, “Do you uh… Need to borrow something?”

Yeji sighs and shakes her head. She’s quick to get to the point, “Are you free this afternoon?”

You nod, then she tells you, “I need you to follow me somewhere today. Meet me in the lobby at 3pm.”

She’s about to leave you with that vague request, but you’re quick to ask what this is about. It’s unwonted of her to suddenly request to meet you, and you’re painfully aware (or at least you thought you were) that she knows that this is unprecedented of her. Laconic and biting as ever, she turns back to you and tells you: I need you to help me talk to someone.

“W-Who?” You’re quick to ask. She turns her back to you as she answers.

“My junior. She wants to be our saxophonist.”

_________________________

What is popping gang. I did not get a chance to look through this thoroughly, nor was I able to get anyone to beta read for me :p. Hope you didn't have your bars raised to high for this.

~Nichuuu

#kim chaewon #chaewon smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim #chaewon le sserafim #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut

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avaf00rd · 5 months

Text

media day

Leah Williamson x Reader

For everyone that rages at it I’m gonna check it aight

—————————-

“whats today” asked Leah’s strong Milton Keynes accent behind a digital film camera. You looked up and smiled at her camera.

“It’s media day!” You softly said, voice still horse, still half asleep and leaning at the kitchen bench with your girlfriend, she was going to put a bunch of captured videos from every six months on a video for her instagram. It was a new goal of hers. The idea made your heart melt.

Some days she would just set it up as you two spent time together. If you were travelling and watching the sunset on the beach with Leah as an example, she would set the camera up behind the two of you cuddling and looking out.

Other times she would film you and your friends being silly in the gym, or videos of you and your dogs.

Later, Leah drove the two of you to the training grounds. Both with hair neat and light makeup on, ready to film some media.

Most of you girls didn’t mind these days, some hated, but you found it so much fun. Leah filmed you as you skipped through the entrance and down the hauls, the blonde chuckling behind you. You turned around and winked for the camera before you ran into Beth and Steph coming up the other way,

“Hello!” Beth said hugging you. You hugged her tightly before doing the same to Steph.

“You’re after Caitlin and Jen. You have to do another game for a video this one is more fun than the last one trust me” Beth said to you two, letting you know what the first media duty was, also reminding you at how bad you were at the last challenge you filmed was.

When you stepped into the area with many cameras and back drops for shoots set up, you girlfriend was immediately peeled away from you to go take some photos in the new training tracksuit set. Claiming they didn’t have enough content for the particular set.

You were sitting on one of the lounges scrolling through instagram as you noticed Jen come up to you with a microphone “y/n!” The tall brunette exclaimed. “Mind if I sit?” She asked pointing to the spot on the couch next to you.

“Of course Jenny” you smiled moving your legs that were laying there, before putting them back on top of Jen’s lap so they could lay there once again.

“Oh ok” Jen and you giggled as you relaxed back into the couch with you legs resting over her lap. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Hit me” you said smiling at the camera

“I went over to grab a cookie from the snack table. And Caitlin foord had informed me that you had eaten the entire bowl of cookies? Can you confirm or deny?” She asked you

“What!” You laughed. “Caitlin not fair!” You yelled across the indoor area as the girl poked her tongue at you. “Deny. She ate most of them I had two!” You said looking into the camera, getting louder at the last part so the brunette across the room could hear.

“Rumour confirmed. Now who do you think looks the best in the new home kit?” Jen said smirking, motioning towards her chest as she was wearing the said kit.

“I think it really suits me im not gonna lie…..” you grinned “But best might have to be Jen Beattie” you shrugged, you high-fived her before you noticed a blonde with her arms folded glaring at both of you.

“I didn’t see you come through the door” you smiled at Leah, patting the spot next to you so she could sit.

“Jen best dressed in home kit?” She questioned towards the camera.

“Yes-“ Jen said proudly

“No! It’s a tie!” You grinned

“Mm sure” Leah said

“Ok one final question and Leah you can answer this too. Any pre game traditions you have together? Like as a couple?”

“Well Leah Can’t cook so I end up cooking pasta. I feel like when you ask a footballer their night-before meal they all say this. But it’s seriously you know, good carbs for the following game day” you said into your microphone to Jen and the Camera

“I can cook some things” Leah said

“Let’s be real here Leah, I don’t even live with you and I know this” Jen laughed, making Leah pout cutely at the camera

“You make great weetabix darling” you said rubbing her shoulder in sympathy causing her to upside-down smile at you.

“And there you have it let’s find our next guest” Jen’s voice trailed off, leaving the couch as the camera man followed her and the mic.

Leah pulled you into her embrace on the couch, you now completely collapsed on top of her. “I’m already tired” your girlfriend huffed below you.

“let’s get you a coffee I was about to get one” you said getting up to head towards the snack table containing a coffee machine just to your luck.

“Yuck no thanks” said the non-coffee drinker.

———————

“Hi im Y/n y/l/n”

“And I am Leah Williamson”

“This is Arsenal’s Name Three game, where we are going to be asked to name three of a category or something like that in under 5 seconds” you shrugged smiling wide

“Here we go” Leah said rubbing her palms together

“Name Three dog breeds. Go” you asked with cardboard game cards in your hand

“Ok um Husky, Border Collie and erm Labrador” she smiled proud of getting it right in 4 seconds.

“Nice work” you smiled, adjusting your position on your seat as Leah read her card.

“Name three Arsenal men’s players from the 2021/2022 season!”

“Um Martinelli, Tomiyaso, Saka!” You clapped after quickly finishing “did I have to say full names?” You asked the people behind the camera who shook their heads.

“Dang that was quick good job sweets. Okay my turn now I’m gonna beat your time” Leah said.

“Oh god good luck. Three countries that speak Spanish off you go” you read as her 5 seconds started

“Shit um Spain, El Salvador and”

“1..” you counted down

“Mexico” she smiled proudly finishing her answer in less than a second. “That was an easier question than you think”

“I’m shit at Geography” you shrugged to the camera

“Ok y/l/n your second is name three shades of red” she smiled reading, knowing you most likely wouldn’t get this.

“Is red one-“ you questioned

“Time starts go!”

“I don’t know any! Um plain red and… oh pink is one right” you exclaimed

“Bowbow! Times up. And I don’t think Plain red counts, nor pink” she laughed

“Surely” you mumbled crossing you arms. The camera started recording as you were given the next card. “For your final question Leah, three fake blondes on the Arsenal team” you giggled reading out your card.

“Oh my god that’s funny um shit Beth, Laura and also oh wait no she’s not…and Chloe!”

“Time! You didn’t get the last one in time!” You argued

“I so did!” She exclaimed

“Nope”

“I did but whatever then you just cannot handle losing” she said, receiving a glare from you. “Ok for the final question of today for lucky y/n here. Name three country songs starting with L”

“What! Not fair”

“Ready?”

“Absolutely not!

“Okay three two one start!” She exclaimed, studying your face as your face scrunched up in thought.

“Love you anyway Luke combs, lovin on you and like a wrecking ball by Eric Church” you yelled jumping up as you got them “yes! Got em!” You yelled excitedly you and Leah both laughed as you settled behind Leah’s back arms around her neck in a hug, with Leah bringing her hands up to your arms as you recorded the outro.

“I think we have a clear winner-“

“It was a tie missy” you said slightly whacking her head. “Anyways tune into our sold out game this weekend against Manchester United at Arsenal.com and Sky News sports. Check out our socials for further details” you smiled.

“See you next time” Leah giggled with her thumbs up, slightly cringing at it.

“Thanks ladies was brilliant” said one of the girls behind the camera, letting you now go back to where the rest of the girls were.

——————

Media days isn’t just snapping a few cute pics and playing a fun game. It was a little bit more effort and just loads of hours and hours of sitting and waiting to be called up to take pictures or film something for social media.

“What does selling out the emirates mean to me? Um it just feels surreal. As a child I remember coming to the emirates to watch Chelsea and Arsenal play, as a child when your in places like that with just tens of thousands of people it doesn’t feel real and it’s just so overwhelming. All of those people there to watch one game of silly football I would think” you laughed “but just wow 60,000 what a number I guess and it will never hit me that me and the girls have achieved this, if you told me this was happening 12 months ago I would have probably laughed. Especially telling little me sitting there at a sold out emirates in 2005, that I would be on that pitch with the same scenario just blows my mind” you smiled as you put down the phone you were asked to share your thoughts on the sold out game on.

“Sorry that was a bit of a ramble there” you said shyly, handing the phone back to the media manager.

“Absolutely not. That was so good thanks for doing that” she smiled at you before you went back to where you could see Lia, Leah and Kim all sitting down on the fake grass inside.

“Hello kimmy” you said resting your chin on her shoulder, before your eyes fell on a fast asleep Leah laying on Lia’s leg, phone in hand but dead asleep”

“Oh hello” Kim laughed hugging you back “this one was a bit tired” she pointed to your girlfriend

“Yeah she didn’t get the best sleep” you sighed going to sit next to Leah passed out on the floor.

Lia and Kim both scrunching up their faces in disgust at your response. “ no no not like that freaks. She was up playing piano again” you defended, groaning at the last part.

“Poor you. When you were away and she asked me to come over while she practised, she was up for hours” Lia laughed.

“Every night when I’ll tell her I’m going to bed, usually that implies she will too and she hops up and follows me. But lately she just says ‘night!’ and stays up playing for hours” you said, Kim smiling in amusement at the sleepy girl, before a strong Irish voice was heard.

“Here’s the sleepy girl!” Katie shoved the camera at Leah’s sleepy state passed out next to you. “And the wag!” she said now putting the camera in your face, you following your eyes at her continuous joke.

You were injured for one of your England games and were in the stands without being on the pitch with the English girls, an article released from the game called you ‘Leah’s Wag’, Katie found it hilarious and now called you ‘wag’ a lot.

“Is that Leah’s camera” you smiled up at the brunette, camera still in your face.

“You know it chick” Katie said “give me an update on what’s happening!” She said motioning for you to talk to her ‘vlog’

“Umm im ready to be told i can go home” you said sweetly, genuinely waiting to get told by the staff all was good and we could leave.

“Same here” Katie grinned wide panning the camera to her face. “Ooh!” Katie said skipping off with the camera after she found Jen making a TikTok with Beth.

Now you and Leah were left together laying on the ground, her still asleep, you thought, as her arms reached out in a stretch. “Hi baby” you said sweetly kissing her check, then her nose, then her lips.

“How long did I sleep for” she asked looking around slightly.

“No idea. Not too long I don’t think”

“Sorry about that” she said snuggling into your legs

“Don’t apologise. We should be able to leave soon. Actually I’m just gonna ask. I can’t wait any longer seriously” you said before getting up to find one of the media girls Ryhanna who was sitting down editing something on a computer. She said it was supposed to finish at 2, but we should be find to leave now.

“I’ll check hang on” she said getting up to ask someone

“Thank you” you said gratefully before walking over to the small drinking tap, filling up your water bottle which was next to it so you could give some to Leah.

“Yep you and Leah are all good to go!” She yelled from a bit away “see you guys tomorrow”

“Thank you so much. See you then!” You said, now happily skipping back. “We can go now!” You hummed, reaching your hands out to Leah so you can pull her up.

She smiled contently and happily letting you pull her up from the ground. You hugged some of the girls goodbye, who were now curious and jealous as to when they could leave.

“After you” Leah said holding the door open which led to the parking lot out the front. You gave her a sweet look and reached for her hand as you walked to the car together.

“Let’s get some sleep” she said leaning on your shoulder as you walked.

“It’s barely five” you laughed at your tired girlfriend. “It’s all that piano practise you stay up to do”

“Yeah yeah” she said walking to the drivers seat

“No missy your gonna fall asleep on the road let me drive. You took her hand in yours, pulling her away from the handle and also grabbing the keys from her hand.

“Off you go my passenger princess” you tapped her butt to shoo her away to the passenger seat

“No you’re my passenger princess” she said with warm cheeks when you both buckled your seat belts. Your reached for her hand once you made it onto the main road, interlocking fingers as you gently kissed hers.

“Smile your on camera” she exclaimed as you slowly turned your head to her and the camera, your girlfriend filming the entire sweet moment, lightly pulling your tongue out at it before facing back at the road in front of you, pecking all of her fingers again as she giggled like a small girl next to you.

#woso #arsenal women #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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notmyneighbor · 1 month

Text

Scarlet Milk - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Word Count - 5.2k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content, blood drinking

Also available on AO3

fanart by kaworinx

Your eyes flick to the clock mounted on the wall. Your morning shift at the telephone exchange was almost over.

“What number, please?”

You scan the switchboard for the correct sequence, removing and plugging in the jack to connect the call seamlessly. The next number requested is for a different exchange and you transfer the call with barely a delay.

At last it’s time to set the headset down. Your work as a telephone operator is done for the day.

Business in the telephone exchange office had really picked up since the war, and had increased further still after the DDD began their operation to help identify and weed out the invading doppelgangers. It’s the perfect time to work, getting as many hours as you need and stowing away the extra funds for a rainy day.

You ride a bicycle to work since your employer isn’t far from home. A little rougher going in the winter months, but now it was spring, the weather warming up nicely, the budding trees and renewed verdant color in lawns further signs that the seasons were changing.

You’ve barely left the city behind and entered the suburbs before you run into trouble: a sharp object, perhaps a bit of glass or metal, has punctured one of your tires. You slip off the bike seat after coming to a bumpy halt, now forced to walk alongside the bike the rest of the way home. You think there’s a repair kit lurking somewhere in the house, you’re just not entirely sure where.

You spy a milk delivery sitting near the front door of one of the houses you pass, still remaining unclaimed at this late morning hour. A small blue and yellow bird perched on the rim of one of the bottles is startled by your presence and temporarily abandons its assault on the foil lid before it regains its confidence and returns, the beak breaching the barrier so that it can drink the rich cream that has risen to the top. Clever, naughty thing. You’d shoo him away but you know it or one of its brethren will just return anyway. You had to be careful nowadays, leaving something like that unprotected.

You had to be careful nowadays, period.

You spy the milkman’s truck further up the road, the driver near the tailgate, lifting his cap and dragging the back of a pale wrist against his perspiring forehead. The rear of the vehicle is empty, the goods inside all distributed for the day’s route.

Your pace slows as you draw closer, nodding a greeting to the man. You don’t recognize him. Maybe a new hire for the dairy company. The other driver had been getting older. Maybe he’d finally retired. At least, you hoped his sudden absence was for that pleasant reason and not something more sinister relating to the doppels. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice is warm and friendly. You see his eyes focus on the deflated tire, then back up to your face. “Flat tire, huh? Need a lift?”

“Oh, no, I can manage, thank you. I’m nearly there.”

“I’m heading that way. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

You shake your head. “Really, I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “Alright, then. Get home safe.” You watch as he seals the back doors and returns to the driver’s side, climbing up and settling behind the wheel. You suddenly feel foolish. The man was just trying to be kind, surely. He starts the engine and eases back onto the road slowly, decelerating to a meager crawl to keep pace with you, calling to you through the open window. “Last chance to change your mind.” He smiles. Handsome. He has such an honest face. Weary eyes. The early mornings no doubt leaving those inky shadows on ivory skin. He must be eager to be home now that his job was completed, yet he was still offering to help.

In spite of your earlier caution, you find yourself feeling it would be rude to decline again, and you accept the milkman’s offer. “Alright, thank you. I promise it’s not far and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you want to get home.”

The truck halts, the breaks squeaking slightly. Your bicycle is lifted effortlessly and stowed in the back. There’s no seat inside save for the driver, so you remain standing, bracing yourself against the rear of the cab awkwardly. At least you don’t have far to go.

“Anyone at home to help you with that flat tire?”

“No, I live alone,” you admit, then silently curse yourself. You shouldn’t be volunteering that kind of information, even if it was the truth. Your brother had left you with the inherited house after he’d moved in with his new wife last year, still disappointed that you hadn’t found someone yet, disapproving of your decision to choose to live independently in such strange, dangerous times. Now you’ve just revealed this vulnerable fact to a stranger. A male stranger.

“The birds have been at your deliveries again,” you say, searching for something to fill the sudden silence.

“So I’ve seen. They can’t resist the cream. Interesting story about that. It’s only one particular species, have you noticed?”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“They had no trouble before they started sealing the bottles, but even after the lids were implemented they persisted until they found a way to get inside. Taught the others how to do it, too. Adaptation and evolution are necessary for survival.”

“I suppose you’re right. This is my house here,” you point and the driver slows and stops, parking the truck along the curb and shutting off the engine.

“Let me give you a hand unloading the bicycle.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

“No problem.” The milkman stands. Suddenly the cab of the truck feels very small. He’s positioned so that he’s blocking the doorway, making no move to head to the back where your bike is being stored. The smile on your features slides off like melting ice cream on a summer day.

No. He couldn’t be.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly. The smile he offers doesn’t quiet touch his eyes this time.

“Actually, I’ll just um…I can get it. Thank you for the lift.” You try to ease past him, thinking to make your escape through the rear of the vehicle instead, but he slaps out an arm to bar your path, crowding you against the steel frame.

“We’re adapting, too. Evolving constantly. Getting better and better at blending in. Finding new ways to breach your homes and sate our hunger.”

“Please don’t kill me.” As if the doppelganger would have mercy. You feel tears pooling in your eyes. How foolish you had been, walking into his trap. Why hadn’t you trusted your instincts?

“I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. See, it’s occurred to me to take a page from those birds’ books, so to speak. Sample the sweetest, most nutritious part. And let the rest of the meal live on, thereby providing an endless supply, rather than gorging on one human in a single sitting, then being forced to find another. We’ve already seen what happens when we indulge too voraciously. It’s why we were forced to visit your planet, after all.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“Your blood. That is what I desire. A sample each time, and then you go about your daily life as usual. A fair deal, isn’t it? Certainly a better offer than most of my kin would give you.”

“You want to…to…” You can even bring yourself to utter it out loud.

“Drink your blood, yes.”

“Like a vampire,” you whisper in horror.

“Something like that.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I consume you right here and now.”

Two tears spill over your cheeks. The doppel clucks his tongue. “There’s no need for that. It’s really a very obvious choice. The sooner you agree, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair for the remainder of the day.”

“Is it…is it going to hurt?”

“Not as badly as me tearing you apart with my claws, I assure you.” His features soften, and that impression of how handsome the original man he’s copied must be strikes you again. “This doesnt need to be violent. It will go easier for you if you don’t resist.”

You swallow thickly, trying to summon courage. “How do you know I won’t just call the DDD?”

“Because that would be a very, very foolish thing to do. And I think you are smarter than that, aren’t you?” His nostrils flare slightly and he inhales deeply. “I’m getting hungry. Do you agree to my terms or not?”

“What guarantee do I have that you’re not just going to kill me anyway?”

“None, other than my word.”

You could almost laugh. An invader asking you to trust him. To allow yourself to be fed upon until…when would this conceivably end? “How long will I have to do this for?”

He shrugs. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Many things. How many others will supplement my diet. How much I decide to take. This will end whenever I say it ends,” he adds in a growl, and you shudder.

You close your eyes. “Alright. Just get it over with.”

“Not here. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see, now, would we? Hop on down and I’ll deliver your bicycle. Then we can go inside and…have a little snack.”

You wish your neighbors would see your plight, but there’s no one to help you. The elderly man across the street was probably well into his morning nap. The young couple next door both worked. The housewife who lived on the other side was undoubtedly busy with chores, the children at school.

The doppelganger leans your damaged bike against the fence, following you up to the door, waiting for you to unlock it.

So. You really were going to invite him inside after all.

Normally you’d be fixing lunch at this time. Maybe doing some housework yourself. Now you set your keys in the trivet dish by the door and tuck your shoes neatly beside the frame, watching the doppel shut the door behind him.

“Come here.”

You’d taken a couple of steps further into the hallway and his voice makes you jerk to a halt. You warily turn back.

That smile again. Your stomach flips nervously as you move to stand beside him.

He makes a little hum of sound, pleased you’re being obedient and cooperative. Your hair is already pinned up, your throat exposed. Assuming that was where he was going to bite you. The thought makes your breath hitch and you close your eyes again, willing the moment to be over.

You feel the heat of his breath as he leans closer to your neck, hear another deep inhale. His lips graze your skin in the barest whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces a line down the side of your neck and then there is pain, sharp and fast, your body reflexively trying to pull away but his arms fasten around you, clutching your body against his.

“Relax,” he urges you again, his mouth lifting just long enough to issue the command to you before it returns and you feel the suction, the wet heat, that terrible drag of your life force pulled from the vessel beneath the skin. A little moan accompanies that gesture, sending vibrations as the alien savors the taste of you. Your fingers curl in his work shirt as you’re pushed back against the door. If there had been anyone there to see, it would have looked as if you were a young couple in the throes of passion. But there is no one witnessing this act. It is just you and the doppelganger.

“Enough,” he murmurs, his face revealed once more, no longer supping from your throat. You reach for the wound, surprised to find your hands coming away clean. No blood. Just scabbed puncture marks you can palpate with the pads of your fingers.

He’s breathing heavily. It had been hard to stop, maybe, fighting that natural instinct to kill and ravage. The dark eyes are bloodshot, a pair of fangs visible before they’re retracted again, the red haze gradually clearing as he continues staring at you. His appearance returns to that of the milkman he’s impersonating and he finally steps back.

“Tomorrow,” he says, a promise, a threat, before he exits, leaving you trembling, your fingers still cradling your neck. You hear the truck’s engine rumble to life.

Tomorrow.

***

He visits again the following evening.

You don’t know why you’d expected the doppelganger to be at your door at any particular time. Your anxiety has been peaking in anticipation. Dreading the next feeding. Still wondering what’s to stop him from just killing you anyway.

The marks he’d left had been surprisingly tidy. Easy enough to conceal. You’d struggled at work that day, your normally nimble hands and sharp eyes faltering more than once, your performance lacking. Your supervisor certainly noticed. You’d been spoken to. A warning.

Maybe you should take the next day off. Maybe you should…

A knock at the door interrupts your musings and you look up from the novel you’ve been attempting to distract yourself with.

He was here.

The temptation to phone the DDD is there again. But it would take them time to get here. You’d certainly be destroyed for your breach of contract long before the disposal team arrived.

You open the door.

He’s still wearing the milkman’s uniform, although this time he’s shed the cap, revealing the thick wavy brown hair that had been hiding beneath. Wordlessly you step back to make room for him to enter. Your eyes are on the floor now, suddenly shy. You hear the door being closed.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lift and you gaze at the doppel through your lashes. Surely he could hear how elevated your pulse is. Did that entice him, that rapid flow of crimson liquid?

The mimic moves behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him. Fingers guide your head to dip to one side, a gentle nudge before his lips are at your neck again. The same side as before. They press more firmly this time. The stripe he licks reaches all the way to your ear lobe. A whimper escapes you. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

The sharp pair of the monster’s cuspids pierce your throat. Another choked sound escapes you, this one a blurred mixture of pain and pleasure. The fingers resting against your abdomen dig in. His other hand is braced against your chin, manipulating your head, keeping you in position while he takes what he desires.

You clutch at the hand on your stomach. You think you’d faint if you didn’t have him at your back. There is something hard pressing against you there, another need digging into the cleft of your buttocks. Arousal. Your cheeks feel hot. There are no longer teeth sunk into your neck but his mouth is still there, laving and caressing the injured flesh. Soft, wet kisses planted. “So sweet,” he breathes against your ear. “Your scarlet milk is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

He departs minutes later and you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you get ready for bed, wondering why you’re not more afraid.

***

The milk delivery truck is parked outside your home when you arrive there the next afternoon.

You lean your mended bike against the picket fence. There are people outside. Someone is raking leaves from last autumn. Children are tossing a ball back and forth. The doppelganger has a bottle of milk in his hand, the tips of his fingers clutching it by the neck. He’s leaning against the outside of the truck.

“Come inside,” you hiss, not trusting him not to make a spectacle right there and then. He smirks at your invitation, following you inside.

There are sunspots in front of your eyes. It was so bright outdoors. The interior of your house is darker, cooler. “You should be more discreet,” you mutter, your hands rubbing together restlessly. Nervous. You’re so nervous.

“No one is paying any attention. They didn’t care when I took the truck. They hand the goods over willingly. It’s made finding other…donors…so simple. Your kind is so oblivious to what’s right in front of them.”

“How many other people are you…?” The idea of the imposter operating as a milkman making deliveries as a guise to shield his true purpose of seeking more sources of that sinister meal he craves twists your stomach in knots. Worried. You’re guilty over what’s happening to your neighbors. Not necessarily your fault, but you knew about it, and you allowed it, participated in it…

“Not many. Discretion is best, we agree on that much.” He tips his head to one side thoughtfully. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite treat.”

“I’m not jealous,” you reply defensively, perhaps a little too much vehemence behind the words. Was there some of that mixed in your emotions as well?

“You should let me give you a ride home one of these days,” he murmurs.

You frown, your reverie dissolving. “Why?”

“Because,” he drawls. Not an answer. His upper eyelids drip languidly as he sets the bottle on the kitchen counter. The foil lid is soon demolished into a crumpled ball. He drives a middle finger into the cream gathered at the top of the bottle, scooping out a dollop of the thick substance. “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“This is the best part, isn’t it? You humans seem to enjoy it. Open,” he commands again, and this time there is a bit of a threat there, the easygoing teasing suddenly disappearing. His eyes darken and your lips part obediently. The digit pierces those borders and drives straight back across your tongue, your eyelashes fluttering, surprised, the brisk invasive movement catching you off guard. Your mouth closes reflexively over the offering and the wedge of muscle presses his finger against the top of your soft palate, the pad brushing past the ridges to find the smoother flesh as he offers you a taste. Your stroke across the joint of his knuckle, then the nail bed as he slowly withdraws back through the tight ring of your mouth, finally emerging with a soft popping sound.

“Good?” The word is croaked out hoarsely. Your heart jackhammers as you nod. You watch as he repeats the gesture in his own mouth, brow furrowing over the taste as he considers the flavor of the cream. “I prefer you instead.”

The doppel’s lips touch your throat. You can’t stop the needy sound that escapes. “I won’t see you for a few days. Need to let your body rest and replenish. You’re of no use to me without the proper nutrition.” He nips your ear lobe. “So I’m going to stay a little longer today. Prolong things. I’m sure you don’t mind.” His hands have found the bottom of your skirt, lifting the hem. There are curtains on the windows but anyone standing close enough outside could look in and see what’s happening. Your cheeks burn with shame, that rush of heat further elevated because some part of you wants this. His fingers snake beneath the waistband of your panties and dip between your legs, swiping through the arousal leaking from you to collect a sample.

He licks them clean. An appreciative hum. “Now this, I really enjoy. Why don’t you hop up here.” You never get the chance because he lifts you first, setting you on the edge of the counter. Your skirt is flipped back impatiently again, your panties dragged roughly down. And you allow it. You allow the manhandling of your clothes, your body, manipulated into balancing precariously on the edge before he pulls a chair from under the kitchen table over and settles into it, his fingernails lightly scratching against your thighs before he parts them and buries his face into your sex.

Your head tips back and you bite your bottom lip as the doppel explores the sensitive pink flesh, enthusiastically swirling his tongue over the folds and your clit before pushing inside you. The hands curled around your thighs are changing, the nails digging in no longer the replicated human’s. The tongue violating your canal seems to lengthen, expanding. You’re afraid to see and yet you want to watch, your fingers burrowing into his hair. Bloodshot eyes, the doppel’s easing through, yellow tinged, pupils now sharp, narrow, a flash of teeth before his mouth shifts impossibly wide, more than a human jaw could ever accommodate, sucking at your clit while still fucking you with his tongue. A monster is ravaging your body and your only thought is MORE. The wedge of muscle curves inside you, tapping in staccato movements against the shallow secluded shelf of hidden pleasure and it sends you over the edge immediately, keening and shaking as he continues sucking and stabbing until you can’t stand it anymore, your legs trying to close, the hand that had been pulling him against your pussy now trying to push him away.

He finally surrenders, mouth parting reluctantly from your sex. You’re on fire, every nerve tingling in your extremities, at your center, where the pulse is strongest. A satisfied grin, a flash of sharp teeth aligned in a row, before the imposter milkman stands, kicking the chair back so hard it knocks over. His fingers sink into your hair and he jerks your head back, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it over the bump in his trousers. You fumble the fly open, dragging his needy erection through the flap of his briefs. It’s large and hot and your hands seem too small, too delicate to stroke that engorged organ properly.

“Milk it. Make me cum.” His lips hover before your own. You wonder why he hasn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Would those razor slivers of bone slice you to ribbons? The morphed tongue strokes the angle of your jaw. Your hand is working in harsh, jerky movements. Clumsy. You’re panting with fear and desire. You can’t reach his mouth at this angle so your lips find his throat instead, the patch of skin just above the fastened work shirt and knotted bowtie. He growls and bellows as your fingers finally, finally seem to have adapated, smoothing a gush of precum over the sensitive crown. Large as it was, his prick still felt human enough, so perhaps it was the same, or perhaps he still had yet to reveal its true nature. A moan now hummed against your throat, this soft and pleading noise the polar opposite of the menancing sound he’d emitted moments before. Teeth scrape your neck. The veins in his cock bulge against your hand. He’s so swollen, so ready to erupt. Fangs begin to dig into your flesh. Only a pair. He’s shifted appearances again, protecting you somewhat. You wonder how much of a struggle it is to keep it in check, during the height of something like this. The teeth descend further and you feel the suction as he pulls your blood into his mouth just as a hot spill of seed bathes your hand. He leans forward and your free hand reaches back to brace yourself, sending the milk bottle onto its side, mirroring the white flood that now coats your skin. He sucks and it aches and it feels like a second orgasm building inside of you.

At last, at last he draws back, and it is a human’s face you see, with shadow smudged eyes and mussed hair and swollen lips. The urge to kiss him flares anew but he backs away. You’re suddenly aware of the dairy product that’s spread across the counter, sinking into your clothes, spilling over the edge and dripping onto the floor. The doppel rights the chair he’d tipped over earlier. Clothes are straightened into some semblance of order.

You’re normally relieved when he departs. Today you find yourself clutching his sleeve as he reaches for the doorknob. Something has happened between you two, besides the obvious. A new kind of intimacy blossoming, satisfying other, more primal needs. Adapting and evolving like the doppel had said, perhaps.

“I’ll see you soon.” Not tomorrow. He’s already told you that. An anemic blood supply will not satisfy him. You’re more lightheaded than you’re letting on. He’s taken so much already, but you still want to give him more. “Soon,” he repeats. Then he’s gone.

***

In the dream, you’re in your bed, trying to achieve a slumber that won’t come. You toss and turn restlessly. Get a glass of water. Use the restroom. Flip your pillow over to the cooler side. Shift the covers. It’s no use. You can’t sleep.

You’re thinking about the doppelganger.

About that smile, that warm breath and wicked mouth and wet tongue. His body pressing against yours. Tasting you. Cumming in your hand. The vampiric kisses. It should be terrifying, knowing he holds your life in his hands, your fate determined by the whim of an alien creature.

The replicant is back.

You sense him before he even taps on the glass of the French doors that lead from you bedroom into a private garden area in the back yard. You recognize that shape behind the gauzy curtains that shield the glass, flinging back the comforter and sliding out of bed. The cool air wafts over you as you open the door. You’re only wearing a thin nightgown. You shouldn’t be dressed like this in front of him. You shouldn’t be doing any of the things you’ve been doing with him.

His palm settles warm against the side of your neck. His mouth touches yours for the first time.

Heat pools in your sex. He tastes like metal, copper heavy on your tongue. There is the flavor of tart wine and something smokey as your body is pressed down onto the bed. Your fingers siphon through his hair. You can feel his erection again, demanding somewhere near your own groin. His hips cant slightly and you both moan softly.

The hem of your nightgown is slid up the length of your thigh. You can feel the sharp points of the claws that tear your panties from your body, a casual display that leaves you gasping. A faint jingle of a belt moving and the whine of the metal teeth of a zipper parting and then his cock is shoved into your slickened entrance.

The tongue that twines around yours feels foreign now, the doppel revealing more of his true form. Long and thick, like the prick that’s invading your pussy. Your brain in its dream state has no sense of shame. There is nothing but desire, hot and wet. The front of your nightgown is sliced through, the fabric easily parting beneath the sharp claws that have replaced human nails. Your breasts are kneaded as the sound of lewd slapping fills the air, wet noises from your joined mouths, from the cock pounding into your dripping cunt. Had he been hungry? You’d been starving, you realize. Craving this. Undeniably wrong but oh so right.

“Bite me.” In your waking state, you’d never issued such a request. Only in dreams could you be bold enough. Your fingers clutch the nape of his neck, encouraging him as your knees dig into his ribs. You gift him your blood and he gifts you a load of something thicker, creamier, milky shots of cum spurting deep inside of you. There are stars in front of your eyes, fireworks, bursting lights in the darkness. He kisses your mouth and the tang of your own lifeforce is strong there. His teeth are still sharp. He hasn’t changed back. You kiss him again anyway.

***

Your eyes open.

It’s raining. You can hear the soft patter of it against the roofing shingles above. Your heart is hammering wildly. Your entire body is drenched in sweat, your panties soaked with something more carnal. You fling back the sheet and blanket much as you had in the dream, padding barefoot into the adjoining bathroom. You need a shower. You feel soiled.

You wish the events of the dream had really happened.

It’s been five days since you’ve seen the doppelganger. The water of the shower spills over you, pelting you gently. You drag the bar of soap over your body. There is something thick and wet between your legs, the fluids of your arousal a different kind of wetness than the spray of water. Your clit is swollen. You wish for his fingers, his tongue. You circle the raised bundle until your body trembles, until you’re forced to lean against the shower wall for support.

You shut off the faucet and towel yourself dry before pulling on a clean nightgown. You burrow your face into your pillow and think of the mimic’s smile until sleep reclaims you once more.

***

A week has passed. Now you think something must be wrong. The doppelganger’s delayed absence can’t be intentional.

Perhaps the DDD had gotten to him. Someone had seen something, called. Maybe not all his ‘donors’ were quite as willing as yourself. A hot flame builds inside you. You are jealous, after all.

It’s raining on the night he finally returns. Later than he has ever been. The water has soaked his skin, his clothing. There is only the living room lamp on to illuminate your view of the alien creature, looking so pitiful standing there, a drenched figure with tired eyes and dark hair plastered flat against his head, the rainwater spilling over the sharp angles of his cheeks and nose, over the gentle curves of his lips.

He steps inside and closes the door. Your breathing is harsh, rapid. A match for his own. “Where have you been?”

“Did you miss me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. His voice drags against you skin like velvet. “No.”

“Liar.”

You reach for each other at the same time. Your fingers knot into the saturated fabric of his work shirt while his close over your upper arm, crowding you back against the door. “Where have you been?” You repeat again, your voice gentler this time. “I thought the DDD had gotten to you, I…”

“You were worried about me.”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly.

“You missed me.”

“Yes.”

His thumb briefly strokes one cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“Why don’t you ever kiss me?”

“I do. Quite a lot, in fact. In many places,” he adds, smirking a little, some of his customary teasing emerging.

“You know what I mean. On the mouth.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, and for a moment you think he won’t answer you properly again, dodging the question, but then he continues, “that means something very, very different.”

“Different how?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

The doppel’s lips press against yours. Closed at first. Then they divide and your tongue darts between them, granting you your first taste of the invader. Nothing like the dream. No bitterness or metal or sour flavor. No smoke or ash. Just clean, pure, natural.

“Do you understand now?” His gaze traps yours. Human pupils dilating. You know what really lurks beneath. You like both.

“No. Show me again.”

A faint smirk. Then the doppelganger’s mouth captures yours once more.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #doppelganger #doppel francis #tnmn smut #tnmn francis mosses #francis tnmn #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Call Up III

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first Senior match

"Frido," Magda says, jaw hanging open in shock," What the hell is that?"

"Cool, right?" Frido brags, pulling on her shirt to show off the back.

"They're not selling those right now," Magda says as she takes her seat," How did you get one?"

Frido grins.

On her back, is Harder-Eriksson, the name you've chosen to represent Sweden with.

"I got it off a site where you can customise jerseys."

"She got scammed too," Zećira says," Had to get a new credit card."

"Stop telling people that!"

Zećira just laughs as Pernille and Magda take their seats. "How is she feeling? Nervous?"

"Probably," Pernille says," You know how she is. It's her first game. She wants this to go perfectly."

"It will," Zećira replies. She sounds confident and Pernille has to wonder if she's psychic or something. The way she says it with such conviction is like there's no other option means she must be psychic. There's no other explanation.

The crowd cheers, stopping Pernille from pressing further and she gets to her feet to clap as the players filter out from the tunnel.

You're the second in line, right after your captain - a newly appointed woman who looks so much taller and older compared to you at just seventeen.

You look nervous, it's clear on your face. It's clear by the way you keep shifting your weight around and how you gnaw at your bottom lip. Your eyes dart around, purposely avoiding the box of supporters you know who are here to see you.

Magda can't believe what she's seeing, not really. For years, you've waddled around the house in her Sweden jersey. For years, you've worn Zećira's Sweden jersey to sleep.

But now, you're standing in front of a sold-out crowd in a Sweden jersey of your own (one day, you'll have the most jersey sales of a keeper in history). There are names on your back that people will be very familiar with (one day, those names will be synonymous with you alone, not Magda and Pernille). There is a small handful of people here to see you (one day, people will buy tickets just because your name is on the team sheet).

This is your first time playing for Sweden.

Just a friendly (one day, you'll win World Cups with Sweden).

One day, this match will be a blip in your life but right now it's the most important match of your career.

You're representing your country as you stand in the middle of you goal.

You've played against Spain's youth team countless times for Denmark. It's strange to see the Spain kit and no Natalia Guijarro running towards you with the ball.

Vicky Lopez is running at you this time, barely five minutes into the match. She's woven her way through your defensive line. She adjusts her positioning by just a fraction and winds her leg up.

She'll shoot for the top corner. You know this and you leap, falling forward onto your front.

The ball is in your hands and you roll it out towards your defenders.

"Yes!" Frido cheers, pumping her fist into the air," Yes! That's it!"

Magda wants to roll her eyes but she feels exactly the same way, though she keeps it much more contained.

The first half draws to a close with a spectacular goal from a Swedish midfielder who Magda knows recently signed for Gotham.

You jog off the field with your team, instantly being tucked under the arm of your captain as she teasingly ruffles your hair.

When you come out for the second half, you look infinitely more relaxed and comfortable. You look much more like you did when you played for Denmark.

You look secure and you definitely take a few more daring risks.

Stealing the ball right from the feet of a Spanish player looks so much like Magda that even the cameraman cuts to your Morsa cheer from the stands, waving a little flag with your face on it.

As soon as she realises Magda is on screen, your moster Frido barges her way into view as well with a sign that has some of your baby pictures on it.

It's embarrassing and so stupid but it makes you smile as you kick the ball down to your midfield who starts on the attack.

The smile that emerges doesn't fade even when the fulltime whistle is blown.

A clean sheet seems like the best way to start your international career with Sweden.

"Look at you," Your captain says, ruffling your hair," Clean sheet. What did I tell you, huh? Nothing to be worried about."

You try to squirm away but she holds you tighter. She holds you hostage as the rest of the team on and off the bench converge on you.

You know what they're going to do and you try to escape.

You manage to duck under arms but run straight into Frido.

You hadn't even realised she'd gotten onto the pitch.

"No," She teases, turning you around and shoving you right back at the team.

"Momma, Morsa!" You whine as Frido tries to walk you over," Make her stop."

"No chance," Morsa laughs," This is your debut. You get all the perks that comes with it."

You pout. "I wish I stayed with Denmark."

"Don't lie," Momma says.

"Zećira, please? Can't you stop them?"

Zećira laughs as well, arms crossed over her chest. "And miss out on my little prodigy experiencing this? Take it with dignity."

Frido pushes you right at the crowd of your teammates.

They don't let you get away this time.

Hands are on your limbs as you're lifted up and thrown into the air.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #the big adventures universe

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remlionheart · 3 months

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Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#chuuya smut #bsd smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #soukoku #rem writes

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

Text

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”

#dickgrayson #dick grayson #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson fic #dick grayson blurb #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x shy!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you

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sunnys-out · 27 days

Text

The Star and her Sun | Alessia Russo x Reader

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you to those who checked up on me. I'm doing alright now. Still studying for the LSAT which I am set to take on the 8th of June, so send good vibes. I have been working on this one for a bit. This combines three of the prompts that I had and honestly, I'm kinda attached to this one because it is friends to lovers and my ass loves that shit like. I am working on three others that should be coming out soon. Thank you all. (REMINDER: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED)

WC: 7k

Warnings: Family sickness, alcohol, foul language, gendered language (anything else let me know)

Chime~

The little bells rang throughout the quiet, little, London cafe as it cut through the sounds of a football match playing on a laptop by the counter.

Alessia saw someone in the behind hunch over what looked to be like a large book and notebook filled with all sorts of highlights and post its.

“Morning~, can I get something started for you?” A soft voice sounded from behind the fresh pastries as Alessia noticed that you gave a quick look to her and returned to whatever you were doing.

Alessia approached the counter and peered at you still sitting down with your hair held up and with a floral headband keeping away the stray hairs that still graced your cheeks.

You close the textbook, using the notebook like a bookmark to not lose your place, smoothing out the apron fully standing in front of Alessia.

She couldn’t help but follow the movement as you went past her eyeline. You were probably over 6’0 and you caught her moment of awe and laughed a little.

“I’m 6’3 if that is what you were wondering” you said as you further adjusted the apron around your waist.

Alessia blushed at being caught,

“Sorry, uh- I’m new around here and this was the first cafe I saw that was close to my place and open this early so I don’t have an idea of what I want really?” her normally confident tone faltered as she fully took in your features.

A smile crept on your face as you put your hands in the front pockets of the apron and begin to rock back and forth on your heels. You look at the kit bag on Alessia’s shoulder.

“Seems like you’re going to training…Arsenal right? Well, the rest of the girls usually pop on through in the afternoon after practice but I’d always recommend the Apple Crumble pastry and a small, sweet latte with oat milk for morning trainings”

Alessia only nodded at the question, “Yeah, that sounds perfect actually…you a fan?”

I nod as I bend down with a pair of tongs to place the pastry into a small bag.

“My mum is a huge gooner, and my pops is a big Man United fan.” You laugh a little before continuing and beginning the process of making the latte.

“I guess I am both as well…grew up in it really, so yeah you can say I’m a fan ” You place the top on the disposable cup and slide the coffee and pastry towards Alessia stopping her before she gets her wallet out.

“First one is on me, little star” you say and are met with a stunned silence from the younger girl.

She remained looking at you a sense of familiarity hits her as your soft but firm eyes returned the stare but she couldn’t place it for the life of her. It looked like you were waiting for a specific response from her.

“Thanks…uh I’ll see you around” she says as she quickly grabs the things on the counter and heads for the door.

You say quickly to her as Alessia grabs onto the handle of the door, “Oh tell the girls I said my hellos”

Alessia nods and runs out of the cafe and nearly trips over the sidewalk as she continues on to the training center.

You watch her and she wanders off, Alessia completely flustered by the encounter, shaking your head you mutter as a laugh leaves your mouth

“Still as clumsy as I remember”.

________________________________

Bearsted FC, Kent

Being the oldest kid at Bearsted FC meant a lot of the younger kids looked up to you both figuratively and physically. Being freshly ten and measuring at 5’4 was nothing to ignore. You were one of the few kids that did not need any convincing to be in goal.

You enjoyed it. The amount of afternoons practicing blocking shots with your parents gave you a sense of pride with each ball that flew away from goal or trapped within your gloves.

You had promise of becoming one of England’s best goalkeepers or so said the many adults at your games on the weekends.

Even little Alessia Russo, who would come bounding towards you at the end of each and every game. You both had been playing for both the boys and the girls on the weekend. Again, no one else would step as keeper so no one could really say no to you.

“That was amazing,(y/n)!!!” Alessia jumped towards you with her arms then extended to mimic a save you had done that game.

You shook your head and smoothed out your uniform as you looked down at you teammate.

“Me? Nah, you were amazing, I mean you have been really practicing your shooting. Got a brace today!” you say patting her shoulder.

“What’d ya mean? It would’ve been perfect if I didn’t slip on the grass” Alessia initially beaming up at you and then frowning as she showed off the grass stains on her shorts.

You shake your head, “I mean it Lessie, I mean you got the grown ups saying that you’re England’s next big striker and I agree with them” You continue to pick up your stuff from the side of the goal.

Alessia only remained silent before firmly saying, “Well only if you’re there, I don’t trust anyone else, you are such a good goal keeper!”

You roll your eyes at the younger girl yes, “you’ll get there with or without me Lessie, trust me” You look over and see your parents waving you over.

“Well I'm going to head home, see ya tomorrow eh little star?” Who only nods acknowledging the pats to her shoulder as you run over to your parents.

You were enjoying the last few weekends that you had in England. Your parents had already mentioned to you that your father had found a much better job in Florida that required a move to the States.

You were already 10 years old so your time at the league was ending anyways, the only worry you had was finding a new team to play for. Your parents reassured you that there were clubs in Miami that would take you and it’d be a nice change in scenery.

Your last weekend came up and it was going to be a surprise to everyone but unbeknownst to you, Alessia had fallen ill. Her parent’s not telling her that it was your last time playing there, the last time that you would play in England to save her from feeling worse apart from her illness.

You played well and ended your little “career” with another clean sheet but this time without Alessia Russo coming over to your goal to sing you your praises. She was your best friend and it left you dejected as you grabbed your things from the grass and headed over to your parents.

“Darling, don’t look down, your father gave the Russos our number so she will call you when she feels better and we are in the states” Your mother sensing the disappointment that clearly permeated from your demeanor.

That did make you feel a wee bit better that at least Alessia had some way to get in touch with you. What you didn’t know is that, unfortunately for you, Alessia’s father forgot the piece of paper in his jeans and the number was lost in the wash. He didn’t have the heart to tell Alessia of what happened.

Waiting by the home phone proved to be a rather frequent activity until your mother said “It’s ok we are going to visit sooner or later”.

However, soon became a couple years and not to your surprise Alessia and her family had moved.

She moved somewhere different, so you had to move on from your best friend you so deeply missed.

________________________________

Upon Alessia’s arrival to the training grounds, the other girls immediately clocked the familiar coffee cup design.

“Oh looks like you’ve already met our favorite barista, Russo” Katie wraps an arm around Alessia’s shoulders.

The blonde’s cheeks grew red at the mention of you. “Uh yeah, she mentioned y’all… said hello”

Katie’s eyes twinkled, “Oh how I love that girl…you got a good look at her didn’t you?”

Before Alessia could continue to show that she was a nervous mess; Leah intervened.

“Leave the poor girl alone, Katie. We all know of your little crush on (Y/N), get in line like the rest of us”.

The rest of the locker room erupted in laughter and in mutual agreement.

Alessia returned to her area and placing her things in her cubby still reeling from the whole interaction.

After a particularly exhausting practice, she turned down going with the other girls to the cafe you worked at. She lied saying that she still had some unpacking to finish and why should she go back if she’d already been there in the morning?

“Don’t need to buy anything, Lessi, just seeing (y/n) is worth the walk down” Katie laughed giving her a quick bump to the shoulder.

An awkward laugh from Alessia escaped her as she shooed away her teammates but not before promising that she would join them the next time….which was a lie because she would avoid the cafe as much as she could to avoid the nervousness that she felt. The way that your gaze affected her…how even in the early morning your eyes were bright, soft, and firm.

________________________________

After two weeks of, reluctantly, going to any cafe other than the one that you worked at Alessia finally found herself being dragged by Toone towards your cafe.

“Tooney, there are other places with pastries, do we really have to go to this one?” Alessia pleaded to her friend who looked at her confused and pulled Alessia even further.

“Nah, Phallon is there and she said that her old university friend working there will hook us up with some free pastries, you were excited about the free pastries part, what’s got you not wanting to go now huh?”

Alessia couldn’t think of a good reason, her demeanor did change from excitement to nerves at the realization they were headed towards your cafe…

“I don’t think their pastries are all that” she lied to which earned an eye roll from Ella.

“Don’t care…a free pastry is a free pastry.” Ella said, opening the door of the cafe to see an occupied Phallon leaning on the counter as she scrolled her phone looking for something.

She lifted her head, “Oh hey Tooney, hey Alessia, guess you got her with the free pastries huh?” she said with a smile.

Alessia let out a quiet sigh of relief as she saw someone that wasn’t you walk into the back carrying a box.

“Where’s your friend, Phallon?” Ella went to the counter towards her teammate.

Phallon continued scrolling through her phone and stopped seemingly finding what she was looking for.

“Oh she had to go get some boxes really quick but she’ll be back. I was going to show her the highlight I had seen of her from two weekends ago, just found it. She’ll kill me but…” She laughs turning the phone screen towards Ella and Alessia as the video began to play.

Toone did not see Alessia’s eyes widen at the realization that you were the one playing; that you were the one in goal.

Alessia recognized the team as one of the local club teams nearby, a part of the lower leagues. One of the main points of the video that played again slowly was a save that was thoroughly impressive. There was something in the way that you made the save that triggered a memory in Alessia.

Before Alessia could say anything in response to the video, your voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Been a while, Russo…TJ can you not show my highlights, it’s embarrassing” You say, with a laugh, passing closely to Alessia and hip checking Phallon as you place the two boxes of napkins on the counter.

Phallon only lets out a laugh, “hey it was a good save (y/n), if you weren’t on this med school route, you’d easily be recruited by a WSL club team…”

Ella immediately agrees and pushes more, “Phallon is right, if you were on another team, you’d be an absolute nightmare for us right, Lessie?”. You look back at Alessia, who at the mention of her name finally blinked.

“Uh yeah, that was a good save. I don’t think I would get anything past you” she says quietly under your firm gaze as she hears your name for the first time.

You only nod turning away from the group to put away the boxes, “Yeah maybe, well that was the dream but things sometimes don’t go that way you know but hey you can have multiple dreams…aka the med school route Phallon so happened to mention”

Alessia’s eyes followed you as you continued on answering Ella’s array of questions as you put away the supplies needed behind the counter.

Drying your hands you go to pack some pastries for the group,

“Yeah I was a walk on for our university team and I ended up playing for them for a while, even started more than half the games…decided to just come back home after I didn’t get drafted into the NWSL”.

The last part came out with some hesitation, you turn back with three small baggies filled with pastries.

Phallon takes them in her hands and says “See you at the game, yeah?”

You nod, “Course, just remember to send me the tickets this time TJ, now head on off, I know that you all have practice later”.

As the group was about to leave, Alessia stops when you firmly say, “Actually, before I forget…Alessia, you forgot something the last time you were here”

Alessia looked to Ella who, didn’t help at all, said “Oh, we have to head out, I’ll text ya later Less”, leaving Alessia to her own devices

As Alessia, hesitantly, reached the counter, you pulled up your chair and sat with your elbows on the counter and your head resting at your palms.

“Sooooo…you going to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me or do you want me to guess?” You say already with an answer in mind.

The younger girl messed with her hands and refused to meet your eyes “ ‘m not avoiding you…there’s just other cafes…”

You clicked your tongue, “sure…anything else because I don’t believe you, little star” the nickname caused for Alessia’s cheeks to turn red…

“Uhhh…well I don’t think Katie would like me hanging around her crush, ‘ppose you like her too…I mean why wouldn’t you…I mean not saying I don’t want to see you but not that I have a crush on you or anything…but you’re pretty but I don’t think…”her thoughts were interrupted by your stifled laughter.

You rubbed your eyes to wipe the tears the came from holding it in.

“Hold on…firstly, I like Katie but not in that way. Second, is that really why you’ve been avoiding me, Lessie?…I thought it was something else, this however, I’m not complaining about”

You said gesturing over to Alessia’s flustered demeanor.

The look of confusion on her face only added to your laughter, “Lessie, I know you’re not dumb…come on, who else in your life has ever called you, Little Star…I mean your folks started calling you star girl because of it and now the media does but who was the first to call you their little star?”

You smiled towards her as you took in her slow realization, her eyes widening as she began finally taking in your features. The way that your eyes looked at her was enough proof to her, you were her.

Alessia quickly pulls you into a hug from across the counter, “you asshole, you could’ve just told me. God, it’s been so long”. Her grip on you is so tight that you would think that you were about to fly away if she let go. You feel her bury her face in your hair as you lean into her more.

Another laugh leaves your mouth, “well I thought you would have figured it out but now I know why you avoided me”. She pulls away immediately and sees the smirk that now adorned your face.

“ Someone’s got a little crush on me” you tease as you get up from your chair only to be followed, in tandem, on the other side of the cafe counter by the striker.

“I never said that!” her voice not, convincingly, confident like the day she first saw you again after many years.

You ignore her and only respond with a hum as you adjust your apron and round the corner of the counter and walk briskly towards the younger girl.

“Is that so? Shame because I also had a crush on you but I guess we will never know, of what may have happened if you also had a crush on me” You continue your teasing as you begin to shoo her out of the cafe with a gentle push.

The striker pushes back against you and grabs your right hand as you grab the handle to “kick her out”.

“Hey wait, wait…I was just joking…come on, Sole” You don’t take your hand off the handle but you froze at your old nickname, Sole.

You hadn’t heard that name in decades at that point…her parents called you “her sole”...”her sun” because she was always pulled to you. The moment she got out of the car at practice she would run to you at goal, the moment the game would end she’d run to you, and eventually Alessia would copy her parents and call you ‘Sole’ in response to your calling of ‘little star’ to her.

You felt Alessia push back against you and you budged a bit. As you opened the door, you used the momentum in one of her efforts and turned her towards you as you lowered your face to hers.

“I’m joking, little star. Get to practice. I’ll see you this weekend, I’ll find you after the game, Phallon will get me…I’ve missed you by the way”. You say calmly, patted her shoulder and then,gently, pushed her out of the cafe and closed the door behind her.

________________________________

Match day against Manchester United came quickly to the Emirates and Alessia was nervous for multiple reasons. She was facing her old club for the first time and playing before her old friend that she definitely had a crush on.

You never gave her your number and she didn’t want to ask Ella to then have to ask Phallon because then Ella would start wondering why and she couldn’t hide her feelings for you from her best friend. If Tooney found out, oh she would never hear the end of it.

The team all rallied and began warm ups, the noises of the stadium gradually grew as people filed in.

Alessia’s eyes would scan the suites where player’s families and friends from either team would be situated…she didn’t see you.

She’d discreetly do it again during the as the team got into their positions…nothing. Unbeknownst to her, you had an eye on her the whole time; laughing at the way she “discreetly” scanned the family suites looking for you.

You never enjoyed the suites and always preferred watching from a fan’s point of view. You weren’t known so it wasn’t a worry that you’d be found out by fans. You settled into your seat your legs already used to the lack of space. You were surrounded by other fans with your mother’s old Arsenal jacket she got when she was your age with a little bit of a red jersey peeking underneath.

It was an Alessia Russo jersey from when she played for Manchester United. You got it the moment that you heard that she signed on. Your father being elated that your childhood friend was playing for his team,

“as she should!” you remember how proud he sounded when you shared the news

Lessie was loved by your family so you purchasing her jersey wasn’t seen as weird or off. You were as enamored with Alessia as she was of you in that moment. As a kid, you had always dreamed that one day you and Alessia would exchange jerseys after a game against each other, the thought caused for a short-lived frown to grace your face.

You took a photo of Phallon in goal from where you were seated and posted it to your story tagging her and adorning the photo with University of Miami stickers and a caption that said “That’s my best friend!”

You loved your university friend dearly but you hoped that your little star would get one past her. As the game began, you watched Alessia, silently, like you did all those years ago from your goal posts. Placing you feet on the seat in front of you and putting your elbows to your knees and watched in awe.

Your little star was not so little anymore but she played with the same energy and joy as she did when you were both younger. You couldn’t help but jump up in excitement when she scored. Except this time you couldn’t hit the posts with your gloves from the other side of the field like you traditionally did.

During halftime, you got a text from Phallon telling you to head down to tunnel before the end of the game. She had already let it be known to security that you would be coming by and to just flash the badge she had given you.

The game had ended with a 2-0 scoreline in favor of Arsenal, earning Alessia a brace against her former club. Phallon came in and upon seeing you, enveloped you in a tight hug. The hug itself started to push off the University of Miami baseball hat you had on from your head.

“Hey you did great out there, was like old times” you said with a laugh as you patted Phallon’s back.

Phallon was a tad upset but nodded at your words, “Could’ve been better but hey this ain’t the NWSL, so I’m happy to have played anyways”. You had stayed in the United States for a year after failing to get drafted and would often fly out to Seattle to watch Phallon at her home games. You wanted to support her for as long as you could; that still wouldn’t be enough to pay her back for all that she had done for you.

You hadn’t noticed that Alessia had walked into the tunnel with Toone and seen the slight look of jealousy she shot Phallon.

“That’s her best friend is all…goal keeper union and all that. Mary probably knows her too…” as if on queue Mary came by and enveloped you in a hug from behind which earned a laugh from you. Mary’s powerful stature now seemed small in comparison when you towered over her.

Alessia did not realize that Ella had pulled her towards you and the other girls until she heard you say,

“Oh hey you two, you both had an incredible game, especially you…Russo!” The smile that you had now directed at her, filled with knowing that you had such an affect of her as you noticed that Alessia’s cheeks became the same color as her jersey.

The other girls agreed amongst themselves. “How about a little get together later tonight? Just a couple drinks nothing too crazy, (Y/N), you are always invited” Mary ended the proposal with a pat on your shoulder.

You nod, “Oh Alessia, heard you’d need a ride home, I can take you, since I have to stop at the cafe really quick before I go home anyways”. The offer bringing Alessia out of the trance that she was in.

“Sure…if it isn’t any issue” she said softly that earned a quick assurance from you.

“Nah don’t worry about it…I’m parked where the players are, so I’ll just text you where I’m at” you say handing her your phone so that she can put in her number.

Once Alessia handed your phone back, you said your goodbyes and whispered a quick, “I’ll see you soon, little star” to her before heading down the hall. Alessia nodded and turned to see a smirking Toone.

“You can thank me by the way…I could've given you a ride but I am always looking out for my bestie so I made myself ~ unavailable ~ and I expect you to put on your cutest outfit, Less!” she sang the last part as she put her arm around Alessia’s shoulder.

“I-I don’t-what?”, the blonde quietly whispers to Toone.

Ella rolls her eyes, “Less, I know when you have a crush, you’re the worst at hiding it. Plus she’s a catch and I’m sure she likes you too, so just here to give ya a little push like the good friend I am” her eyelashes flutter towards the blonde.

The forward did not even try to fight her friend and instead went to the locker room with the rest of her team. After going through the various congrats and photos for Player of the Match, she finally unlocked her phone to a message from an unknown number, you.

“Hey little star, I'm parked in section A spot 29. I’ll be sat in my car so no rush do what ya gotta do 😊”

Alessia smiled down at the message, the nickname flustering her even in just text form.

“I’ll see you soon, just finishing up here 😊” her message was met with a small, heart like.

You were scrolling on your Instagram, as a random Spotify playlist played from your phone. Your head leaned on the window of your car as you continued completely unaware of your own surroundings. A gentle tap on the passenger window across from you made a big smile appear as you unlocked the car to a still-nervous Alessia.

“You could put your stuff in the back don’t worry, it's unlocked”. Once Alessia put her things away in the back seat she found herself in the passenger seat, struggling to put on her own seat belt.

“I’m not going even to ask if you need help,” you said with a small laugh as you leaned over, grabbed the seat belt, and quickly put it into the buckle.

As you lean back into your chair, you stopped closely to Alessia’s face,

“That buckle gets everyone, don’t be embarrassed…you don’t need to be nervous around me either but seems like I do that to everyone” you smile slyly as no response comes from her and start the car and you begin to pull out of the lot.

Alessia breaks her own silence,

“(y/n)...my dad lost your number in the wash…that’s why I never called you. I hope you don’t think that I left you, I really did miss you” You waved your hand towards her.

“I know that you never meant for that to happen…I didn’t expect to leave so young”

She only nodded and continued,

“Soooo, what did you end up doing and what’s this about med school?”

A sigh escapes you, “uh we moved to Miami because dad got a really good job there. Things were great, I was playing club in a nice area and yeah…that lasted two years…then dad loses that job within 2 years because of the recession…we had savings but we had to cut out a lot of things…football was one of them”.

You coughed as you recalled the rest, “The daughter of the coach was so happy I was gone which meant that she could be the starting goal keeper…other girls were funded by other parents who had better means…uh not me”.

You did not even want to look at Alessia knowing she had a frown on her face. You pinch your nose as you continue.

“When I went to high school, I tried out for the team and I was good according to the coach…but then they asked me if I played club…told them I did but then stopped because I couldn’t afford it. I was cut from the team the next day…money talks there, so I uhhhh didn’t play until I went to U of M”

“Phallon was actually my roommate…we joked that they intentionally put the two tallest girls together in the smallest dorm at the university. It was a total coincidence that they put me with her. First day I knew she was a soccer player, she didn’t find out I was a goalkeeper until she came to me worried because her alternate did her ACL and that they needed to try out new people in the next two weeks. I denied at first said I couldn’t afford it and explained why. Phallon talked to her family and next thing I knew…everything was paid for I just needed to try out…rest is history. You already know that I didn’t get drafted and well I came back. Been staying at my aunt’s place, rent free. She’s retired so she’s always away on travel”.

Alessia nodded, still noticing how you rushed to the end.

“How are your parents-?” she stops the moment she sees your hands tense at the wheel.

You shift in your seat, “Sorry, my parent’s are fine now, they are still in Florida actually…they are kind of stuck there…Mum got sick recently and dad followed suit…took them forever to convince me to move back, but they are ok it’s just we are in a weird spot. Everything is ok but not at the same time, don’t know if that makes sense”. You glance at her with a soft smile.

Alessia puts a hand to your shoulder, “hey sorry if that’s a sore spot and no it makes sense, it’s been a while since I’ve seen them obviously” She lets out a laugh.

“Dad was so happy when you signed to United you know? And now, mum has been over the moon since you joined Arsenal” the tone in your voice now lighter.

As you and Alessia talked it felt as if you had returned to the rhythm that you both had when you were kids. She would scrunch her nose when you teased her and you’d roll your eyes when she made a bad joke. You parked near the cafe after Alessia convinced you to leave her at the cafe and she’d walk the rest home.

You began walking towards the cafe to go pick up some textbooks you had left earlier that morning, beginning to take off your jacket out of habit as you got to the door. Alessia, who had stopped to see you off only saw the deep red of the Manchester jersey you wore, the white letters spelling out ‘Russo’ disappearing into the cafe.

________________________________

Alessia had practically inhaled the first drink that was handed to her by Toone due to the nerves that she had. Toone looked proud when Alessia arrived with her hair down, gold hoops and necklace with a black crop top and light washed jeans.

“You look absolutely stunning, if she doesn’t want to take you home immediately seeing you then something is wrong with her” Toone said that earned a slap on the shoulder from Alessia,

“Shut it, don’t need to be so loud about it”. They both decide to get another drink while they waited for you to enter the bar. There respective teammates floating around the bar, laughs and conversations were heard from every corner.

“(y/n)!!!! Leah told me you were coming!” Katie’s thick accent now even thicker due to drinks she had already had.

Alessia had already started to feel the buzz of the 2 drinks she had went through minutes ago so the exclamation from Katie felt louder than usual. She turned and saw you talking to Katie who already began to wrap her arm around your waist pulling you closer to her. You entertained her and just held her briefly and it now looked like Katie was a koala on tree.

Leah finally released you from Katie’s grasp only earning a laugh from you as you patted Katie’s shoulders to save her from the embarrassment what occurred. Alessia felt the tug at her heart when she saw your smile and heard your laugh. Even with all of the noise and movement, it seemed like you were moving slowly and clearly only for her to see.

Alessia only snapped out of it when she felt a jab into her ribs,

“You’re drooling, Lessie, I’d wipe your mouth because she’s headed this way, I’m going for another drink see ya”. The forward did not even have time to register what was said by Toone and even worse when you appeared in front of her.

“You ok? You’ll catch flies” You say semi-teasingly, semi-serious, lightly, tapping the underside of her chin as Alessia hadn’t closed her mouth since you had entered the bar. She finally was able to take you in and her silence to what you said only caused you to laugh.

Alessia saw you adjust the rolled up sleeves of your jacket and her eyes drifted to the exposed section of your stomach, then up at the subtle gold chain that you had on, you caught her gaze finally reached your face.

“So, I’m just going to get my one drink of the night, want to join me?…seems you need a refill” You take the empty glass from her hand as you started for the bar with Alessia following right behind you.

“Sorry, for being all quiet, I’m just tired you know” the blush on the striker’s cheeks told another story.

You nod as you order yourself two drinks and slide one over to Alessia.

“Sure, little star, and I’m the president of the United States” you tease as you felt a tiny push of the shoulder from her.

The conversation was like any other and the alcohol finally hit Alessia not at once, if you asked her, but when she was pulling you towards the dance floor with all the other Arsenal girls who were equally slightly, stumbling.

She looked up at you as she brought you closer by your waist and laid her head on a part of your shoulder almost using you to stabilize herself. Alessia took in how warm you were and the woody, almost pine scent from your clothes; she couldn’t help but close her eyes and quietly sigh contently.

She barely registered your hand gently rubbing her back as you both were “slow dancing” in the middle of the bar. Which just meant you were both swaying slowly side to side, well you were more stabilizing Alessia as you moved side to side.

Her eyes opened as she felt the rumble in your chest as you spoke, “Nah she’s ok,...yeah Katie she’s an old friend actually…more now and we’re just catching up on lost time…ok I’ll see you”.

You, gently, tap Alessia’s waist to get her attention and lower yourself to her ear, “You alright?”

Alessia hummed and only melted herself more into you as your chest rumbled again but from laughter.

“You want to head out? Don’t want you to fall asleep standing…well you might actually trip over yourself if I let you go.” Alessia doesn’t answer but nods into your chest.

You push her a little so that you can lead her out of the bar waving at the rest of the team to get home safe.

Alessia stops you, “Can you carry me home?” she says quietly as she tries to stabilize herself without your aid but fails only to grab you by the arm.

Without a word, you get in front of her and squat a little.

“Come on, just get on my back, I can take you to mine, it’s actually just a block and a half away”

Alessia, carefully, gets on your back and wrapping her arms around you neck as you hold her legs.

The lights of the streets are almost blurry as Alessia laid her head on your back.

“I really did miss you, Sole”, you hear Alessia slur out from behind you.

You stop a bit before going up to the door of you aunt’s home, “me too, little star”.

________________________________

You assist Alessia into some of your clean clothes, obviously fitting way too big on her, combed through her hair, removed her make up, brushed her teeth, and finally lead her to your bed.

“I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs -” you began to say before Alessia, even though she was completely out of it, pulled you down to the bed next to her.

“Don’t be stupid, come on, you didn’t think I saw you with my jersey earlier” she muttered as she made her place in your arms and began to sleep. You only smiled as your fingers went through her hair and then rested at her hip as she feel asleep… you silently wishing that this would be your everyday but when have you ever been this lucky?

________________________________

Over the several weeks, Alessia would come only in the mornings opting to be selfish with the time that she spent with you. She would lean on the counter and talk to you as you were sat in the chair reading over your text book like the day she met you, sometimes even having your parents on the phone to speak with her. She thought, at the beginning, that you weren’t listening to her but you would occasionally insert little quips or observations.

“Ok sorry to say but that video of you in Australia, that Mary shared, was actually really funny”. You said as you highlighted another part of your textbook before setting it down on the table.

Alessia rolled her eyes, “ok I swear it was going to charge at me, anyways, I’m off to practice…see you tomorrow?”.

You nod as you lean down and give her a quick kiss on the lips as she practically skipped out of the cafe.

You look underneath the counter at the opened letter that you had received a week ago. It said of your new schedule that your clinicals would now be mornings and you’d be assigned to a location to travel outside of the city in the afternoons.

“I’ll tell her tomorrow” was the phrase you would say over and over again. Your resolve in actually telling her would melt away the moment Alessia waltzed in every morning with her smile that made you buckle.

Tomorrow would be the last possible day to tell her so you had to tell her, of course, you could only blame your own unwillingness to break her heart. You weren’t breaking up with her just telling her

‘Hey, remember how we didn’t see each other for a really long time and we found each other and now things are great, well I have to go again but I will still remember you…hope you wait for me like I waited for you…’

The next morning came and you had settled into your seat behind the counter like you always did and waited for your Little Star to walk in with her smile that was so bright it’d make the moon jealous. You hid the sunflowers that you had got her under some newspaper, hoping, it’d lessen the blow of what you were about to say to her.

The minutes passed and the ding from your phone disturbed the comfortable silence.

“Hey Sole, I’m not feeling too well today, think I ate something bad last night so I’m not coming in and just going to go back to bed, don’t miss me too much” followed with “ Little Star has notifications silenced”

You sighed with a frown, as you began to speak into your phone:

“You’re going to hate me. I’m sorry-”

Alessia’s heart dropped as she began listening to the voicemessages in her bathroom after sleeping for another 3 hours.

“I’m going to be no longer working at the cafe because I’m going be fully dedicating myself to my studies. Clinicals at the hospital are picking up and I will be going out of town often to work…I won’t be able to see you nor really talk to you. You are important to me and I am stupid for not telling you sooner…makes it seem like this is more important than you but it isn’t… I just didn’t want to break your heart.

I love you, my little star, since the night at the bar. When you held onto me for dear life as we “danced”. When I brought you home when you were drunk off your ass and could barely stand. I still smell the traces of your scent on my bed sheets; my clothes; my pillowcase no matter how many times I have washed everything…the way you pulled me to bed to just hold you as you slept. I still remember the feel of you under my palms; every curve, every line as I passed my hands lightly on your hip as you quietly snored. I wished for that for so long with someone and I’m glad it was with my best friend.

I want to let you go because you deserve my full attention…I hope that you wait for me like I waited for you, but if not then I hope that I can still cheer you on from across the field as you continue making a name for yourself.

I love you my little star and always will.

Come by the cafe later, if you’re able, to pick up what I intended to give you…as a goodbye…sorry I won’t be here I’m actually leaving soon once my coworker clocks in…it’s the first day I need to be out of town…I love you”

Alessia finally arrived at the busy cafe; which was an odd sight for her. The cashier, immediately upon seeing Alessia, motioned her over, allowing her to cut in front of the line.

“Sorry folks, just got to make a quick delivery” the assumed university student apologized to the line before going back and quickly emerged with a small bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in newspaper with an envelope sitting amongst them.

Alessia took them with a sad smile and headed over to an open table in the corner. She pulled out the envelope seeing it was covered in stamps and re sealed several times.

Carefully opening it she sees a neatly folded napkin, in front of a thicker paper, the napkin itself had written.

“Mum sent me this right after I told her that we found each other again. This was the last time we were together…think you got a hat trick this game.”

The napkin was set aside as Alessia took out the thicker paper turning it over to see it was a photo of the two of you as children.

Alessia’s then dark hair held up in low pigtails with a big smile as you held her up in a hug also a big smile adorning your face.

Her sad smile was short lived as she looked at what you had written in the white part of the photo,

“The Star and her Sun”

It was then Alessia decided to wait for you because what is a Star without her Sun.

#woso x reader #engwnt x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #alessia russo x reader #arsenal wfc x reader

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