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aloesarchives · 8 months

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Popular Boy (JJK One-Shot)

TW/Warnings: Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, Angst with Fluff ending, Profanity, Smoking from Shoko and Suguru, Highkey Miscommunication Trope, Cheesy cliches, this one-shot being way too long than it's supposed to be, a little OOC Satoru and Suguru

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

AU: Modern/High School AU!

Pronouns: She/Her(any gal could read this, but Reader is slightly coded to be introverted, good at drawing and crafts, and a nerd)

Word Count: 10.2k words

Summary: You weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend Satoru Gojo. But you did anyway. It doesn't help that he is the most popular guy in your school.

(A/N): This is my longest one-shot to date. I went off the rails and wrote this out of this idea and brain dump I had. Un top of being sick, I didn't post for like 2 weeks because I was working on this and having little motivation. But I'm back!

[!!!Unedited and not proofread!!! 1/24/2024 4:27pm CST]

Having a crush on your best friend is the absolute worst. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. But after reviewing your symptoms, you concluded that you are, indeed, in love with your best friend, Satoru Gojo. It's too bad he’s the most popular guy in the school. Suguru is second to him but doesn’t bask in the attention like his friend does.

It all started when you became friends with them in your first year of high school. Shoko was in your class, and you two became best friends instantly. You’d usually eat alone somewhere during break or lunch because the cafeteria was always rowdy, making it overstimulating. One day, your usual spot was taken over. Though it bummed you out your little spot was discovered, it wasn’t yours in the first place, so you went on a search for a new one. After a few minutes of searching, you spotted Shoko smoking in a hidden spot behind the school. She hears you from how your feet crunch on the dirt and asks you to join her. Though you didn’t smoke, you stayed with her. After talking briefly, Shoko asked if you were free after school, taking a long drag out of her cigarette.

You never stayed too long after school, only for your respective clubs, but that’s it. You also had no friends, so maybe this is your chance to get closer to Shoko. Upon agreeing, she smiles before taking her last drag out and extinguishing her smoke in a nearby ashtray. As the two of you returned to class, she told you that her other two friends were coming. Hinting that they were quite the handful. Your expression lightens upon hearing the two new people joining your hangout with Shoko. Perhaps this could be what you needed to step outside of your comfort zone to have a social experience like everyone else your age.

After getting off the train with Shoko, she pulled you along the busy crowd and met the two boys at the subway station entrance. You didn’t, however, expect Shoko’s mystery friends to be Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto—the most well-known boys in the entire school and possibly the whole district. Shoko was making your introduction to them as you grew shy under their gaze. Nervous was an understatement; anxiety was brewing in you like rain clouds forming a storm. What if they scoff at you? Mock you? Purposely pick on you for fun? Each thought raced against each other across your mind that you didn’t notice Satoru placing his hand on your shoulder. It snapped you back to reality as you looked up to avoid being rude.

You’ve heard the rumors and the hushed whispers from every corner of the school about how Satoru Gojo was among the most good-looking guys. How he had blue eyes that matched the sky and hair like snow. You only caught glimpses of him throughout the campus but never saw him up close. But now that you are, you can confirm it for yourself. To you, he looked more ethereal, if anything. His blue eyes were like the endless cerulean sky above, his white hair lightly tousled in the wind; he was beautiful to you.

“Hey, you don’t have to stiffen up around me. I don’t want you to go all shy on me (Y/N). Satoru Gojo, at your service~.”

Extend his hand to shake yours; you return the gesture, albeit clumsily. Satoru chuckles before he unexpectedly brings your hand to his lips. He kissed your fingers ever so gently, feather-like almost. Your body most certainly would have erupted in a blaze by his actions. But it didn’t; you were more caught off-guard. You wondered if he did this to every girl he came across. He just smiled afterward but gets bonked on the head by Suguru, who went to introduce himself to you.

“Satoru, you’re going to scare her off. Sorry (Y/N), he’s always like that. I’m Suguru Geto, and I hope you’re not uncomfortable because of him.”

You quickly dismissed it, trying to ease Suguru’s concerns. After hanging out with them, you knew you found people you would call friends. You never had that much fun until you hung out with them. Going to arcades, eating out together, and wandering the city of Tokyo filled you with non-replicable happiness. After that hangout, the rest was history. Since then, you have always hung out with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. You all stuck together like glue every time possible. You never guessed their popularity rubbed off as well. You became known on campus as a well-known upperclassman and now a senior.

But you noticed you spent more time with Satoru than with Shoko or Suguru. You could credit it to his goofy, childish personality that matched your vibe even more. He loved discussing Digimon and was happy you shared the same interest. You two would indulge in each other’s interests and hobbies. It became more evident that both of you had grown closer from when Shoko adopted you into their group. Yet, you told yourself time and time again not to fall for Satoru. In fear of losing what you have with each other because you caught “feelings.” In addition, Satoru had many, many, MANY admirers—girls across the school, district, and the Tokyo Metropolitan area. Many come from prominent backgrounds, blessed with being gifted, or simply beautiful in every way. While you didn’t mean to self-sabotage yourself, you were beautiful and brilliant in your own right; you were being realistic. How could someone like Satoru Gojo, from a wealthy and prominent family for centuries, go for someone like you? It was wishful thinking at that point, but it was stretching itself thin even then.

Anyhow, this brings you to the present. It’s December 1st, six days before Satoru’s birthday. You were in your dorm, conjuring up what to get him. It was more complicated than because the man was loaded. He had the money to buy anything and everything he wanted. So what can you get for him that wasn’t already bought? After some time, you had the genius idea to make something for him. You decided on making a bracelet and a framed sketch of him from one of your sketchbooks you occasionally draw in.

While working on your gifts, you were on the receiving end of teasing from Suguru and Shoko, specifically from Suguru. I mean, he was the first one to catch on to your feelings for his friend. Shoko had her suspicions but never mentioned them in case she was delusional. But once Suguru brought it up, she instantly joined in the teasing. It was harmless fun, yet you couldn’t help but rethink your crush on Satoru. Your feelings for him shouldn’t exist, yet you can’t help it. You felt alive, but most of all, you felt comfortable and safe with Satoru. You never hid your lovely personality or felt ashamed of your interests. Satoru was always supportive and was a part of your shenanigans too. As cheesy as it was to admit, it felt like you’ve found your soulmate, your other half. You always relished your moments with Satoru, no matter how short or dumb they were. Sure, you loved your moments with the gang, but it hits differently when it’s only Satoru and you. It was as if your life changed when he came into it.

During the day before Satoru’s birthday, Shoko and Suguru hunched over your desk as you finished the page you were doodling. The smears from the graphite and erased pencil markings showed the fine details to capture Satoru’s features.

“Wow, those look exactly like him. If he were animated, he'd be drawn like this. May I, (Y/N)?” Suguru asked.

You nodded, and Suguru picked up the sketchbook to inspect the page further. Shoko peered over his shoulder to also get a look.

“I think Gojo would love this. Don’t you think so, Suguru?”

“I would think so too, Shoko. It’s a well-thought-out gift (Y/N). Satoru would love it.”

“Wait, (Y/N)! Show Suguru what else you made him!”

Suguru raises a brow at the brunette as you pull up a photo on your phone to show to Suguru. Suguru squinted his eyes a bit to see the picture a bit more clearly.

“You made that bracelet for Satoru? It’s pretty nice. Where’s our (Y/N)?”

“I have them back in my room, Suguru! I just. . . You know. . .”

“So you’re implying we’re not as special as your beloved Blue Eyes White Dragon?”

“SHOKO, you’re not helping!!! OfcourseImadeitmorespecialforhimbecausehereallylikesdigimonandhisbirthdayiscomingup–”

“(Y/N)! I was just joking! Geez, calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”

As you catch yourself from any further rambling, you are about to explain the bracelet to Suguru before Satoru slides the classroom door open. You think it’s him but can’t tell through the mountain of gifts and bags in his arms. But seeing a wisp of his white hair gave you all the more reason that it was Satoru. Satoru plops the pile on his desk as his arms cave in, some gifts falling off the edge and onto the floor. One fell near your desk, so you picked it up and placed it back on his desk.

“Is it Valentine’s Day? What’s with the gifts, Satoru?”

“*sighs* These are from numerous girls all over the school from varying grades. My birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I'll get the early gifts. Though, I don’t know how to return all this to my dorm. You guys wanna help me open them up back in my room?”

You all replied yes and helped Satoru with his pile of gifts. As you put on your sketchbook, you felt a breath tickle your ear.

“Hey, whatcha drawing, (Y/N)? Drawing (favorite Digimon/Pokemon) again? Let me see!”

You caught a whiff of his surprisingly minty, fresh breath. Usually, it comes in hot with the number of sweets he’s been eating, so this was a pleasant surprise to you.

“I’ll show you later when we open your gifts in your room, ‘Toru. You gotta be patient.”

You chided while swatting his all too-close face away from you. Little did you know, a sickly sweet smile flashed on his face upon hearing his nickname. Once the last bell rang, you four headed straight for Satoru’s dorm to open all the gifts he received from the day. Once dumping them into a pile, you each read the note attached to the gifts and opened them up. Some were cool, homemade gifts, others were basic and generic. Most were sweets or baked goods since he is widely known to have a sweet tooth. You all were open and chatty when Suguru grabbed a neatly wrapped velvet box.

“Hey, Satoru, isn’t this from your ex?”

“Which one?”

“Don’t know, let me see the tag. . . From Satomi. . .”

“Oh, her! Let me see, Suguru!”

You cringed hard hearing Satoru talk about his numerous “girlfriends.” As much as you didn’t want to say it, Satoru’s playboy attitude was your least favorite thing about him. All the girls he saw shared one common trait: they never stayed too long with him. Satoru would cycle through many girls every few weeks to maybe a month. He never bothered to introduce them into the friend group, let alone bring them to your shared hangouts. Now that you think about it, he never talks about them when you or the others are present. He never calls them his girlfriends or partners, just sugar-coated words and nicknames meant to sweeten a non-existent fruit that never grew in the first place. You wondered if he would treat you the same if you dated him. But you were thinking too deeply, FOCUS GIRL!!! It’s now or never. Well, not really, but you have the perfect chance to give Satoru his birthday gift! You can make it work for just the two of you! Find him by himself, steal him away to deliver your gift, and possibly confess.

Satoru's birthday gifts from his fans dwindled to only small boxes and clear bags. Shoko and Suguru categorized his gifts as apparel, food, trinkets, etc., while Satoru plopped beside you. You were munching away at some candy, deciding to take a break from opening the cookie cutter-esk presents as your vision became spotty. It was silent for a moment, only the sounds of your other two friends' voices bickering about which pile a gift should go. Satoru shifts his attention towards you, mindlessly popping the candy into your mouth before dramatically yawning, spreading his limbs across his bed. His legs would stretch over your lap. You popped the last candy before throwing the empty bag at him.

“What’s wrong, Satoru? You've grown tired of your gifts or what?”

“That and feeling sore from sitting on the floor. . . Hey! Will you show me your drawing from earlier (Y/N)?”

“Uh. . . I dunno, Satoru–”

“Pleaseeeeeeee?! I promise I won’t crease the pages like last time! Come on (Y/N)!”

Satoru juts out his lip and gives his puppy eyes with praying hands. You glance at Suguru and Shoko, who snickered at your little predicament. You sighed deeply and pulled out your sketchbook for him to see. He was giving you his full attention, asking questions, and complimenting the fine details of your latest creation. You two were smiling and giggling along as you turned the pages. However, you were getting nervous because you didn’t want Satoru to see his page. You hoped he got bored or distracted so you didn’t have to flip through more from your book. Suguru has a sixth sense because he called Satoru’s attention before you flipped to the next page, which would’ve been his.

“Okay, man, we sorted your gifts into these four separate piles, which one should be obvious. . . Look at the time; it’s almost curfew for the girls. I’ll walk them to their dorms, Satoru.”

Before Satoru could protest and tag along, Suguru snatched you and Shoko away and out of the dorm. Satoru stood up perplexed, before shrugging it off and storing his gifts away. Suguru dragged you two to the skywalk and looked dead into your eyes, startling you from his sudden closeness.

“You have to do it tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Uh, do what, Suguru?”

Shoko and Suguru gave each other a face before looking back at you.

“You gotta confess to Satoru, (Y/N). Do it tomorrow when you give him your gift on his birthday. And before you ask, we knew about your feelings for him way before. It’s painfully obvious, (Y/N).”

Shoko just nods her head in agreement. You knew Suguru had a point; it’s now or never. But you didn’t want to make things awkward for Satoru, let alone pressure him to say yes because he feels terrible for rejecting. Overthinking started kicking into high gear, and you started thinking about every possible scenario Satoru could react to. None of them were of him reciprocating your feelings. Unfortunately, Suguru had to say the dread words no one wants to hear when trying to confess to their crush.

“The worst thing he could say is no, (Y/N).”

Shoko elbows him while you wince at his words. You knew he meant to comfort you, but it didn’t help ease your nerves. Suguru, observant as ever, picked up on it, and from Shoko’s reaction, he knew his words were a miss.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll come with you for support, so it won’t be as stressful going alone.”

Suguru gives you a comforting smile, and you give on in return. Shoko said she couldn’t come because she volunteered to tutor some underclassmen for some Visa gift cards. So she says good luck to you before walking across the skyway and into the building of the girls' dormitory. You gained some confidence and bid Suguru goodnight to finalize your gifts. You framed Satoru’s page in a sleek dark blue frame and knotted Satoru’s bracelet. The marble beads of the bracelet were white, cerulean blue, and black. Complementing each with a small interchange charm in the middle where an Agumon charm dangled freely. You wrapped up both gifts and placed them in a mildly used paper bag you had from when you went shopping.

As the next day rolled in, you were surprisingly giddy to give your gift. You just had to catch Satoru alone and give yourself a good ten minutes to slip in your confession. The problem was you hadn’t seen Satoru at all. Sure, today was a half-day, but Satoru was barely in class. When he was, though, he was flooded by many girls telling him happy birthday or giving more gifts. Since it was a Friday, Satoru didn’t do much after school and would wander Tokyo for the remainder of the day. You knew you were losing time, so doing it right after school was best.

Once the last bell rang, you packed your bag and held your present tightly to find Satoru. However, he was gone from his seat when you looked at his desk. While you tried to find him, Suguru texted you. He said he saw Satoru go behind the school. He also said he would wait for you at the front gate to hear about your results. As you go to the back, you are smiling so hard that it would make your teeth rot. But as you got closer, your sweet smile instantly dropped when you heard a girl’s voice and another voice you made out to be Satoru’s. Your heartbeat repeatedly drummed in your ears as you hid yourself to not be noticed. Trying to even out your breath, you slowly peek your head in a slow, agonizing manner to get a better look. Unfortunately, your curiosity kills your heart as it confirms your worst fear.

Satoru stood smiling, and another girl giggled like a classic school girl in a high-school rom-com movie. You recognized her as she was in the same grade but from a different class. You’ve seen her around but never been a part of Satoru’s unofficial fan club. Yet you could never have guessed she liked him too. You knew you should look away, already seeing what was needed. But the naive sliver of hope forced you to continue watching, hoping it was a delusion your mind conjured up. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew the other girl beat you to him as she held Satoru’s hand and smiled up at him. Satoru places a hand on her cheek and probably says something you can make out ‘I love you' before dipping his head to meet hers. A chill washes over your body as your grip on Satoru’s present stiffens, further crimping the paper bag. Shakily, you pulled out your phone and took a picture before turning on your heels and going anywhere but here.

Suguru was ever so patiently waiting on the outcome. He was blissfully smiling. Hoping all is going well and in your favor. He was distracted by his phone when he recognized the sound of your footsteps. He pockets it as he sees your figure walk towards the gates. He cheerfully called out for you but was met with silence. When you walked past him, your head hung low; Suguru knew something was wrong. Concerned, he quickly went after you while calling for you. When nothing works, he steps in front of you to hold your shoulders still to prevent any more movement. Shaking your shoulders, he firmly asks what’s wrong.

A wretched look contorted on his face when he saw your face. Your eyes are shiny from glossy tears on the verge of overflowing from the edges. Lips in a tight quiver, trying to not let a sob escape from within the depths of your hurt soul. You were trying your best to stay together, but Suguru saw you were hanging on by a thread. He gives you a comforting, tight hug as you begin to cry into him. Letting it all out and providing comforting pats on your back. As you start to calm down, Suguru gently takes you to a nearby cafe where some of your group hangouts and study sessions happen. Considering your current state, he keeps you from paying for your drink. Once he got them and sat down, you told him what you saw that caused this. Suguru chokes on his drink in disbelief upon hearing about Satoru’s doings.

“He what?! Are you sure, (Y/N)?”

You nodded as you pulled up the picture on your phone to show Suguru. His eyes widen even further as he stares at the picture. Returning back your phone, he takes a big sip of his drink.

“So, what are you going with your gift then, (Y/N)? Are you still going to give it to Satoru?”

“I... I. . . Don’t know, Suguru. . . I did make it for him, but I don’t think he’ll care.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t, (Y/N)?”

“You know what I mean, Suguru. Satoru doesn’t really hold onto any gifts he gets. Unless it’s sweets or something he thinks is cool, he’ll donate, give, or throw it away. My present would collect dust in his room and be forgotten. We literally sorted out his fan mail yesterday.”

You glance over at your initial present for Satoru. The bag has deep creases and wrinkles from death gripping it in your disassociated state. You delicately bring it to your lap, blankly staring at the two dedicated gifts inside. Sighing in defeat, you slowly fold the top of the bag before setting it back in its previous place. You gave Suguru a tired smile, saying how wishful thinking blinded you from reality. Suguru couldn’t help but feel pity. It hurts him to see you like this and blame yourself for dreaming about something he knew would become a reality. But he was thrown in for a loop because he was sure his best friend was hopelessly in love with you. The glances, the consistency of bringing up your name, the extra care he gave when it came to you, IT WAS ALL RIGHT THERE! Was Satoru leading everyone on, you included? Suguru was going to get to the bottom of this. He escorts you back and asks Shoko to stay with you until nighttime.

After filling Shoko in, you looked at the crippled bag sitting alone on the floor. Taunting, making a mockery of you, and constantly reminding you how you really let your feelings get out of hand to let you believe a fantasy. How foolish you are, little stupid fool you were, you think. Getting off your bed, you go over to the bane that reminds you of your naivete as a hopeless romantic. You were tempted to throw the whole bag away; consider burning it all.

Despite thinking of wiping the existence of those gifts from this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were drawings of Satoru and a handmade bracelet with his favorite Digimon, and you were proud of how they turned out. The time and dedication you put into it really showed how much this man had a chokehold on your life no matter what. Crush, friend, it didn’t matter. He really changed your life; you would be forever grateful for that. Even if that meant you always stayed friends. It was a better fate than being strangers altogether. So you decide to store the bag in an empty drawer for miscellaneous items, not wanting to see it anymore. Shoko was surprised by your actions. Though she would understand you destroying them, she didn’t expect you to keep your gifts. You just shrugged, saying destroying it wouldn’t do you any good. No amount of satisfaction or fulfillment would come from it. Shoko just gives you a hug as you lean into it.

Ever since that day, you slowly stopped talking to Satoru. He didn’t notice it because you would make excuses or leave immediately before he could catch up. He thought you were busy with homework and school. It was brought to his attention when you wouldn’t hang out with him. Whenever he texted you to hang out, you would say you were busy or not feeling good. It got worse when you didn’t attend your group hangouts with Suguru and Shoko. It was always the four of you. Without you, it felt incomplete, and Satoru started to miss you and the vibe you brought. Even when he asked Suguru or Shoko where you were, they would give the same answer you did. And it was starting to frustrate him. Did he say or do something to distance yourself from him? Did he accidentally hurt without realizing it? Why did you suddenly not want to talk to him anymore? He sees you talking to your other friends and classmates without a care in the world. Your lovely lips always curled upwards, and how your cheeks and eyes molded to highlight your face, you were absolute divinity in his eyes. Had you always looked so beautiful to him? Yes, but he didn’t realize that until now since his only way of looking at you is from a distance.

Every time he would try to make his way over to you, you gave a quick side glance in his direction before wrapping up any conversation and leaving. This honestly began to hurt Satoru. He had never dealt something like this with anyone else. Maybe when he had severe fights with Suguru, but they would make up in the end since he knew it was mostly his fault. But this is different because he was in the dark of your avoidance. It was like he was the bubonic plague, and you were straight-up social distancing yourself from him. It didn’t matter when or where; as soon as he entered within a 12-foot radius, you were going in the other direction. This had been going on for almost two weeks! It was now the 21st, the last school day before winter break. Nothing significant was happening today besides the classic winter break assembly. He needed to talk to you so you two could somehow talk it out and make it. It’s ironic how oblivious he was to the circumstances he was in. The roles are now reversed because now he’s pining after you like you had been for him for the past few years. You usually would sit with them during these events, but since you’re distancing, you opted to sit with your peers. When you did sit with them, you would be the furthest away from Satoru.

Satoru should’ve been paying attention to the assembly. But his only focus was you, who was on the other side of the gymnasium. You were sitting on opposite bleachers with one of your underclassmen, Riko Amanai. Satoru wished he could teleport himself to you, pick you up, and go to a quiet place to talk. But he knew he had to be patient to make his move, something Suguru had to remind him constantly. Once the assembly was over, Satoru by-lined to where you were. However, the sea of students eager to leave school is challenging, even for the 6’3 boy. He saw glimpses of you with Riko as you pulled her along and weaved through the crowd out of the school. The resistance he met trying to reach you became so aggravating he was shoving anyone who got in his way. It got to the point where students made room for him to pass through, fearing the wrath of Satoru Gojo in a bad mood.

Alas, once he exited the school, you had already gone off campus to who knows where with Riko and Kuroi, her caretaker. Satoru tightened his fists, and his face bore a scowl as you slipped away again. He would have punched the school’s concrete fence if Suguru didn’t pop up in front of him. Satoru was slightly calmed when he saw his friend, but a twinge of unease settled in when he saw Suguru’s strained smile. To a regular person, it seemed like a genuine smile. But Satoru knew Suguru enough to know when he gave these smiles. This one meant he was in deep trouble. Suguru said he needed to talk to Satoru about something over a bucket of KFC with one of the Visa gift cards Shoko gave them. Satoru followed it, knowing there was more to Suguru’s unidentified mood. However, Suguru just stops in front of the KFC, idly standing with his back to him. Seeing his standoffish behavior, Satoru becomes confused and finally breaks their tense silence.

“Look, Suguru, I know this isn’t the best time. But we need to talk about (Y/N).”

“What is there to talk about her, Satoru?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Suguru. You noticed how (Y/N) has barely been hanging out with us. Giving excuses to not hang out. I don’t understand why this happened so fast. Two weeks ago, (Y/N) was fine. She was laughing with us and being a part of our stupid antics. Then, after my birthday, she slowly stopped replying to my texts and avoided me altogether. Suguru, you got to know something. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore. I need to know what I did to make her stop talking to me.”

Oh, Suguru knew the reason why you were doing this. You told him yourself. You admitted to Suguru you didn’t know how to act around Satoru anymore, in fear of spilling your confession and making a fool out of yourself. You knew how cowardly it was to do this. Not correctly communicating your emotions and actions to Satoru was self-sabotage, and your relationship with him would suffer severely. You tried to ride out your feelings to the best of your abilities. But you learned that those feelings for Satoru wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. So, you thought the best option was to slowly distance yourself from Satoru to heal your broken heart and save your dignity. Suguru was against this at first. But he let it slide since it was only Satoru and not him or Shoko.

What he didn’t let slide was how he saw his best friend paraded around his latest girlfriend. He knew that relationship wouldn’t last at all because there was one thing he knew about his best friend. Satoru Gojo is a lonely person. No amount of fan girls or guys dick-riding him would fill the void of loneliness Satoru faced in his life. He always was told that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was talented and good at anything and everything he did. But with that, people only saw him from afar, never really caring to realize Satoru was like anyone else besides his wealth. Suguru knew you made Satoru feel seen and let him dwell on his antics so he could be a teen, not some high, mighty God people were willing to kiss his feet. Satoru fell in love with you but doesn’t want to admit it. Seemingly taken you for granted. Suguru doesn’t blame you for trying to lose feelings for him. He would, too, if the person he liked gave mixed signals and had a cycle through partners like daily outfits even though they heavily implied to their best friend they wanted you but never cared to tell.

You would have made the first move. But with many rejections, some harsher than others, you decide to wait for the other person to say something first or drop an obvious hint. You aren’t going to drive through a red light, only green ones. You often hear the phrase, ‘Girls who make the first move on a guy get the relationship.’ That is a blatant lie and bullshit because it only works if the guy doesn’t care, the girl asking is conventionally pretty, or the guy already liked or was interested in the girl. You experienced so much rejection that you might as well give up on telling your feelings so as not to be seen as pathetic. You thought it would be different for Satoru because of your powerful chemistry together. But he sent many mixed signals, being flirtatious and teasing you, genuinely looking out for you simultaneously, all the while still never giving a break to dating and having a long line of girlfriends at his beak and call. It was too complicated for you. Then, with the incident, you knew you had no chance with him because it seemed he would never feel the same.

“Do you like (Y/N), Satoru?”

Satoru gave his best friend a bewildered look, his face recoiling.

“Yeah, of course, I like (Y/N), Suguru. What kind of question is that—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N)? Yes or No, simple as that.”

“What are you trying to get at, Suguru?”

Suguru visibly groans at the Satoru’s density. This was annoying Suguru at this point.

“Satoru, be honest with yourself. Admit it, you’re in love with (Y/N). How you look out for her, care for her, and constantly bring her up in conversations every chance you get, the longing gaze you give her when she isn’t looking, always staring at her instead of anyone else in the room. The list goes on and on, Satoru. Stop denying it. Do you love her, or are you just saying that because you want to joke about someone’s feelings?”

Satoru’s voice was caught in his throat; he had his answer, but his body wasn’t giving him a chance to say it. It was like Suguru hitting the nail every time, making Satoru feel cornered. Suguru sighed frustratedly at the silence of his best friend, who usually would have his answers ready in the queue.

“So you never really loved (Y/N) then, Satoru.”

“What! No! I do love (Y/N), Suguru—”

“Then why the fuck do you still indulge in your playboy personality? You and I both know that won’t get you anywhere, Satoru. It’s doing you more damage than good, yet you continue feeding into it! Maybe if you gave a break from your causal flings, (Y/N) would have confessed to you, and the two of you would have been dating by now. God, You’re just a headache, Satoru…” Suguru doesn’t shout, but his sharp tone is on the edge of becoming angry.

Wait, what?

You were going to confess to him?

You like him too?

Satoru blinks owlishly while trying to process this mind-breaking information. You liked Satoru, so the feeling was mutual, right? Then why is Suguru getting mad at him for feeling the same way?

“Wait… Suguru...(Y/N) likes me too? Why didn’t she say anything in the first place? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because you already had a girlfriend, Satoru. (Y/N)’s not a home wrecker.”

“Yeah, okay. But I was single for two weeks! She knew that! Why didn’t she confess to me then?!”

“I don’t know, Satoru… Maybe because she was more focused on making your birthday gifts than her confession towards you. How much of her time was dedicated to making them? She was going to confess to you but decided not to.”

“When, Suguru?!”

“ . . .Your birthday. . . (Y/N) was going to give your gifts and confess on your birthday, but you decided to fuck yourself over.”

“ ‘Fuck myself over? What do you mean, Suguru?” Satoru said in a hushed but shocked whisper.

Suguru pulls out his phone, pulls up the picture you took, and shows it to Satoru. Satoru’s eyes widen like saucers, surprised by Suguru’s possession of a photograph that captured his private moment. He grabs Suguru’s phone to take a closer look before looking back up at him, face still bearing the same expression.

“Wait, that happened on my birthday. How did you take this?

“I didn’t take it, Satoru. . .”

“Huh? Then who—”

Oh. . .Oh. . .

Oh no. . .

It all was starting to click for Satoru. Suguru looked unamused as he saw his friend’s gears moving in his head.

“Suguru, I—”

“So, do you love (Y/N), Satoru? Yes or no?”

Satoru stays silent with no motions to verbalize an answer.

“*sighs* Then tell me, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N) because she is beautiful? Or is she beautiful because you love her?”

Suguru left a defeated and devastated Satoru in the streets to be alone with his thoughts. In doing so, he hoped his friend would connect the dots himself. Satoru stood frozen in front of the KFC, finally understanding it. The distance, the consistent decline in hangouts, the short conversations, being ‘happy’ around others but never near him, how your smile droops at the mention of his name, and the solemn expression your eyes wore ever since his birthday all added up. It was all because of him. Sure, it’s both parties at play here.

On the other hand, your actions were just reactions to his own, especially when his loneliness caused him to become desperate in seeking out the attention of multiple girls he would ‘date.’ Consequently, it signaled he was looking for something casual with no strings attached, making you believe giving a confession would be useless to someone like him. But that’s far from the truth.

He couldn’t believe he had done you dirty for so long. You were always in front of him, waiting for him this whole time. You were the one to give him warmth and fill in the void of loneliness that has plagued his soul for so long. But he never gave you a chance because he never cared to ask or consider it. He took you for granted because he knew you would always be there for him through everything and anything; you were his ride or die. Oh, how irresponsible of him that not truly appreciating your presence would lead to your eventual withdrawal.

Now he realized his love for you was real and profound as it was tiered above anything else. The way he flexed his bicep when you linked arms with him to stay close in big crowds, the stars your eyes have when talking about your favorite topic made him have this dumb love-sick look, or your smile that always filled him with love and joy when it’s directed at him, he still wanted to experience these things with you but as more as friends. And yet, he was on the verge of losing it all forever. Three years of friendship/pining would be wiped away in three weeks. All because he was scared to admit his fragile vulnerability behind his pompous attitude. He had to do something; he needed to. Or the only thing he will have of you is the memories you two created. Satoru booked it and ran through Tokyo for ideas on what to do. He didn’t care if he looked absurd. All that mattered to him was finding a way to mend things. The only thing on his mind was you.

Because he knew it was you.

It always has been you.

And he had to pull off miracles to save your relationship with him.

It was the next day; Satoru was carrying a big shopping bag around Tokyo, hoping to find you. After spending the rest of his afternoon and night finding some ideas, he made you what he dubs his ‘I’m sorry’ present, which was also your Christmas present. It contained a 15-inch plushie of (Your favorite Animal/Digimon/Pokemon/Character), a jacket you told him you wanted but was too expensive a while back, and (earrings/necklace/bracelets/rings/any sort of wearable jewelry) in your favorite color as you stared at it longingly when at the mall with the gang, Satoru always made a note of that.

Now, the hard part giving them to you in hopes of talking with him. It would have to be a miracle to cross paths with you. Satoru couldn’t text you since you stopped responding to his attempts at communication. In a vast city being hectic in the upcoming days of the holidays, he needed all the luck he had just to spot you in the crowd. But even if he knew your schedule by heart, there was no sign of you in Tokyo. He could visit your home, but he assumes he’s an unwelcome guest since you lived with your (sibling(s)/guardian/parent(s)/loved one), and you confide in them frequently. As time never stops, he’s losing time. His precious time with you is slipping away, never to return. Both and forth, the wind chill nipped and whipped at his exposed skin. Satoru’s cheeks, nose, and knuckles were rosy as his body worked overtime to keep warm. The puffs from his mouth fogged up his glasses as he forced himself to continue searching just to have a chance to run into you.

Satoru is not religious, nor does he believe in a god. And yet, in those moments, Satoru started to pray. He was praying, begging, pleading for any divinity to hear his desperate cries to come across you. Just a chance, anything, he’ll do anything to see a wisp of (hair color) hair walking along the streets. His strides slowed; every step he took was heavy. Until they eventually came to a stop; his chest puffed in and out after wandering aimlessly along the bustling streets of Tokyo. He exhausted himself to the point that he was unaware he was in front of the school’s gates. He didn’t even notice the gates were wide open, and a familiar figure approached them along the adjacent side. His hands were on his knees, hunched over where a shadow loomed over him. Then he hears a voice so angelic and heavenly that he believes he was hallucinating at first.

“Satoru? Satoru, are you okay?”

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, seeing you are bundled up well. You wear a slightly troubled face while holding an umbrella over his head.

“What brings you here, Satoru? I thought you had stayed home today since it was forecasted to snow.”

Once pointed out, Satoru noticed white specks falling in front of him. He stands up at full length, making you adjust your umbrella's height on him. Though his signature grin is on his glossy lips, internally, he is screaming and celebrating that his prayers have been answered. After hours of aimlessly trying to find you throughout the city, you were finally in front of him in the most ironic place. He chuckles at your gesture before gingerly taking your umbrella and hovering it above you two.

“I was going to ask you the same thing, (Y/N).” He gives a warm smile at you.

“The school left the campus and dormitories open so students could grab their things to take home. I forgot some stuff at my dorm, so I came today to get them. Would you like to accompany me, Satoru?” You said, adjusting your empty canvas tote bag on your shoulders.

With no hesitation or thinking, Satoru immediately said yes. He smiled as he walked the two of you to your dorm. But you couldn’t help but glance down at the big shopping bag he was holding. ‘It must be a Christmas present for his girlfriend… she is so lucky.’ you thought. Not a single peep came out of you two throughout the trip to your dorm, even with no words, tension building up in the air surrounding you. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move. It was childish to continue like this. There was no bad blood between the two of you at all. But you were persistent in embarrassing yourself in front of Satoru. Before all this, you were never afraid to have banter or say the most off-the-record stuff with Satoru. But it was different when it was unrequited thoughts and feelings, as you didn’t want to further humiliate your pathetic self. Once you got to your dorm, you said you wouldn’t take long. Closing your door, Satoru leans against the back of it. He watches silently as you diligently gather your needed items and place them inside your bag. Each item is packed into your bag, and he has less time to make his move. He knows he needs to say something because he sought after you for a reason.

Likewise, you were in the same boat. You can feel the tension blanket your body as you retrieve your things. Avoid direct eye contact with Satoru for fear of breaking your facade and folding. While trying to focus on anything that wasn’t him, your eyes kept glancing at the massive bag beside Satoru’s feet. It was a decently sized bag spaced out from the items it contained. By the looks of it, you assumed Satoru went out splurging on his latest girlfriend for Christmas.

‘Wish that was me receiving that bag. . .’ You thought to yourself as you arranged the items to avoid ruining your bag.

Satoru snapped out of his trance when the sound of your shuffling stopped. Your head slightly hung low as you stared at the bag with flat palms. You sighed with your head shaking side to side. You decided to break the silence to ease the tense air in your room.

“I didn’t know you did last-minute shopping, Satoru. Guessing how full that bag is, it’s your Christmas present to your girlfriend. You love spoiling your girlfriends with endless money to burn. Keep doing that, and you’ll go broke, dude. . . Lucky her. . .” You slipped the last part out under your breath. Your smile dropped briefly before returning, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru.

However, you remembered Satoru had excellent hearing. He could pick out of the faintest of whispers. When you realize that, you panicked and faced him. From how his brows were raised, you knew he definitely heard it. Your brain scrambled to find a way to cover the creaks in your walls from your slip-up, causing you to speak up. What you didn’t expect was Satoru doing the same.

“Sorry, Satoru, I didn’t mean that–”

“(Y/N), I need to–”

After catching each other’s words, you both abruptly stop to give space for the other to talk. Satoru gestures for you to go first. Gentleman as every. Feeling the anxiety and embarrassment weighing on you, you didn’t dare to look at him when talking, so your head focused back on your bag.

“Look, Satoru. . . I know how immature this is, but I want to apologize for the sudden change in my behavior and distance over the last few weeks. It was uncalled for, and you deserved a proper answer.–”

“No.”

“It’s because– huh?”

Prompting you to look up at Satoru, to which he had an unreadable expression. His glasses were blocking the creases of his eyes to indicate any of his emotions. A chill of uneasiness ran up your spine when you saw the serious look on Satoru’s face. He walks over to you with his hands in his pockets as he stares down, his expression unchanged.

“No, I need you to hear me out.”

Satoru cut off any chance for you to speak because he and you would be done if you did. He knew if he didn’t find you before Christmas Eve, what you two had would cease to exist. Once winter break ends and school resumes, he and you would be in two separate worlds. Ultimately becoming strangers who once knew each other. The thought of it made him nauseous and clammy to the core. You were the sun that shined in his endless cerulean sky. The moon and stars that gave illuminated his night sky. You gave light to the vast numbness he’d endured for all he could remember. You were the light he had been longing for years. And he was going to lose it all because he was a coward who didn’t have the balls to admit it and used dating as a coping mechanism to fill the hole in his heart. So it’s now or never for him to be vulnerable to you because he feared this was his last chance.

“I know you didn’t mean to distance yourself from me at all. I know you still cared about me and didn’t want to push me away for fear of humiliating yourself. Being me, I didn’t notice at first that you were hurting until you uprooted yourself from my life, and it’s been god-awful without you. . . I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

The genuine sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. You noticed that. It came straight out of Satoru Gojo, not from the egotistical, pompous, popular senior, but from your best friend. So you decided to up your ears to what he has to say. When you gave him your undivided attention, Satoru knew this was it, so he spilled it out.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t really appreciated your presence. I took you for granted because I thought you would always be with me, with no chance of leaving me. That bit me in the ass once you slowly stopped being with me. But I know there’s more: the mixed signals I gave off, the playboy attitude, and the lack of self-awareness I had for myself. It was a way for me to not confront the crimpling loneliness and numbness I’ve been having. I indulge in my fangirls and causal relationships, hoping it would fix it. But it was just a temporary solution to a long-term problem. I saw the girls as a means to get my mind away from it, and the girls get to be with the famous Satoru Gojo. . . I’ve done this song and dance for so long that it was a part of my routine. . .”

“Oh, Toru. . .”

God, he missed that nickname you gave him. The way it rolls off your tongue in any tone, it’s seared into his memory and mind. When people, especially his ‘girlfriends,’ try to use that same nickname on him, it fills him with unexplainable rage. That name was for you to use on him, not them. They didn’t have a place in his heart like you do, so he always corrected them to minimize the usage of that nickname. But when you said it, it was soft and tender like the snow falling outside. He knew he was getting to you, and it was working. He relaxes as he closes his eyes, only to open them when your hand gently holds his cheek. Thumb swiping it in a comforting manner. You wanted to say something so Satoru didn’t have to do all the work. For him to admit, he took down all his walls so you could see all of him. To you, it was a privilege and honor to see such vulnerability coming from an individual who was charismatic and oozing with unspeakable rizz. So you continue to listen patiently to see what point your famous friend is making.

“But you disrupted the routine, (Y/N). . . When you came, it felt like I didn’t have to do that anymore. You made me feel free and alive. Allowing me to be my authentic self around our group or just the two of us. But most of all, you made me savor each moment I shared with Suguru, Shoko, and you. I always cherished what I had with them. I cherish what I have had with you over the time I’ve known you. I always did. Maybe that’s why the moon and stars shine brighter when I tell them about you. They know how brightly you shine in the endless sea of regular people. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit you already had my heart. . . And in doing so, I hurt you in ways I couldn’t have imagined. . . I am so sorry I had to make you wait so long, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t realized your tears were cascading down the curves of your cheeks. Was this really happening? Did Satoru just confess to you? You think this is all too good to be true, a scenario you conjured up to cope with hopeless romantic delusions. But his voice was full of raw fondness. His face had this lovesick expression, and his eyes bore sheer devotion as his tears were caught in his eyelashes. He really did feel the same way after all. He would’ve resumed pouring his heart and soul out if you hadn’t firmly pulled him into a tight hug.

Though caught off guard by the gesture, he warmly welcomed it as he returned the action. Tears wet his shirt as you clung to his chest. Satoru lightly kissed your head before cradling it like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. The once-thick tension disappeared, and a comforting warmth blanketed the two of you in its place. You two dared not to pull away, taking in the moment that has caused mental gymnastics for both of you. Eventually, someone had to pull away, and it would be you. You smiled so warmly at him with love-filled eyes. You wipe away Satoru’s tears that continue to fall and hit his glasses.

“. . . I love you too, Satoru. I should also apologize because I didn’t communicate my feelings to you. I was scared of how you would react to my confession. I didn’t want to lose what we had, nor did I want to pressure you into saying yes to spare me the heartache. I also didn’t know how to act when I was with you, and I feared I would look stupid. I shouldn’t have thought the only solution was to cut myself out of your life. Though these are my explanations, they don’t justify my excuses. Please forgive me, Satoru.”

“All is forgiven, Sweetheart. Will you forgive me, too?”

“Of course, Satoru. . .”

Satoru starts to dip his head as you both smile at each other. You were going to let it happen, but a thought came across your mind as you softly stopped Satoru’s head. With a pout, Satoru would ask what was wrong before he was faced with a panicked look.

“Satoru! What about your girlfriend?!”

Satoru blankly stares at you before he starts to chuckle quietly. You were truly a kind person.

“Satoru! I’m being serious! Stop laughing!”

“Oh my dear, (Y/N). You truly have a kind and caring heart. I promise you I’m not cheating on her, nor are you homewrecking. She texted me she found someone else and ghosted me right after. I’m all yours, baby~.”

Satoru waves his hand as he pulls out his phone to show you the proof, as you have always been skeptical of his words. Once you visibly relax, your gaze returns to the big shopping bag Satoru carried around. He already knew what you were going to ask and had an answer.

“Why don’t you take a look and open it yourself, (Y/N)? You did say the bag was my Christmas present for my girlfriend~.”

Your face heats up as Satoru retrieves your Christmas present. He holds it out, and you slowly take it from him. His grin becomes a soft smile at the reaction to the gifts in the bag. You squealed at the massively cute plushie as you gave it a happy squeeze. You gasped and were awed when you pulled out the jacket/sweater, gleefully trying it on.

“Give me a twirl, Love.” On command, you spin yourself so he can see how it captures your figure. Anything does look good on you in his eyes.

“I thought this was sold out, Toru! How did you get your hands on this?!”

“I have my ways. Now open your last gift.”

You go to open your last gift, and how your mouth was opened reassured Satoru that he was the best gift giver in the world. Fingers delicately hold up (favorite jewelry), observing the glow and reflection it gave off. It was gorgeous and unique as it had (favorite gemstone) being the main centerpiece. Only the best for you.

“Satoru, you still remember this?”

“Of course I did!”

“But that was over three months ago. . .”

“I know, (Y/N). But the way your eyes lingered on it when we went to the mall, I always noted it. Plus, I thought it suited you the best, so I had to buy it.”

“Oh, how sweet of you, Satoru. Thank you for the Christmas present. I really love them.”

After returning your gifts to their bag, you walked to your dresser to fish something out. Satoru watches curiously as you pull out a crumpled paper bag. Satoru eyes widened as you handed the bag to him.

“ While they are Christmas gifts, they are technically your birthday gifts. I would’ve given them on your birthday but chickened out when I found out you had a girlfriend. So Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Satoru. They may not be as good as your gifts, but it’s something, right?”

You offer a smile as Satoru opens his gifts. You giggled at his extravagant reactions, praising and adoring his Agumon bracelet that he instantly wore on his wrist proudly. He pulls out the other gift and is shocked to see the drawings of him. The frame fits in his hands as he analyzes each sketch of himself. The detail and precision that went into each told Satoru you took the time and energy to draw him. But it also made him giddy as he looked extremely handsome and good-looking in each of the drawings. It caused him to blush when he realized this was how you see him through your eyes. As he was looking at your drawing page, he noticed the frame’s stand was attached to its sides.

Turning it around, he saw another drawing on the other side. But this sketch made Satoru’s heart beat out of his chest. The page contains only one illustration of two people walking with smiles. However, those two were him and you walking, smiling at each other, and holding each other’s hands. Satoru’s silence did concern you for a bit, but it was shattered when Satoru went in steadfastly to seal the gap between your lips. Your initial shock wore off before you let him reciprocate his kiss. You can feel his soft and smooth lips; he needs to give you his lip care routine. After parting, Satoru leans his head against yours, his arms not unraveling from you.

“No, they are wonderful gifts. Thank you, (Y/N). I love them. . . and I love you.”

“I love you too, Satoru~.”

Basking in each other’s warmth, eliminating the cold and gloomy atmosphere from outside. As much as you wanted to stay together a little longer, the campus would close soon for the rest of the break, and you must leave quickly. You didn’t want to leave Satoru yet, so you tried to extend it as much as possible.

“Hey, Satoru? Can you walk me home? The forecast said the snow will pick up tonight, and I don’t want to go home alone.”

Satoru gives his classic grin before kissing your forehead sweetly.

“I would love to, Sweetheart. I’ll carry your bags while you can hold the umbrella.”

The snow continues to softly fall as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of Tokyo. Although the white puff clouds appeared every time someone spoke and the tips of Satoru’s face were bright red, Satoru never paid attention to the frigid temperatures. Even in this cold white winter, he can see that your bright aura always gave a comforting warmth he yearned for. Making you stand out amongst the sea of passersby, the bright neon lights of Tokyo, and the white dots that continue to cover the city.

The light that shines and gives light to his dull Cerulean sky. Satoru’s world wasn’t grey anymore as he had finally found his light, you.

Bonus:

—A few days later—

“You think they made up, Sugs?”

“Honestly, I hope they do. If not, we’re fucked, Shoko.”

It had been a few days since Shoko and Suguru had last heard from you and Satoru. Neither has responded to your texts as often as usual, making the two nervous. Then Suguru proposed a hangout before New Year's Eve. He didn’t add it in the group chat because he was unaware of the situation. Opting to ask you two individually instead. Even though you two responded, he was unsure if the storm between you two passed over or was still raging on.

However, his initial worries would be meaningless soon enough. As Shoko and Suguru were taking a drag at the meet-up spot, they spotted two figures approaching them. Squinting their eyes to get a better look, they recognized that it was you and Satoru. Their eyes traveled down a bit to see both your hands intertwine. The love that came from Satoru’s smile and your eyes told them everything.

Though the two smiled and high-fived each other, Suguru grinned ear to ear, which earned a frustrated sigh from Shoko. She then reaches into her coat to fish out her wallet.

“I guess I win, Shoko. Hand over that $25 Visa gift card, please?”

499 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 2 years

Text

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground. With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe.

After some arguing, you face each other. You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom.

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily. With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed.

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence. Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent. It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.

“My life is a joke,” you say.

“Yeah,” Seungmin says. “Your life is a joke. Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers. You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare.

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks.

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm. It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove. “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”

This fucking guy.

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met. A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group. You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way. You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy. Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle. You clashed from your first introduction.

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point.

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin. This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours.

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered. You have already spent three days at each other’s throats. Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again.

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket. With Seungmin, it was on sight.

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating.

Then Minho returned. He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you. You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail. There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you. The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho.

Minho dangled the keys in your face.

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys. That kitty has claws, mean ones. Not even you mess with Lee Minho.

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed. You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt. All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep.

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Wait, you’re a freak, right? Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow. You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks. “What the hell. Why? What is it?”

“You sound curious.”

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve. You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply. The tips of his ears are faintly red.

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.” He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion. “Keep it to yourself. Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor. But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation.

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks. “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer. You know, a strap-on for wearing out? A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?” You list everything with the same pleasant smile. “Big one too.”

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed.

“Right now?” he says. His eyes drift down to your jeans. “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it.

“You’re lying,” he says. He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs. It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him. He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly. “Whoa, wait, seriously?”

“Dude!” You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy. “What the hell, man. You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way! I can still feel it!”

“You can?” He pokes it.

“Yes.” You swat him away. “Depending on position.”

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head. “Wow. You have a high opinion of yourself. Thought you were gonna get lucky?”

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own.

“Not that well,” he says. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says. “I should have known.” He sighs as if disappointed in you.

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say.

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.”

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?” You sigh. “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.” He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard.

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he replies, warily. “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!” He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say. “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension. And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.”

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection. “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us. There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?”

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest. It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath. His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says. “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say.

“Shut up.” He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around. “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back. You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance. “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright. “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.”

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.”

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts. Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket. Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff.

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back. You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm.

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back.

“I’m not doing anything. Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you. Tongue out, he dives at your head. He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back.

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast. “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because you suck,” he says.

He manages to get his glasses back. He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face.

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other. Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips. Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands. He strains for one pitiful push. His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall.

You lift an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again. All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy. Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily. He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants. You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric. When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too. He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you.

“What the hell was that?” he asks.

You let go of his hips immediately.

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again. You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you.

“Can you feel that?” he asks. He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas.

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first. “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly. This… is… one of them.”

“Wow,” he says. He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins. “So… you can feel when I do this?” He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours.

“Ohmyff—” You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you. “Dude.”

“Just checking,” he says. He grabs the headboard and pushes again. The thud is a soft one.

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up. You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back. His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard. His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours. He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses. Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room. He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly.

“Moan or yell or something. Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly. “Since that mouth never stops.”

“Why don’t you moan?”

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.” To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion. The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps.

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you. That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it. It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder. You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove. His eyes go to your arm.

“Well?” you say.

He looks at you. It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath.

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat. You are certain only you can hear it. He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot. Hot as fucking hell. Oh god. You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin. Absolutely not.

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it. He cants his hips and falls back again. He moans one more time.

Ah, you think. Fuck.

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion.

You clear your throat. Seungmin is still staring at you. You stare back, then your gaze drifts. The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up. You gulp.

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation. His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them. He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you.

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?” He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.”

“You know what I mean, smartass.”

“If anything yours is more real,” he says. “Your dick is more deliberate than mine. I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.”

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue. You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried.

“So,” is all you say, at a loss.

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright. You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans. You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously. He even snarls.

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer. He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button. He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down.

You let go of his hand, surprised. He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants.

He balks at it.

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you.

Fuck. It is literally right by his face. It looks obscene. Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin.

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice. “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline. He even cackles a little. “Action,” he repeats. “Not ‘making love?’” His tone is drole.

“Not really the making love type,” you say.

“Wow,” he says. His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face. He pushes his glasses up his nose. He glances up at you with that evil smile. “Same,” he says.

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it.

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it. Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal.

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound. He licks his lips.

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully. “Tastes funny. Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak. “In a way.”

“Got it.”

Is this even turning him on? His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm. He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it.

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit. He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you.

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops. He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth.

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs. You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural. “Yes.”

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says. “I thought it would be more complicated. I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?”

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “Yeah.” What the fuck else are you supposed to say?

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it. He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself.

“Oh,” he says. He looks at his fingertips. “I see.”

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth.

“Right,” you say. “Got it.”

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband. You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest.

“Slippers first,” he says.

He is just being difficult. You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper. You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot. He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart. You shake your head but remove that one too. Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest. His glasses slip a little again. His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them.

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form.

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband.

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open.

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick. “No way. No way.”

Kim Seungmin. Blazer-and-tie good boy. Pristine socialite. Arrogant snob. High society darling. Spoiled brat. Good boy. Good boy. Good boy.

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick.

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him.

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb. It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake.

“S-surprised?” he asks.

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit.

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you. That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down.

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected. He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down. You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him.

“Louder,” you say. “Remember?”

“Oh, right.” He drops his hand. “Your stupid plan. Okay. Continue.” He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows.

He is so annoying. He really does have a pretty dick, though. Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him. He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully.

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you. He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching. It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage.

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips. You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss. It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours. He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity. The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too.

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth.

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder. He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence. Eventually he lifts his head and exhales. He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins.

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.”

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual. You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks. It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed. You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor.

You look over Seungmin who was watching too. When you make eye contact, you both start laughing. It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one. Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own. He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open. It smashes into the wall, startling both of you.

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room. He slams the door shut behind him.

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys.

“Told you,” you say.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face. It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind.

Your wrist is still cuffed. He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard. You tug on it then look at him.

“Kim Seungmin,” you say.

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks. “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once. It goes without saying you both won this round.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader #seungmin x reader

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ickie · 2 months

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♡ … THE SECRET OF US \ CHAPTER 2 …

pairing ... lando norris x leclerc!reader summary ... summer of '22 and it seems that you & lando get along a little ... too well. warnings ... alcohol consumption, maybe slight allusions to cheating ... i do think that's it friends :) notes ... so sorry for the delay ! just because of that, next chapter is going to be posted on sunday & it'll continue with this summer '22 storyline so we get a little more background and your relationship with lando... feedback is always appreciated & fill out this form to be added to my taglist ! much love <3 ... masterlist ... last chapter ... next chapter ...

SUMMER BREAK, 2022.

your head knocked against the car window, the bumps on the road making any hope of a nap impossible before the car finally stopped at the dock. as you muttered a few curse words under your breath, your attention was drawn to elliotte, one of your childhood friends, who was in a heated conversation in french with another member of your group.

"is everything okay?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as the conversation abruptly ceased.

"yes! i was just trying to explain the importance of sunscreen, but apparently, i know nothing, so everyone ignore me!" elliotte declared dramatically, prompting a quiet giggle from you.

"you're probably the smartest one here, so please, continue…" you encouraged her with a smile.

….

soon enough, your small group arrived at the dock, everyone unloading their bags as the spanish sun began making sweat bead along your hairline. with your tote bag slung over your shoulder, elliotte stopped you before you could move any further.

"we’re going to have a few more people on the yacht with us," she said. "you remember luisa? well, she's bringing her boyfriend, who i think you know—" a groan escaped your lips, and your face scrunched in distaste at the thought of seeing one of your brother’s coworkers.

"so you do know him! and he’s bringing one of his friends too, i believe. just play nice!" elliotte squeezed your hand before dragging you along, her expression mirroring your displeasure.

introductions are always awkward, especially when everyone knows of each other. you were itching to get into the water and just relax.

"hi, little leclerc," lando said with a grin, leaning in for a side hug. "long time no see, eh? too good for the paddock this year?" his teasing tone made you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest.

"just got sick of watching men cry over their cars not going fast enough. plus, i don't think i can handle watching mclaren mess up daniel any more than you guys already have." you replied bluntly, hoping he wouldn’t push the conversation further.

lando opened his mouth, but elliotte cut him off. "no f1 talk, please!" she groaned, rolling her eyes before leaning on you. "this one," she pointed at you, "is on a strict pleasure holiday, and no one can take that away from her!"

some of your friends cheered, clearly happy to see you letting loose. you had to admit, it was refreshing to be on a holiday without any responsibilities—no family concerns, no brand posts to manage. it was truly a chance to unwind.

as the boat began to move away from the coastline, you walked to the edge, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. the salty air filled your nostrils, and a content smile spread across your lips. you must have been there longer than you realized because a hand on your shoulder startled you out of your trance.

"i’m sorry!" the curly-haired brit said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "you had just been standing here for a while, so i wanted to make sure you were okay…" he smiled, one hand scratching the back of his neck.

"i’m fine," you replied, turning to face him and relaxing against the rails. "i just… i’ve always liked the ocean." it was a simple response, your gaze drifting back to the blue water.

"so much so that it, what, hypnotizes you?" his teasing remark made you shake your head and roll your eyes.

"it reminds me of maman. she would always take me to the beach during the summer when papa had the boys for karting." you smiled, reminiscing about those fond memories.

"we would get ice cream, i’d always get sunburned no matter how much sunscreen i used, and maman would fuss about how she’d have to fix my hair the next day because it would get tangled from the salt." you glanced at lando, who was listening with an amused grin.

"sounds like you two always had a great time together, yeah?" he asked.

you nodded, hands stuffed into the pockets of your shorts. a comfortable silence fell between you until max, one of lando’s friends, came over to steal him away for something about a bet. you took this chance to change into your swimsuit. the boat hadn’t reached its intended stopping point yet, but a nap in the sun sounded perfect.

with sunscreen applied and your airpods securely in place (with an audiobook playing— it’s not summer without you by jenny han, translated into french), you tried to let sleep pull you under. when it didn’t happen, you simply rested with your eyes closed, enjoying the gentle sway of the boat.

…

lunch/dinner passed uneventfully, everyone quietly enjoying the sandwiches that elliotte and luisa had prepared while you attempted to nap. finishing your drink, a vodka paloma—since tequila apparently made elliotte and luisa crazy—you stood up and disposed of your trash. “i’m going to go swim,” you announced. a few people said they’d join you shortly, and you felt a rush of excitement at the thought of diving into the water.

you shed your oversized t-shirt and eagerly jumped into the warm water, staying submerged for a few moments before surfacing at the sound of another splash. lando surfaced beside you, his curls flattened by the water. you laughed as he coughed.

“i don’t know how you made that look so easy,” he grumbled, gripping the ladder as you tread water.

“it is easy!” you laughed, playfully splashing him. a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“oh, it’s on.” lando's competitive side emerged as he splashed you back, just as you dipped underwater.

as you tried to swim away, he grabbed your ankle, pulling you closer. you gasped for air, splashing him again in hopes he’d let go, but he just pulled you closer, his hands moving to your waist. with a wide grin, he pushed you back underwater.

you resurfaced sputtering, eyes wide as you looked at him. “you better sleep with one eye open tonight,” you teased, swimming away slowly. “i’m going to get you back when you least expect it.”

he nodded, pretending not to believe you, his eyes tracking you as you dipped back underwater. when you resurfaced, elliotte was halfway down the ladder. “i know you just got in, but we were going to play a game up top. you two want to join?”

you eagerly swam back to the ladder, and lando agreed to join as well. the game was charades, and you were teamed up with elliotte and luisa, while lando, max f., and another friend formed the opposing team.

the game proved challenging. elliotte struggled to portray water, while lando’s team cheated by making sounds to convey their words and phrases. the game ended when elliotte and max started bickering, neither willing to concede.

“at least i’m not a cheater!” elliotte pointed at max while you pulled her inside, laughing so hard your cheeks hurt.

“i’m so glad you’re having fun, mon doudou,” she said, leaning her head on your shoulder as you pulled her into a side hug.

“thank you for this. for pulling me away from monaco and life in general. you’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for,” you hummed before elliotte stood up, her face scrunching.

“i hate when we get sentimental.”

“yeah, let’s never do that again. that was weird.”

you started making a simple rum and coke when lando entered the kitchenette, eyeing your drink. “if you even dare, i will actually kill you,” elliotte warned, taking a sip to safeguard her drink.

you stifled a laugh, watching her sway out of the kitchenette towards the deck. lando’s demeanor had shifted from his earlier rambunctiousness.

“i think it’s my turn to ask, are you okay?” you ventured. lando looked like a sad puppy, tugging at your slightly intoxicated self.

“oh, i’m good. luisa and i got into an argument, is all,” he said, giving a tight-lipped smile, clearly more affected than he let on.

you hummed in response, putting away the alcohol and opting for water. “i’m no expert in relationships, but if you need a shoulder to cry on, i’m here,” you offered, taking a long drink from your glass to stop yourself from saying more.

“thanks, it means a lot,” he said, smiling fully this time as he moved you aside to get some water. you both drank in comfortable silence.

“and, uh, if you need a break from the boat, i know a little cove not too far away. charlie showed it to me last summer,” you suggested.

“i would love that, actually. i know luisa is planning to go to bed soon, so let me check on her and then we can go?”

“sure! just come find me when you’re ready.” you agreed.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 smut #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #f1 fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 10 months

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Blood Ties Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Medical blood draw, allusions to abortion, poorly written smut

A/N: Even after figuring out where I wanted to go with it, this chapter feels weak to me. I’m sorry.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You looked over Daryl’s shoulder and squinted at the light before the man moved, wrapping a curiously gentle hand around your bicep to urge you into the building.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered quietly.

The lobby was eerily quiet, no immediate answer to Rick’s calls. You looked around for a moment and then tracked Daryl while he kept a keen eye out for walkers. A small hand squeezed your shoulder, startling you. When you turned, Carol was already pulling you closer to herself and her daughter. They were keeping the women and children in the middle, protecting them.

You wanted to balk at the idea. You could very well handle yourself if they would give you a weapon but apparently that was still out of the question.

There was the echo of a gun cocking, all eyes falling on the lone man at the end of the corridor, a rifle in his hands. “Anybody infected?” He asked, warily eyeing each member of the group.

“One of our group was.” Rick answered solemnly. You could sense the collective shift in the atmosphere, now heavy with grief. “He didn’t make it.”

The stranger didn't hesitate. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“A chance.” Rick countered immediately.

“That’s asking an awful lot these days.”

“I know.”

There was a moment of contemplation, the gentleman once again scanning over each and every individual. “You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission.”

Rick’s relief was evident in the tone of his reply. “We can do that.”

Weapons were lowered, the stranger nodding toward the doors. “You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.”

There was a sudden burst of movement, bags and people shuffling about. Your own bag was pushed into your hands, Daryl’s eyes meeting yours for a moment before he jerked his chin to indicate you should follow the others into a rather large elevator. It was a squeeze but everyone managed to fit. Even if it did mean you were pressed tightly against the redneck.

“VI, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here.”

There were beeps and rattles as the elevator closed. Introductions were being made, information shared but you could only focus on the heat radiating from the man nearly pressed flush against your back. With a careful step, you shifted closer to Carol.

Everyone filed out once the doors opened but remained behind Dr. Jenner, listening to him explain the facility and what had been happening within the government sectors since the turn. Your thoughts, however, were running circles around the blood test he would be doing. Maybe you could manage to be the last draw and ask him in private to run the extra test if it wasn’t already on his agenda to do so. You could only assume that his priority was to ensure no one was infected.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up to find Daryl watching you with a narrowed, cautious gaze.

“Keep up.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You mock saluted, hurrying by him. He muttered something as you passed that you figured was probably nothing you cared to hear.

Straight to business, Jenner began drawing blood samples. Chewing on your lip, you began to creep back toward the wall, ensuring everyone was in front of you until—

“The hell ya doin’?” Daryl drawled right beside your ear. You hadn’t realized he was still behind you. Snatching your arm from his grasp, you glared up at him.

“Just getting in line.” You sneered, side-stepping around him just as Jenner announced he was ready for the next person. Only you and Daryl remained. For the briefest moment, you pondered if his thoughts were aligning with your own, his blue eyes locked on you even as his blood was pulled into the tube.

You glanced around to find everyone else chattering about the facility and the things they had been informed of, not really concerned with the testing going on.

Except Rick and Daryl.

Fuck.

You plopped down on the chair and presented your arm, wracking your brain for a way of asking for him to run a pregnancy test without alerting Rick to your plight. As you glanced up, you found the man in question saying something to Daryl but the redneck wasn’t listening, his eyes burning into your own. You felt your stomach churn, an uncomfortable tingling sensation prickling at your hands and feet. Your ears began to ring just as Dr. Jenner announced he was done. With a minute nod, you stood, albeit slowly but it wasn’t enough. The world tilted, littered with black dots. The wavering image of the floor was coming up to meet you.

“None of us have eaten in days. She’s new so she could have gone longer than us without.”

Consciousness was prodding at the edges of your mind, sounds and voices coming back all at once. As you peeled your eyes open, you waited for the pain from hitting the floor but it never came. In fact, you weren’t on the floor at all. No one was looking down at you.

“There she is.” Jacqui smiled, patting your hand that was carefully held between her own. You offered the smallest of smiles back, your eyes flickering over to where your knees dangled off of something.

A hand.

You turned your head to find none other than Daryl looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“Um, thanks.” You mumbled, pressing your hand to your stomach. You still felt nauseous but the dizziness was ebbing away. “You can put me down now.”

“I gotcha.” He replied. His voice was low, almost soft.

“No, really. I’m good.” You looked around, now extremely uncomfortable with all the concerned stares and hushed voices. “Please.” You added, just low enough for only him to hear. Daryl didn’t say anything but carefully lowered your feet to the floor, his arm remaining across the small of your back while you gathered your bearings. “Thank you.”

He merely hummed. While he was no longer touching you, you couldn’t help but notice that his hand was still hovering.

“I think some food would be the next logical course of action.” Dr. Jenner gave a tight smile and led the way from the room.

You followed on unsteady legs, but Daryl stayed close. You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

You decided to forego the table, standing at the small counter in the kitchen area to pick at your pasta dish while everyone laughed and celebrated at the table. Even Daryl seemed to be in good spirits, choosing Glenn as the subject of his pestering. Everyone seemed so carefree in that moment, your thoughts wandered to your own family. How your father would have looked smiling brightly at that table and enjoying a good, hot meal in relative safety.

You brushed away the tear that had escaped and began to poke at your food with your fork. Feeling eyes on you, a glance showed Daryl watching you with a bottle just in front of his lips. Heat began to burn in your cheeks and you looked away, forcing yourself to take a bite that you didn’t even really want, hungry as you were. When you dared to look again, he was smiling and partaking in the toasts to Jenner.

“Here’s to you, doc. Booyah!” He shouted before taking a generous swig straight from the bottle. Glasses clinked and similar praises were given. You raised your water glass when the quiet doctor’s eyes drifted over to you.

You could only hope that from where you stood, no one noticed you weren’t drinking. You could always blame it on the nausea but that might only fuel more suspicion. Lucky for you, Shane decided to steer the mood into the opposite direction and all celebrations died down quickly.

The meal was finished in relative silence. Even Daryl was leaned back against the counter with the bottle still in his hand, his expression grim.

Jenner showed everyone to the rest of the living area. Some rooms had beds while others had couches. There were two words, though, that seemed to halt everyone in their tracks: hot water. It was almost comical to watch the bodies scatter but you remained still, letting them go until only you remained in the hall. You could shower later. You needed a moment alone with the doctor.

You found him at one of the control panels, a centrifuge with tubes of blood sitting inside. You were wringing your hands as you approached, steps so quiet that he didn’t seem to notice you. Now that you had the opportunity to speak with him, you were petrified. He could say one word that would change your life forever.

“Hi, Dr. Jenner.”

The man was obviously startled, spinning in the chair to regard you with wide eyes. “Oh! Y/N, right?” You nodded, feeling your legs begin to tremble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. A little. I guess.” You stumbled over words, twisting one hand within the other until it hurt. “That’s why—why I’m here, actually.”

“I thought as much.” He sighed, laying down his pen on a notepad with more care than necessary.

You felt your stomach sink. “You—did?” He nodded, expression almost sympathetic. “If you know why I’m here, then that means—” Your knees all but buckled, hands steadying yourself against the console before the doctor stood and offered his chair.

“I take it this wasn’t planned.” You shook your head, gaze as vacant as your mind felt in that moment. Dr. Jenner pulled up another chair and sat down in front of you. “May I ask, the father, is he alive?” You nodded absently. “Will you tell him?”

That gave you pause, cogs and wheels turning in overdrive to make your brain function. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s my opinion,” Jenner tapped on the desk as if just trying to do anything other than focus too hard on the conversation, “these are the end times. It goes without saying that there are no blessings anymore. Nothing real to hope for anymore.” Words were failing you as you struggled to entertain his thoughts. “I can help you.”

You stopped breathing. Was he suggesting—No. No, you couldn’t possibly make a decision of that magnitude without Daryl. Regardless of how it came to be, the baby was just as much his as it was yours. He had to know. “I, um—thank you, Dr. Jenner. Really.” You stood, tripping over the chair when you stepped back. Jenner did rise from his seat to ensure you didn’t fall but promptly returned once you were able to remain upright. “I just—he has to know. I have to tell him.” You blurted another ‘thank you’ as you jogged from the room, miraculously making it to the final empty room before you allowed yourself to break down.

Sliding down the wall, you let one hand rest on your stomach, now certain there was a little life there. The halls were quiet; anyone could hear. Your other hand covered your mouth, stifling your harsh sobs.

You were pregnant.

You were scared.

You wanted your father. His advice, his embrace. You would have even taken his scolding just to have him there. What a cruel twist of fate, losing your family only to be gifted with a new one.

And then there was Daryl. Rude, angry, impulsive. What were you thinking? Well, you weren’t thinking of babies, that was for sure.

You needed to get yourself together, figure out what to do next. Deep breath through the nose, count to five. Out through the mouth, count to five. You continued, pushing yourself to your feet so you could start pacing the room.

You knew you had to tell Daryl. But when? If you waited, anything could happen. You could be injured or you could lose the baby. Fuck, or both. If he didn’t know and found out that way, he’d be furious. You hadn’t experienced the full scope of his anger and truly hoped not to, especially when it came to anything regarding the baby.

You couldn’t wait. You had to tell him.

“Like a bandaid. Just rip it off.” You told yourself when you opened the door and stepped into the hall. Quickly, you realized that you didn’t know what room he was in. “Fuck.”

“Wha’re ya doin’?”

Of course. You looked over your shoulder first, finding him leaning against the wall outside an open door. “Looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

“Can we talk?” The smell of alcohol wafted into your nostrils within several feet of him. Distantly, you wondered if it was too early for your pregnancy to be responsible. His eyes drifted down your body and back up before he flattened against the wall to let you by.

Daryl had chosen one of the rooms with a couch, leaving you instantly feeling guilty for having a bed in your own. You didn’t choose the room, it just happened to be the only one open when you came back from meeting with Jenner. Maybe you could offer it to him to smooth things over after you had talked.

“Look, Daryl—” You spun to find him standing mere inches away, that unreadable expression firmly in place. “First of all, are you drunk?” You rubbed your lips together before pulling the bottom one between your teeth. You weren’t doing this if he was drunk.

“Nah. Take more than wine for that.”

Your eyes flitted over to the bottle of whiskey on the end table. “You mean, like that?” You pointed, raising an eyebrow when he actually turned to look.

“Ain’t had any.” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “Yet. Whaddaya need?”

“Daryl, I went to—well, when I—” The food from earlier began threatening to make a reappearance, worsening as his eyes continued to narrow. “I need to sit down.” The hard look faded and gave way to concern, something you hadn’t seen him openly convey. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his hand on your back, urging you toward the couch. “I’m sorry.” Like a bandaid. Like a bandaid. Your brain chanted at you, even as you doubled over to put your head on your knees.

“Jesus, woman. It ain’t that big’a deal.” His flippant tone made you yearn to smack him upside the head with one of the couch’s cushions until you sat up with something particularly snarky on the tip of your tongue, only to be met with him unbuckling his belt. Your mouth agape, you did little more than blink at him. “Finally,” he drawled, leaning down to cage you against the back of the couch with an arm on either side, “didn’t think ya’d ever shut up.”

You should have stopped him. You knew that. But the moment his mouth was on yours, you were a lost cause. All you could focus on was the warmth beneath your hands. Daryl ran hot, never failing to leave your blood boiling beneath your skin. In a world gone cold with death, it was a relief to feel something so alive.

“Saw ya in the truck.” He all but purred, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your jaw. “Would’a handled it for ya if ya’d asked.” He used his knee to force your legs apart, leaving it pressed into the couch just in front of your center.

“Didn’t—wanna do this again.” You breathed, arching up with your head back to grant him access to the full expanse of your throat.

“Yeah, ya did.” Daryl grinned against your flesh, his warm breath causing you to shiver. “S’a itch ya need scratched, same as me.”

Goddamnit, he was right. At first, it was all about the pleasure. The man excelled at making you feel good. Soon enough, it had gone beyond that. It was a connection with another person. You’d begun to crave being touched, being wanted. You lusted for the rush of making him feel good. You could die at any given moment and had wanted to live while you could.

You needed to tell him about the baby—and you would—but first, you needed this. You could revel in the feel of him without the looming dangers of being vulnerable in the outside world.

Your hand splayed open against his chest, pushing him back enough to enable you to pull your shirt over your head. Your slender fingers began undoing the button of your jeans while his mouth danced across the newly exposed skin. Lifting your hips, you slid down your pants and used your feet to rid yourself of them completely before you desperately pushed his trousers down his legs.

It was the first time you’d seen so much of his bare skin, wondering if he’d finally allow you to touch him without the barrier of clothing. “I want you.” The admission left your mouth in a breathless plea. Daryl kicked his pants away from his feet, never ceasing his onslaught against the swell of your breasts above your bra.

“Yeah?” He teased while a large hand slid across your ribs and around to your back, skilled fingers snapping open the clasp of your bra. You shed the article without care and tossed it. His mouth and hands were on you instantly. Lips and tongue taunted one nipple while he palmed your other breast. The calloused skin over your sensitive peak had you arching into him, breathy moans escaping your parted lips with abandon. “Thought I’s a asshole?”

You whimpered when you felt the light graze of his teeth. “You’re still an asshole.” Knowledgeable fingers slid your panties aside to massage your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “But I still want you to fuck me. Like now.” Pushing him away, you rose to your feet and shed your last article of clothing, nearly groaning when he allowed you to push his underwear down his legs. He was kicking them aside when you pulled up on the bottom of his shirt.

“No!” He barked, batting your hand away. You reeled back, caught off guard in the moment, eyes wide. While his expression was tense, shame and sadness overflowed from that beautiful blue.

“Okay.” You whispered, stepping hesitantly back into his space. He flinched when you placed your hands on his sides, on top of his shirt. There was a story there, a deep wound that he wasn’t going to reveal anytime soon. It wasn’t a subject to be pushed right then. Your mouth hovered in front of his, the wine on his breath tempting you to slowly dip your tongue between his lips. It passed across his own and withdrew, enough to spur him onward.

He kissed you hard, a dance of tongues and teeth. He was stepping backward while you walked him until the backs of his legs hit the couch. He fell onto it almost clumsily but his hands found your hips with ease as you climbed onto his lap.

Your slick coated his cock with a drag of your hips, pulling a moan from him that you eagerly swallowed. “I fucking hate this.” You growled, repeating the action.

“Think your pussy says somethin’ diff’rent.” He nipped at your bottom lip, his large hands roaming your torso, up up up to squeeze your breasts. You hissed at the hint of pain, grinding your hips down harder. “Grab a rubber from my bag.”

“Pull out.” You dismissed him quickly. If he objected, he didn’t voice it. What he did do was slide a hand down to your mound to circle your swollen clit with his thumb. “Damn you.” You tugged on his hair, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. Sliding your hips forward while lifting yourself slightly, the tip of him caught your entrance. Embarrassingly aroused, you were able to slide right down until your ass met his thighs. “Fuck, why does that have to feel so good?” The perfect stretch of accommodation had your cunt fluttering around him.

“Cause s’mine, remember?” Daryl growled, pushing his hips up with a satisfied hiss. You did remember. That tight feeling in your chest stirred to life, but you shoved it down, rolling your body over him to allow pleasure to swallow you. You couldn’t think about his words, the deeper meaning that you subconsciously wished they held. You couldn’t think of the baby inside you that he didn’t know about yet.

You shook your head and threw it back, riding him in earnest. Each bounce resulted in a slap of slick skin on skin, his cock hitting every nerve inside of you that had your toes curling within moments. When you looked at him, he was watching you with dark eyes, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet beyond the occasional grunt. His hands had traveled back to your hips to help lift and lower you, successfully spearing you onto him.

Your own hands slid down his clothed chest before you leaned back and braced yourself on his thighs. The new feel of his skin had the pleasure knot twisting hard in your belly.

“Goddamn.” You heard him growl, one hand abandoning your waist to splay open between your breasts. “Slow down, woman.”

But you didn’t. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the good you were feeling. Your chest was growing tighter and tighter until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. With strangled moans and gasps that felt futile, you leaned forward and fisted your hands in his shirt. Your eager bounces melted into a desperate grind against him.

You just wanted to feel good.

“Y/N, stop!”

And you did. You fell forward and all but wailed against his chest, any pleasurable sensation dissipating entirely. Everything came crashing down all at once, leaving you cold and scared and alone, even with Daryl still very much inside of you. Your sobs continued, any thought of moving quickly dismissed.

“I’m—sorry.” You finally managed through the tears, your voice small to even your own ears. Daryl had yet to move and now, you were terrified to, fearing the look he was sure to be sporting. Still, there was only so long you could remain that way. When your sobs quieted to hiccups, you began to pull away from him only for his arm to encircle your back.

Daryl was careful and quiet when he slipped out of you, keeping you pressed against him even as he rose slightly. He caught you beneath your legs to keep you from falling when he twisted to lay you across the couch. You stayed as he had placed you, watching him grab up his pack and head into the bathroom without a word. The shower turned on a moment later.

You waited a moment more and then sat up, testing your legs before starting to gather up your clothing. You had really fucked this up, once again letting carnal desires outweigh any form of logic. How could you even face him after that, let alone tell him you were pregnant?

“Damnit.” You whispered, finishing up getting dressed before you reached for the doorknob. You hesitated, taking a step toward the bathroom before ultimately turning around and leaving the room.

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marvelfanfics1 · 3 months

Note

could you write a fic where Peter or Loki are caregivers and they have littles that no one knows about and they have some relation to the team and are at the tower one day not knowing their caregiver was going to be there the team doesn’t know they’re a little or that Peter or Loki are caregivers? Plz and Thx

Not So Secret Anymore

Pairing: daddy!peter x little!romanoff!reader

Warnings: age regression, reader has social anxiety (just projecting here), sorry for any spelling mistakes!

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You and Peter had been texting each other for a while now, getting close quickly by the fact that you both were in the agere community.

The way you found each other was just because you had messaged him over tumblr, telling him how comforting his blog was for you whenever you were in littlespace and now he was your caregiver over screen.

You haven't met each other yet but face timed a lot, still getting comfortable with each other. Peter never presses you into meeting him, knowing how hard it is for you given your social anxiety, so he'll wait until you feel up to it.

It's funny how you both share something so deep yet never have you told him you're Natasha Romanoff's adopted daughter and Peter never told you he is spider-man for obvious reasons.

It seems the universe had other plans for you both though.

You have just gotten back from Starbucks, getting something for your mom and yourself. Today was a rather anxious day for you because you will be becoming kind of a part of the avengers. You won't be participating on the missions, more stay at the compound to plan said missions and monitor them safely far away, helping over comms.

After the security let you in you instantly bee-lined for your mom's office, knocking on the door before entering, seeing her seated at her desk. She smiles when you enter the room, pushing the stack of papers to the side and waves you over.

You walk over to hand her the cup of hot coffee, chuckling at her groan of relief.

"You're my savior." She hums, taking a sip and notices you tapping your finger repeatedly against your own cup of cocoa. "You nervous?"

"Is it so obvious?" You ask and she mocks your tapping a bit more aggressively and you shake your head laughing. "Yeah, ok, you got me. I'm just scared to mess up..."

"I get it, really. But making mistakes is normal, it makes you do better for the next time. Just go with your gut feeling and you'll see what happens. Besides the others have a lot of experience and know when to listen to instructions." She assures you, getting up from her seat to stand right in front of you, placing her free hand on your shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. "You'll do amazing, I just know it."

"Thank you, mom." You smile at her.

"Alright, then let's go. It's time to make official to the others." She says making her way towards the door, waiting for you to follow.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you follow after her, walking out of her office and towards the meeting room where everyone else was already waiting for you both.

As you stand before the door you hesitate, taking a few deep breaths. You just couldn't help being nervous, standing in front of people even if most of them basically watched you grow up by Natasha's care was still scarring you.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Natasha asks, making sure you really want to do this.

Taking a deep breath you nod with a small smile, your grip tightening a little on your cup as the door slides open.

Everyone in the room stops talking and turns to face you both. Your attention instantly fell on the slightly curled brown haired boy who's back was still facing you. When he did turn around your eyes widen, instantly recognizing the boy as your caregiver.

His eyes widen as well, neither of them saying anything. To your relief Natasha starts talking.

"So, most of you already know my daughter..." As she did the introduction for you your eyes never left Peter's, subtly shaking your head for him not to say anything about you both already knowing each other.

He presses his lips to a thin line, his gaze already telling you 'we'll talk about this later'.

After you and your position got discussed everyone left to do their own thing. You speed walk to your room, feeling someone following after you with a few feet distance.

You walk into your room without closing the door, standing in the middle of it. Peter quietly snuck into your room as well, looking out the hallway if anyone saw him before quickly shutting and locking your door.

You spun around as he approaches you. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" He stresses but before you could answer him he pulls you into a hug. This is the first time you ever meet each other in person and a feeling of comfort and happiness rushes through you.

He pulls away, cradling your face in his hands.

"I-I live here. You already know by now who my mom is a-and today is supposed to be my first day working with or for the avengers." You explain, trying to stay big as the urge to slip came the second you saw his face since you normally regress when you're face timing.

"Hell, you could tell me anything and everything about your littlespace but that you're Black Widow's daughter never seemed interesting enough?" He laughs, squeezing your arms a little form excitement.

You shrug, giggling. "And you never found it interesting to tell me you are a part of the team?" Suddenly you realize something.

You know everyone on the team, except for the mysterious newcomer with the red mask you have only seen on tv or the news paper.

"You- You're spiderman?!" You squeal and Peter put a hand over your mouth.

"Shh, don't want anyone knowing I'm in here right, little one?" You practically melt in his hold when he uses the pet name you love so much. He retracts his hand, smiling at you. "You're even cuter in person."

You quickly wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in it. Peter immediately wraps his around you to pull you closer, enjoying to finally have you in his arms after months of texts, calls and promises of cuddles. He only let go when you pull away, grinning at him.

"I would have made our first meet more special just so you know." He declares and you shake your head.

"Is alweady special enough..." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

He frowns at your tears, wiping away the ones that slip. "You don't have to cry. Daddy's here now..."

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

#little!reader #little reader #daddy!peter x little!reader #daddy!peter parker x little!reader #daddy!peter parker #daddy peter parker x little reader #daddy peter x little reader #daddy peter parker

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jsprnt · 7 months

Text

Americano PT. 1 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: part one is here, enjoy! <3

W/C: 3.398

Introduction

"Can you try smiling this time?"

I mumble, holding myself back from rolling my eyes in annoyance. I click my tongue, standing behind Luis, my close friend and cameraman.

"The photo needs to be edited later, for sure. Looks a little off compared to the others." I tell Luis, sending an insult to the man in front of the camera, in English for him to hear.

Even so, Luis and I usually spoke English to each other. It being a language we were both very well versed in.

Jude doesn't even look like he wants to be here, at all. He wouldn't be the only one, that was for sure.

"That's good enough, Bellingham. You can go." I say, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes, the Brummie accent, which was quite new to me, rolling off his tongue.

He raises his hands, smoothing down his shirt, before nodding at Luis with a smile and leaving, not acknowledging me per usual.

"Douchebag." I mumble, solely for myself to hear, but I notice Luis glancing at me.

"What?" I ask, rolling the papers in my hands into a tube out of boredom. The letters curving with the bend of the paper.

"You two are becoming more insufferable every day." He says, going to wipe his camera lens with a microfiber cloth. He treated his cameras like his actual children.

"Not my fault." I reply through clenched teeth, placing a hand on my hip.

"You spilled an entire americano on his brand new, white kit. On his first day here." He says, recalling the embarrassing and aggravating incident.

"It was just an accident!" I retort, unfolding the papers again. "We could have moved on from that after I apologized, but he's decided to be an asshole about it."

So, who was the insufferable one here?

He doesn't say anything else, an uninterested sigh leaving his lips as he distracts himself with the lens.

I saw Luis as the older brother I never had, but he wasn't even taking my side in the situation.

Traitor.

I huff, turning away and looking around the pitch for some entertainment I could turn into content.

My eyes catch the players of the club warming up a couple meters away.

Easy content, my favorite.

"Can I get a camera?" I nudge Luis, his eyes looking up at mine.

"Should I trust you with one?" He says, voice unsure.

"Yes, just give me the smaller one." I usher, holding my hand out in anticipation.

He sighs again, grabbing the requested camera out of his equipment bag.

"Two hands." He mutters.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the camera with the apparently very necessary, two hands.

"I'll take care of your child." I mock, smile tugging at my lips as I see him get annoyed.

"Chill, I've got it." I add, walking away from him.

I was being serious, of course.

Firstly, I wanted these shots to come out perfectly. Secondly, I didn't want to get killed by him for ruining his precious camera. I had enough enemies in this club already. Losing an ally wasn't on my bingo list this season.

I turn the camera on clumsily, pointing it at the training players as I'm standing behind the goal.

How the hell does a small camera weigh this much? It genuinely felt like a bag of rocks weighing down on my arms.

I try to ignore the heaviness of the camera, filming the individual shooting of the players. Moving the camera when necessary.

I stand there for a moment, before I hear Luis come up to me, finally taking the camera out of my hands.

"How the hell do you even hold these cameras? My arm almost went numb." I say, rubbing my tired arm as I look at him.

"I go to the gym, unlike you- and I'm used to it by now." He replies, focusing on filming.

The urge to say something petty back is interrupted as Camavinga suddenly yells at us, our heads snapping up.

« Tu filmes? » are you filming?

He shouts in French, standing in his position.

I used to whine and complain about having to take French back in school, but now I was genuinely grateful for it. It was very useful now, even though I had forgotten a great chunk of it.

"Want us to?" I shout back in English, ignoring the fact that we are shouting back and forth like maniacs. He nods, giving us a thumbs up.

"Yeah, go ahead." I nudge Luis, making him film again. I grab him, making him take a step back for safety, watching Cama receive the ball and shoot, hitting the net perfectly.

I cheer quietly, not wanting to disturb the audio of the footage as he smiles back at me, walking back to stand and watch the other players.

I have been working in the marketing and PR department at Real Madrid for about two years now. The club and players were generally very nice to work with, which made my job so much better.

It wasn't my permanent job. I had just started my third year of my law degree this new school year, combining online classes with this job. Balancing did get difficult at times, but I liked the fact that it kept me busy and motivated.

"Think we're good to go." Luis says, interrupting my thoughts as he points his camera downward.

"You sure?" I ask, whipping my head around.

"Yeah, the sun is about to melt us and the camera. Come on, let's go inside." He says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the pitch

"If you read this sentence, does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?" I ask Lina, her face scrunching up almost instantly.

I was confident enough to write this essay on my own, really, but having a friend keep me company made it way more fun.

"You know I don't like thinking about school. That's in the past for me." She says, her hands coming up in front of her defensively.

"Come on, please? I'll grab a drink for you in a minute." I beg, placing my hands on her shoulders, shaking her back and forth.

"Make it two."

"Deal."

"Okay, show me." She says, shoving a piece of pineapple into her mouth, grabbing my laptop and leaning forward as I repeat the question.

She types away for a second, adding a few words before turning to me after reading the sentence again.

"What are you writing? The damn Magna Carta? What kind of essay is this?" She asks, her eyebrows raised.

"It's about EU law." I sigh, I liked this subject, it was very interesting, but I couldn't wait to be done with this fifteen page essay.

"Explains a lot." She says, shoving another piece of fruit into her mouth. Her fork suddenly appearing in front of my face, a piece of watermelon spiced onto it.

"Thanks." I mutter, biting off the piece of fruit as I hear commotion in the hallways.

"Get me my drinks, please?" She asks, blinking at me. I roll my eyes, push my laptop back and get up.

"Let me guess, a lime soda and an orange juice?"

"You got it." She winks, smiling at me.

I chuckle at her, looking up as I watch the players pile into the cafeteria.

"Lunchtime?" I mouth at Lina, she checks the time on her phone, nodding.

I make my way to the bar, extending my arms up to grab two cups. The feeling of someone's hand on mine catching me off guard as I immediately let go of the cup. Turning around to see Jude right behind me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, sending him a nasty look. Invading my personal space wasn't enough, now he wants to steal my cup?

"Grabbing a cup?" He retorts in a menacing tone, sending a glare back.

I look at him, watching him fill his stolen cup with water, before he looks at me again.

"What?"

"Can you move?" I ask through gritted teeth, motioning to him how he's basically entrapping me in between the counter and himself.

He looks at me for a second as if to provoke me more, finally stepping away when I sigh.

I scoff, rolling my eyes and extend my arm to grab another cup apart from the one I already had.

I give him another nasty look, before filling both cups up and finally leaving his vicinity.

"Don't spill it on anyone." He says, mocking tone clear as day.

I turn again, fighting the urge to throw the precious orange juice into his annoying face before sighing and walking away.

"Hope he chokes on his water." I mutter, finally putting the two cups down on the table, in front of Lina.

"What was that back there? Another one of your tantrums?"

"No, his tantrum after he couldn't grab another cup, other than the one my hand was already on."

She chuckles, and I send her a slight glare, trying to delve back into my essay.

I was maybe halfway through already, having to hand it in next week. I might have procrastinated a little, but one thing about me was that I'll always get it done on time. No matter what.

Though, as I keep reading the word vomit I had written, I feel a wave of annoyance flow through me. I grunt, putting my face flat on the table.

Two more years, then I could finally do my specialization. Two more years.

"What's gotten into her?" I hear, recognizing Luis' voice. Then I hear a shift of the chair across from me as he sits down with- probably a tray of food.

"Essay." I hear Lina mumble, a hum coming from Luis in acknowledgment.

"Are you still not done with that essay? You got it assigned like three weeks ago." He says in a nagging tone.

I groan, remembering that I said that I wouldn't procrastinate this school year. Past me definitely hated the present me, and for sure hated future me even more if I kept this up.

I raise my head, huffing before sitting up straight. I blink a couple times to clear my vision and start to vigorously type again.

"Have you guys seen the final edit for tomorrow's match?" Luis says, covering his full mouth with his hand.

"No, who approved it?" I ask confused, glancing at the both of them and returning my gaze to my screen.

"Valeria did." He says. I look at him for a moment, scrunching my eyebrows together.

"Not surprised." I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Speaking of the devil." Lina says, and my eyes immediately dart around the room to find the devil in question.

She's staring right at our table, making a beeline towards us as the clicks of her heels get louder and louder.

Please don't sit here.

She gives us a painfully fake smile, swinging the iPad in her hand back and forth.

"Have you guys seen the edit I approved?"

Not even a hello?

"No, we haven't." Lina answers, and I stare at Valeria as she unfortunately sits across from me.

She chuckles, practically shoving the IPad in our faces, showing off the edit.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" She chuckles again, and I fight the urge to cover my ears instead of hearing her ear deafening, high-pitched laughter.

"It's alright." I say, giving her a smile. My opinion really didn't matter to her anyway, the least I could do was pretend to like it.

She nods, suddenly looking directly at me, glancing down at my laptop.

"Still working on school? Can't even think of how someone like you can balance it with this busy job." She says, smile pulling at her lips.

I raise my brows, looking at Lina and Luis for confirmation of what I had just heard her say.

They give me the same 'what the fuck' look, and I look back at Valeria, giving her a fake smile.

"I'm sure you couldn't think of it, Valeria." I say, keeping my retort minimal, I had to keep it professional, unlike her.

She looks at me, no words are exchanged further as an almost minute long silence follows.

She finally decides to leave after, sending both Luis and Lina a wave, doing her best to ignore me further.

"She's so weird. Always on my ass about something." I mutter, starting to type again.

"Don't think she's gotten over the fact that you were chosen to travel with the team this season." Lina says, patting my shoulder.

"Well, too bad for her. Like I've got time for her petty conversations."

If I was being honest; I couldn't stand being within five meters of her. And with the amount of meetings we had together, made life a little more difficult than I would've liked.

"Besides, you're coming with me. Why isn't she on your ass as well?" I ask Luis, seeing him shrug.

"Because I'm handsome?" He smirks, starting to flex his arms.

"She's annoying, but she doesn't have a vision problem." I hear Lina say, the both of us bursting out in laughter. Luis looking at us with the most defeated look ever, making us laugh even louder.

"Okay, alright, sorry. You're very handsome, we're just having a little fun. I promise." I say patting his hand, holding back more laughter as I dab away moisture from my eyes.

I finish typing my current chapter after calming down, observing the text, and double saving the document before turning my laptop off. I look around for a second, seeing the players and staff chat and laugh together. The buzzing of my phone redirecting my attention back to our table.

"y/n- your phone." Lina says, grabbing it to hand it to me.

I grab it after thanking her, reading the caller ID.

"Oh, it's my dad." I mutter. "I'll be back in a minute." I say, standing up to walk out of the cafeteria. I look around for a moment, then slide my finger to the right to pick up the call.

"Dad?"

"y/n, how's work going?" He says, the sound of a paper shredder in the background almost sabotaging my understanding of his sentence.

"Good, we're having lunch. How about you?" I reply, leaning against the wall.

"Same old. I called to tell you- I'm not having dinner at home tonight. Ask Carmen to make something you want to eat."

I hold back a sigh, closing my eyes in annoyance. He'd been working a lot since I was little, day and night. It had paid off very well. We had a big house and a beautiful backyard. He owned a law firm, in a nice area of the city and had a lot of clients.

His firm was also the legal representative of the club, being very close with President Pérez and manager Ancelotti themselves and other higher ups.

Of course, I was still thankful, I never had to worry about necessities like food and clothes, they were always provided for me on a silver spoon.

"Alright dad. See you tonight, love you."

I hang up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and walk back into the cafeteria.

"I'm going back to the office." I tell Lina and Luis, them looking up at me in concern.

"Why? Did something happen?" Luis asks, fixing his dark, curly hair.

"No, I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow." I force a smile, trying to cover up the fact that my mood was definitely ruined after that phone call.

I grab my laptop, holding it in between my arm and chest as I start making my way out of the cafeteria.

Not before I'm stopped by someone calling out to me.

"y/n!" I hear, looking up and seeing Vini call me over, Rodrygo and sadly, Jude standing next to him.

How did this communication even work?

I raise a brow, walking over to them.

"What's with that face? Trouble with your boyfriend?" Vini says in Spanish, greeting me with a hug.

"It's nothing like that! It was just my dad." I deny, laughing at him. My smile totally disappearing from my face when I make accidental eye contact with an irritated looking Jude next to Vini.

"Right, how's your dad? He hasn't been around lately." Rodrygo asks, greeting me as well.

"Busy- you know how he is..." I reply, swatting my hand. "I'll try to convince him to visit." I smile.

"Will you be coming with us to tomorrow's match?" Vini asks.

"Oh yeah, I'll be joining you on all the matches this season. You guys got lucky this time." I joke, giving him a little wink.

The two Brazilian men laugh, Vini patting my shoulder as I excuse myself to go up.

I twist the key in the door lock, opening the front door to my house. The smell of spices and sauces filling up my nostrils. I scramble to take my shoes off, throwing my bag onto the floor and making a beeline to the kitchen area.

"Aunty Carmen!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly.

"Oh my girl!" She coos, squeezing me even tighter.

"I missed you so much." I say, planting a kiss on her soft cheek, letting go of her.

"Me too. Come on, get cleaned up and we'll have dinner." She says warmly, going back to stirring the food.

Aunty Carmen was the lady who had been cooking for me and my dad since I was a child. Her food was finger-licking good, and I don't think I could ever survive without it.

She'd partially raised me, alongside my biological aunt, whom I lived in the UK with for a couple of years.

I had begged my dad to not send me to a boarding school, so he'd decided to send me off to live with my aunt, and made me attend an international school instead. A place, consisting of cultures and languages I always craved to be surrounded with becoming my second home.

"When is your dad coming?"

"Oh no, my dad isn't coming for dinner." I explain, pulling out two spoons and two forks out of the cabinet and walking over to the dinner table.

"He wasn't home last time either, why?"

"Too busy. You know how he is." I mumble, filling her glass with water.

"I'm sorry, my girl."

"It's fine- I'm used to it by now. You're here tonight at least." I beam, starting to dig into the food.

"Aunty, you never disappoint!" I exclaim, shoving another spoonful of food into my mouth.

"Slow down! It's not going to run away from you." She fusses, taking a bite of the food herself.

A comfortable silence falls in between us, the sound of our utensils clattering against the plates and bowls accompanied by the occasional comment about the taste of the food.

I join her in cleaning up the table, placing the rinsed dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and putting the leftovers into the fridge.

"If you look closely, you can see the food I made for the rest of the week. Make sure you close the lids well, so it can stay fresh." She says, drying her wet hands on a kitchen towel.

"Thank you." I say, giving her another hug.

"Oh, you're leaving already?" I ask, watching her grab her handbag. It was a pretty brown bag, a birthday present from me a couple years ago.

"I do sweetie. Take care of yourself." She says, pulling me into a hug.

"-and lock your doors, don't open them for anyone."

"You know I'm not a child anymore. I'm twenty already! Besides, we have security cameras everywhere." I complain, folding my arms up to my chest.

"You've grown up too fast." She says, pinching the fat of my cheek, making me whine at the pain.

I sigh, a little sad as she opens the front door and walks out. I wave one more time, closing the door behind her and locking it as she had instructed.

My dad had keys to get in when I went to bed anyway.

I decide to get ready for bed, turning on the now full dishwasher, and going up to my room. Hoping everything will go smoothly as planned tomorrow.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

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nayziiz · 3 months

Text

One Night in Miami | LN4

Summary: An eventful night with a close friend turns Lando’s world upside down when he’s forced to confront his true feelings about her. As they return to normal, he cannot seem to forget their time together and neither can she. Will they find each other once again?

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Renn)

Warnings: Smut, a lot of angst, fluff

Author's note: A little context around this series, if I may. I started writing this on 24/04/24, before Lando's Miami win. All the fours in the date - IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A SIGN, is all I'm saying. Anyway, as always, please send through your feedback, suggestions, or requests!

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1 - Miami 2023

Lando had invited all of his closest friends and the Quadrant team out to Miami for the Miami Grand Prix. The city buzzed with anticipation, the atmosphere electric with the excitement of the upcoming race. The streets were alive with the hum of engines and the vibrant energy of fans from all over the world.

For Lando and his friends, it was more than just a race. It was a week of fun, filming content, and partying until the sun rose over the glistening Miami skyline. Amongst the attendees was Pietra’s best friend, Renn. When Pietra moved to London, Renn was the first person she met and they instantly became good friends. It was a natural introduction to Max, Pietra’s boyfriend, and then Lando, Max’s best friend. Lando and Renn were quite literally cut from the same cloth in terms of their humour and banter. There was natural chemistry from the get-go between them.

The sun was setting over Miami as the group gathered at a beachfront bar, the warm breeze carrying the sound of laughter and music. Lando, with his infectious grin, was in the centre of it all, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. Renn, standing beside him, matched his energy effortlessly, their banter a seamless dance that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember that time we tried to film that prank video and ended up getting chased by security?” Lando said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“How could I forget? I still have a scar on my knee from hiding in that hedge!” Renn laughed, shaking her head. Pietra, sitting nearby with Max, watched the exchange with a knowing smile.

“You two are a dangerous combination,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “But I have to admit, it’s entertaining.”

The days in Miami were a blur of excitement. The group spent their mornings filming content for their respective channels, capturing the essence of the city and the thrill of the Grand Prix. They interviewed drivers, explored the paddock, and even managed to get a few laps in on the track.

In the afternoons, they lounged by the pool or explored Miami’s vibrant neighbourhoods, soaking in the culture and cuisine. Renn and Lando often found themselves paired up, whether it was trying out the latest food trucks or challenging each other to a game of beach volleyball. The week culminated with the much-anticipated Miami Grand Prix. However, the race did not go according to plan for Lando or McLaren. Technical issues plagued the car, and despite his best efforts, Lando couldn’t climb the ranks. He finished far lower than he had hoped, and the frustration was evident as he stepped out of the car.

In the garage, Lando was a mix of frustration and devastation. His usually bright demeanour was clouded with disappointment. Renn, always the one to lighten the mood, tried to joke around, but Lando was not feeling it. Sensing his need for support, she shifted from humour to empathy, offering a listening ear and comforting presence.

Throughout the afternoon and early evening, they had a few moments alone. Lando vented to her about his frustrations with the car, his feeling of inadequacy as a driver, and the pressure he felt to perform. Renn listened intently, offering small touches on his arm, reassuring words, and a calm presence.

Deciding to forget the entire race weekend and write it off as one to learn from and move past, Lando and the group decided to go out clubbing. The vibrant Miami nightlife beckoned, promising an escape from the day’s frustrations. The city’s pulsating energy was the perfect antidote to their subdued spirits. They headed to one of Miami’s hottest clubs, a place known for its electric atmosphere and celebrity sightings. As they entered, the thumping bass of the music enveloped them, and the flashing lights painted the scene in vibrant colours. Lando led the way, determined to let loose and shake off the negativity of the race.

On the dance floor, the group immersed themselves in the music, moving to the rhythm and letting the beat drive away their worries. Lando and Renn danced together, their chemistry undeniable as they laughed and moved in sync. For a while, the frustrations of the day melted away, replaced by the sheer joy of the moment. At the bar, they ordered rounds of exotic cocktails, toasting to friendship and resilience. Lando, his spirits lifted by the music and the company, found himself smiling and laughing more freely. Renn stayed close, her presence a steady source of comfort.

Later, as the night deepened and the club continued to buzz with life, Lando and Renn found themselves on the rooftop terrace, looking out over the city. The Miami skyline was a breathtaking sight, a sea of lights stretching out into the horizon.

“I needed this,” Lando admitted, leaning on the railing. “Just to forget about today, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“We all need to let go sometimes. You’ll come back stronger, Lando. I know it,” Renn nodded, her gaze fixed on the distant lights.

Despite her reassurance, the disappointment in his race result lingered. Lando couldn't shake the frustration gnawing at the back of his mind. As the group continued to revel in the club’s intoxicating atmosphere, one drink led to the next and the next. The flashing lights and pulsing music blurred together, creating a haze that Lando eagerly embraced, hoping to drown out the nagging sense of failure.

Renn stayed by his side, matching him drink for drink, her laughter and energy unwavering. She knew he was still struggling and wanted to be there for him, even if it meant getting a little too drunk herself. Their friends cheered them on, oblivious to the deeper emotions at play. At some point, the decision to leave was made - perhaps unspoken but mutually understood. They stumbled out of the club, giggling and leaning on each other for support. The cool night air hit them, a stark contrast to the club’s warm, enclosed chaos. They ordered an Uber, collapsing into the backseat in a fit of laughter, still trying to keep the party going.

As the car sped through Miami’s neon-lit streets, the city’s energy seemed to pulse in time with their still-racing hearts. They exchanged slurred stories and jokes, but beneath the surface, Renn could see the tension in Lando’s eyes. The alcohol had numbed the sharp edge of his disappointment but hadn’t erased it. When they reached the hotel, they managed to navigate the lobby with a mix of stealth and stumbling, trying to keep their giggles under control. Renn’s hand was a steadying presence on Lando’s arm, guiding him towards the elevator and up to his room.

Inside, the room was dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the vibrant noise they had left behind. Renn flicked on a lamp, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. Lando collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the day settled back onto him. The party, the drinks, and the laughter had been a temporary reprieve, but now reality crept back in. Renn watched him closely, her own drunken haze giving way to concern. She could see he was still not himself, the disappointment etched in his features despite his attempts to mask it.

“Lan,” she said softly, sitting beside him and placing a hand on his back. “You don’t have to hold it all in.”

He looked at her, his eyes tired and a bit glassy from the alcohol.

“I just... I wanted this weekend to be different,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “I feel like I let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down. Things just didn’t go as planned. It happens. But it doesn’t define who you are or what you can do,” She shook her head, her hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“I know that, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m not good enough sometimes,” Lando sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“You are more than good enough. One bad race doesn’t change that. You’ve got so many people who believe in you, who see how incredible you are,” Renn moved closer, her hand shifting to hold his.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, the closeness providing comfort to them both. For a moment, they sat in silence, the room’s quietude enveloping them. The world outside continued its frenetic pace, but in this small bubble, they found solace in each other’s presence. The alcohol’s numbing effect was beginning to wane, but the warmth of Renn’s words and touch remained, helping to ease Lando’s troubled mind.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” she asked, her voice soft with worry. Lando sighed, the weight of his emotions evident in his response.

“No,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Not at all.”

Renn’s heart ached for him.

“Should I stay with you until you fall asleep?” she offered gently. He looked up at her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” Lando conceded.

The next moments were a blur of movement and quiet coordination. Lando stripped off his shirt, the sight of his toned torso briefly catching Renn’s attention. He then grabbed his sleep trunks and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Meanwhile, Renn began discarding the thousands of pillows that adorned the bed, creating a comfortable space for them to settle in. When Lando returned, he held out one of his shirts for her.

“Here, you can change out of that,” he said, gesturing to her sequined dress that shimmered under the soft light.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the shirt with a grateful smile.

Renn went into the bathroom to change into the cool cotton shirt, a welcome relief from the constricting dress. It smelled faintly of him, a comforting blend of cologne and something uniquely Lando. When she emerged, she found Lando already in bed, looking slightly more at ease in his sleep trunks.

She slid into bed beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Without hesitation, Lando moved closer, laying on top of her, his head resting on her chest. The proximity was intimate, yet felt completely natural. She began brushing his hair back, twirling his curls between her fingers in a soothing rhythm.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and warm. Renn’s touch seemed to calm Lando, his breathing slowing as he relaxed against her. She could feel the tension leaving his body, replaced by a soft, sleepy tranquillity. Eventually, Lando looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers with a vulnerable intensity. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle, heartfelt kiss that conveyed all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. Renn kissed him back, her fingers still tangled in his hair, her heart swelling with a mix of tenderness and affection. When they finally pulled apart, Lando rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. Renn smiled, her hand caressing his cheek.

“Always,” she replied softly.

As the minutes passed, their quiet touching took on a different quality. It was still gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something more intense. Lando’s hand began to move, tracing slow, deliberate paths up and down her side. His fingers grazed her ribs, slipped under the hem of the shirt she wore, and rested on the smooth skin of her hip.

Renn’s breath hitched slightly, her heart beating faster in response. She continued to twirl his curls, her other hand drifting to his back, where she traced light patterns with her fingertips. The tension between them grew, an unspoken understanding passing through their shared glances and touches.

Lando’s hand ventured further, moving up her inner thigh and over her underwear, pausing briefly at her hip bone before slipping under the shirt yet again. The sensation sent a shiver through Renn, her body reacting to his touch. She looked down at him, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual recognition. His fingers continued their exploration, brushing against the sensitive skin just below her ribs. Renn’s hand stilled in his hair, her breath catching as his touch sent sparks of sensation through her. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with the tension building between them.

Slowly, Lando shifted, lifting himself slightly to look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. He leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, fueled by the emotions they had been holding back. Renn responded eagerly, her hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer. Their kisses grew more urgent, a silent communication of their need for each other. Lando’s hands roamed under the shirt, finding the curves of her body and memorising every inch with his touch.

With a gentle but insistent tug, Lando pulled the shirt up and over her head, discarding it to the side. He paused to take in the sight of her, his eyes filled with admiration and desire. Renn reached up, cupping his face and pulling him back down for another deep, passionate kiss. While their kisses intensified, Lando’s hands continued their exploration, his touch sending waves of pleasure through Renn. She arched into him, her body responding to his every movement. His mouth left hers, trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, each touch igniting a new flame of sensation.

Renn’s hands were not idle either. She traced the lines of his muscles, her fingers memorising the feel of him. She slid her hands under the waistband of his sleep trunks, encouraging him to shed the last barrier between them. Lando complied, kicking off his trunks and returning his attention to her. She pushed her panties to the side before he pushed his tip through her folds. He moved slowly as he entered her, savouring each moment of contact. Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, the warmth and closeness intensifying their connection.

The intensity between them surged, and suddenly they were fucking like prisoners who had just been released after a ten-year sentence. Their movements were frantic, fueled by a desperate need to feel each other fully. There was no room for hesitation; only raw, unfiltered desire. Lando's hands gripped her hips tightly as he thrust into her with a fervour that spoke of all the emotions he had bottled up throughout the day. Renn matched his intensity, her nails digging into his back as she arched against him, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with equal force.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room. The bed creaked under the strain of their passion, but they paid no mind. Every touch, every kiss was a release, a cathartic expression of everything they felt for each other. Lando's mouth found hers again, their kisses bruising and desperate. He moved faster, deeper, their shared rhythm driving them both to the edge. Renn cried out his name, her voice a mixture of pleasure and urgency, urging him on.

The tension built to a breaking point, their bodies trembling with the force of their connection. They came together in a shattering climax, their cries mingling as they clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure that crashed over them. Afterward, they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat and still trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking. Lando rested his head on Renn's chest, listening to the rapid beat of her heart as their breathing slowly returned to normal. It had been the first time something like that had happened between them. Sure, they shared a few kisses every so often when he would be gone for a few weeks, but nothing like that, never full blown, passionate lovemaking.

“Fuck,” Lando moaned, the tension gone from his body. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to break their skin-to-skin contact, but he also wanted to clean her up after cumming inside her. Renn felt his hesitation and gently cupped his face.

“It's okay,” she whispered, smiling softly, her fingers brushing over his cheek. He nodded, kissing her tenderly before reluctantly pulling away.

“I'll be right back,” he promised, slipping off the bed and heading to the bathroom.

Renn watched him go, feeling a strange mix of contentment and vulnerability. The intensity of their lovemaking had left her breathless, but she also felt a deep sense of connection with Lando that went beyond physical pleasure. Lando returned with a warm, damp cloth and a look of tender concern on his face. He carefully cleaned her, his touch gentle and reverent. It was a quiet, intimate moment that spoke of his care and respect for her.

Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and slid back into bed beside her, pulling her close. They lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them filled with unspoken emotions. The disappointment of the day was a distant memory, replaced by the warmth they had found in each other's arms.

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shitsndgiggs · 2 months

Note

Hello!, hope you have a wonderful day. could you may write some fluff with Pau cubarsí maybe him introducing her to his family or the barca team teasing him how whipped he is for his girl

take care and take your time<3

HE IS WHIPPED - PAU CUBARSÍ

The Barca team teasing Pau for how whipped he is for you

Pau Cubarsí x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Today was the day Pau had been eagerly talking about for weeks. He was going to introduce me to his FC Barcelona teammates, and while I was excited, I was also a bit nervous.

Pau reassured me countless times that the team would love me, but it didn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as we walked into the training facility.

Pau held my hand tightly, sensing my apprehension. “You’re going to be amazing,” he whispered, giving me a comforting smile. “And they’re going to love you just as much as I do.”

We entered the training ground, where several players were already warming up on the pitch.

The moment they noticed us, a chorus of greetings erupted.

“Hey, Pau! Is this the famous girlfriend we’ve been hearing about?” Sergi Roberto called out, grinning widely.

“Yes, this is (Y/N),” Pau said proudly, pulling me closer. “(Y/N), meet the guys.”

The introductions began, with each player giving me a warm welcome. Fermin, Frenkie de Jong, and Pedri were the first to come over, their smiles genuine and friendly.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Fermin said, shaking my hand. “Pau hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

I felt my cheeks flush slightly, but before I could respond, Gavi walked over, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, you’re the one who has our Pau completely whipped?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Pau rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Come on, guys, don’t embarrass me in front of (Y/N).”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Alejandro Balde chimed in, clapping Pau on the back. “We’ve never seen you so smitten, amigo.”

I laughed, feeling more at ease with their playful banter. “Well, I can’t help it if he’s completely irresistible,” I teased, looking up at Pau with a wink.

The teasing continued as other players joined the conversation. Marc-André ter Stegen gave me a knowing smile. “You should see him before training sessions. Always checking his phone for messages from you.“

“And don’t even get us started on how he talks about you during team dinners,” Frenkie added, grinning.

“Alright, alright,” Pau said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, I’m completely whipped. Happy now?”

Ferran chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re just happy to see you so happy, man. (Y/N), you’ve got our boy wrapped around your finger.”

I looked at Pau, my heart swelling with affection. “I think it goes both ways,” I said softly, leaning into him.

Pau wrapped his arm around me, his smile widening. “Okay, enough about me. Let’s have some fun.”

“Let’s have a little match!” Pedri suggested. “(Y/N), how about you join us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I’m not exactly great at football.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Gavi encouraged. “We’ll go easy on you.”

With some gentle coaxing from Pau, I agreed, and we divided into teams. Pau, ever the supportive boyfriend, stayed by my side, giving me tips and cheering me on.

The match was a whirlwind of laughter. I tried my best, but my skills were nowhere near the level of the professional players.

I slipped and stumbled more than once, but Pau was always there to help me up, his eyes shining with pride.

During a break, Pedri grinned and said, “Pau, you’re going to have to give her some extra training sessions.”

“I will,” Pau replied, beaming. “But I’m already proud of her.”

As the match continued, I managed to make a few decent passes, earning cheers from the team.

When it finally ended, I was exhausted but exhilarated.

“You did great, cariño,” Pau said, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Even though I didn’t help at all?” I asked, laughing.

“Especially because you tried,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “That’s all that matters.”

The team gathered around, still teasing Pau. “Looks like Pau’s got himself a keeper,” Frenkie said, winking at me.

“And he’s totally whipped,” Sergi added, making everyone laugh.

Pau shrugged, unbothered by the teasing. “I’m lucky, and I know it.”

#football imagine #football x reader #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi

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songmingisthighs · 6 months

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Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxx - good girl

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

At this point, you found yourself in somewhat of a choreographed dance with the father and son duo manoeuvring the child in question. Usually, you would have to move quickly between taking Kijoong's things out of the car and making sure that he wouldn't make a run for it, even going as far as installing a car seat, iPad holder, and small containers of cereal and snacks, effectively turning your car into a mom car. Now, you simply needed to focus on Kijoong because Hongjoong would instinctively take your bag and any of Kijoong's belongings with him. Then, the two of you would basically lock Kijoong's hands in each of yours and making sure that Kijoong wouldn't have any means of escaping or running away as your bodies would block his sides.

You both call it "inmate transfer" and others pointed out that it's actually called "the family hold". You both were confident that "inmate transfer" is correct.

"I think I stuffed myself stupid," Hongjoong huffed, taking a moment to readjust his pants before resuming the walk back to the elevator from his dedicated parking spot. You couldn't help but snicker in amusement at the way he was so comfortable with you, totally different from the person you first knew less than three months ago. "I told you not to get a second plate, Joong, this is all on you," you teased which caused Kijoong to chirp, "Yeah, Joong," he teased, sticking his tongue out at his dad. Hongjoong squinted his eyes at the two of you, "Hey, I finished my main course, I EARN that dessert. And you had some, (y/n), you can't talk shit about my decision," he huffed before crouching down to Kijoong's height, "And that's daddy to you, mister," he said, poking Kijoong's nose.

Teasingly, you raised an eyebrow at Hongjoong, "You asked me to spend my day off with you and Kijoong, I think I reserve the right to call you out for eating a plate of two waffles drenched in maple syrup and ice cream after finishing a whole ass pasta by yourself. And while we're on the subject, who eats carbonara at 10 am?" "Yeah, Joong, who?" Kijoong teased again, this time drawling to poke fun at his dad even more. "A hungry man using food as a reward for a week of hard work," he said in a mocking tone, causing you to raise an eyebrow, "So is this your way of telling me that I've done a good job?" you teased.

"Do you think you've done a good job?"

Suddenly there was a wave of seriousness over the two of you (Kijoong was blissfully unaware, of course, what with kicking pebbles around as he held onto your hands). You momentarily stop in your steps to look at Hongjoong, "What?" Hongjoong stopped in his tracks as well to look back at you, "Do you think you've done a good job so far? Are you satisfied? Are you happy working here?" Already had a feeling that the discussion was coming, you wasted no time in going straight to the point, "Is this about my employment ending?" Hongjoong was kind of glad that you brought it up first as he didn't really know how to say those exact words (In all honesty, Hongjoong didn't know how to say a lot of things to you but one conversation at a time). "Kind of, yeah," Hongjoong confirmed.

For a moment, you pursed your lips and resorted to continuing your walk to the elevator as Kijoong, still in his own world, tried to get you to kick the pebbles with him.

Feeling obligated to explain, Hongjoong opened his mouth again, "I should clarify, I'm not asking you because I'm reviewing your work or anything. In fact, I just want to know if you're happy which I think is the biggest factor in sticking with a job." You could tell that he was trying his best to not be confrontational and your lack of answer would soon make him cry. "Good because if that was your way of firing me after all that we have been through, I would be so pissed, I'd actually give Kijoong back his toy gun." Hearing his name and toy, Kijoong perked up and started jumping excitedly, "MY GUN!?" he exclaimed, hopeful but you immediately shot it down, patting his head with your free hand, "No sweetie, and please don't interrupt your daddy and I are talking."

Relieved, Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head, "At this point, it would make more sense if you leave in the middle of the night and move away to Antarctica or something. But I know you wouldn't," "Hey, I might," you pointed out, rolling your eyes, "Push my buttons enough times and I'll pull a disappearing act so fantastic, it would get Best Performance award at the Grammys or something." Hongjoong's eyes widened, thinking that you were serious, "What, you mean to tell me that you'd consider leaving us?" there was a slight panic in his voice that made you crack out rather loudly, "Oh my God, Joong, calm down! I was just joking! You know I love working with you and I'll be honest, I'm kind of attached to the cutie pies of apartment 801 so it would take a lot for me to not want to continue working with you," you said lightheartedly, pinching Kijoong's cheek affectionately.

It was only when you both stepped inside the elevator that Hongjoong realized what you just said. "Wait, did you just say 'cuties'? As in plural?" Confusedly, you raised an eyebrow at him, "Um, yeah? Why do you think I keep feeding you? You're basically Kijoong-sized XL and I love the boy to bits," this time, you couldn't help but scoop Kijoong into your arms and blew a raspberry on his cheek, making him giggle from the ticklish feeling. There was a mix of feelings that surged through Hongjoong's body and he couldn't pinpoint on the cause as the giddiness was so palpable he could taste it at the tip of his tongue. The sheer feeling rendered him speechless and he could only find his voice when the elevator door opened and the three of you stepped out.

"So... You love me?"

In all fairness, Hongjoong meant that as a joke. Or so he said. He so totally doesn't lowkey hope that you'd say yes. But he was totally expecting you to roll your eyes and call him stupid.

The last thing he expected was for you to step closer to him, nudge his hip with yours and grin, "What do you think, Joong? What do your own feelings tell you?"

A sudden wave of excitement-induced nausea washed over Hongjoong, his body forcing his brain to prepare to have the talk. The one talk he knew he had to have with you considering the revelation he made (through Seonghwa pointing it out but he was not about to give his friend the credit).

You saw that his brain was trying to connect the dots and it was entertaining, to say the least. But at that moment, it dawned on you that you had just opened the door to a conversation you had only planned to have but even that plan was not solid. So to feign being coy, you took quick steps to get to Hongjoong's apartment first. "Hey!" Hongjoong exclaimed when he realized that you had taken off on him and he followed suit. While the distance from the elevator to this unit was not long, he caught up with you quick but it was because you had stopped in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, eyes trailed forward which caused him to look in the same direction.

It was like seeing a ghost. Well, a ghost from his past. Because out of all the moments in the timeline of his life, he would never have expected to see the person he was seeing. Not after what happened in the past.

"Minhee?" he called out.

Minhee, his ex, pushed her body off of the door and smiled gently, eyes looking over to Hongjoong before it settled on you and then on the boy who looked at her confusedly, not knowing who she was but he was intuitive enough to sense that there was something going on. You took notice of this when Kijoong suddenly turned around and clung on your body, refusing to look at his birth mother.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but stare at her. She looked like the pictures you had caught glimpses of when you were cleaning but... Happier. She looked pretty and well-kept, exactly like how a young lady from a respected family should what with her all-white get-up and expensive bag. The nasty side of your brain immediately made comparisons and you came to the conclusion that you and her were vastly different and though momentarily, the thought of her being the kind of person that made Hongjoong commit flashed, leaving a nasty remnant that felt itchy.

"Well, aren't you going to let an old friend in?" she smiled.

Hell, even her voice sounded nice.

How were you going to fare?

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marthawrites · 1 year

Text

Sand and Sky

Daemon Targaryen x POC fem reader

Word Count: 1.8k+

About: Upon arriving to King's Landing with your cousin, Criston Cole, you meet Daemon Targaryen. Little time passes before desire of the flesh overtake both of you.

Includes: SMUT. This is just porn. Featuring overstimulation, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, pussy slapping, mild humiliation, unprotected vaginal sex, (somewhat) public sex, clothed sex, mild choking, spanking

Note: Hello lovely reader! Story is based on THIS request and HERE is the prompt list used. If the anon who sent the request is here, I apologize for making you wait so long! I hope this story makes up for it. I'm putting the whole fic beneath a read more. Reader is dornish from an unspecified House. As always, please enjoy!

“I could eat you out for days,” Daemon groaned into your soaken, swollen folds; the Targaryen Prince completely nonchalant in regard to the lewd slurps he licked and sucked all along you.

A wet spot stained the chair's cushion you sat upon. Something between a hiss, moan, and whine jumped from your throat as Daemon gave your overstimulated cunt little break from back-to-back orgasms. Your spine arched, thighs flexed, and the toes of one foot pressed onto the ground while your other leg slung over one of his wide shoulders. Today, it was he who knelt before you. Your fingers slid through his long silver hair. You didn’t know if you wanted to pull him deeper into you or push him away. “Please, my prince…!” You panted. Sweat sheened atop your olive skin like tiny jewels. The fine hairs along your neck clung to it in small curls. How many times had he pushed you to peak? You’d lost count at three – once with fingers and twice with mouth – and that was some time ago, now.

“I’m on my knees eating your cunt and you dare push me away?” He asked, violet eyes ablaze with lust and mocking anger as he stared up past your heaving breasts to your face. “Mannerless girl,” he said as he smacked your sensitive folds. “Many a whore dream of this and you have the thought to push me away?” A laugh echoed his question before he dove back in, unrelenting. This time, his fingers joined, too. Handsome lips wrapped around your hard little pearl while two fingers pushed up into your empty cunny.

You squealed, and in the same moment your legs trembled to tautness. “Gods!” His name tumbled from your mouth in broken stutters. You squeezed into his hair, hard, thighs pressing firmly around his head as your hips, as if beyond your control, ground against his face and fingers through an intense, almost aggressive, orgasm. “Too much! Too much, Daemon. Please, my prince, let me rest,” you begged. The wet spot beneath your ass had doubled in size.

He looked up at you again with that same desire and violence alike. “So pretty begging,” he cooed, mouth and chin smeared with your slick. “Ask nicely and I might let you suck my cock.” All the while he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. He turned his wrist, flexing it, as he mercilessly bullied your hidden patch of nerves that had your eyes rolling closed.

By now your legs were open and fully relaxed. And, too, your cunt. The sloppy wet sounds of his finger fucking sent humiliation burning your cheeks. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t notice while the other part hoped he would.

Since your arrival to King’s Landing with your cousin, Criston Cole, hardly a day passed without Daemon taking use of you. The attraction between you and him was instant and fierce. You, a childless newly widowed dornish lady, and him, Daemon fucking Targaryen. Tales of the Rogue Prince traveled from The Wall to Sunspear and everywhere between. He didn’t need any introductions. When you sauntered and circled around him like a desert panther he followed you with calculated eyes. When you spoke to him in low, sultry tones, he leaned all the closer to hear each clip and dip of your accented words. Your dark eyes bewitched the dragon in him. Before night fell on the second day of your arrival, he was buried to his stones between your legs. Dorne was the only people to slay a dragon: your nails dug into his wide, muscled back, and you rent him in passion.

You’d been in King’s Landing for a fortnight, and now, with a face hot from humiliation, was another thing he could taunt you with during your next tryst. For there would be another. And another. And another.

You cried out in bliss. White, and hot, and beautiful, your whole body tightened before relaxing with a swarm of gooseflesh.

“I told you to stay quiet, didn’t I?” He asked, hissing voice dripping with amusement at your state of wanton debauchery. The room you were in was only a side room off one of the main corridors – oft used for overflow, recreation, or a quiet place to study. The idea of anyone coming in at any time brought forth another layer of excitement. But, in turn, you did have to stay at least a little quiet. A woman moaning and whimpering in passion would surely bring curious ears (and mayhaps eyes, too). The prince wasn’t in a mood to share. Before you could answer he chuckled coldly. His free arm lifted and he pushed two fingers past your painted lips. It muffled you to his satisfaction. He smirked. “You look so pretty with my fingers stuffed inside of you,” he said as he admired the sight of both sets of your lips wrapped around his digits.

Finally, just as tiny beads of sweat began dripping down your neck, Daemon gave you a break. He still had his fingers stuffed in you, but he didn’t move them. He simply kept them inside of you. Feeling you. Enjoying you. Letting you gather yourself while he watched with great amusement. Eventually you did and you returned his gaze with darkly glittering eyes.

Two could play his cruel game.

“Is this where your favorite whores would be tired out, my prince?” You asked sweetly. “Perhaps you need a reminder of how we are made differently in Dorne,” you proclaimed. Your features brightened with a second wind as you moved a foot to the center of the prince’s partially clothed chest and kicked him back. With a feline grace you maneuvered to straddle his waist. Smiling atop him, it was your turn to take the reins. In all honesty you weren’t sure if he’d let you be so forceful with him, and the fact he did sent the desire in your blood roaring. You were both still partially clothed, but it mattered little.

Daemon growled beneath you. Would he breathe fire next? You wondered.

“Don’t be gentle, riñītsos.” little girl In a hasty fumble of hands he opened the front of his breeches to free his cock. Its weight slapped against the inside of your thigh, hot and smooth and no doubt dripping with pre. You gasped. Satisfied. He was glorious.

“I wasn’t planning on it, sweet prince.” The saccharine melody of your voice was so unlike your normal cadence that it sent his cock twitching just as you began to sink down on it. He was big, and thick, and hot, and so, so, wonderful. You couldn’t help the moan which poured from your mouth. You savored the stretch of him. Your slick, fleshy walls yielded inch by inch until your cunt was full to its end. You both groaned at the sensation. Slowly, you started to grind back and forth on him, your body acclimating to his size. “You’ve the best cock in all the Kingdoms, my prince,” you said breathily. One of your hands pushed up the center of his abdomen, chest, collar, until you dared to wrap your hand around the strong pillar of his neck. You pressed your fingers just so.

Below you, Daemon’s eyes blackened like a sharks. Leaning up on an elbow, the hand of the other flew up to your neck where he held the slim thing inside his much bigger, much firmer, hand. “Have I been too soft on you that you think you can hold me by the throat?” He asked, driving his hips up into you – setting the pace for the fucking he intended to give you. “Answer me when I talk to you, riña.” girl

Not letting go of his neck, you bounced with his rhythm. Your breasts did, too, the dark nipples of each tightened to pebbles as you tried to keep pace with him. His stamina surpassed yours, and you were already running low from his ravished mouth and fingers. Still, you tried. “You look so good under me,” you praised.

Whether he accepted or denied your praise, you couldn’t tell. The next thing you knew he laughed, low and sinister, and curled his body up so you were breast to breast. He pushed you over with ease. With you on all fours, the side of your face squished against the rugged stone floor, he rucked your silken hems up around your waist and instantly shoved his cock back into you. “You can come when I tell you to come, understood?” He asked with a firm slap to your upturned asscheek, sparing it no mercy as he fucked into you for his own pleasure. If he thought you were being too loud before – and if his brain was in his head rather than his cock – he’d have shoved something in your mouth to quiet you. Between your sounds of pleasure, and the obscenity of skin slapping on wet skin, anyone with warm blood in their veins would know what’s transpiring in this room.

You were back to babbling his name, yes’s, and please’s, over and over again, your body absolutely wrecked at the intensity of his fucking. You loved every single second of it. Numbness and weightlessness traveled out from your spine to the rest of your body. Before you knew it you were soaking him down to his balls.

He slapped your asscheek again. Twice, this time. “I don’t remember saying you could come,” he growled by your ear, his breath hot against your neck. His pace never softened. “Let’s try that again. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it.”

You had no idea how you could give him another one. Your second wind gave out, and yet, still, he wanted more. Pushed you to more. “‘M sorry, Dae-mon,” you stuttered through the slapping of his pelvis against you. “Felt too-o good,” you whined.

“Gonna fill this pretty cunt up. Fuck you full with a royal bastard.” He gripped both sides of your hips and didn’t stop until his own breath came in labored pants.

By then you were so far gone; the pleasure immense and all consuming. You were somewhere deep in your head, somewhere light and floating, as the Rogue Prince fucked you dumb. Senseless. Happy.

“Come with me, riñītsos. Come with me, now, Come with me,” he grunted through strained breath. Climax found you both at the same moment. He spent his seed as deep into your body as he could go, letting the final twitches of his peak release every bit of him into you.

Exhaustion settled over your body like wet sand. You rolled onto your back, and Daemon did the same; sated minutes passed silently while you both regained yourselves.

“What of the plans I had for the rest of the day now? I can’t go out looking like this,” you said, laughing, as you gestured to your once neatly curled and braided hair – not to mention your smudged make up.

Daemon looked at you, smirking. “Do you have any commoner’s clothes?”

“Hm… I believe so. Why is that?”

“Put them on. I’ll lend you an old cloak. Let me show you my favorite gambling tavern in Flea Bottom.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess

Daemon taglist: @sahvlren @abbyandizzysmum @boofy1998

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon fic #request

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