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luuce · 2 months ago

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wordcount: 5,105

summary: walking your dog really does make you meet new people. When in search of a new sitter for your dog, he seems to have chosen it himself.

warnings: none, just fluff.

part 2

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Sunny days only come every once in a while here in rainy London, so it is no wonder you and your furry companion take advantage of that and take a walk, although with him walks are required at least twice a day every single day, no matter the weather. His tail is up high and swinging side to side as he vigorously stops to smell every few steps, happy trotting once he's satisfied with himself. It takes you a bit to arrive at your regular café near the park and you quickly spot the only free table there is and tug Bowie towards it. You easily tie his leash to one of the chairs and take out a treat for him.

“Sit” You tell him and he immediately looks up to you, does as told and eats the treat you give him. “Good boy. Now, mama is gonna go inside to order coffee and a treat, and you are gonna stay here guarding our table, okay? No singing while I’m gone, I know you have a beautiful voice but we don’t want you turning famous and leaving mama, what would I do without you?”

He looks at you and sways his tail as if he’s completely understanding every word you are saying. With a quick pat on his head you go inside the café to order. There’s a bit of a queue so that leaves you with time to think what you want to order, even though you will probably end up ordering the same thing you always do. You look at the croissants and then turn your sight to the left where you spot the pain au chocolat, okay, maybe you are leaning towards chocolate today. Just as you see that it is your turn, you hear howling coming from outside. You turn your head to see Bowie with his head tilted back howling, or singing, as you like to put it. You quickly look at Marg, the lovely barista and smile apologetically.

“Sorry, you know how he gets” you tell her.

“Oh, it’s totally alright, there’s nothing that furry ball could do to make me mad” She laughs and proceeds to take your order. “The usual?”

“I’ll take the pain au chocolat today, instead”

“Perfect, coming right up”

You pay and move to the side to wait for the order. After another peek outside you see Bowie doing more of his singing while the man sitting on the table next to him seems to be talking to him. As soon as you hear your name called from another barista, you grab the tray and head outside to your artist of a dog. As soon as he spots you, he stops howling. The man beside you laughs.

“I’m sorry if he bothered you. He tends to miss me when I’m not on sight” You begin to apologize to the nice man.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s completely understandable. What 's his name?”

“This is Bowie, and he has attachment issues.”

“Oh, that explains the singing.” He laughs and reaches to pet him. “Nice to properly meet you, Mr. Bowie. I have to say that I’m a huge fan of your singing”

Bowie proceeded to bark at him as an answer. You both laugh as you take a seat on the closest chair, which is diagonally to his and a bit separated.

“I believe he said thank you”

You take a moment to look at the guy and your breath stops. You can only see his side of the face since he’s leaned down to pet the dog. He’s wearing a cap and sunglasses which doesn’t let you see much of him. He has a nice mustache and he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt that lets you take a peek into a few tattoos that take over his skin. The shorts that he’s wearing are so short that you can see more ink on his thigh. You are absolutely captivated by the stranger man with the mustache and the tattoos that you don’t take notice of him turning to you and speaking.

“Sorry, what?” You ask and shake your head as a way to get rid of your thoughts.

“Did you name him before or after he started with his singing?”

“Oh, I actually named him Bowie because of his eyes,” it’s true, he has one blue eye and one brown, “but then he started his singing sessions while I was at work. I only found out because my neighbour complained about it and had to install a camera to see for myself. I often think he’s trying to make a living out of it so he can help with rent”

The man laughs and you follow. You take a sip of your drink and look around, seeing people walking around, seeming to be enjoying the nice weather. The conversation seems to quiet down as he looks at his phone and starts typing, so you take out your book and throw another treat to Bowie to keep him entertained for a while as you enjoy your moment. Your mind starts to wonder as to why the stranger sitting across from you looks familiar, but you can’t seem to put your finger on it. You might have seen him before here in the café, or around the area. Yes, that must be it. You watch him put his phone in his pocket and get up from the chair.

“Have a nice day you two. Bye, Bowie, it was so nice to meet you” He leans down to give a final pet to his head and then looks up to you.

“Have a nice day!” You wave at him and he does the same before he turns and walks away.

You watch him leave towards the direction you came from and you come to the conclusion that yes, you probably knew the man from the area. You finish your breakfast and leave the café so you can take Bowie through a walk in the park and maybe throw the ball around a bit.

You get back home a few hours later and you can’t help but think about the handsome man you crossed paths with today. Something inside you hopes you will meet again, but London is quite big, so you don’t know if that would be the case.

The next day, you wake up early to get ready for your shift at the hospital. You do your normal routine of preparing everything for Bowie to eat, and refill his water before putting on his leash and taking him for a very early walk. You don’t like leaving him alone for the very long hours of your shift, but you are looking for pet sitters that are able to adapt to your shifts so they can take care of him while you’re gone, but so far you haven’t found anyone.

It’s the day after when you find yourself in the park with Bowie, throwing the ball at him so he can run around and tire himself up before your night shift. You usually do this every time you have a night shift so then he can sleep all night and not worry that you are gone to work.

You throw the ball and he runs to catch it, and as soon as he has it in his mouth he drops it and runs in another direction.

“Bowie!” You yelled and ran to see where he went.

When you finally catch up to him, you see him lying on the ground belly up and getting pets from a man.

“I’m sorry! He jus- Oh, hi!” You immediately recognize the man as the one you saw at the café just two days ago.

He looks up at you and smiles. You see dimples popping out and you think you could just melt. He’s wearing a cap and sunglasses again, and he’s wearing a cardigan that covers his tattoos.

“Hello there. How are you?” He politely asks while still petting your dog.

“I’m great. Trying to tire out the beast before my shift tonight.”

“Oh. What is it that you do? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“It 's alright. I’m a pediatric nurse. I do twelve hour shifts at the hospital. I worked yesterday and now I work tonight, so I’m trying to spend the most time with him before I have to leave him at home.”

Bowie gets up to look for the ball, and once he finds it he brings it towards the man and leaves it at his feet. He barks and steps back waiting for the ball to be thrown. The, at this point, less stranger but still nameless guy, picks up the ball and throws it way farther than you usually do. Bowie sprints away in search of it.

“Oh wow, I think you are going to get me out of my job with that throw. I don’t think mine could cover even half of that” You tell him and can’t help but laugh.

Bowie comes back again with the ball and leaves it again at the man’s feet. He picks it up while laughing and he throws it again.

“He is such a nice dog. I wouldn’t mind doing this all day”

“I don’t think you would say that after a few throws”

You both look at Bowie, who brings back the ball only to be distracted by a butterfly that flies by.

“I was on my way to get some coffee. Would you like to join me?” His question takes you by surprise. You would have never expected it.

“Oh, yes, that would be perfect, actually”

You whistle for Bowie to come back and he does so. You put on his leash and walk besides the man towards the same café you met at. You both make some small conversation before you arrive and tie Bowie to one of the chairs.

“We’ll be right back, okay, bud?” You throw him a few treats and go inside.

“What would you like? It 's on me.”

“Are you sure you want to pay for my coffee? We don’t even know each other’s names”

He laughs and throws his head back. “Touché.” He then reaches his hand out. “I’m Harry”

You shake his hand with a smile and introduce yourself.

“Beautiful name. Now that we have introduced ourselves, what would you like?”

You laugh and tell him your order, he then proceeds to order for you both while you take a look outside to see Bowie sitting and looking through the window to you two. When you turn back to look at Harry, he’s already looking at you with a smile. You immediately blush and look down. You don’t know how you ended up here, one minute you are meeting a cute guy thanks to Bowie’s howling, the next you are on your way to get some coffee with said guy thanks to Bowie’s run towards him in the park. You will have to give some more treats to the fluffy dog later.

“Here we go. Let’s head outside before the boy begins singing” He has both of your drinks in hand and he’s nodding so you can start walking.

Once you are both outside you sit across from each other and have Bowie on the ground between you two.

“I hope I’m not taking too much of your time before your shift.” It’s the first thing he says once you are both sat.

“Oh, no. I still have a few hours before it starts, don’t worry.”

The truth is, you usually take a long nap before your night shifts, but there is no way you are going to tell him that. It wouldn't be the first time you don’t take a nap before your shift, and it probably won’t be the last.

“Do you enjoy your job?” He asks before taking a sip of his coffee.

You nod your head while swallowing the bit of coffee you had in your mouth. “Yes, I do for the most part. It’s obviously a hard job when it comes to see sick children, but it helps a little when you are involved in their healing and can get them to smile”

“I can’t imagine. It must be hard.”

“There are days where everything can go as planned, and there are days that don’t. Honestly, it’s part of the job, but I don’t think I would change it for anything in the world.”

He smiles at you and nods. He has taken off his sunglasses and now you can see his eyes clearly. They are the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen, soft emerald green that could trap you in if you let it.

“Now, enough about me. What do you do for a living?”

He looks down trying to hide his smile and starts petting Bowie as a way to distract himself.

“I’m a musician, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so nice. What instrument do you play?” You ask with genuine interest.

He shakes his head and looks at you. “I can play a few. Guitar, piano, a bit of drums, but I mostly sing”

To say that you are in shock is an understatement. You would have never guessed.

“Oh, wow, that’s impressive. Do you have music out? Something I might have listened to?”

He smiles and takes out his phone. He can’t actually believe that you have no idea of who he is, and honestly, it’s refreshing. He taps a few times and music starts playing out of his phone. He can’t believe that he’s doing this. You can hear the piano play for a bit and then finally singing.

“Just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times.”

“Shut up. This is you?” You ask, completely surprised. Your mouth opens in complete shock as you continue to listen to the song.

You thought the man looked familiar, but you never would have thought it was because he’s a famous singer. Your dog barks next to you and that snaps you out of your surprise moment. Bowie swings his tail from side to side happily.

“Did you know that?” You ask your dog as if he could reply to you, “Is that why you showed him your singing? So he could help you out?”

Harry laughs next to you and reaches to pet Bowie's head. “Artists are always able to identify each other. Isn’t that right, Bow?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, I’m embarrassed. To be fair, I have always been bad at names and faces, and I really don’t pay attention to new artists. I’m an old soul who likes old music, I’m sorry” You laugh and shake your head. You can’t believe what is happening.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Honestly it’s quite a relief that you didn’t know who I was.”

You don’t reply, because honestly, you don’t know what else to tell him. Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment as you try to take some sips of your drink to distract yourself.

You take a look at the time and realize that you should probably think of trying to tire out Bowie a bit more before going home.

“Would you mind going back to the park so Bowie can play a little bit more? He needs his bit of exercise before going home to sleep.”

“Of course, let’s go.”

You both stand up and pick both of your drinks, taking Bowie with you back to the park. As soon as you enter the park, you unleash him and throw him the ball. Harry can’t help but laugh.

“Hey. No making fun of my throw now, you were warned.” You point at him with an eyebrow raised.

He laughs as he pulls his arms up. Bowie comes back and leaves the ball at his feet. Okay, it seems he has a favourite thrower. He barks and starts jumping around while waiting. The ball is thrown far away and he sprints to get it.

“I know this may come a little bit forward, but I could look after him while you are at work.”

That’s the second time he has said something that has taken you by surprise. Or should you say three? Honestly, everything has been full of surprises since meeting him.

“Are you sure? You are not just saying that, are you?”

He shook his head, “Of course not. I would really love to, he’s a really nice dog, and I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“But I’m sure you are busy with your job, there is no need to take care of a dog who’s not even yours.”

“I’m taking a break from my job, there’s nothing I would love more than to look after him when you are working.” He’s very persistent.

“We just met and you are already asking for half custody of my dog?” You joke and he can’t help but laugh.

“I know it sounds crazy, but maybe Bowie and I can look after each other. It would be a mutual thing.”

You look at him trying to decipher him. You really don’t think he knows what he’s talking about. But on the other hand, you would really like for Bowie not to spend so much time alone. What are the odds of this going wrong? He’s a famous musician, he couldn’t afford to have bad press like failing to look after a dog.

“Are you sure? He tends to be a little bit needy. He likes to play a lot and when he gets tired he demands cuddles. You would have to take him on a walk at least twice a day. Oh, and he likes to sleep on the bed, and I’m sorry if this is not to your liking but he’s a great cuddler and I don’t think I could ever say no to him.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” You nod your head and look at Bowie. “Okay.”

Harry throws the ball again and Bowie runs after it. He’s the perfect boy, and although you are a bit shocked still, you are happy that you are leaving him with someone he gets on well with. You take your phone out to look at the time.

“Would you like to walk us home so I can give you his things? Unless that’s a problem and you would prefer to meet later so I can drop him off.”

“No, it’s okay, we can go to your place first.”

“Okay, let’s go Bowie!”

Bowie comes trotting with the ball in his mouth and lets you put the leash on. You grab the ball and put it in your bag and start leading Harry to where you live. You both start talking a bit about music and about what you often listen to. You tell him about your deep love for Fleetwood Mac and how much you would have loved to have seen them live.

“I love Fleetwood Mac too. Stevie is one of my closest friends and she has taught me a lot.”

“You know Stevie Nicks?” You were yet again surprised.

“I’m surprised you even know who she is.” He elbows you and when you look at him he winks.

“Ha ha, just because I had no idea of who you were doesn’t mean I don’t know who the main singer of my favourite band is.”

“Okay, okay. That 's fair.”

You both continue talking while walking until you reach your building. You fumble to take out your keys and Harry seems to stand there just awkwardly. Just as you get the key into the keyhole, he receives a call.

“Sorry, I have to take this, it’s my mum. I’ll wait for you here.” He says apologetic.

“Okay, no problem. We’ll be right back.”

You tug Bowie with you and walk towards the elevator. You take your time to make a mental list of all the things you have to prepare for his little extravaganza. As soon as the door to your flat shuts, you can’t help but share your thoughts aloud.

“What the fuck?”

Bowie just barks as an answer.

You start by taking his food and putting it into a bag, along with some treats and more poop-bags just in case. Some dog bowls for his water and food and a few of his toys. You also take his bed, even though he probably won’t sleep in it, but just so he has something familiar in a foreign house.

“Do you want to bring something else?”

As soon as you ask, he goes into your room and comes back dragging his favourite blanket. Okay, he’s so smart. You take it from his mouth and fold it so you can put it into the bag, and then take a look around to check if you’re missing something.

“Okay, Bow, I think that is all. Now, a talk before your first night away from mama.” He sits expectantly looking at you. “I know that you are a really good boy, so you’re gonna behave. Make sure to listen to Harry and don’t do much barking, okay?”

He barks as a response.

“Yeah, that’s not what you’re gonna do.”

You take all of his things and go back to Harry, who seems to have finished his call and is just looking around the area curiously. You smile at him as soon as he spots you and he smiles back. Bowie runs towards him and almost makes you fall, making Harry take a step forward quickly and grab your arm.

“Woah, are you okay?” He grabs both of your arms then tries to stabilize you.

“Oh, yeah. I think someone’s excited for a sleepover.”

You both laugh and he reaches to take the bag from your shoulders and algo the dog bed.

“Here, let me take that. Anything I should know?”

“You have his food and his bowls inside the bag. It’s usually one cup of food at night and another cup in the morning. I also put some of his treats in case you want to give him some, but don’t give him too much, even if he gives you the puppy eyes. There are also some toys for him to play with and his blanket, he’s really attached to it so he will probably want to sleep with it. And I think that would be it. Do you have any questions?”

“No, I think you’ve covered it all, actually. What time do you get off tomorrow? Just so I know when I can drop him off.”

“I’m usually back home at around 8:30, so if it’s not much of a bother you could drop him off around that time? Day Shifts are a little bit different, I usually leave home at around 7:15 in the morning and come back at around 8:30 at night.”

“Okay, no problem, I will bring him tomorrow at that time.” He makes a move to take Bowies’ leash “I will give you my number in case you need something from me, or I need something from you.”

You nod your head and look at Bowie, who looks way too happy to be there. You’re nervous of how he will act with a stranger, if he will behave or if he will miss you, because you know for sure that you will miss him. You know that this will be what’s best for him, he won’t be alone and Harry actually looks like he knows what he’s getting into, even if you gave him an out on this craziness. You squat down to be at the same height as Bowie and give him a kiss on the head.

“I promise I will give you updates on him. I can send you pictures so you won’t miss him too much. I promise I will take good care of him, as if he was my own.”

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I will repay you.”

He’s shaking his head and you’re not even finished talking. “No, there’s no need to repay me, really”

“Of course, I do. There has to be something I can do.”

“No, I’m not going to accept it.”

“Well, then I’m not going to accept that you won’t accept it.”

He laughs and continues to shake his head. “Then I guess we are both stubborn people who won’t agree on this. Come one, no need for anything, you will be late for work if we continue with this nonsense.”

“Okay, yeah.” You agree and lean again to leave a final kiss into Bowie’s head. “Behave, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stand back up and look at Harry, “thank you, Harry, really.”

“It’s my pleasure. Here, give me your phone.”

You take it from your pocket, open it and give it to him. Soon he’s typing away and a bit later you can hear his phone ringing and then it stops. He returns your phone and you smile at him.

“Have a great shift.”

“Thank you. I hope you have a good night with him, I will be waiting for those updates.”

He makes sure he has everything he needs and then he turns around and starts walking away with Bowie tagging along, who occasionally looks back to see if you’re following behind, and it breaks your heart in a thousand pieces. As soon as they turn around the corner, you turn back around and head back to your apartment. This is the first time you leave him for a long period of time with another person, and you’re scared of how he’ll react to it and how it will affect him. You try to busy yourself getting ready to head to work and try not to think about how the flat is completely alone and Bowie is not there.

The first update comes one hour into your shift. You find it funny how he saved himself in your contacts, as “Bowie’s sitter (Harry)”. He texts a picture of Bowie sitting next to a very clean food bowl and his tongue is out mid lick.

“Just got dinner!” is attached to the picture. You only have time to reply with a heart before you’re swiped into an emergency surgery, and by the time you get out, it’s well past 3 a.m. and there are three pictures of Bowie waiting for you.

One of him lying on the sofa watching television. You can see a bit of Harry’s leg as he’s lying next to him. The message next to the photo is, “I’ve heard Bluey works wonders for dogs, although I don’t know who’s enjoying it more, me or him.” You react to that with a laughing emoji.

Next is a picture of Bowie with a toy on his mouth, bum up as if he was playing, and it comes again with another message. “A little play before bed.”

And last one in one of Bowie lying in bed, probably Harry’s but you try not to go too deep into that thought, and he’s resting on a pillow and has his blanket wrapped around him. You smile at how relaxed he looked. “Goodnight mum, see you tomorrow, have a good rest of the shift. -B”

You truly miss him, but you can see that he’s been having a great time with Harry, and you could not be happier.

You get back into your shift and focus on what’s in front of you. You don’t stop at all, and by the time the shift ends, you cannot help but sigh, it’s been a long one. You change your clothes and say goodbye to a few of your coworkers before making your way home. You receive a picture of Bowie with his leash on and waiting by a door.

“Onto our morning walk just after having breakfast, see you in a bit.”

You smile and reply. “Just got out of my shift and on the way home. See you guys in a bit.”

By the time you arrive, you have time to leave your things at home and clean the dishes you took to work, and when you receive a text from Harry announcing he’s downstairs, you head down to see your favourite boy.

Bowie sprints as soon as he sees you and you cannot help but laugh.

“Hi, my love. I missed you so much. Did you have a great time with Harry?”

You squat down and he starts giving you kisses all over your face. Harry laughs at the sight.

“We had a really good time, he’s such a nice dog. Zero complains, honestly.”

“Thank you again for looking after him, Harry. You have no idea how nice it was to think that he was being taken care of instead of being alone at home, it made me stop thinking I was a bad dog mum.”

“Oh, don’t joke with that. You’re not a bad mum. You would be if you had no worries about him at all. Don’t think of yourself like that.”

You smile at him, and you get up from the ground and immediately hug him. When you realize what you’re doing you quickly step back.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space just like that. I just wanted to say thank you.”

He smiles and takes you back in to give you a proper hug. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

Bowie barks and that makes you break apart. Harry proceeds to tell you everything they did together and he’s returning everything he took with him. He tells you that he has already eaten, he did his business on his way home and will probably be okay until later for another walk. He tells you about how he took almost all the space in his bed and how Bowie had to sleep next to him all the time.

“Thank you so much, Harry. I really don’t know how I could repay you.” You tell him as you begin to walk towards your door.

He stops and smiles. “Maybe you could go on a date with me.”

You blush immediately, and you smile shyly. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Have a good sleep and good rest of your day. I’ll text you later.”

You smile and wish him a good day too and head into the building with Bowie. You put everything in its place, put on your pajamas, and flop into your bed. Bowie is not much behind before he comes along tugging his blanket and takes his spot on the bed.

You go to sleep with a smile.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #fiction

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dateko · 2 years ago

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a/n: another rando drabble... twas hiding amidst the dust in my drafts... i will never get to see the four of these silly geese happy ever again and they only exist in my google docs where nothing bad ever happens to them...

“Sensei, what is Sensei to you?” Yuuji asks suddenly, causing Gojo to stop in his tracks.

“Huh? Me?”

This time, Nobara groans. “No, you blindfolded idiot! That Sensei!”

Gojo follows his young student’s gaze as she tilts her chin towards the field where the second-years are training.

There, standing beside the ever-adorable Panda, is you. You watch with a proud smile on your face as the second years spar with one another, calling out praises along with death threats coming from Maki. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the first years and their slender mentor watching you from the steps. Your lips fight to bite down a smile as you throw out a wave, watching Satoru lift his mask to wink at you.

“See! See! Like that!” Nobara starts again excitedly, pointing at her teacher. “What is that woman to you?”

“Eh?” Gojo raises an eyebrow before lowering his mask. “She’s… A close friend of mine.”

“Sensei, you’re being secretive.” Yuuji offers him a skeptical look, to which Nobara nods along with adamantly. “Fushiguro, what do you think?”

Megumi glances at your figure with a dragging sigh before walking in front of his classmates. “If you ask me, she’s the one.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 erupt with rowdy exclamations, practically bouncing off their teacher. Megumi continues to walk with a somewhat satisfied expression. The boy’s known you his entire life. Especially how much you mean to his blue-eyed benefactor.

“B-but how do you know she’s really the one?” Yuuji asks this time, fully invested in his teacher’s love life.

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “I have good eyes, you know.”

“Well, now I just feel sorry for her. She has to deal with you every day!” Nobara deflates immediately, unsure of how to feel knowing someone she respects is romantically affiliated with her headache-inducing instructor.

“Hey! It’s a blessing to deal with me!”

A pair of footsteps sneak up behind the group. “Deal with who?”

With a hand on your hip, you stop to tilt your head at the pairs of wide eyes looking at you. Even beneath his mask, you can tell Satoru looks more than guilty.

“Something on my face?” You pat a hand on your cheek, wondering why no one’s said anything to you.

Nobara breaks the silence by walking up to you with her head down, a downcast expression on her face. “Sensei… I’m so sorry for you…”

Confused and admittedly very concerned, you shoot Gojo a look before patting Nobara’s head reassuringly. And your lover holds a sheepish expression as he holds his hands clasped behind his back, an old habit he used to do when he knew he was in the wrong.

“Alright, I might as well just say it,” Gojo starts, fixing the collar of his jacket. “I told them about us.”

Your eye widen at his words, lips sputtering for a normal response. “You told them we’re married?”

“Wait, married?! Meeting each other with good feelings is one thing, but married… Sensei, I thought you were better than this…" Nobara shakes her head dramatically before walking off, flashing you a disapproving look before dragging Yuuji along with her.

You watch the younger student walk off with a confused brow before returning to face your lover, who is grinning wildly at you. He's clearly over feeling guilty about exposing your little secret. Your questionable silence comes to Gojo as a queue to pull you into a loving embrace, a quiet apology for blowing your cover.

Without skipping a beat, you return the hug, giving up on trying to scold him. You squeak when Gojo rocks the two of you back and forth, pressing never-ending kisses on your jaw. “Just an FYI, Megumi was the one who told them.” He mutters, nose pressing itself into the crook of your neck.

You gasp, holding his face while you step back to look at him. “He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“He said that you were the one.”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up.”

You let out a giggle, a sound Gojo could listen to for hours on repeat. “You used to be so corny when we dated. Still now.”

“I don't think I could ever stop being corny. Only when it comes to you.”

#ignore this actually i just wanted to get rid of all the shet accumulating in my drafts #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you

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angelickks · 29 days ago

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04. NORMAN FUCKING ROCKWELL javier peña

▶︎ •၊၊||၊“You fucked me so good I almost said 'I love you'" He’s chaotic. You’re worse. You fight. You fuck. You stay.

PREV. ᯓ SHE WILL BE LOVED QUEUE ☰ TOUCH TANK

main—play this while you ruin me • pedro pascal mlist!

warning(s) nsfw. mdni 18+. toxic relationship dynamics. fighting during sex. unprotected p in v. rough sex. dom!javi. hair pulling. manhandling. power struggle. possessiveness. degredation. oral f!recieving. bruising/marking. mutual obsession. mentions of alcohol. self destructive behavior. arguing during sex.

pairing javier peña x fem!reader

IT STARTS LIKE IT ALWAYS DOES: UGLY. The kind of kissing that feels like revenge. His mouth bruising yours, hands in your hair, yours clawing at his shirt like it insulted you. You don’t undress—just rip, tug, shove fabric aside until there’s nothing left between you but sweat and rage and all the things neither of you will say out loud.

“You never shut the fuck up,” Javier snaps, voice thick with heat and venom. “Just once, I want to fuck you without hearing your mouth run.”

“Then find someone quieter,” you hiss, teeth bared, daring him. “I’m sure there’s plenty of girls who’ll shut up and swallow your bullshit—” He drops to his knees between your legs so fast you stumble back against the wall, breath caught in your throat.

“Shut up,” he growls—and then he buries his mouth in your pussy like he’s starving. Your head hits the plaster with a soft thud, hands clawing for purchase as he licks up your slit, sloppily, possessively. His nose presses against your clit, the stubble on his jaw burning your thighs raw as he eats you like a man possessed—like this is the only way he knows how to win the argument.

“Still talkin’?” he mumbles into you. His voice is wet, sticky with arousal and pride. “Didn’t think so.” You moan, ragged and high. Your fingers twist in his hair and tug hard, but he just groans against you, tongue dragging deeper, lapping like he’s addicted to the taste of your fury.

You come like that—grinding on his face, choking on his name, thighs clenching around his head as he holds you open and makes you fucking feel it. Before your body can even stop trembling, before the last aftershock of your orgasm has finished rippling through your thighs, he’s got you flipped over the side of the bed—face-first into the sheets, ass up, dragging his leaking cock alongside spit and cum soaked heat. Your knees barely hit the mattress before he’s shoving them apart with rough hands.

Old bruises in the shape of his fingers bloom like faded tattoos across your hips and ass—his brand, his proof. He sees them, hums low and possessive like he’s proud of them.

“I ain’t fuckin’ done with you yet,” Javier spits, voice wrecked with lust and fury. One hand tangles itself in your hair, forcing you to arch your back. The other fists the base of his cock, guiding himself to your soaked entrance like he’s done it a hundred times before—and he has.

He sinks into you in one brutal, punishing thrust. No hesitation, no mercy.

You gasp, arch deepening, legs trembling under the weight of him. Your walls clench around him instinctively, still hypersensitive from the orgasm he just tore out of you. He groans, deep and guttural, bending forward until his chest is flush against your back, breath hot on your neck.

“This little pussy still so fuckin’ greedy after all that?” he growls, dragging his hips back slow, almost teasing, before slamming forward again.

You whimper his name, trying to twist, to find leverage, but he just growls low in your ear and moves his grip on your wrists—wrapping them in one large hand and pinning them to the small of your back like it’s nothing. Like you’re nothing but his to handle.

He fucks you harder. Each thrust a calculated punishment. Each slap of his hips against your ass a reprimand for everything you refuse to say.

This is always how it is with him—always the same cycle. The tension, the waiting, the biting words over cheap whiskey and whatever man you danced too close to in front of him. The build-up to the blowout. The fire. The fallout.

You love it. He hates that you love it. But he’s worse.

It’s pain and pleasure twisted together like the lace panties he tore from your body ten minutes ago—ripped down the side, discarded on the floor, barely remembered in the heat of it all. He'll half-heartedly promise to replace them, like he always does, murmured against your neck in the morning when you're pretending it didn't mean anything. Neither of you will name it. Not love, not obsession. But it’s something.

And you? You’ve never been one to back down from a fight. Especially not with Javier Peña. Not even with your cum dripping down your thighs and his cock buried so deep it hurts. Not even when he’s using your body like a weapon and you’re letting him—begging for it, really. So you do what you do best.

You taunt him. You get mean.

You look over your shoulder, mouth twisted in a wicked little grin despite the way your body trembles beneath him. You grind back against his cock like you’re unbothered. Like he doesn’t ruin you every damn time.

“That all you got, huh?” you sneer, voice ragged but daring. “Thought you were supposed to fuck me stupid, not soft.”

The snarl that leaves his throat is animalistic. He lets go of your wrists only to grab a fistful of your hair once again and yank your head back hard, baring your throat to the room.

“Oh, you wanna be fucked stupid?” he spits, his voice pure gravel as he slams into you, deep and mean and unrelenting. “You little fuckin’ brat.”

And this? This is your favorite part.

When he stops pretending to be good. When he gets mean. When he gives in. When the only thing he can do is fuck you like a man possessed—because it’s the only way he knows how to say you’re his.

#˚₊‧꒰ა angelickk blog ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#play this while you ruin me series #drabble #javier pena x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal character fics #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #narcos

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winnisblur · 6 months ago

Text

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

#― enha !#sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha smut #sunghoon angst #enha angst #enhypen angst

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crushpunky · 2 months ago

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girlfriend!reader celebrates rafe’s sobriety

masterlist

warning for mentions of addiction + suggestiveness

Rafe stretched out across the bed, his hand subconsciously reaching for y/n, only to be greeted with a handful of fur from y/n’s cat, Kit Kat. The car stirred, his tail flicking to the side as Rafe lifted his head to stare into the cat’s eyes, his brows furrowed as the cat hopped off the bed and scurried away. Rafe’s messy hair fell into his eyes as he flipped over in bed, falling onto his back as he peered around his bedroom looking for any sign of y/n.

Resting on the edge of the bed where her pajamas, an old t-shirt of Rafe’s and a pair of pink sleep bottoms, rest. Her scent still lingered on her side of the bed, Rafe taking a deep inhale as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes. Almost perfectly on queue, Rafe heard a soft humming begin to float in from the doorway.

Standing in the doorway swathed in a fluffy pink robe, y/n smiled brightly at him. In her hands, she balanced a white cake with swirling blue adornments, sprinkles, and a handful of flickering candles. Rafe sat up as she crossed the floor, her bare feet carefully padding towards him.

“Is it my birthday?” Rafe asked, resting his back against the headboard with a cheesy grin.

“Nooo,” y/n sang as she sat on the edge of the bed next to Rafe, holding the cake between them. Rafe tilted his head as he gazed down at the cake, reading the swirling words frosted atop it:

100 days sober !!!

“Congratulations.” Y/n grinned, her smile impossibly wide as she excitedly looked at Rafe. Rafe’s grin faltered for a surprised moment, his cheeks a soft pink.

Rafe swore he could feel his heart skip a beat as he looked back up at y/n, her face full of nothing but love and pride. For years, Rafe was sure he was suffering the life he deserved… but that was until y/n came around. Until y/n came around and proved to him that he could be better and that he deserved love and happiness and all the things he’d gone without for so long. The road to sobriety wasn’t easy, with countless sleepless nights and angry outbursts, but y/n had stuck by his side the whole time. Now, sitting across from her, the sun shining beautifully throughout the room, Rafe knew it was all worth it.

Rafe felt a tinge of stinging at his eyes, trying to shake it off with a quick sniffle and sharp swallow. He took in a deep shaky breath before blowing out the candles.

“Thank you.” Rafe whispered, as y/n smiled back at him. Y/n sat the cake on Rafe’s nightstand, her eyes not leaving Rafe’s as she moved to sit on his lap. Rafe’s hands fell to rest on her hips as he looked up at her, a slight glassiness in his eyes. Y/n brushed a piece of hair from his face, pressing a long kiss to his lips.

“You deserve it, Rafe.” Y/n murmured, smoothing her hands down Rafe’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.”

Rafe laughed as he buried his face into y/n’s neck, pulling her closer to him. Y/n could feel the dampness of his cheeks against her skin, but didn’t say anything as she ran her nails through Rafe’s hair. The two of them sat there for a while, y/n gently scratching Rafe’s back as he held on tightly to her, the only sound the occasional sniffle from Rafe.

Eventually, Rafe lifted his head, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin. Slowly he trailed up before finally kissing her lips.

“Thank you.” Rafe whispered again, a gentle smile on his lips.

“I love you.” Y/n murmured. Rafe gazed over her face lovingly, carefully tracing each and every curve.

“I love you.” Rafe said simply, his tone laced with a loving gentleness and sincerity that made y/n’s cheeks warm. Those words weren’t something unusual for her to hear from Rafe, but they were something that still made her heart flutter each time.

It wasn’t long ago Rafe found it hard to say those words, not because he didn’t feel them, but because they felt too scary to say aloud. The idea of allowing himself to feel that vulnerability and to let someone into his fucked up world had been so terrifying to him, but now, he knew going without that comfort and company was much more terrifying. Letting y/n into his world and into his heart had been the best decision he’d ever made, and one he’d made a million time over if it allowed him to hold her like this.

“There’s one more thing for your surprise.” Y/n whispered, to which Rafe quirked a brow.

“Oh yeah?” Rafe smirked, pulling y/n’s staddled hips flush against him.

“You remember that place we stopped at on the mainland?” Y/n said, moved her hands to rest atop the belt of her robe. Rafe’s lips parted slightly, his cheeks flushing as he nodded like an excited puppy. Y/n chuckled at Rafe’s expression before the began to tug at the belt.

Her robe slowly slipped off her shoulders, Rafe’s eyes growing so wide y/n was sure they were about to pop out of his head. Underneath the fluffy pink fabric, a deep wine colored bralette clung to her chest. The sheer, lacy fabric sat beautifully against her skin, the front of the bra tied together with a silky bow. As the robe finally fell off her completely, Rafe let out a small whine as he noticed the matching pair of underwear that hugged y/n’s curves.

“Fuck.” Rafe groaned, his fingers tracing against the delicate fabric of her bottoms.

“Congratulations, baby.” Y/n said sweetly as Rafe crashed his lips into hers, sending the two of them falling onto the sheets.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx au #girlfriend!reader #rafe cameron x girlfriend!reader

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zaldritzosrose · 7 months ago

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Baby, It's Cold Outside (Modern!Cregan x Reader)

Summary: The trips to the North were your favourite. Taking it in turns to visit Cregan and his family, Winterfell was like a winter wonderland come to life. So what happens when you get snowed in with your wolf of a boyfriend?

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romantic evening snowed in, mentions of bad weather, mild description of reader (from further South than Cregan is), Cregan being a romantic, mild shower smut, p in v sex, innuendo, profanity, oral (f receiving), fingering.

Words: 2112

This is the first of some full fics especially for the Fan Winter Festival run by @fandomeventcenter check out the page for any other eventual submissions.

Travelling up to visit Cregan’s family home had become a new tradition every other winter. One year you would spend the festive season with him and his family, and the next year he would travel down to visit yours.

You would leave around the first week of December, taking your annual leave from work especially. Winterfell was always a dream come true at this time of year. Forever covered in some measure of snow, it was like you were stepping into a movie every time you made the drive.

Festive songs blasting on the radio, this year you’d even draped tinsel over the dashboard of your car. Not only was it your turn to travel, but it was coming close to your four-year anniversary.

The drive soon turned longer than expected. You always travelled early in the morning to beat any traffic, but today seemed a lot busier than usual.

A quick phone call to Cregan was enough to settle you as you waited in the traffic jam, humming along to the song coming through the radio. Thankfully, though, the queue was moving on, inch by inch.

The ETA on your GPS added on a few minutes, but there was nothing to suggest you wouldn’t get there soon.

No matter how many times you arrived at the Stark home, you were always struck by the beauty of it.

Cregan was at the door the second you pulled into the driveway. He didn’t live in his childhood home anymore, though the home he had was only a short journey away. But every holiday or big event, he’d return to spend time with his family.

The snow was already thick as you dragged your bags towards the door, thankfully Cregan met you halfway.

Without a word he had your bags in his hands, smiling and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Sorry I’m late,” you smiled back and he shook his head.

“No matter what time you turned up, I’d be waiting,”

Before you could answer, you were through the doorway and being engulfed in a hug by his mother, Gillane.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s so good to see you!” she almost squealed as she squeezed you again.

“It’s good to be back again, I love it here,” you answered, giving her a good squeeze back.

Cregan’s father soon joined, giving you a much more reserved yet no less satisfying hug.

“Here she is!” he grinned as he wrapped his arms around you.

Everything about Winterfell was always welcoming, like a home from home.

“How was the journey?” Rickon asked, leaning to glance out of the window as Cregan set your bags off to the side.

“Slow, but I managed. It didn’t really get bad until I was about twenty minutes away.”

You were sat just by their door, sliding off your boots and hanging up your coat. The welcoming heat that always floated through the family home slowly making its way under your skin.

“Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters, love.” Cregan pressed a kiss to your temple this time, tucking you under his arm.

His parents slipped away as Cregan led you, and your luggage, upstairs.

Your first night here was always a chilled one. Gillane would cook dinner while Cregan and Rickon got everything prepared for the arrival of the rest of the extended family over the next few days.

Cregan’s room was exactly as anyone would expect, though he’d added a few touches especially for you in the last few years.

A new wardrobe with space for you to keep your things. A vanity for when you wanted to get yourself ready for anything his family might do. He’d even redone his bathroom to accommodate the frequent guest.

But everything else was perfectly him. Dark, natural woods made all his furniture. The fireplace across from his bed both a luxury and a necessity in the colder North.

A luxury that was perfect right now. The snow seemed to only get heavier, blanketing most of the gardens outside the house. You were drawn immediately to it, holding your hands out and sighing at the warmth of the smouldering logs within.

But the arms that wrapped around your waist were a far more welcome source of heat.

“Missed me?” you smiled, leaning back to look at him.

“I’ll never not miss you,” Cregan replied, kissing your cheek and nuzzling in just a little bit.

You both embraced for a little while longer, simply savouring the moment. But your bags were still left unpacked and you were quite particular about unpacking immediately.

When you slipped from Cregan’s arms, you laughed a little as he sighed in mock frustration. But you ignored it, carefully unpacking everything you had brought for the holidays and placing it in your part of his wardrobe.

“Never changes, hmm?” Cregan muttered, sliding your now empty cases under his bed and out of the way.

You shook your head, nudging him as you both headed back downstairs.

The first night in the Stark home over the winter holidays was always laid back and quiet. All in preparation for the arrival of the extended family, of course. The Stark family wasn’t a small one, but you wouldn’t want them any other way. From his aunts, uncles, cousins, the house was guaranteed to be jam packed with other humans from early hours tomorrow morning.

But tonight, it was just you, Cregan and his parents. It was well known that Gillane made some of the best hot chocolate going. She even promised, one day, she’d tell you her secret.

So that’s how your night was ending. Curled up on the sofa next to your natural heater of a boyfriend, his parents on the other side. A festive movie, chosen as always by you and Gillane, played on the TV.

There was little concept of time, until Rickon announced he was heading to bed in preparation for an early start the next day.

Goodnights were bid, Rickon left first, then Gillane after clearing away the cups.

Soon, you and Cregan followed suit, both slipping straight into bed and simply savouring each other’s presence.

The next morning, you and Cregan were both still cuddled up in bed when you heard the movements of his parents down the hall.

A shout from his mother was explanation enough.

“Your father’s going to pick up Bennard and I’m heading out to get some last-minute errands done. Keep an eye out for the weather, everyone’s arriving as and when they please okay?” Gillane called, her voice moving down the hall even as she spoke.

As if on cue, Rickon’s car started up outside and it was soon followed by Gillane’s engine pulling away.

You rolled over to lay on Cregan’s chest with a smile.

“So…we’re home alone for a bit?” you whispered, earning a smile and a kiss to your head in return.

The temptation to take full advantage of your half bare boyfriend was truly biting at you, until his stomach growled.

“Breakfast?”

Cregan laughed, rolling out the bed and easily taking you with him.

“Breakfast.”

The music echoed through the kitchen as both of you moved around cooking. Cregan in charge of the bacon and you oversaw eggs and toast. The waft of fresh coffee and tea filled the room.

Neither of you noticed the layers and layers of snow that was slowly coated the grounds outside the house. Or the mild snowstorm that was trying its hardest to begin.

Both of you ate breakfast as you were. Cregan clad in his pyjama bottoms and an unzipped hoodie and you wearing one of his old shirts and some pyjama shorts. Taking full advantage of the house being entirely empty.

There was no hurry to get ready, ‘arriving as they please’ still meant Cregan’s extended family would call first. It’s just how they were.

Organised and chaotic in equal measure.

As the plates were cleared, Cregan gave his phone a quick check and immediately saw the weather alert.

“Oh shit, love…there really is a storm on the way,” he quickly turned his phone to face you, and you saw the yellow flash on the weather app.

Your immediate thought was his parents and Cregan saw the look immediately.

“They’ll be fine. Mum’s in town, she’ll just wait it out. Dad has the truck, him and Bennard could survive anywhere.”

There had always been something about Cregan that just soothed you and even though you only pushed your worries to the back of your mind, you relaxed a little.

Cregan’s lips on your neck and shoulder, however, helped you relax a little more.

“And if they can’t get home any time soon, then the rest of the family are going to be delayed too.”

He paused, giving you enough to time to pick up his meaning. But his hands sliding down to your waist were clue enough.

“Shower first, hmm?”

Cregan all but chased you up the stairs to his bathroom. After the worry about the storm eased, the thrill of having the house to yourselves took over.

You’d just about made it to the bathroom when Cregan lifted you by the waist.

“How about we save some water and shower together?” he whispered low into your ear, carrying you into the bathroom.

The second your feet hit the floor, you were switching on the shower and tugging off your pyjama shirt. The cool air of the bathroom was soon curbed by Cregan’s chest pressed to your back.

“Just saving water, sure you don’t have any other plans?” you teased, pressing yourself back and feeling his hardening bulge pressing against you.

Cregan answered you with more heated kisses over your now bare neck and shoulders.

“Didn’t you know, I’m all about the environment…what better way to start than sharing a shower?” he grumbled against you, tightening his arms around you and walking you towards the shower.

You went without complaint, pushing down your pyjama shorts as Cregan quickly shed his own clothing.

The warm water washed over you both, but neither of you spent much time showering.

Cregan’s hands never left you. Trailing up and down your body, lingering more and more on each pass. You turned in his arms, quickly bringing his face down into a kiss. The shower was just large enough to accommodate you both, with your back soon pressed against the tiled wall behind you.

The kiss only deepened as Cregan’s hand dipped between your thighs, teasing at your folds just enough to have you moaning into his mouth at each touch.

The touches remained heated until the slightly cramped space became a little too much to manoeuvre comfortably. But at the same time, neither of you wanted separate.

Cregan’s hand moved faster, aided a little by the soap and water that dripped over your form, soon bringing you to your release with a smirk against your mouth.

Before you had even come down from the high, Cregan had the shower off and both of you back out onto the cool tiles. Thankfully, the heat of his body was enough to keep the shivers from the change in temperature away.

The sight of him naked and damp was enough to bring you back to yourself. Your hands finding his chest and pushing him back towards his bedroom.

The fire that Cregan had lit again when you had both got up that morning, was thankfully still going.

“So, how do you plan to keep me occupied…?” you walked backwards towards his bed, picking up his hoodie on the way and tugging it on.

Cregan, however, remained naked. His eyes trained on you as you sat back on his bed. You scooted back to rest against the pillows as he walked over. The bed dipping down as he joined you.

His smile was hungry, like a predator ready to devour his prey.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find ways,” he growled, positioning himself between your legs, spreading them apart to accommodate him.

His hands easily held them apart, laying down enough to press hot kisses to your inner thighs. His path led up your thigh and over the place you wanted him most. Over and over again in the most teasingly pleasurable way.

“Cregan…please…” you whined just a little, the remnants of your previous orgasm lingering still.

You tried to cant your hips to tempt him, but he kept a firm hold on you. But even his restraint was short. A few more teasing kisses over the crease of your thigh was more than enough before he broke.

But he wasn’t planning on making it quick. Slow licks over your still damp folds had your hips moving to meet his face. Impatience taking over you, but Cregan wasn’t having it.

“Patience, beautiful, we’ve got all the time in the world.” His voice was muffled as he nibbled at the skin of your thigh.

His hardened length pulsing against the bed below at just the anticipation of tasting you.

Your retort turned to a moan of his name as he finally gave in and let his tongue slip between your folds. Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling into his hair to hold him against your body.

Cregan’s own hips began to rut against the bed, matching his own pleasure with the pleasure he was giving you. His rough moans vibrating through you as he felt your muscles clench and unclench around his tongue.

He could feel your thighs begin to shake; his ministrations now focused on your bud. Circling it with his tongue until you gasped out your second release.

Cregan crawled up your body, drinking down your moans with soft kisses. His hips now rutting against you, sliding his length up and down your folds without entering you fully.

There was something much more erotic about just the feeling of you. Slick folds dragging over the length of his cock. Like a pleasurable preamble to what he knew would come.

But having you atop him, that was his favourite. A squeeze to your hips told you that was exactly what he wanted. Rolling to his back, you made quick work of positioning yourself over his hips.

You supported yourself with a hand on his chest, but the sensation of his thick length nestled between your folds was even more pleasurable from this position.

Your hips began to roll slowly, letting your cunt drag over his cock. Sparks of pleasure shot up your spine on every pass.

Cregan’s hands were tight on your waist, urging you to move faster and holding you steady at the same time.

“So good, love, my favourite thing seeing you up there…” Cregan grumbled, fingers digging into your stomach as his hips twitched upwards.

The head of his cock brushed just right against your pearl, your nails digging into his chest in pleasure. That was enough for you to shift, letting his length slip inside.

You both moaned out in unison as Cregan sheathed himself fully. Neither of you moving for just a moment as your body accommodated itself to his size.

Cregan wasted no time setting a rhythm now. Sitting up and wrapping an arm around your body and helping you roll yourself against him.

“Yes, yes…” you sighed, your third orgasm already so close.

He wasn’t far behind. The pent-up energy already having his length pulsing within your warmth. His lips found yours, messy kisses becoming even more sloppy as his own orgasm ripped through him.

He growled out your name, holding you tight as he thrust himself in and out of you until his spend coated your inner walls.

You both rested against each other, your head on his shoulder and his resting against it.

The storm was long forgotten, the only focus being each other.

Until you heard the loud rev of a truck and the shouting of what sounded like Rickon and Bennard.

Cregan pulled back, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“Looks like our solitude is over,” he chuckled, rolling you to your back and grabbing a towel to clean you both up.

It wouldn’t be long until more and more Starks arrived. But you’d have it no other way.

What better place to have been, than snowed in with your Northern wolf?

Cregan Taglist: (if you want to be added/deleted let me know)

@thenameswinter99 @legitalicat @sylasthegrim

@alexagirlie @anjelicawrites @targaryen-dynasty

@multyfangirl @asa-do-your-thing

#cregan x reader #fan winter festival 2024 #fandom event #cregan stark #cregan x you #cregan fluff #festive season #cregan stark x reader

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understeeringirl · 14 days ago

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Everything we're not saying

summary: the pretending is starting to crack. after the villa trip, everything is a little too quiet, a little too careful. lando begins pulling away—not out of malice, but because he’s scared of how real everything is starting to feel. you don't understand why, only that something is shifting. a forgotten hangout, a joke that lands wrong, a modeling shoot that doesn’t go to plan, and a silence that lingers too long. the slow unravel begins here. warnings: emotional repression, offhand comments, missed plans, social media pressure, modeling industry stress, loneliness, subtle heartbreak pairing: lando norris x fem!reader word count: 2k series: wrong side of the camera - intro - chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - chapter nine - epilogue

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re side by side on a couch for some lighthearted video. The kind where you’re supposed to be cute and charming and media-friendly.

The host beams. “You two are adorable. Clearly inseparable.”

You smile. “We try.”

Lando grins, but it’s sharp around the edges. “We see each other enough to get sick of it.”

The host laughs. So do the crew. You even laugh, because that’s your job. Laugh, smile, be unbothered.

But when you glance at him, his smile is already gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s something about the silence that gets to you first.

It’s not obvious. Not loud. Just... off.

The messages take longer to come in. The calls are shorter. The jokes, when they land, don’t linger the way they used to. Something's pulling tight around your chest, a quiet unease you can't name. You tell yourself it's just your own overthinking. That nothing's changed.

But it has.

You feel it the most when he forgets about dinner.

It had been a casual plan—not even a plan, really. Just a "Let’s hang out after your shoot," said three days ago in a voice note you played back twice because you liked how warm he sounded. You hadn’t confirmed it again, because you never needed to. You and Lando didn’t confirm things. You just showed up.

So you do. You show up for him.

You order in from that Thai place he likes. Set out your favorite blanket on the couch. Queue up the movie you always joke about rewatching. Put your phone on loud.

Nothing.

You check Instagram. His story’s active — he’s at dinner. A tagged photo from Oscar’s account shows Lando laughing, head tipped back, wine glass in hand.

You weren’t invited.

Eventually, you text him.

you alive or did the sim rig finally kill you

He replies forty minutes later.

shit i’m so sorry. got roped into dinner w the team. didn’t realize the time

You stare at the message for a full minute.

He doesn’t offer to call. Doesn’t say he’ll make it up to you. Doesn’t even send a voice note, which is his usual version of guilt.

Just sorry. Just late.

Just not here.

You sit with that for a while. You think about texting back something easy. Something light, like no worries or all good. But it sticks in your throat.

You don’t say anything, but two nights later, you try again.

It’s late. You’re curled up in your hoodie, makeup off, phone in hand. You type it before you can second-guess yourself.

come over tomorrow? no content. just us.

He replies almost instantly.

yeah. can’t wait.

It makes you smile. Makes your chest feel like maybe you were wrong. Maybe it’s still okay.

You spend the next day waiting. You don’t put on real clothes, just stay in the sweatshirt he left at your place last month. You don’t scroll too far, just refresh your texts. You think about what you’ll say when he walks in the door.

He doesn’t.

The sky outside goes pink, then dark. The movie plays twice on the screen without anyone watching. Your phone stays quiet.

You fall asleep on the couch.

At 12:48 a.m., a buzz.

shit. lost track of time. sorry xx

You stare at the message. No voice note. No call. Just three careless words and two kisses.

You want to believe him. You really do.

But something about the way he says it makes it harder than usual.

It gets weirder after that.

He still comments on your posts. Still likes your stories. Still sends the occasional meme or TikTok that reminds him of you. But there's something behind it that feels automated. Careful. Like he's performing closeness instead of living in it.

You chalk it up to a busy schedule. A weird week. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe you are too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s three days later when the next crack forms.

You’re not watching the stream. You’re shooting in Milan. You’re smiling for cameras and being zipped into your fifth outfit of the day when your phone buzzes with a screenshot in your group chat.

lando wtf

why would he say that?

You click the clip without thinking.

He’s mid-stream, grinning. Someone in chat must’ve asked about you — about your job.

He laughs, says, “Yeah, she’s got that influencer job where you tan and smile for cameras. Real exhausting.”

The chat explodes. Emojis, “LOL”s, clipped reactions.

You freeze in the makeup chair.

It was a joke. You know that. You know his voice well enough to hear the tease in it.

But it’s not the joke itself — it’s the distance in it. The way it feels like he’s already placing you on the outside of his world, holding you up for display.

By the time the clip makes it to Twitter, it’s everywhere.

Lando roasting his girlfriend 🤣🤣 Tbh he’s not wrong That relationship's got days numbered

You close the app.

You go back to set.

You don’t cry until after they call wrap.

That night, you lie in bed, eyes on the ceiling, wondering how something that felt so safe could start to feel so uncertain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next time you see him is at a brand event. Cameras, champagne, fast smiles. You’re in heels you can barely stand in, posing for photos while pretending your heart’s not chewing its way through your ribs.

He stands beside you during the press wall photos. You feel the heat of him beside you — but not his touch. Not like before.

He doesn’t tuck a hand into your waist. Doesn’t whisper anything stupid in your ear to make you laugh.

He smiles for the cameras. That perfect, polished, nothing’s-wrong smile.

When the flash dies, you reach for his hand without thinking.

He adjusts his sunglasses instead.

You let your hand fall like it was never reaching at all.

He keeps glancing at his phone. You pretend not to notice.

Later that night, you’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, makeup off, legs crossed, Lando scrolling his phone beside you.

You look at him, softly.

“I liked this better when it was just ours,” you murmur. “Before the cameras.”

He doesn’t look up.

“Yeah, well,” he says, quiet but firm. “That’s the price of pretending.”

Your breath catches. You don’t know what you expected. Not that.

You nod. You don’t trust your voice enough to answer.

He turns off the light.

You lie there in the dark, back to back, close but never farther.

You don’t sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few nights later, your phone rings. It’s Lando.

You debate not answering. You answer anyway.

"Hey," he says. His voice is soft. Tired.

"Hi."

A pause.

"Sorry about the other day. I should’ve called. I just—things have been mad."

"It’s okay," you say. Because what else can you say?

Another silence. Then: "I didn’t mean that comment on stream the way it sounded."

You want to say, Then why did you say it like that?

You want to ask if he meant it anyway.

Instead, you just hum. "I know. It’s fine."

But it’s not. And you think he hears that in your voice.

"I miss you," he says.

And you almost believe it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you’re on set for a shoot. A swimwear campaign—minimal coverage, maximum pressure. You’d asked him to come by weeks ago. Just to hang around. Be a familiar face.

He’d said yes. Smiled when he said it.

He doesn’t show.

You don’t hear anything. No text. No sorry. Not even a heart emoji.

The stylist asks you to smile more. The director keeps repositioning you like a doll. The sun’s hot on your skin, and all you can think about is how you never used to care who was watching—until now.

At one point, they ask for something “more playful.” You try. Toss your hair, tilt your chin, pretend you’re not one breath away from crying.

You pull it together, of course. You’re good at that. A pro. But you feel the cracks. The effort it takes to be what they need when you’re not even sure what you are to him anymore.

During a break, one of the brand reps laughs and says, "Where’s your other half? Thought this campaign was couple-coded."

You fake a smile. “He’s busy.”

They nod like they understand. You think they do.

That night, you post one of the pictures.

Caption: Still smiling.

He doesn’t like it.

But the internet does.

Within hours, the post is everywhere—Twitter, Instagram, reposted by fan accounts and fashion pages. You look polished. Confident. The kind of photo people mistake for happiness.

You read the comments anyway, because you’re masochistic like that.

She’s glowing lately. No wonder Lando’s been quiet. This isn’t what a girlfriend post looks like.

That last one sits funny in your chest. You don’t even know why. Maybe because it’s true. Maybe because it isn’t.

You don’t sleep much that night. You stare at the ceiling, thinking about how long you’ve been performing: for cameras, for campaigns, for other people’s definitions of what it means to be desirable. And lately—for him.

You think about how, at the start, pretending had felt almost like a secret you both shared. Now it feels like you’re the only one still pretending.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning is overcast and cold. You shoot in a studio this time, and everything is harsher under fluorescent lights.

The theme is “power.” Leather, boots, smoky eyeliner. It’s not your favorite.

One of the photographers asks if you can do the look “a little colder.” You say yes. You’re good at cold now.

You’re between takes when you hear two assistants whispering behind a rack of clothes. Your name, soft and sharp at once.

“She’s the one dating the F1 guy, right?” “I thought it was real at first, but she looks miserable lately.” “Can you blame him if he’s moved on? She’s kind of intense.”

You freeze.

You’re not even sure why it hits you so hard. You’ve heard worse. Been told worse. But the implication sticks—that you are too much. That he left. That you weren’t enough.

You finish the shoot. You smile in the photos. You nail the brief.

But when you get home, you cry in the shower and don't even know which part hurt the most.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stop reaching out first.

The space between texts stretches.

Your friends start asking if you’re okay. If he’s okay. You lie. Say yes. Pretend it's all still smooth, still under control. But the photos from the villa feel like a lifetime ago.

And that night comes back to you in pieces.

The blanket. His voice in the dark. The way he looked at you like he wanted to stay there forever. The way you let yourself believe he might.

You keep trying to forget.

He already has.

That night, you open your messages, record a voice note.

"Hey. Today was long. I, um… was thinking about the villa. And your dumb pancakes. Miss you. That’s all."

You almost delete it. You send it instead.

He plays it. You see the little icon shift.

He doesn’t reply.

You go to sleep that night with your phone on your chest. It doesn't light up.

You wake up and check it anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

sooo... this is the chapter were it starts to unravel. but don't worry, things are still salvageable (or maybe not?) hope you like this one! let me know what you think about it

see you next lap,

-N 🏁

#f1 x reader #understeeringirl logs #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #lando fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando x reader

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mylovesstuffs · 7 months ago

Text

Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

A/N: Sorry, I got carried away and made it too long TT.

Joshua isn't just a sweet talker, he’s a menace with his words. Imagine him leaning in with that soft smirk and his warm eyes as he whispers, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” and you’re not even dressed up—just in sweats. You’d roll your eyes, but your heart? Oh, it’s flipping. And don’t even try to sass back.

Always using terms of endearment like, darling, love, babe.

He's the boyfriend who somehow always wins every argument you guys ever had.

This man would curate the most soul-melting playlists just for you. Love songs, sexy R&B tracks, even songs that remind him of you.

Don’t let the gentleman image fool you. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he gently tugs at your shirt collar, brushing his fingers against your skin as he adjusts it. And the way he smirks when he catches you staring? He’ll lean in and say, “Like what you see?” in that voice, making you combust on the spot.

You’re craving snacks at 11 p.m.? Joshua’s already putting on his jacket. He’ll hold your hand as you wander through the store, teasing you about your odd snack combinations but still buying them all anyway.

He’s the ultimate cuddler. Joshua will rest his chin on your head, his arms securely around your waist, and murmur little nothings that make your heart feel all warm and squishy.

The Protective Gentleman™: Someone dares to make you uncomfortable in public or even in private? Joshua’s usually gentle demeanor shifts in an instant. He’ll place a hand on your waist and give the offender a look so cold they’ll apologize themselves without a word.

Look, Joshua is a giver and overachiever in the bedroom. He’s the type to ask, “Do you like this?” in that deep, husky voice while holding eye contact. And when you can’t even form words? That’s his cue to smirk and go harder, exactly the way he knows you like. He’s all about making sure you’re the one who’s utterly wrecked by the end of fucking.

Joshua is the boyfriend who insists on holding you close whenever you’re cold.

“You’re so smart.” “How do you look this good all the time?” “I’m so lucky you’re mine.” He’s not over the top, but his compliments are so genuine that they leave you smiling for hours. Even if you’re having a bad day, Joshua’s words have this magical way of lifting you up without fail.

He remembers everything. Your coffee order, your favorite way to fold socks, the random anecdote you told him months ago—Joshua stores it all like it’s precious treasure.

Joshua will absentmindedly play with your hair all the time. Whether you’re watching a movie or lying in bed, his fingers are threading through your strands, gently tugging just to make you look at him.

Joshua looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He’s the boyfriend who says, “I want to grow old with you,” and you know he means it.

He might be soft-spoken, but the second you start pushing his buttons? You’re done for. His voice drops an octave, and he’s gripping your wrist with just enough pressure to make you stop in your tracks. “Keep testing me,” he’d say, with that calm, terrifying tone that sends shivers down your spine. And when you do, let’s just say you won’t win the next round...

Picture this: Joshua in an apron, trying his best to follow a recipe while sneaking bites of whatever you’re making. Flour ends up on both your faces, and he’s laughing so hard that you forget you burned the cookies. “Let’s just order pizza,” he’d say, pulling you into a hug that makes everything better. (Queue this)

If you’re ever upset, Joshua knows just what to do. He’ll hold you close, his voice will be soft as he reassures you. He doesn’t rush you to feel better; he just stays by your side, offering quiet support and the kind of love that makes you feel safe no matter what.

Joshua isn’t afraid to be goofy with you. He’ll make silly faces, sing off-key just to make you laugh.

Well, he's got the whole church-boy aura, but let’s not be naive here. That glint in his eyes when he’s pinning you against the wall during a heated makeout session is pure sin. He’ll whisper something like, “What would people think if they saw you like this?” just to watch you squirm. And don’t even think about trying to outplay him—he thrives on seeing you flustered.

At concerts, he’ll sneak little glances at you in the crowd and smile like you’re the only person in the world. HE IS UNREAL.

Joshua is the type to trail his fingers over every inch of your skin, memorizing the way you react to his touch. He’ll tilt your chin up gently, his thumb brushing your lower lip before kissing you like it’s his last day on Earth. It’s slow, intense, and leaves you aching for more.

He’s not flashy, but he’ll keep his hand on your lower back or entwine his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly whenever he feels like it.

He doesn’t even need to try to make your knees weak. He’ll be casually helping you grab something from the top shelf in a grocery store and lean down to say something, with a grin that’s way too innocent. Sir, is this a grocery trip or a personal attack?

Late at night, he’ll play the guitar and softly sing while you’re lying on his lap, and boom—you’re gone to heaven.

After he’s made you lose your mind with those sinful kisses, Joshua transforms back into the fluffiest boyfriend. He’s wiping the smudges off your lips with his thumb, kissing your forehead. The duality is WHIPLASH, but are you complaining? No.

When he looks at you, it’s not just attraction; it’s pure adoration. And when he holds you close, you’ll realize that being with him feels like coming home every single time.

Joshua’s the kind of boyfriend who makes you believe in love songs again. His actions, his words, his everything—all of it screams, “You’re my world.”

Yeah, Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend, and honestly, you’re done for. Congratulations on never recovering.

#joshua hong #joshua #joshua seventeen #hong jisoo #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #Joshua is THAT type of boyfriend #joshua x reader #joshua x y/n #joshua svt #joshua scenarios #★— mylovesstuffs

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dakusan · 3 months ago

Text

First Song First Love

Seungmin x Reader | fluff, karaoke, soft rizz

🎤 synopsis: You didn’t expect anything life-changing when your friends dragged you to a chaotic karaoke night. But then Seungmin walked in—quiet, sharp-eyed, devastatingly charming—and sang a ballad that made the room go silent. An unexpected duet, a shared laugh, a late-night conversation… and suddenly, you’re not just singing for fun. You’re singing your way into something real. Maybe even love. A soft, slow-burning story about spark at first sight, stolen moments between fame and real life, and the boy who gave you a Puppy.M plushie—and a kiss you’ll never forget.

💌a/n: this was supposed to be a little karaoke fic and then seungmin opened his mouth and suddenly we’re kissing in a café with a plushie in our lap and a crush in our chest. i don’t know what to tell you. the man sang ONE (1) emotional ballad and everyone folded. including me. especially me. please imagine he sent you a voice memo at 1AM and now your pillow smells like delusion and vocal line supremacy. thanks for reading 💘 ps. reblog so that Puppy.M can haunt you

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the diver.

🎶Now Playing: "Polaroid Love" – Enhypen

You were already regretting the heels.

The strap was digging into your ankle as you trudged up the narrow stairs of the karaoke bar, the neon-pink sign above flickering with half-lit Korean characters. The muffled thrum of bass-heavy music vibrated through the walls, mixing with the chaotic chorus of drunken laughter and off-key singing. Somewhere inside, your friend group was already warming up for a night of questionable decisions and even worse vocals.

Your phone buzzed.

[Jisoo]: Room 5! We’re starting without you! Run!!

You huffed out a laugh, finally reaching the hallway lined with sliding doors and colored lights. Room 5’s door was slightly ajar, the soft glow of a big screen leaking into the hall. You could already hear Jisung screaming a ballad like his life depended on it.

Sliding the door open, you were hit by the familiar wave of heat, perfume, and fried snacks. The room was packed—your friends piled on couches, tangled in each other’s limbs and laughter, drinks in hand. Some waved when they noticed you, others too busy arguing over the next song.

Your best friend stood, practically bouncing.

“There you are! Took you long enough,” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the room. “Okay, okay—before you sit, you have to meet someone.”

You barely had time to react before she stopped in front of a guy lounging in the corner of the couch, a half-empty drink in one hand and an amused look in his eyes. He was dressed in simple black—hoodie, jeans, rings glinting on his fingers. His hair was soft, a little messy, and he had this calm presence like the storm of energy around him didn’t touch him at all.

“This is Seungmin,” she said. “Jisung’s friend. He joined last minute.”

He looked up—and your breath caught for a second.

It was subtle, nothing dramatic. Just a glance. But it was like the moment his eyes met yours, the rest of the room dimmed just a little. Warm brown eyes. Sharp, slightly teasing smile. A quick flicker of recognition in a face you’d never seen before.

“Hey,” he said, nodding.

You blinked. “Hi.”

Your best friend was already moving again, shouting about soju bombs and how someone needed to queue a TWICE song, but you were still standing there, not quite sure what had just happened.

Someone patted the seat next to Seungmin. “Sit, there’s room!”

You hesitated for a second—then lowered yourself onto the cushion beside him. Close enough to feel the heat of his arm, but not quite touching. He didn’t shift away. Just looked over, calm and unreadable.

“You new to the group?” you asked, hoping your voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt.

“Kind of,” he said. “First time I’ve hung out with this many of them at once. You?”

“I’m here for the chaos,” you smiled.

“Clearly,” he deadpanned, nodding toward Jisung, who was now on his knees dramatically singing into the mic like a man possessed.

You laughed, and Seungmin’s lips twitched—not quite a full smile, but close.

As the night spun on, drinks were poured, songs were shouted more than sung, and someone passed you a mic with no warning. “Your turn!”

You groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes!” everyone chorused at once.

You scrolled through the playlist and picked something safe—a feel-good track you wouldn’t butcher too badly. As you sang, the nerves melted off with every line. It wasn’t perfect, but it was fun. When the song ended, you glanced around and found Seungmin watching you again. Not in a creepy way. Just… noticing.

“You sing well,” he said casually.

You smiled, tucking the mic away. “You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he replied, tone unreadable.

That shut you up for a second. Then, Jisung clapped Seungmin on the back. “Your turn, man! You’re not getting out of this.” Seungmin sighed dramatically, but he stood and grabbed the mic anyway. He walked toward the screen, brows furrowed in concentration as he picked a song.

He didn’t look nervous. He looked like he knew exactly what he was about to do. And you suddenly had the feeling you were about to learn something unexpected.

The room buzzed with playful heckling as Seungmin scrolled through the playlist, chin tilted slightly, brows furrowed like he was reading a secret message only he could decipher. You weren’t sure what kind of song to expect—something upbeat, maybe, something fun to match the mood. But then the opening notes hit, and the room shifted.

Soft. Slow. Raw emotion wrapped in every piano chord. The kind of song that didn’t ask for attention—it demanded silence. A few people started murmuring in surprise. Someone whispered, “Wait… he’s doing this one?” But their voices quickly faded.

Because then Seungmin started to sing. And it was like everything else just… fell away.

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was rich, smooth, like velvet pulled tight over a storm. Perfect pitch, but more than that—feeling. Like the lyrics lived somewhere deep in his chest and were only now being let out, piece by piece. There was a quiet ache in the way he shaped the words, almost too gentle to be real. You swore the room was holding its breath. No drunken shouting. No off-key backup vocals. Just him.

And you?

You were frozen.

Eyes locked on the way his lips moved, how his lashes lowered as he hit a falsetto so clean it sent actual chills down your spine. His hand rested loosely at his side, mic held steady like it was second nature.

You’d been to karaoke a hundred times. Heard a hundred voices.

But not like this. This wasn’t just singing. This was intimate. Like you were being let in on something personal. Like every word he sang was carefully chosen for this exact moment—and maybe, somehow, for you. By the time the final note faded, the silence that followed was almost reverent.

Then—applause. Loud, messy, full of disbelief.

“Dude,” Jisung laughed, tossing a napkin in Seungmin’s direction. “You’ve been holding out on us!”

Seungmin just shrugged modestly, handing off the mic. “Didn’t feel like singing earlier.”

But when he turned to sit back down, his eyes found yours first. A little flash of something in his gaze—playful, knowing. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all you could manage was a soft, “That was… wow.”

He smiled, barely. “Thanks.”

And somehow, that tiny smile wrecked you more than the high note he’d just nailed. “He’s so unserious for pulling out his idol voice like that,” someone muttered as Seungmin sat back down beside you, drink in hand like he hadn’t just vocally ruined the entire room in the best way possible.

You couldn’t stop staring.

Not in a weird way. Just in a what the hell just happened kind of way. Everyone knew he was an idol, but it was one thing to know, and another to hear first hand, not at a concert, but in a karaoke room.

“You’re staring,” he said quietly, not looking at you.

“I’m allowed,” you whispered back. “That wasn’t fair.”

That made him glance your way, amused. “What, the song?”

“The voice,” you said before you could stop yourself. “You came here to hang out and decided to assassinate us instead?”

He laughed—a real one this time, not just the polite idol chuckle. “I was being nice. I held back.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was still thumping. Then Jisung, clearly thriving off the chaos, grinned and shouted, “OKAY. DUET TIME. We’re pairing up, and I am not accepting no’s—y/n, you’re up with Seungmin!”

You froze. “Wait—what?”

Seungmin just looked sideways at you, one brow raised like he was waiting to see if you’d run or take the mic. Your fingers twitched. “Unless you’re scared?” he said, teasing.

You narrowed your eyes. “I was going to be nice. Guess I’ll sing for blood.”

The group ooh’d at the fake rivalry as someone queued up a familiar, upbeat duet—something flirty and fun with alternating verses and a dramatic chorus. You stood up, heart pounding, and took the mic. Beside you, Seungmin rolled his shoulders out like he was warming up for a concert. “Ready, partner?”

You snorted. “Try to keep up.”

And then the beat dropped.

You started the first verse, playful and light. The words came easier now, riding adrenaline. He jumped in with the second line, voice smooth, pitch perfect, of course—but now with a new edge. He leaned into the teasing lyrics, eyes flicking to you like he was trying to make you break.

You held your ground. And that’s when the magic happened.

There was this flow between you—passing the mic back and forth like it was a game, matching each other’s energy without even trying. He leaned in on a harmony, and your voices fit like puzzle pieces. It didn’t feel rehearsed. It felt right. Someone started filming. By the time the final chorus hit, you were both practically laughing, bodies angled toward each other, eyes locked even as you sang the last line together.

When the song ended, the room exploded.

“Okay, wait, do we need to give you two the room?”

“That was unreasonably hot—hello??”

You flushed, suddenly too aware of how close he was, how easy it had felt. Seungmin looked at you, smile lazy, voice low. “You really aren’t scared, huh.” And just like that—you were in trouble.

The chaos of the room faded to a dull buzz in the background—laughter, drinks clinking, someone screaming lyrics in the next room over. A few of your friends had spilled out to grab snacks, others were too busy arguing over who got to sing next. The energy had shifted into something looser, sleepier. Like the night had finally exhaled.

You were still sitting next to Seungmin, the heat between you warm but not overwhelming anymore. Just… steady. Comfortable.

He took a slow sip of his drink, eyes fixed on the screen even though it wasn’t playing anything. “They’re wild,” he said, nodding toward your friend group.

You chuckled. “You’re saying that like you’re not used to Jisung.”

“I’m used to Jisung. Not ten Jisungs at once.”

You laughed again, and he smiled. Not his idol smile. Not the curated one. A real one. It was quiet for a beat after that. Not awkward. Just… unspoken. You glanced at him, then at the mic still resting near his knee.

“That song earlier,” you said softly. “The solo. Why that one?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “It’s one I never get to sing on stage,” he said, voice low, fingers absently tracing the condensation on his glass. “Too slow for a live set. Too quiet. Not exciting enough.”

“But it meant something.” His gaze flicked to yours—sharp and surprised. Then thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It does.”

There was something gentle about the way he looked at you then. Like he wasn’t just seeing you—he was choosing to let you see him. Not the idol. Not the polished version. Just the boy who liked slow songs and quiet moments.

“Do you ever wish it could all just slow down?” you asked before thinking.

His shoulders lowered slightly, like the question had knocked the air out of him in a good way.

“All the time,” he said. “But it’s rare. I forget how to sit still.”

You nodded. You got that. Maybe not in the same way, but you understood the exhaustion of always having to be on, to perform, to keep up with the people around you even when your body begged for stillness.

“That’s why I picked that song,” he added after a moment. “Not because I thought anyone would notice. Just… felt like I needed to hear it.”

You blinked slowly, feeling something tighten in your chest. He didn’t say it for effect. He wasn’t trying to charm you. He was just being honest. And somehow, that honesty felt more intimate than the duet, more vulnerable than all the shared glances and teasing smiles. You leaned back a little, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Well. I noticed.” He turned to look at you—soft eyes, lips parted like he was about to say something else, something more. But he didn’t. He just nodded, and the silence between you felt full instead of empty.

Eventually, the rest of the group stumbled back in—laughing too loud, arms full of convenience store snacks and another round of drinks no one really needed. The energy picked back up, a final burst before the inevitable crash. Someone attempted to sing again, terribly. Another person fell asleep mid-verse.

The night had peaked, and now it was coasting on the afterglow.

You checked your phone—past midnight. Your voice was hoarse from laughing, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Most of the group was starting to collect their things, slowly accepting the fate of early morning hangovers and sore throats.

Seungmin was still next to you, his thigh brushing yours when he shifted to grab his phone. You should’ve said goodbye. That’s what normal people did, right? Say thanks for tonight and see you around and maybe let fate take it from there.

But something tugged at you. A little ache. A little no, not yet.

And maybe he felt it too, because before you could move, he cleared his throat and said, almost casually:

“Hey.”

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Can I…” He paused, tapping his phone against his palm, not quite looking at you. “Can I get your number?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Only if you promise not to ghost me,” you said, recovering quickly.

That got a laugh out of him—quiet, but real. “I think I owe you at least a duet rematch,” he said, handing you his phone with the contact screen already open. You typed in your number, added a little mic emoji next to your name before handing it back. “Nice touch,” he said, glancing down at the screen. “I’ll remember you by your stage presence.”

You smirked. “And your ballad era will haunt me forever.”

He looked at you for a beat—longer than necessary. And in that moment, the karaoke room, the noise, the people, all of it blurred. Just him. Just you. And something new. Something beginning. You stood, grabbing your coat, heart still racing.

“Goodnight, Seungmin,” you said, soft but certain.

“Goodnight,” he replied. “Text you soon?”

You nodded, already walking backward toward the door. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And when the door slid shut behind you, you were smiling like an idiot. Because you knew. This wasn’t just a fun night. This was the start of something you couldn’t name yet—but wanted to.

The texts started the next morning. Nothing over the top. No grand good morning message or three-paragraph essay.

Just:

[Seungmin]: you survived the chaos?

And then, when you didn’t respond right away:

[Seungmin]: or are you still recovering from my devastating vocal power

You grinned like an idiot in bed and typed back:

[You]: emotionally and spiritually, yes. physically, still in shock.

It continued like that—daily check-ins, flirty sarcasm, the occasional voice memo that made your heart do things. You’d hear his voice and remember that night too vividly: the way he looked under the neon glow, how he sang like no one else was in the room.

But between all the teasing, there were real moments too. You found out he liked rainy days but hated soggy socks. That he collected stuffed animals people gave him, but he’d never admit it publicly. That his schedule was hectic, but he always replied, even if it took a while.

And then, one Friday afternoon:

[Seungmin]: are you free this weekend?

You stared at the screen. Paused. Typed. Deleted. Then typed again:

[You]: depends. is this a duet or a solo performance?

[Seungmin]: …it’s a café date, smartass. i’ll even buy you a drink.

[Seungmin]: and maybe a muffin if you’re charming enough.

The café was tucked in a quiet street, the kind of place that smelled like espresso and fresh flowers, with soft jazz playing through hidden speakers. It was a total contrast to the karaoke bar—slower, quieter, somehow closer. Seungmin was already there when you arrived, wearing a navy hoodie, baseball cap, and black mask. Still somehow completely recognizable. He stood when he saw you, pulling his mask down just enough to flash a smile. “You’re late.”

“You’re early,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t want to risk you ghosting me.”

You snorted. “As if.”

He ordered your drink before you could argue and handed you a paper bag with a smug look. You opened it—inside was a small Puppy.M plushie. Soft. Perfect. A little derpy in the cutest way.

Your heart squeezed.

“No way,” you whispered, cradling it gently. “You carry these around?”

“I had a spare in my bag,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s very weird.”

“It’s limited edition,” he muttered. “You’re welcome.”

You looked at the plush, then at him. “So… I get a plushie and a muffin?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

But he was already reaching for the display case. The two of you sat near the window, sun spilling across the table as you talked about everything and nothing. His voice was softer here—no cameras, no loud music. Just him.

He asked about your dreams. Listened like he cared. Told you stories from trainee days, his voice dipping low when he got serious, then shooting back up with a dry punchline that made you laugh out loud.

It was… easy. And when you reached for your drink, your fingers brushed the plushie instead—and caught him watching you.

“What?” you asked. He looked away, then back again, almost like he hadn’t meant to speak.

“I felt it,” he said simply. “That night. When I saw you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a confession. “At karaoke. I looked at you and thought, ‘Yeah. She’s gonna ruin me.’”

Your chest tightened. You tried to play it cool. “Too late for that?” He smiled—slow, genuine, completely unguarded.

“Way too late.”

The café dimmed as the sun dipped lower, turning the windows gold and the air warm with that quiet hush of early evening. Most of the tables had emptied, but neither of you had moved. The drinks were long gone, your muffin reduced to a few crumbs, and Puppy.M sat between you like a tiny, smug third wheel.

It was the kind of silence that didn’t need filling. Just... comfort. And something else. Something buzzing beneath the surface.

You turned to him, chin resting on your hand. “So. Are you always like this on first dates?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Thoughtful. Mysterious. Surprisingly soft?”

He pretended to consider it. “Only when the other person sings on key.”

You snorted and nudged his foot under the table. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he said. And then, quieter, “But... no. I’m not always like this.”

You met his gaze—and this time, he didn’t look away.

“I wasn’t planning to meet anyone that night,” he said, voice low, like he was afraid if he said it too loudly, it wouldn’t be true. “I almost didn’t go. But then you walked in and looked at me like you already knew me.”

You swallowed. Hard. “Maybe I did,” you said. “Kind of felt like I’d been waiting to meet you. Is that stupid?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Really stupid.”

And then he leaned in. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just close enough for you to feel the shift in the air between you. For his eyes to flick down to your lips. For your heart to crawl up your throat.

You could’ve pulled back. You didn’t.

Your lips met his like the softest sigh—like a secret finally spoken out loud. He kissed you gently at first, warm and tentative, one hand brushing your jaw like he was afraid to move too fast. You melted into it without meaning to, lips slotting perfectly with his, eyes fluttering shut.

It wasn’t perfect. It was better. Honest. Quiet. Real.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the entire day.

“Your stage presence is still better than mine,” he murmured.

“Liar.”

He grinned, eyes still closed. “Maybe. But I got the encore, didn’t I?”

You laughed, your hand slipping into his under the table, fingers lacing easily.

“You really did.”

#seungmin x reader #kim seungmin #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #love at first sight #soft boy seungmin #karaoke romance #puppym supremacy #fluff oneshot #first date fluff #emotional damage but make it cute #duet turned date #puppym agenda #slowburn compressed into one night #soft rizz energy #seungmin brainrot #strangers to lovers #tendertuesday

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myjayisarockstar · 1 year ago

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devoured p.js

Brat Tamer!Jay x Brat!reader

warnings: pure smut barely any plot mdni, reader is a brat, Jay is a brat tamer, oral (f. rec), fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, I think that’s it but if I missed anything lmk

synapsis: you tease Jay in front of your friends to see what happens, little do you know what you’re in store for

wc: 853

You were being a complete fucking tease at dinner. Hand on Jay’s thigh ALL NIGHT slowly bringing it higher just enough to barely be touching his crotch before pulling away like nothing happened.

The tipping point for him though– when you decided to inform him that you weren’t wearing anything under your dress. The moment you whisper that into his ear he has your hand in his wrist, pulling you up and out of your seat and announcing to your friends that you need to leave NOW. no explanation, he’s literally just pulling you to the car as fast as he can.

Once you get to the car he opens the passenger door for you and practically shoves you into the seat. He gets into the car and once he starts driving it’s dead silent. Jay is FUMING you pulled that in front of your friends but hey, you’re about to get the fucking of a lifetime so who cares? Not you!

As soon as you get home and are inside your shared apartment you’re a goner. You barely get one foot in the door before he has his hands on you, pushed against the entry door.

“You’re a fucking brat you know that? Pulling that shit while we’re trying to have a nice night with our friends? And I know you’re going to fucking enjoy anything I give you because you did it on purpose but oh baby, you’re not ready for what I’m about to do to you,” he practically writhes into your ear, anger very clear in his tone.

All you can do in response is moan and that is all it takes for Jay to pick you up and take you to your bedroom. He puts you down on the ground and just stares at you for a second.

“Strip. Now.” That is all he says and it doesn’t take you anytime at all before you're taking your dress off for him. As you promised, you weren’t wearing any panties nor were you wearing a bra under your dress. He audibly groans, a look of nothing but hunger in his eyes as he looks you up and down.

“Look at you, not so tough now are you?” Jay spits at you. He moves to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, leaving a smack on your ass as he carries you over to the bed. As quick as he picked you up, Jay threw you on the bed, immediately climbing on top of you. He grabs the handcuffs left on your headboard and snaps them around your wrists, leaving you open for anything he is about to give you.

“Only good girls get to use their hands, so you’re going to sit back and take everything I give you until I think I’ve fucked the brat out of you,” all you can do it stare at him and whine, anticipating his next move. Before you can think any further, Jay grabs your hips and positions himself in front of your bare core. You let out a whine of anticipation, only getting a smirk in response before he licks a long stripe up your folds.

“So fucking wet for me huh, you better be ready for what you’re about to endure,” he dives back into your core, switching between sucking on your clit and tonguing your entrance. His actions have you mewling, head thrown back and your back arching off the mattress. You attempt to bring your hands to his hair, only to remember he has them restrained.

“Mmh Jay please,” is all you can get out, wanting to run your hands through his hair as he eats you out.

“What did I say? Only good girls get to touch me,” he bites back in his response, continuing his actions. His pace is relentless, pulling you closer to your release. As if on queue, he pushes two fingers into you, curling them up without warning. His fingers find that perfect spot inside you, and when then do you let out a loud moan in response, “right there Jay— oh my GOD.”

Jay keeps up his pace, ripping an orgasm out of you almost instantly. But he doesn’t stop here. He continues to suck on your clit while his fingers curl inside you at a delicious pace. It’s almost getting to be too much, attempting to push him away with your legs but he has a firm grip on you.

“Can’t take anymore? Too bad, you’re going to take as much as I give you for as long as I do. If you try to push me away again there will be more consequences.” That’s all Jay says before he dives back in. It’s not long before he’s ripping another orgasm out of you. You’re on the verge of tears, not out of pain, but out of the sheer overwhelming pleasure you’re receiving. Jay does not relent, only stopping after you come on his fingers three more times.

Once he finally pulls away, your body goes limp out of sheer exhaustion. However, your night was far from being over.

a/n : I had to stop myself there or else I would’ve actually gone insane writing the rest 😭

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jay x reader #park jongseong #enha jay #jay enhypen x reader #jay smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #brat taming #enhypen jay #enhypen hard thoughts #hard thoughts #literally losing my mind

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tsuma-senju · 5 months ago

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Forgotten in the supermarket - Toji Fushiguro

Pairing Toji x Reader.fem - no relationship establishment

Summary Megumi is forgotten at the supermarket by Toji and you try to help the poor boy

The supermarket was relatively busy that night, the ambient sound played a soft melody, mixing with the noise of the carts sliding on the shiny floor and the hubbub of people

You walked through the hallways, pushing your cart almost full. His mind was partially turned off, focused only on finishing the shopping and returning home as soon as possible. After an exhausting day at work, all I wanted was a hot bath and a good glass of wine

As you turned to the drinks aisle, you looked at the huge variety. Why do they always change the organization of this place? With a slight expression of frustration, he walked through the shelves with his eyes peeled until finally finding the label was looking for, sighing lightly as he picked up a bottle and put it in the cart. Mission almost accomplished. Now only face the queue of the cashier

Or at least that’s what you thought

Heading for the cashier, his eyes caught something unusual further ahead. In the middle of the corridor, standing almost motionless, there was a little boy of seven or eight years old at most

He was with his hands tucked in the pockets of the sweatshirt and his head slightly lowered, eyes fixed on the ground. Unlike the other children who usually ran or called for their parents when they got lost, that boy seemed to simply wait

That made you stop for a moment

Was he lost? If it were any other child, I would be crying or asking for help, but he seemed calm. Too quiet

Even without knowing if you should meddle, you felt that you could not simply ignore it. He approached slowly and bent down slightly to talk to him in a more gentle way

"Hey, is everything all right with you, boy?" the boy looked up slowly, looking directly at you.

His face was expressionless, without any sign of anxiety or fear. In fact, he seemed indifferent, as if his presence was nothing but a small nuisance

You felt a slight discomfort with the coldness of that look. The silence between you lasted for a few seconds, until the boy finally responded, his voice low and without emotion

"Yes. But I’m sure my father forgot me here"

"What?! How?!"

The boy sighed as if he was explaining something obvious. He tilted his head slightly to the side before responding with a monotonous tone

"I also wanted to know"

You widened your eyes, surprised by the naturalness with which he spoke about it.

"But… how does a father forget his own child in the supermarket?!"

"I asked the same question" commented the boy, shrugging

The calmness with which he spoke made you even more perplexed. He did not seem frightened or upset. Just indifferent

Trying to organize your thoughts, you took a deep breath

"Right… do you know your dad’s name? or do you have a phone number so we can call him?"

The boy sighed again, this time seeming bored

"I know the home address. But I can’t cross the street alone, so I’m waiting for that idiot to realize he left something behind"

"That idiot?" You repeated, surprised with the choice of words of the boy

The little one just shrugged again, keeping his expression unchanged. You could not avoid a small nasalized laugh. His way was absurdly mature for a child of your age

"And what is your name?"

"Megumi"

"Okay, Megumi. If you want, I can take you home. So you don’t have to wait alone"

Before Megumi could answer, a low and authoritative voice sounded behind her

"You won’t need it. Now, get away from my son" The deep and threatening voice made you get ready quickly

Before you was a tall man with broad shoulders and an intimidating presence. His dark hair was a little shaggy, and a discreet scar on the side of his mouth accentuated even more his dangerous air

He pulled Megumi behind him, protecting him as if you were a real threat. The sharp eyes of the man went through you from top to bottom, judging you with suspicion

Megumi, on the other hand, did not seem at all satisfied with his father’s approach. He snorted and tried to release himself from the firm grip

"What?! I was just trying to help!" You explained, indignant

The man kept his piercing look "You wanted to kidnap him, didn’t you? No shame?"

Her eyes widened, shocked at the absurd accusation

"What?!" she exclaimed, indignant "You should be ashamed to forget your son in the market!"

"Dad, let’s go, please" Megumi looked at her and added with the same calm as before, "She offered to take me home since you left me here"

The man looked back between you and his son, releasing a heavy sigh before taking one of his hands out of his pocket. Finally, extending it to a formal grip

"Toji"

You were still processing the whole situation, but ended up shaking your hand

"y/n"

Toji scratched his neck, looking a little embarrassed

"I had a lot to sort out and ended up forgetting it in the middle of the mess. But don’t worry, that doesn’t happen often"

"It does happen," said Megumi, calmly

Toji tilted his head to one side, casting a reprehensive look at the son, who only shrugged

"It’s that I am a single father," said the man with a embarrassed smile

"That’s no excuse to forget your child in the market"

"Oh, so you’re an expert on parenting now?"

"No, but I know forgetting a child is not something that should happen"

Toji burst out laughing "Are you always so pushy?"

"Only when I find irresponsible parents who forget their children in the market and then accuse me of kidnapping"

His smile widened a little

"Fair. But, to be honest, you really look like someone who would kidnap children"

His mouth opened in indignation with the sincerity of man

"You can only be kidding me!"

Toji laughed, putting his hand in his pocket again

"If I need a babysitter, I already know who to call. Come on, stink"

Before leaving, the man looked at you once more and said with a smug smile

"See you next time, kidnapper"

His only reaction was to watch father and son move away. But for some reason, a small smile escaped from his lips. Maybe that wasn’t the last time you would cross the path of Toji and Megumi.

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