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coconutdays · 2 years ago

Text

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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corkinavoid · 4 months ago

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DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #tim drake #batfam #batman #ancient of space danny #theres gotta be a monsters inc joke somewhere here #i just dont know where #keeper of doors #dead tired #um its implied okay #tim x danny #cork prompts #inheritance

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wileys-russo · 3 days ago

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filling the void (11) || a.putellas

latest installment in fresa's filling the void universe ft some sol @girlgenius1111 filling the void (11) || a.putellas

“mija! ¿necesitas algo?” you sighed as suddenly the paragraph you’d been furiously scribbling down disappeared from memory at the interruption. “to be left alone.” you mumbled under your breath with a roll of your eyes.

“no mami, gracias!” you called back within earshot now for the tenth time in an hour, finally allowed to study in your room, however the door had to be open and you may as well have been anywhere else with how often you were interrupted and the lack of any privacy.

you knew your mami meant well but every time she yelled for you your concentration was broken, and you’d barely made a dent into this report which was supposed to be submitted in a few days and counted quite significantly toward your overall grade for the semester.

you knew if you asked for an extension you’d be granted one, but with nothing else to do (not allowed to do anything else with your ankle really) you were determined to get it done by the deadline. especially with the champions league final this coming weekend you wanted to have it submitted and out of mind before you all packed up and headed to bilbao.

frankly you were shocked you were even being permitted to go with your boot and crutches. you could get around just fine having somewhat gotten the hang of it, even with the purple bruises beneath your arms which were starting to be spottled with green and yellow.

you knew alexia had her opinions on the matter given it was all the pair of you had gone back and forth about at dinner last night, until eli stepped in and firmly put a cork in the matter, banning the topic all together.

that hadn’t stopped you however from threatening to stab your eldest sister in the hand yet again, and alba very subtly moving your cutlery out of reach now that dinner was done. but come this morning it seemed there was some finality, your ticket on the bus secured and the itinerary your uncle made for everyone for the weekend sat in your email inbox.

spying your airpods case sat on your bed you used your good foot to push away from the desk, the roller chair you were sat on gliding across your carpet with ease causing you to grin, having found a few new ways to get around without assistance the last couple of days.

your attention was diverted by the repeated pinging of your phone, airpods in hand and once again using your good foot to push off your bed and go spinning back toward your desk, you pulled yourself back into position in front of your open laptop.

your eyebrows furrowed seeing a flurry of texts from the last person you’d guess to be responsible for them, the grumpy norwegian who despite your firm protests almost carried you back up to the front door after dropping you home post study session earlier this week.

‘hey peg leg’ your eyes rolled reading the first one, knowing she would have found the nickname hilarious despite how lame and unfunny you found it. ‘how is the boot?’was she asking how you were? ‘heavy. itchy. ugly. aren’t you in class?’

you realised the time and frowned a little, realising it wasn’t quite midday on a week day and solstrale should have been in school.

‘i skipped’‘

“to study. before you get on my ass about it.’

of course she skipped, your eyes almost rolled out of your head but before you could respond your phone pinged again with another two messages.

‘this book is missing the last two pages’ *picture attached*

a tiny smile graced your features looking at the all too familiar faded yellow cover, and maybe a little at the fact that for all her protests solstrale was actually reading the childrens books you’d instructed her to, but only a tiny bit.

‘so does the puppy make it home?’ the frown returned at that, eyebrows furrowed curiously as a few little dots appeared and you waited for another message, only as you started to type your reply, they disappeared.

‘puppy? did you even read it engen.’ you replied, leaning back in the roller chair and tucking your good leg up to your chest, wincing a little as you tried to roll your other foot that was cramping, encased in the stuffy itchy horrible awful boot with no sense of relief.

‘yes? its about a dog that runs away. i’m not stupid dr putellas’ the smallest puff of air left your nose at that, potentially mistaken for a snicker at the other much more familiar nickname.

‘...are you sure? did you mix the books up? are you colour blind?’ you fired off the questions in a few short texts, smiling at yourself as the three little dots appeared again and you could almost see the look of annoyance etched into the norwegians features on the other end of the line.

‘no. this is red, right?’ *picture attached*

a involuntary bark of laughter left your lips at the picture of the very green book, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth at the joke. exiting out of the text thread your smile grew, eventually sending back an image of your own.

*picture attached*

you smirked as the dots popped up and went away again, having sent her a messily photoshopped screenshot of a booked in fake eye test, fingers drumming your desk as you awaited her reply.

slightly offended she hadn’t found your joke as funny as you did, with a soured mood you put your phone down and exhaled, focus locking back into the half completed report, your curser blinking at you obnoxiously.

you fingered through the stack of papers to your right, trying to find a particular case study you remember seeing when you’d organised these last night. though that hadn’t lasted long and they were entirely out of order again.

your eyes darted back to your phone as it pinged, tapping the screen and leaning across to unlock it with your face, the text thread open again now with a new addition.

‘ha ha. i’ll leave that to you, four eyes.’

then it dawned on you just who you were actually texting and you mumbled something less than complimentary under your breath, huffing and picking your phone up again, paper once more abandoned in front of you.

‘you know the book is about a rabbit. not a dog, idiota.’

‘coneja = rabbit’

the reply came right away and your eyes almost rolled back into your head once they read it.

‘i thought the dogs name was coneja. its about a rabbit? why would a rabbit run away from home? thats dumb.’

“she’s dumb.” you mumbled to yourself, the norwegian seemingly able to get on your nerves from all the way across town.

‘its for ages 3-5, clearly too advanced for you.’

your attention was redirected by your stomach grumbling loudly. deciding you’d pick this back up after some brain food you reached over to close your laptop, placing your phone back down on the stack of papers you made a mental note to reorganise later.

with a grunt you stretched to grab your crutches, twisting around in the roller chair and pushing off, using the crutches like makeshift oars to propel the chair forward, out of your room and making your way down the hallway.

“fresa.” your mami sighed with a shake of her head as you came into view, coming to investigate the strange noise as you clunked and rolled your way toward the kitchen. “easier than walking.” you shrugged, stabbing at the sofa with one of your crutches and grinning as your chair spun around and flew backwards.

wheels almost catching on the small lipped edge of the tiled kitchen floor and tipping backwards, you were already bracing to fall but jolted with surprise as hands steadied the back of your chair, quickly saving you from toppling over.

“¿qué haces? ¡estúpido!” you whined as one of those hands smacked the back of your head, sheltering yourself as your crutches went cluttering to the floor and green eyes glared down at you as you spun around.

“mami she hit me!” you protested, still protecting your head as alba raised her hand again, eli clicking her tongue in warning as she lowered it, your older sister settling for flicking you sharply in the forehead instead and stepping back as you tried to swing back at her.

you heard the front door open and more footsteps enter, quiet murmur of a hushed conversation floating into the room. trying to grab one of your crutches to stab alba she quickly kicked them out of reach and shot you a smug smile.

rolling your chair now carefully over the bump in the tiles you stopped in the pantry, grabbing a bag of popcorn and pushing backwards out of the pantry, scooting yourself out of the kitchen as alba watched on with a weird look.

“pequeña why are-” alexia started with a sigh as she dropped her keys on the bookshelf and eyed you up in the roller chair, olga wandering in not long afterwards. “ale she hit me!” you immediately piped up, finger pointing accusingly at your other sister whose eyes rolled.

“such a baby.” alba mumbled, alexia moving to collect your crutches for you, eyes narrowed toward her younger sister who hurried to practically hide behind eli as olga hugged her hello. “no! estoy bien.” you smacked away the blondes hands who tried to manhandle you up and out of the chair.

“the idiota came flying in here and almost hit her head on the tiles.” alba now snitched you in as once again a hand smacked the back of your head and you hissed, sheltering yourself again and scoffing as alexia moved to kiss eli’s cheek.

“if you push me closer i will send you two photos of ale from the folder.” you whispered to olga whose hand squeezed your shoulder in hello, the older girl quirking an eyebrow curiously as you nodded. the little locked folder in your phone hardly a secret, filled with all sorts of unflattering and embarrassing photos of both your sisters you’d collected over the years for blackmail purposes.

hand moving to the back of the chair olga subtly rolled you a little closer as you gripped one of your crutches like a baseball bat, swinging it as soon as you were in striking distance and collecting alba across the back of her legs with a slap that echoed around the room.

your sister yelped in pain and spun toward you with venom in her eyes and curses dropping from her lips aimed at you, your own gaze narrowed at her challengingly with the crutch held up defensively like a sword, daring her to come any closer.

“oye! you, leave your hermana alone she is already in a boot. and you, stop using it as a weapon or i will take it away.” your mami raised her voice, staring the pair of you down as you huffed, lowering the crutch to lay across your lap.

“sí take them away, make the little worm crawl its way around.” alba taunted, flicking your ear as she passed and eli wasn’t looking, a smirk settling on your lips as alexias foot shot out from where she’d settled at the dining room table, leaving alba to stumble and almost fall flat on her face.

“why are you here? tienes casas?” you accused your sisters, alba moving to make herself comfortable on the sofa and flicking on the tv. “mami has work and you need supervision.” alexia answered, attention captured by her phone as you groaned loudly, head thumping back against the chair.

“you do not want to hang out?” alexia scoffed in offence as you mocked her under your breath. “not with you, olga can stay.” you shrugged honestly as your sisters girlfriend grinned. “pequeña!” alexia huffed as again you only shrugged.

“i need to study. so leave me alone, por favor!” you all but begged, alba already engrossed in some trashy reality show you’d probably join her watching if you didn’t wish to avoid yet another night of being fussed over and babied.

“but hermanita-” “i am rolling away.” you announced, using one of your crutches again like an oar to propel your rolling chair back out of the room, ignoring alexias calls after you.

“oh mami woke up with an ache in her chest today, and would not call the doctor.” you poked your head around the hall and announced loudly, diverting the attention off yourself as sure enough both of your sisters pounced, an argument errupting that for once you were not apart of as you quietly closed your door with a small sigh of relief.

rolling yourself back into your desk you grabbed your phone and opened your laptop, eyes scanning the incoming texts from solstrale that you’d missed while out of your room.

‘yeah i prefer picture books, no words.’

‘so does the rabbit make it home?’

‘you know since you, little miss intelligent, gave me a book…missing the last two pages.’

‘???’

‘im sorry for saying your book is dumb (it is)’

‘but i do have to know what happened to the rabbit. did it die?’

‘good life lessons for kids; the cycle of life, your pet will eventually die.’

‘except for scout, scout will never die.’

‘did you happen to take AP history, dr putellas?’

a small snort left your mouth and you shook your head, nails you noted desperately needed a new manicure tapping against the screen as you chalked up another mental note to con alba into taking you to the salon before bilbao.

‘yes. the rabbit dies. good job engen, very perceptive.’

‘you better take care of those books or the next thing you study will be my sisters fist in your face, they are hers’

‘what is a scout?’

‘i did. why?’

you placed your phone down and your gaze switched back to the laptop screen in front of you, cursor still blinking mockingly at you, eyes flickering down to your phone every few seconds awaiting a reply.

you huffed when you realised you were doing so, grabbing your phone and tossing it onto your bed with a thud, shaking your head and shifting in your seat, grabbing the case study you needed and flicking open your airpods.

connecting them to your laptop you clicked shuffle on your study playlist, finally finding a rhythm as the sound of typing filled the room, missing the repeated knocks on your door and squealing as a pillow hit the back of your head.

“he dicho que me dejes en paz!” you huffed as alexia leant in the doorway and you pulled out one of your airpods. “come watch a movie nena, alba wants to watch love island and i need another vote.” your sister nodded behind her pulling a face of disgust as you rolled your eyes.

“what about olga?” “she left, pilates.”

“well i’m busy. go away!” you retorted, spinning back around and ignoring the huffs and grumbles of your sister as she retreated, though not before asking about five questions about your foot and pain levels and stretches and blah blah.

“alexia, the door!” you yelled after her when she left it open. “stays open.” the older girl called back as you silently screamed up at the roof. “i will be back in ten for your stretches fres. mami said you have to walk around and you can’t use the chair all day!” rolling yourself over to the bed you very ungracefully flopped yourself out of the chair, burying your face in a pillow and yelling.

your previous motivation now gone you winced as you realised your phone was tucked under you, awkwardly pushing up with your good foot to grab it, seeing solstrale had replied and a few of your friends had also reached out to see how you were doing and that they missed you at work.

with a smile you replied to those first before clicking into your thread with the older girl and scanning her texts.

‘your sister doesn’t scare me’

‘but yes your precious books are safe putellas, dead rabits and all’

‘scout is not a what, he is a who’

‘are you busy today?’

“a who?” you mumbled to yourself as you quickly typed your own messages back, eyebrows creased with confusion.

‘WHO is scout?’

‘yes me and my one foot on house arrest are very very busy.’

‘again, why?’

you didn’t need to wait as the three dots appeared again, calling out you were fine as alba yelled if you needed anything, barely five minutes having passed since alexia had come to bother you and you sighed realising you had hours of this to look forward to.

‘this is scout. he is an angel. (and he is very offended you forgot about him)’

*picture attached*

‘sorry peg leg i forgot your social calendar is jammed.’

you watched as the three dots popped up, and went away, and popped up, and went away again, the girl on the other side of the line taking her time as you started to write a reply to her previous messages.

the photo was of a scruffy but adorable black and white cattle dog beaming at the camera and caused a smile to tug at your lips. you’d admittedly forgotten solstråle had a dog, or that his name was scout, but she had indeed shown you a photo of him before when she’d driven you to the library.

‘i have an exam tomorrow. would you be free for like an hour to help me study?’

‘if you can’t its fine.’

‘you probably have your own stuff to do.’

‘sorry forget i asked.’

or, maybe you wouldn’t be imprisoned here for hours after all, erasing your previous message and immediately clicking send on a new one.

‘pick me up in ten.’

you didn’t wait for a reply, instead spending the next few minutes trying to change out of the fluffy pyjama pants you’d lounged about in all day, determined not to ask for anyones help, especially either of your sisters.

“fresita! ven a ayudar con la cena.” you heard alexia call out for you, a little shocked she hadn’t just come and rolled you there herself, grabbing your crutches once you’d wrestled a sneaker onto your free foot.

your laptop and papers neatly stacked in your bag you awkwardly slung it over your shoulder best you could, tilting your body so it wouldn’t slide off as you very audibly crutched your way out of the room and down the hall.

alexia motioned you over as soon as you were within sight, alba still sprawled out on the couch glued to her reality show which given her shocked gasps every few seconds must have been good.

“i’m going out.” you announced, both of your sisters heads snapping up and eyes training on you, tv paused and alexia staring you down with a knife in hand, stood in the kitchen chopping vegetables.

“no, you are going to cut these. your ankle is broken, your hands work.” your eldest sister ordered gesturing to a few peppers sat on a cutting board on the dining room table. “no. i’m going out.” you held firm, straightening up slightly and jutting your chin out with a small huff.

“to do what? estás roto.” albas foot lightly tapped against one of your crutches as she passed you, disappearing into the pantry and ignoring alexias warnings not to eat anything before dinner, her motherly tone having you roll your eyes.

“to study with solstrale. you wanted me to help her ale, ¿sí?” you reminded with raised eyebrows, your sisters own eyes narrowing as she hummed, clearly displeased to have her own words used against her.

“sí, bien. alba will drive you then!” alexia announced, your other sisters head popping out of the pantry with a scowl, hand disappeared in a bag of popcorn as alexia told her off and threw a chunk of carrot at the younger girl which bounced harmlessly off her shoulder.

“solstrale is picking me up.” you informed, quickly checking your phone and noting the two new messages that the norwegian was in fact already here from a few minutes ago, eyes widening slightly.

“save me some food!” you ordered pointing sternly at your eldest sister who couldn’t help but snicker at the demand, agreeing with a curt nod of her head. but before anyone else could say a word there was a knock at the door and you turned, starting to hobble your way there and groaning as a blur of blonde shot past you on two good feet.

clearly the norwegian wasn’t expecting alexia as you watched surprise fill her face, your sister glaring down at the younger girl who greeted her awkwardly. “¡muévete!” you elbowed alexia out of the way with a huff and a glare of your own shot toward her.

“she cannot walk without the crutches. she must be home before dark. she cannot lift anything heavy. she cannot-” your sister started to rattle off stern warnings to solstrale who nodded along, grabbing your bag for you despite your assurances you had it.

“i know. your mami told me last time, i’ll make sure she is safe, stays off her ankle, and home on time.” solstrale promised, the confidence in her voice wiping the scowl temporarily off your sisters face and causing a slight smile to flicker across yours, alexia clearly shocked she hadn’t terrified the girl as much as she was clearly trying.

“solstrale no-” you started to protest but before you could even finish the sentence the girl had effortlessly lifted you, hands on your hips and carefully making her way down the front steps as you sighed.

“have fun pequeña.” alexia snickered and you turned your head to shoot her a dirty look as the norwegian gently placed you down. “i can walk!” you huffed the moment your feet touched the ground again, crutching away from her down the driveway toward your car. “you’re welcome.” the older girl muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“i can-” you started defensively as she hurried to catch up, leaning over to open your door for you. “you can open the door, i know putellas. but i have the keys to unlock it!” solstrale chuckled, pushing the key in the door and twisting, gesturing for you to open it yourself.

“do you need help?” the brunette mocked with a smile of amusement, watching you struggle to bend over and slide into the car with your crutches. “no! your car is just…too low.” you huffed, giving up and abandoning your crutches which clattered onto the cement, sliding in as sol ducked down to pick them up.

“well you’re low to the ground too.” she commented dryly, opening the back door and placing your crutches on the backseat before making her way around to the drivers seat as you scoffed. “was that a short joke?” you accused with raised eyebrows as she settled in and started up the car.

“sí, lo era.” “oh now you speak spanish?”

“oh por dios!” you groaned in disbelief, stopping in front of the double doors to the library and seeing the bright yellow closed for cleaning sign on the front. “what do they need to clean in a library?” solstrale commented from behind you with a frown and you gave her an annoyed look, turning around and starting to crutch your way back to the car.

“like do the books get dirty?” the girl continued to question as you rolled your eyes. “they are probably cleaning the carpets idiota, not the books! how would you clean a book eh? it is made of paper.” you scoffed, not protesting this time as solstrale took your crutches and opened the passenger door for you.

“well you obviously don’t use water. aren’t you supposed to be smart, dr putellas?” the norwegian accused as she slid into her own seat and you mocked her under your breath. “i liked it better when you were quiet.” you grumbled, but if the girl across from you heard she made no move to acknowledge it.

“are you hungry?” solstrale asked suddenly, car roaring to life as you gave her an odd look. “did you not want to study? your exam solstrale?” you reminded as the taller girl shrugged. “well i’m hungry. i can’t study on an empty stomach.” the brunette shoved her keys into the ignition as the engine spluttered to life.

“this is…eh how do you say it? kidnapping!” you struggled for a moment before finding the right word in english, solstrale rolling her eyes and you grimaced as her arm shot behind your seat so she could lean across and look over her shoulder while she backed out.

“you asked me to come and get you. so maybe you kidnapped me?” the girl mused, turning back to face the road as she pulled out of the library parking lot. “you are the one driving!” you scoffed with an annoyed scowl, the often stoic girl beside you seemingly well out of character today as she snickered.

“well i could just take you home to your sisters and-” “no! its fine. take a left, i know somewhere good to eat.”

“do you know the answer yet?” solstrale asked impatiently causing you to lose your place in the book, slowly lifting your eyes and narrowing them in her direction. “you ask me two minutes ago engen!” you accused, grabbing a fry and throwing it at her with a huff, the girl insisting on getting burgers despite your protests there were plenty of other good places around for more local tastes.

she won out when yet again she threatened to just take you home, causing you to slump into the passenger seat with a silent but simmering anger that she’d so easily figured out a way to manipulate you, hating that she seemed to have the upper hand.

“you said you read fast.” the norwegian defended herself with a grumble, busying herself finishing off your burger when you’d taken your attention off of it for a few seconds and she’d deemed you were finished.

which you were, but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that as you’d still yelled at her for it in spanish, knowing she understood most of what you said even if she pretended not to as she took a large bite and returned her attention to her phone.

you were interrupted from scanning her history textbook when solstrale let out a noise of disgust, spitting out a mouthful of food causing your face to scrunch up in disdain at the action. “you got pickles on yours?” the norwegian asked in disbelief, quickly opening the leftover burger and flicking the remaining two off as if they were an active bomb.

“¿sí? son la mejor parte.” you defended, dropping the pickles into your mouth as solstrale faked a gag. “i hate pickles.” the brunette shook her head, shoveling the last bite of burger in her mouth and wiping her hands on her pants.

“vale! this chapter, read it and take notes.” you finally found what you were looking for, nails tapping on the page as you turned the book back around and slid it across the table. you were expecting pushback or for her to ask you to read and answer it for her, but to your surprise solstrale actually did what you asked.

you were pulled from your thoughts by your phone chiming a few times, rolling your eyes when it was alexia checking in for easily the fifteenth time since you left the house. you’d think you’d gone international and weren’t about twenty minutes away.

“alexia?” solstrale guessed at the sour look on your face as you only hummed, ignoring your eldest sisters request that you share your location with her and exiting out of your message thread. “puta!” you swore suddenly as your eyes scanned the texts from alba, eyebrows furrowing angrily as your nails clacked furiously against your phone screen.

“what engen?” you could feel her eyes piercing into your forehead as you stopped and looked up, solstrales cheeks flushing slightly pink as your gaze locked momentarily. “what solstrale?” you asked a little less aggressively and with a sigh, picking up that clearly she wanted to ask something.

“do you not understand or-” you motioned to the textbook as the norwegian shook her head. “no i just-don’t worry.” she shook her head and dropped her eyes down to the page as you didn’t bother to press her for it, resuming your very sharp tongued message to your older sister.

“what?” you felt her eyes on you once again as you clicked send and dropped your phone to the table, raising an eyebrow as her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. “those.” she nodded down to your nails with a slight frown.

“those…” you repeated as you weren’t quite following what she was getting at. “they’re kinda sharp? or like…long? how do you…” she made a few hand gestures as your eyes widened finally clicking what it was she was trying to say. “wipe my ass? like a normal person does sol! i do not stick them up there, dios mío!” you cringed at the insinuation as it went quiet.

then all of a sudden you heard some strange noises, glancing up and seeing the girl across from you bite down hard on her bottom lip, clearly trying to suppress herself from laughing. But it must have been contagious as then you felt your own lip twitch, a hand coming to cover your mouth but a slight snicker leaving it before you could.

within seconds the pair of you gave up on that, solstrale breaking first and you joining in right away, your laughter echoing around the small park you were sat at in the sun, books and food sprawled across a picnic table you’d commandeered.

“i knew you had a stick up your ass putellas.” solstrale smirked once you both got a little more control over yourselves. “shut up and do your homework engen.” you snarked back but there wasn’t any bite behind it, tossing a cold fry at her head as she batted it away and looked back to her textbook still with a small smile.

you sat in a comfortable silence for awhile, eyes closed and head tilted backward, soaking up the last of the mid afternoon sun while you rolled your boot encased ankle and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, knowing the moment you got home alexia would be on you in a millisecond about your rehab exercises you’d not yet done today.

“so why is alexia a puta?” you were pulled from your thoughts, cracking an eye open and shielding your face from the sun. “not alexia, my other hermana alba. we watch a show and normally we sit and watch together but she watched ahead without me!” you puffed air from your nose with annoyance, your sister texting you the spoilers for the last two episodes you had been waiting for her to watch with you.

“then she texted me spoilers and i have been avoiding them all week but they are everywhere. so now i know anita cheated on montoya and i will have to catch up alone because alba will not watch it again with me!” you huffed, crossing your arms and glaring off into the distance.

“temptation island?” solstrale spoke without realising, colour filling her cheeks again as your head whipped toward her like lightning. “la isla de las tentaciones. you watch it?” you gasped, solstrale scoffing and shaking her head no immediately.

“no! ingrid and mapi watch it.” she rolled her eyes as you looked on unconvinced. “but you know the contestant names?” you asked with a small smile as the norwegian mocked you under her breath. “you so watch it. admítelo engen!” you grinned as she shot you a glare, snapping her textbook closed and starting to hastily shove her things into her backpack.

“vamos, you are throwing a tantrum?” you mocked with a pout, solstrale again shooting you a dirty look as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and rounded the table. “no. its almost your curfew, peg leg.” the older girl grumbled, a slight squeal leaving your mouth as she grabbed your hands and hauled you up, steadying you on your crutches which almost slipped.

“so which couple do you think will last?” you asked as she took off and you crutched after her across the park toward the car, loving that this was clearly getting under her skin and she was obviously trying to hide the fact she enjoyed spanish reality shows.

you asked a few more questions teasingly but all remained unanswered as solstrale stayed silent, opening the door and helping you into the car without a word, tossing your crutches in the back as you did up your seatbelt.

your opportunity to annoy her further was smothered as solstrale plugged her phone in and turned the volume of the sound system right up, having you wince slightly as the car engine roared and she pushed the hand brake down.

you were shocked that a few of the songs which played during the ride home you actually knew, a couple you even liked enough that they already sat on rotation in some of your playlists, but you wouldn’t let her know that.

you took the chance where there was a break in between songs and you were almost back home, leaning forward and turning down the sound as solstrale gave you a look and reached to turn it back up, surprise flickering across her face as you smacked her hand away when she tried.

“my car. my music. don’t touch putellas!” but again when she tried to turn it up you slapped at her hand. “i need to ask you something. it is important.” you warned seriously, solstrale turning onto your street and nodding slowly for you to continue, intrigued by whatever it was you had to say.

you let out a sigh as if collecting yourself for a moment, the norwegian pulling into the driveway and if you’d been looking you’d have seen your eldest sisters head pop through the curtains like a guard dog at the sound of the engine.

“well?” solstrale waved for you to speak as you turned to look at her, inhaling deeply as her eyebrows furrowed together with slight concern. “do you think montoya will cheat on anita for revenge?” you asked seriously, solstrales face morphing into a scowl as yours perked up into an innocent smile.

“get out.” the norwegian sighed with a roll of her eyes as your smile grew, sufficiently satisfied you’d gotten under her skin again. “do not help me! i have it.” your smile dropped as you heard her unbuckle herself to get out, huffing in determination and though it took a minute or two managing to shuffle out of your seat.

balancing on your good foot you hopped a couple paces to the left, opening the back door and reaching in for your crutches, steadying yourself on them and kicking the door closed again with your good foot.

“well…adiós.” you spoke a little awkwardly, unsure quite what to say as solstrale simply gave you a small salute, you crutching your way down the driveway before she could have had the chance to say anything, watching to make sure you got inside okay before she took off home.

the front door was already open and alexia leant across the frame the moment you got out of the car, sending your sister a fierce glare when she stepped forward to help you up the stairs once you were closer. “i will stab you with them alexia.” you warned seriously when your first look went ignored.

“la actitud.” the older girl muttered with an unapproving shake of her head, but of course still ignoring you, an arm wrapping around your torso and practically carrying you up the stairs and back into the house.

“a la mierda!” your sister cried out when she let go of you and true to your word you suddenly jabbed her in the ribs with the end of one of your crutches, alba laughing from the sofa behind you as you turned and held up your crutch threateningly, your sister ooohing sarcastically.

though before you could launch the crutch at alba like a javelin it was snatched from your grasp, causing you to lose your balance and lurch to the side, collapsing into your eldest sisters awaiting grasp as she helped you slowly make your way around to sit down.

“you can have these back later.” the blonde warned seriously, confiscating your crutches you muttered something less than kind under your breath as she took them away. “boot off pequeña! do your exercises!” her voice echoed in from the kitchen as you groaned, body sliding down the sofa until you were slumped over in a weird angle, well aware you had maybe two or three minutes to do so of your own free will before it was done for you.

“how was your study date diablillo?” alba questioned from the other end of the sofa, eyebrows raised curiously as you scoffed. “it was not a date!” you emphasized, pulling a face that had your sisters lips curling up into a smirk.

“i did not mean it was a date.” your sister started, turning around a little more to look you over as you rolled your eyes, reaching for the remote which sat between you and scowling as her foot kicked out to knock it away and out of reach.

“did you want it to be a date?” your older sister continued to question with a teasing tone, crossing her arms and grinning as you chose to ignore her, pushing your torso up to grab your phone from your back pocket.

“are you going to text your date hermanita?” aba pouted mockingly as you gave her a filthy look. “date? who went on a date? you went on a date? when? where? with who?” alexia practically flew into the room as you exhaled heavily, dropping your phone onto your stomach and sliding even further down the sofa.

“no. la idiota is talking about solstrale, ingrids sister.” alexia seemed to relax at that, telling off your other sister for teasing you and smacking her legs out of the way, occupying the empty seat between you. “ale!” you protested as she grabbed your legs, manhandling them into her lap and unlacing your sneaker and starting to undo the velcro clasps of your moon boot.

but your protests fell on deaf ears as sure enough your sister expertly started to roll and rotate your broken ankle, knowing your rehab plan like the back of her hand as you gave in with another deep sigh, reporting back how the pain was out of ten after each exercise.

“oye! ¿para qué era eso?” alba accused with a groan as you grabbed your now unlaced sneaker from your good foot and threw it over alexias shoulder, smacking your sister perfectly in the side of the head with a satisfied nod.

“for spoiling la isla de las tentaciones, puta!”

#🍓☀️#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics

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ahqkas · 6 months ago

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“NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU BABY — jason todd.

PAIRING! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your roommate is the menacing red hood — who just happens to have a soft spot for you WORD COUNT! 1.5k WARNINGS / TAGS! roommates jason & reader, cursing, smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, reader is described to wear makeup, use of petnames ( doll ) NOTES! i need a vigilante bf sb. based on this req.!! © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THERE IS A STARVED DOG IN THE BACK OF JASON TODD’S THROAT.

It keeps barking, baring its sharp canines at whoever dares to step too close to comfort. It isn’t afraid to bite, to leave permanent marks in its wake because it had been hurt once before and the past hadn’t been so kind. So, it rips things apart, shows its strength to intimidate. A mechanism to keep itself safe. To remain whole.

The dog craves violence and roughness to represent the image it once created. It also craves touch, and not the bittersweet one. The kind that aches to feel, the kind that feels undeserving.

Jason isn’t a violent dog. He doesn’t know why he bites.

He’s chaos wrapped in leather. He’s the rumble of a motorbike tearing down an empty street, the smell of gasoline and adrenaline falling behind him. He’s sharp edges and electricity, the lighting that splits the sky just before the rain comes down. He’s a storm caged in a human shell, unpredictable and restless. Jason is late nights bathed in neon lights and the rush of speed that makes your heart race. He’s fire and fury, a protective shield made of calluses and scars.

You, on the other hand, are the softness in a world that’s far too loud. You’re the quiet that follows the first snowfall, the kind that blankets the earth in white stillness. You’re the warmth of vanilla in a kitchen. You’re the calmness of a gentle breeze, the soft glow of a candle against the darkness. There’s nothing harsh about you; you’re delicate without being fragile, a sweetness that lasts long after you first taste it. You’re a handwritten note, a favorite song played on repeat, kindness that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Where Jason is a storm, you’re the eye. He’s the clash of thunder, you’re the calmness that follows. He’s leather jackets and combat boots, you’re large sweaters and bare feet on fluffy carpet. He pushes the word back with his fists while you disarm it with your smile.

Maybe that’s why he has such a soft spot for you.

Jason’s large combat boots were heavy on the hardwood as he stepped through the apartment door. He didn’t use one of the windows tonight since he had the luxury to change out of his vigilante clothing. The brown leather jacket still hung from his broad shoulders, but all the other equipment that created the complete look of Red Hood was safely stashed under the stairs of your fire escape.

Red Hood was one side of Jason’s many personalities he tried to shield you from.

He was quiet, mindful of his steps. He avoided the creaking spot on the floor, and he avoided closing the door too roughly. He had told you one too many times that he could take a look at the things that just made your life annoyingly difficult, but you waved him off with sweet words and he obeyed like a man possessed. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for his liking but he shook it off. You were supposed to be out anyway, something about a party your friends dragged you at.

The faint scent of cigarettes hit him before the quiet breeze of the night air rusted the curtains, and Red Hood was instantly on alert. His fingers moved before his mind could even process the situation, feeling the sharpness of his blade tucked in the belf of his pants.

His legs followed, taking him toward the balcony door and stepping outside into the night. He expected anything: a stray cat wandering through various apartments on a hunt for leftovers or even a rookie thief trying to break in. But he didn’t expect you, sitting on a plastic chair with a cigarette between your lips. One his cigarettes.

There you were, knees pulled close to your chest, the heels of your feet digging into the cheap plastic so you wouldn’t fall.

Draped in one of his hoodies he forgot on the couch earlier, you looked like you were ready to call it a day. Still, impossibly beautiful even with that tired look in your eyes. You pulled the cigarette out, puffing a white swirl of smoke into the darkness.

Jason stepped closer, his tall frame easily towering over yours. “You wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing out here?” The sight of you, your cheeks flushed with alcohol and your hair a little wild from the chill wind, tugged at something buried deep in his chest.

Your glassy eyes met his and your lips tugged into a beaming smile. “Hey, Jason,” you mumbled his name out like it was a melody you hadn’t quite learned yet. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, I’m home. And you’re drunk. Smoking my shit.”

“I stole it from your jacket’s pocket when I did the laundry. I figured you wouldn’t miss one,” you held up the cancer stick towards him, as if to say, ta-da! Look what I found.

You were holding a piece of him. He crouched in front of you, his gloved fingers gently plucking the cigarette from your hand before you could protest. “Smoking’s bad for you, you know. I guess I’m a bad influence for you,” he muttered while his thumb brushed over the filter, the bark of the dog in his throat quieting for a moment. There was a faint pink outline on the white paper. A mark of your lips.

You tilted your head, studying him like you were seeing him for the first time. “You could never be a bad influence.”

Jason didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened as he put the cigarette against the railing, the faint hiss breaking the silence between you. Then, he flicked it over the edge of the railing, watching the embers spiral down into the darkness below. The city roared faintly beneath you, but here, on this tiny balcony, it was just the two of you.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what?” your brows knitted into the frown he grew to adore.

“That I’m not a bad influence,” his lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something bittersweet. It was all a big joke to him; you didn’t know his true nature and yet here you were defending the man you thought you knew. The irony wasn’t lost on him. “You don’t know me as well as you think, doll.”

Tilting your head to the side, you gazed up at Jason like he hung the moon just for you. The look in your eyes softened. “I know enough, Jay. I know you’d rather jump off this balcony than let anything happen to me. I know you leave food for the stray cat, even though you complain how she’s too noisy at night. And I know that when you’re quiet like this,” you bumped your knee against his, trailing slightly into a quieter tone of your voice, “it’s because you’re hiding something.”

The dog inside Jason growled lowly, warning him to keep his guard up. To start building thicker walls around his bleeding heart. This would only end in tears and anguish. But you weren’t barking back. You held your heart in an open palm, extended toward him.

You leaned forward after a minute of his silence, hand brushing against his knee, and Jason stiffened. “You’re not mad, right? About the cigarette” you voiced your thoughts hesitantly.

Jason sighed, running a hand through the dark strands of his hair. “I should be. But seeing you out here like this . . . ” he trailed off, his eyes flickering over your face and cataloging every single detail. The flush on your cheeks and glass in your eyes. The aftermath of alcohol. “I can’t be mad. Just–don’t do it again, okay? You don’t need to mess with that shit.”

Your lips parted like you were about to argue, but then you closed them again, nodding slowly. Jason exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He stood up, holding out a calloused hand to you. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold out here.”

You stared at his hand for a moment before slipping your smaller one into it. His grip was warm, steady, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch. He didn’t let go as he led you back into your shared apartment, the door clicking shut behind the two of you.

The dog in his chest stirred, restless and uneasy. It barked once, softly, a reminder of all the ways he could ruin this. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his jaw tightening against the weight of it. The dog craved destruction, violence, and chaos—it had always craved those things. But now, as he watched you drunkenly lean into him, the dog hesitated.

It whimpered. Then it lay down, its teeth still bared but its growl silenced, if only for tonight. Because for the first time in a long time, Jason felt something strange, something almost unfamiliar.

It wasn’t the absence of violence or the dull ache of longing. It was the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something in this world he didn’t have to break to keep.

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stepandrepeatlasvegas · 5 months ago

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5 Impactful Color Combinations for Your Step and Repeat Banner

Are you organizing an event, trade show, red carpet event, fundraiser, galas, or openings? If so, you might want to invest in a high-quality step and repeat banner. Step and repeat banners are a staple for such events. These banners are usually placed at the entrance or behind the red carpet. These banners become a great tool to increase brand visibility, especially when guests take photographs in front of them. You can use any color combination for your step and repeat banner. Maybe you can take colors from your brand or campaign logo. However, certain color combinations for such banners offer certain advantages and feel for the event. Here are our top 5 recommendations for step and repeat banner color combinations to make an unforgettable impact on your guests. White and Red This color pairing is great for marketing and campaigning events to increase brand visibility. Red and white denote vibrancy, enthusiasm, and a drive to move forward despite all odds. You can convey this message to your guests with a red and white step and repeat banner. Gold/White and Black You can choose a gold/white and black color when making a custom step and repeat banner. These colors offer timeless and classic elegance to the event. It is perfect for events like corporate celebrations such as the 50th anniversary of the company. White and Green Choose white and green colors for your step and repeat banners for a fundraiser or gala event. This color denotes prosperity, growth, and success. This color pairing will prompt your guests to make larger donations to your cause. Gold and Blue An outdoor event needs a step and repeat banner that pops amidst the natural colors. A gold and blue colored banner will stand out. It will also provide a royal, positive, and regal feel to the event. This color pairing is perfect for outdoor corporate events, themed parties, and more. Silver and Purple Hosting a private event such as a cultural celebration, a charity ball, or a high-end party? Silver and purple step and repeat banner would be perfect. This color denotes royalty, and hence, it is perfect for upscale private events. About Step and Repeat Las Vegas: Step and Repeat Las Vegas is amongst the leading designers and publishers of stunning step and repeat banners for any event you host. In addition to step and repeat banners, the company provides a red carpet for rent, red carpet photography, and more. Visit https://stepandrepeatlasvegas.com/ to find out more about their services.

Original source: https://bit.ly/4gmmtkX

#step and repeat banner #custom step and repeat banner #red carpet for rent

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redcarpetexpert · 2 hours ago

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#red carpet systems #step and repeat #red carpet rental #dj booth rental #dj equipment rental #christian louboutin

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pucksandpower · 9 months ago

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You Owe Me

Day 9 → Overstimulation 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The door to the hotel suite slams shut with a sharp click, echoing through the quiet space. You freeze just inside the entryway, one heel still half-off, your body already half-turned toward Charles. You can feel the tension before you even look at him — an unmistakable tightness in the air, like the room itself is holding its breath.

“Baby?” You ask softly, already sensing this isn’t going to be a conversation that ends with laughter or a kiss. He’s standing by the window, arms crossed, the lights of the city casting a harsh glow over his face. His jaw clenches, and there’s something stormy in his eyes, something that makes your stomach tighten.

He doesn’t turn. “You had fun tonight?”

It’s a simple enough question, but his tone carries weight — far too much for something that should be innocent. You take a breath, trying to ease the knot building in your chest. “It was fine,” you reply, stepping out of your other shoe. “The sponsors were … you know how it is. They want to feel important.”

He laughs, but it’s sharp, humorless. “Oh, I saw. You made them feel very important.”

You blink, thrown by the bitterness in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finally, he turns, his eyes locking on yours. There’s fire there, a barely controlled flame flickering in the depths. He takes a step closer, then another, his movements deliberate, calculated.

“You spent the entire night,” he says, his voice low, “flirting with everyone in sight.”

Your mouth falls open, words caught in your throat. For a moment, you just stare at him, trying to process what he’s just said. “Flirting?” You repeat, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. “Charles, I wasn’t-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, pacing now, back and forth across the plush carpet. “I’m not blind. I saw how you were with them. Smiling, laughing at their jokes, touching their arms. Acting like they’re the most interesting people in the world.”

You stand rooted to the spot, the accusation swirling around in your mind like a bad dream. “I wasn’t flirting,” you say again, more firmly this time. “I was being polite, trying to sweeten them up for you. For the team. That’s why we were there.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Bullshit?” You echo, incredulous. “You think I was flirting with them? For what? To get a free drink? To make you jealous?”

“Maybe you wanted to make me jealous,” he spits out, stopping dead in front of you. His presence is overwhelming, a towering force of frustration and anger, and you feel it pressing down on you, threatening to suffocate. “Maybe you like the attention. You like how they look at you, like they’re ready to do anything for you.”

You take a step back, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch. “You really think that low of me?”

For a moment, the anger in his eyes wavers, something else flickering behind the fury. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the hard, cold expression you’ve never seen from him before. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing tonight.”

Your chest tightens, and for the first time, you feel the burn of tears threatening to rise, but you refuse to let them fall. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was there for you, Charles. I was trying to help.”

He snorts, turning his back on you again. “You call that helping?”

You shake your head, stepping forward. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to stop talking to anyone else? Should I just sit in a corner and be invisible?”

His silence stretches out, and you wish, for a moment, he would just say something, anything, that isn’t loaded with accusation.

“You don’t get it,” he finally mutters. “You never get it.”

“What don’t I get?” Your voice is rising now, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Tell me what I’m supposed to understand here, Charles, because right now all I see is you punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

He turns sharply, eyes locking on yours. “You don’t understand what it’s like, watching them look at you like that, knowing that at any moment, they could sweep in and-” He cuts himself off, pressing his lips together as if he’s said too much.

You stare at him, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried someone’s going to steal me away?”

Charles’ eyes flash with something dangerous. “I’m not worried,” he snaps. “I know how this works. You think they’re just being polite, just being nice, but I see it. I see how they look at you, like you’re a prize they can win. And you, you play right into it.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. “You think I’m some object? Some … trophy for them to fight over? That’s insane, Charles. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” His voice is sharp, and there’s something raw, almost vulnerable, in the way he says it. “Because tonight, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for the right words. “I was doing my job as your date, Charles. I was talking to sponsors, making connections — for you.”

He shakes his head again, the muscles in his jaw working. “That’s not what it looked like.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “Then what did it look like to you? Because from where I’m standing, all I did was try to help, and now I’m being accused of God knows what.”

His eyes darken, the fire in them burning hotter now. “It looked like you were enjoying it. Every second of it.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. When you finally do, your voice is quiet, a sharp contrast to the storm raging between you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He steps closer again, his presence overpowering, like gravity pulling you in whether you want it or not. “You think I didn’t notice the way your hand lingered on his arm, the way you leaned in when you laughed? You think I didn’t see him watching you?”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I was making conversation.”

“With his arm?”

“Charles-”

“I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”

Your chest tightens at the way he says your name, so cold, so distant. The Charles you know isn’t like this. He’s fierce, yes, but not like this. Not with you.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you repeat, your voice low but firm. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for a lie, for something that isn’t there. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, measured, but it carries a weight that makes your stomach churn.

“You flirted with eight men? You owe me eight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unfamiliar, their meaning unclear at first. You blink, your confusion only deepening as you replay the sentence in your mind.

“Eight?” You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t explain, doesn’t elaborate. His eyes stay locked on yours, cold and unyielding, and you know there’s no point in asking again. He’s already decided — whatever it is he thinks you’ve done, however he’s convinced himself of it, he’s not backing down.

Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating.

For a moment, you want to fight. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to push back against this irrational anger that’s tearing him apart. But you’re exhausted — emotionally, mentally, drained from the evening and the unexpected accusation.

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. “I don’t know what you think I owe you, but this … this isn't fair.”

Charles’ eyes don’t leave you as the silence stretches unbearably thin between you. His breath is steady, controlled, but there’s an unmistakable tension in the way he stands — coiled, waiting. His gaze sharpens, and you feel it like a current, an invisible pull dragging you back toward him.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. You take a step toward him, hesitating for a fraction of a second. His eyes darken, daring you to defy him, but you can’t. You don’t. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that holds you in place, that demands your obedience without ever saying the words.

His hand reaches out, curling around your wrist, firm but not harsh, and he pulls you closer. The air between you feels thick, heavy with unresolved tension and desire. You know what he wants. There’s no mistaking it now.

“You owe me eight,” he repeats, and this time, the meaning behind his words is crystal clear.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the heat rise in your body, your skin prickling under his gaze. There’s no room for argument, no space to deny him. He’s made up his mind, and you … you’re at his mercy.

He doesn’t waste time.

His hands are quick, efficient as he pulls at your dress, the fabric sliding down your body with an ease that makes your pulse race. Every brush of his fingertips ignites something in you, something you can’t control. His touch is rough, but not cruel — dominant, but laced with something deeper, something that sends a thrill down your spine.

You open your mouth to speak, to say something — anything — but the words are gone before they form, lost in the haze of his touch.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your neck. “Not a word. Not until I say.”

And you nod, because what else is there to do? You’re already under his spell, every part of you tuned to him, to the way his hands move, the way his eyes never leave your face. You’re his. For this moment, for as long as he decides, you’re his.

He starts slowly, his fingers tracing patterns along your skin, teasing, coaxing your body into submission. Your breath hitches, and you feel the heat rising in you, the anticipation building with every calculated touch. He’s methodical, deliberate, focusing entirely on you, on what you’re feeling, how you’re reacting. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

“Charles,” you whisper, a breathless plea escaping before you can stop it.

He pulls back just slightly, eyes narrowing. “What did I say?”

You bite your lip, nodding quickly, trying to regain control of yourself, but it’s slipping fast. His touch is too much — precise, intentional — and you can already feel your body unraveling beneath his hands.

Then he starts in earnest.

His fingers move with purpose, finding that spot that makes your breath hitch, your body jerk involuntarily. It’s a slow build at first, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter until it’s all you can focus on. Your mind goes blank, every thought consumed by the sensation coursing through you.

The first one comes hard, fast, and you gasp, your body arching into him. He doesn’t let up, his fingers relentless, pushing you higher, faster. You barely have time to recover before the second one crashes over you, leaving you breathless, trembling.

“That’s two,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, a dark satisfaction in his tone.

You’re barely coherent now, your body no longer your own as he drives you toward the third. He’s focused, unrelenting, and you can’t stop the sounds escaping your lips, broken, breathless moans that fill the room as he pulls you closer to the edge again.

The third comes slower, more drawn out, and by the time it crests, you’re shaking, your body trembling under his touch.

“Three,” he murmurs, and there’s something almost possessive in the way he says it, like he’s claiming each one as his own.

He doesn’t stop. His hand moves faster now, more insistent, and you can feel yourself slipping, your mind clouding with the overwhelming pleasure building inside you. The fourth one crashes into you harder than the last, and you cry out, your body jerking as it hits.

He pulls you closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Four.”

You’ve lost count, your mind too hazy to keep track anymore, but Charles hasn’t. He knows exactly where you are, and he’s not done. He won’t be done until you’ve given him everything he’s asked for. Everything he’s demanded.

By the time the fifth one hits, your legs are weak, your body trembling uncontrollably. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel. The pleasure is overwhelming now, consuming, and you’re teetering on the edge of losing yourself completely.

He slows down just for a moment, letting you catch your breath, but the reprieve is brief. His hand moves again, more purposeful now, driving you toward the sixth with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

It hits harder than you expect, your body spasming as it crashes over you. You can’t control the sounds escaping your lips, the soft whimpers and moans that fill the space between you.

Charles is relentless, his fingers never pausing, never giving you a moment to recover. You’re incoherent now, your mind a blur of sensation, your body completely at his mercy.

The seventh one comes before you’ve even had time to process the last, your body convulsing under his touch. You’re barely holding on, your mind fogged, every nerve ending on fire.

And then, the eighth.

It’s slower, drawn out, the pleasure building and building until you’re sure you can’t take any more. When it finally hits, it’s like an explosion, tearing through you, leaving you trembling, incoherent, completely undone.

Your body goes limp, every muscle weak, every thought gone. You can’t move, can’t speak, can’t even breathe properly.

Charles finally stops, his hand withdrawing as he leans back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he watches you, taking in the sight of your trembling body, your flushed skin.

“You owe me nothing now,” he whispers, and there’s a possessive satisfaction in his voice that makes your heart pound, even through the haze.

***

You wake slowly, consciousness seeping in like warmth spreading across your skin. For a moment, everything is soft, gentle — the sheets tangled around your legs, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and the quiet, rhythmic sound of breathing beside you.

And then you feel it — Charles’ fingers.

Your heart skips a beat as you become fully aware of the slow, deliberate movements beneath the sheets. He’s there, under the covers, his body pressed against yours, and his touch … God, his touch is focused, intentional, right where he knows you’re most sensitive.

You stir, a soft moan escaping your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes flutter open, but everything is still blurry, your mind foggy with sleep and the sudden, electric sensation coursing through you.

“Charles …” your voice is quiet, husky with sleep, but there’s a hint of surprise mixed with something else — something warmer, something stirring deep within you.

He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, his fingers move with more purpose, flicking lightly at the bundle of nerves that’s now fully awake. Your breath hitches, your body responding immediately, instinctively, arching slightly into his touch.

You can’t see him clearly, but you know the look on his face — the intense focus, the way his eyes darken with desire, the way his lips curl into that knowing, smug smile when he knows he’s affecting you.

A soft chuckle escapes from under the sheets. “You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low, the words vibrating against your skin. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give you time to adjust to the sudden onslaught of sensation. His fingers continue their work, teasing, circling, flicking, until your body is already trembling beneath him.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan threatening to spill out. Your legs twitch involuntarily, and you’re about to speak again, to say something — anything — but he presses down a little harder, his thumb joining his fingers in perfect rhythm.

“Charles-” you gasp, but it’s barely a word, more of a plea, your breath hitching as the pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely. “What … what are you doing?”

He hums, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh as he speaks. “Making sure you start the day properly,” he says, the words laced with that unmistakable arrogance that only he can pull off without sounding insufferable.

You can feel the heat rising in your body, spreading from where his fingers work their magic. You’re already sensitive — too sensitive — and he knows it. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, exactly where to touch, how to touch, and you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

Your hips shift, bucking slightly as his fingers quicken, and you let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping the sheets beneath you. You can feel the tension coiling in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every precise flick of his fingers, every teasing circle.

“Charles, please …” you whisper, but you don’t know if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going. The pleasure is already overwhelming, your body still exhausted from last night, but the heat building inside you is impossible to ignore.

“Please, what?” He asks, his voice teasing, almost playful, but there’s a darker edge to it, something commanding. His fingers slow for a brief moment, and you take a shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but he doesn’t give you time to recover.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, his fingers pausing just at the edge of where you need him most, his breath warm against your skin.

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “No,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his fingers are back, moving with even more purpose than before, faster, more insistent. Your hips lift off the bed, your body moving of its own accord, chasing the sensation, chasing the release you know is coming, but Charles is in control — he’s always in control.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s a command hidden in the softness. “Let me take care of you.”

You try to comply, but your body isn’t listening. Your legs twitch, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his fingers work you closer and closer to the edge. It’s too much, too soon, and you can feel yourself unraveling, the tension in your core coiling so tightly it’s almost painful.

“Charles, I can’t-” you gasp, your voice breaking as your body tenses, every muscle tightening in anticipation.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers, his voice a mix of gentleness and command. “Just let go. Let me.”

And you do. You don’t have a choice — your body gives in, the tension snapping all at once, and the release crashes over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, trembling, your vision going white for a moment as the pleasure ripples through you.

Your fingers grip the sheets, your back arching as your body rides the waves of your orgasm, and Charles doesn’t stop. His fingers slow, but they don’t stop, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, pushing you through it until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

You’re gasping for breath, your mind fuzzy, your body limp and uncooperative as the aftershocks roll through you. You can’t even form words, your lips parting uselessly as you try to catch your breath.

Charles emerges from under the sheets, his eyes dark and satisfied, a smug smile playing on his lips. He hovers above you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, letting you taste the satisfaction on his lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice soft now, the roughness replaced by something gentler, more tender.

You try to respond, but your body is still too weak, too overwhelmed by the sensations still lingering in your skin. Instead, you just nod, your hand weakly reaching up to brush through his hair.

He chuckles softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your trembling body. There’s something possessive in his gaze, something that sends a shiver through you despite the heat still coursing through your veins.

“You can take another,” he says, and it’s not a question.

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. “Charles, I don’t think-”

“You can,” he insists, his hand slipping between your thighs again, fingers finding that sensitive spot immediately, and you whimper, your body twitching involuntarily.

“I’m … I’m too sensitive,” you gasp, your hips shifting away instinctively, but he follows you, relentless.

“I know,” he murmurs, his fingers moving in slow, teasing circles. “But I want to see you fall apart again. You can give me one more, can’t you?”

There’s no real room for refusal in his voice, and despite the sensitivity, despite the overwhelming pleasure still buzzing in your veins, you find yourself nodding, your body already responding to his touch.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his fingers pressing down harder, and you moan, your body already trembling again, the sensitivity only heightening the pleasure now.

It doesn’t take long — your body is still on edge, still too raw from the first orgasm, and Charles knows exactly how to push you back to the brink. His fingers are relentless, flicking and circling in a rhythm that makes your legs shake, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pleasure builds too quickly, too intensely.

You try to hold on, try to control it, but it’s impossible. Charles is too skilled, too focused, and your body is too weak, too sensitive. The second orgasm crashes into you faster than the first, more intense, more overwhelming, and you cry out, your body convulsing as the pleasure tears through you.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, your body completely uncooperative, every muscle trembling as the orgasm rips you apart. You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything but feel as wave after wave of pleasure rolls through you, leaving you breathless and incoherent.

Charles slows his movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, trembling mess beneath him.

When he finally pulls his hand away, you’re gasping for breath, your body limp and useless, your mind a hazy blur of satisfaction and exhaustion. You can’t even open your eyes, can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

Charles leans over you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “That’s my girl.” His breath is warm on your skin, sending shivers down your spine even though your body is already wrecked, trembling, barely holding on to the remnants of what he's given you.

But it doesn’t stop there. You can feel him shifting beside you, his body pressing closer, his chest brushing against your back as he moves. The anticipation builds again, that familiar, heady pull tightening in your core even though you’re exhausted, overstimulated, every nerve in your body screaming that you’ve had enough.

And then you feel it — him. Sliding between your legs, the head of him nudging against you. Your breath catches in your throat, the sensation sharp, almost too sharp, like your body can’t take any more, like you’re already too far gone.

“Charles, I-” you start to protest, but the words come out broken, barely a whisper, swallowed by the overwhelming feeling of him pushing into you, slow, deliberate, but still relentless.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice soft but commanding, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “I know it’s too much. I know.”

But he doesn’t stop. He slides in deeper, stretching you, filling you completely, and the sensation is so intense it feels like fire — burning, bright, consuming. Your body tenses, your fingers gripping the sheets as the overstimulation turns into something almost painful. The pleasure from before mixes with the sharp edge of it, and you gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as he presses further in.

“Charles, I can’t-” you try again, but the words are lost, drowned out by the sound of your own breath hitching, your body tightening around him involuntarily, every muscle clenching as you try to cope with the overwhelming sensation.

“You can,” he says again, his voice low and firm, like he’s coaxing you, pulling you through the pain, the pleasure, everything at once. “You can take it. Just breathe.”

You try to listen, try to breathe, but it’s so much — too much. Your legs twitch, your hips buck involuntarily as he moves deeper still, every inch of him sending shockwaves through you. Your vision blurs, your head swimming as the pressure inside you builds again, twisting tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

The overstimulation is like electricity, buzzing under your skin, every nerve on fire. You can feel everything — every inch of him, every stroke, every push — and it’s overwhelming. Your body is trembling uncontrollably now, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you teeter on the edge of something you can’t control, something that feels too intense, too much to handle.

Charles’ hands are on you, firm, steady, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper, his movements slow but unyielding, drawing out every ounce of pleasure and pain until you can’t tell the difference anymore. Your mind goes blank, your senses consumed by him, by the way he’s filling you, stretching you, pushing you past every limit you thought you had.

“I know it’s too much,” he whispers again, his lips against your ear, his voice a soft command. “But you can take it. You’re mine, and I want all of you.”

Your vision goes white, then black, the edges of your consciousness fading as the overstimulation hits its peak. The pleasure is so sharp it hurts, a throbbing, pulsing ache that sends your mind spiraling. You can’t see, can’t think, can’t breathe properly. The world tilts, and for a moment, everything disappears — the room, the bed, Charles, all of it swallowed by the overwhelming sensation crashing through you.

It’s like drowning in fire and light, your body suspended in a haze of overstimulation that blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re lost in it, your body convulsing as he pushes you further, deeper, until you break.

And then, nothing.

The world goes black.

***

You come back slowly, your body heavy and limp, the overwhelming sensation fading into a dull hum. Your eyelids flutter open, the room coming back into focus, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting shadows across the sheets. Everything feels distant, like you’re floating just outside of yourself, disconnected but still aware.

Charles’ arms are wrapped around you, his chest pressed against your back, his breath steady and warm against your neck. He’s holding you close, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm, grounding you, pulling you back from wherever you had gone. His touch is soft now, gentle, as if he knows you’ve already given him everything, as if he’s calming the storm he unleashed.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but it’s the sound that pulls you fully back, anchoring you in the present. “You with me?”

You nod weakly, though your body still feels like it’s not entirely your own, like you’ve been hollowed out and filled with something entirely different. You’re trembling slightly, your breath coming in shallow, shaky inhales, but you’re here. You’re with him.

Charles shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms tightening around you in a protective embrace. His lips brush the side of your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath, the tenderness in the way he’s holding you now. It’s such a stark contrast to the intensity from before, and you cling to it, to him, as you try to gather yourself.

“You did so well,” he murmurs, his voice soothing, filled with a deep, quiet pride that makes your heart flutter weakly in your chest. “You’re perfect.”

You can’t speak yet, can’t form the words, so you just nod again, your eyes slipping shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms. The aftershocks are still rippling through you, small tremors that make you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the storm that had torn through you moments ago.

He’s stroking your hair now, his fingers gentle as they thread through the strands, his movements slow, comforting. “I’ve got you,” he says, as if sensing the lingering haze in your mind. “Just breathe, okay? I’m here.”

You take a deep breath, the air filling your lungs slowly, and you feel your body start to relax, the tension ebbing away little by little. Charles’ presence is grounding, his steady touch bringing you back to yourself, and you’re grateful for it. For him. For the way he knows exactly how to take care of you, even when you’re completely undone.

“You scared me for a second,” he admits quietly, his voice soft, almost vulnerable, as if he’s sharing something he rarely lets anyone see. “You went somewhere else. I didn’t mean to push you that far.”

You swallow, your throat dry, but you manage to whisper, “I’m okay.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough so he can look at you, his eyes searching your face. “You sure?”

You meet his gaze, your body still weak, but your mind clearer now, and you nod. “Yeah … I’m sure.”

The concern in his eyes fades, replaced by that familiar intensity, the quiet possessiveness that’s always been there, lurking beneath the surface. But now it’s softer, tempered by the care he’s showing you in this moment, by the way he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “You know that, right?”

You smile faintly, your heart swelling at the way he’s looking at you, like you’re everything. “You don’t make it easy,” you murmur, your voice still shaky, but there’s a hint of teasing in it.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound warm and low, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy, mon amour.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound weak but real, and you close your eyes, leaning into him, letting the comfort of his presence wash over you. Your body is still recovering, still trembling slightly, but you’re safe here, in his arms. You’re okay.

Charles shifts again, settling back into the pillows with you still wrapped in his arms, his hand never leaving your skin, always touching, always grounding you. He holds you like that for a long time, the silence between you filled only with the sound of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of two people who understand each other on a level that words can’t reach.

And as you lie there, cocooned in his warmth, his arms around you like a shield, you hope he finally realizes that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

1K notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 8 months ago

Text

﴾ This Is How Much IDGAF — 𝐇.𝐇𝐉 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ

▹PAIRING: Possessive Boyfriend Hyunjin x F. Reader

▹ GENRE: ⚠︎ Smut, Model / Idol Au, Angst, Fluff

── 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ܃ While at a prestigious fashion event with your boyfriend, you two made your public debut as a celebrity couple. However, after Hyunjin caught sight of you mingling with a flirtatious stranger, he was determined to remind you who you belonged to before the night was out...

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, foul language, kissing, jealous!hyunjin lol, degrading kink, face slapping, oral (m. receiving), orgasm denial, spit kink, S&M, some spanking, rough unprotected sex, hair pulling

▹ 𝐖ORD 𝐂OUNT ⨾ 4074 ࿐Day 11

AS HYUNJIN'S GIRLFRIEND, you had always felt comfortable stepping into the limelight that often surrounded him, even when his fame far surpassed yours.

It never bothered you that he was the center of attention at events like these, and in fact, you genuinely preferred blending into the crowd at times...

It’s actually how you first met each other.

You were relatively new in the modeling world, and Hyunjin was an A-lister. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes when he approached you, asking for your name and if you knew where the drink bar was.

Since then, you two are both a happy couple now, and with that, Hyunjin wanted to make tonight special for you; he planned to publicly announce your relationship and the idea of stepping out as a couple made your palms sweat with anticipation.

Hyunjin stood in front of the mirror while adjusting his necktie; it was something he did all the time on his own, but today, the task was proving to be much more difficult than usual.

You were busy retouching your makeup when you caught on to his little sighs of frustration, and immediately, putting your makeup brush down, you replaced his anxious fingers with your own, adjusting the tie flaps for him with meticulous precision.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said with a soft smile, but you could tell it was a forced one given the tension in his eyebrows.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you returned, giving the tie a few more tugs until it was just right, “I’ve never seen you this nervous before…”

He chuckled at your words as you took a step back to check him out, the sleek black suit he wore hugging his figure perfectly with every line accentuating his modelesque figure.

“Me neither,” he replied, in between applying some final touches of his cologne, “I just don’t know what to expect from tonight…”

“Then don’t expect anything at all,” you whispered, gently squeezing his bicep through his suit, “you’re gonna do great, alright?”

His tender gaze flickered from your face and back to the mirror as he took in the reflection of you two standing beside each other, and you looked absolutely stunning together.

Hyunjin could almost see all the adoring headlines and flashing lights in the back of his mind already, making his heart flutter with pride.

“Alright,” he repeated, and much more confidently this time, snagging off his necktie single-handedly as the extra fabric was only making it harder for him to relax and he looked much hotter without it anyway.

Hooking your hand in his, the two of you exchanged a brief kiss, waltzing out of the dressing room and beyond excited to have attended the fashion event.

Stepping out of the sleek limousine, you and Hyunjin soon arrived at the venue, and the atmosphere was electric.

Famous faces mingled in designer attire, and fashion elitists swarmed around the gleaming runway, champagne glasses glad in hand.

Admittedly, the scene was pretentiously grandiose, from the red carpet outside to the elaborate decor inside the atmosphere was made even more dynamic thanks to the electric dance music playing.

It was a bit overwhelming when people started to approach the two of you because as mentioned previously, you both were accredited to your own standard of fame; you had your past and future fashion representatives tugging at your attention while Hyunjin interacted with fellow models from his circle as well.

You both radiated joy, your smiles bright and infectious, as grace and charm seemed to flow from you like a warm glow. With your arms intertwined, you were resolute in your commitment to remain side by side all evening.

And ironically so, as almost every conversation, including the harsh barking from photographers, led to the same, faithful, question: “Are you two together?”

As brief as it was, the question meant the world to you.

The warmth of adoration that surrounded you two tonight was undeniable, and it melted your heart to see how confident he was.

Scanning the room, it seemed like everyone’s eyes were on you two now, so it was like you had no other choice but to split up to take the attention off yourselves.

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby,” Hyunjin whispered while kissing the temple of your head, “don’t go too far, now…”

“I won’t,” you smiled, letting go of his hand before eventually finding yourself by the drink bar, chatting it up with someacquaintances and familiar faces.

You remember running into Momo, who actually worked at the same company as your boyfriend, and she congratulated you on coming public about your relationship.

“That takes a lot of courage to do in this industry, and I couldn’t be happier for you and Hyunjin,” she hummed before eventually walking away, leaving you to yourself again.

After a while, Hyunjin still hadn’t come to find you yet…

That’s when a certain partygoer made his way over to you, a glint of mischief dangling in his eyes as he winked, making your face heat up as you didn’t know how to respond to such behavior.

He had been noticeably eyeing since you and Hyunjin parted ways, and before you knew it, he was already making small talk with you.

“Nice dress,” he began in a voice smoother than the champagne bubbling over in everyone’s glasses. “And is that a Versace necklace? It looks stunning on your complexion.”

He reached out his hand to examine the chain up close now, and you internally shivered at the feeling of his cold fingers grazing your chest.

“Thank you,” you returned shyly, “my boyfriend’s actually an ambassador for Versace… this is a custom-made piece…”

The man gave you a look, one that told you he wasn’t buying the whole ‘boyfriend name drop’ trick at all, so he continued.

“I suppose that makes you a very lucky girl then,” he smirked before finally letting go of your necklace, “is that ring from him, too?”

His confidence was off-putting, but you brushed the annoyance aside, thinking it was harmless banter, “Yeah, it’s a promise ring…”

“Oh, I know what it is,” he chuckled sarcastically while licking his lips, “Though, I can’t say you’re fortunate anymore if Mr. Versace doesn’t even let you touch him—”

“It’s a symbol of our loyalty,” you corrected him as sternly as you could.

And giving him the benefit of the doubt, you assumed that the champagne had something to do with this man’s inappropriate boldness.

“My apologies, darling,” he said more quietly this time, “I didn’t mean to offend you, that’s just my sense of humor…”

“It’s alright, no offense taken,” you replied, not meeting his face now as his sharp features were only magnified under the venue lighting…

The two of you exchanged a few more words before you felt a sharp grip on your arm, one that was masked by a forced smile of pleasantness.

It was Hyunjin, who unbeknownst to you, had watched the entire exchange… his previously tender expression shifted as he caught sight of the guy leaning in too closely, laughing too loudly, and getting too touchy.

You felt a sudden tension in the air; the warmth of the event seemed to drain away now that Hyunjin was by your side again.

“Hey,” Hyunjin started, and the typically playful tone of his voice was replaced by a steely edge. You could see the anger flaring behind his dark eyes, making your stomach flutter at the way his jaw visibly tightened as he spoke, “I think you should leave.”

And with this, the stranger only smirked, perhaps not taking your boyfriend seriously, but that only fueled Hyunjin's possessiveness even more.

“Look man, we were only talking—”

“Well did she tell you she was spoken for?… Huh?” Hyunjin asked, his protective and jealous grip on you growing tighter.

“I mean, she might’ve mentioned it, but with looks like hers, you can’t blame a guy for not caring, right?”

Hyunjin scoffed, and you felt your heartbeat increase with each passing second.

Before you could even process all that was happening, your boyfriend wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him just to make it undeniably clear who you belonged to.

“Come on, babe,” he said with a forced smile, dragging you away from the unwelcome attention, “there’s someone I’d like you to meet…”

Of course, that was a lie, but he only said it because he didn’t want the creepy guy trying to follow you two…

You kind of wished you knew the strange man’s name now, but it wouldn’t make a difference to Hyunjin anyway; he was already pissed at you… pissed that you just stood there and let that guy disrespect your relationship like that, and pissed that you didn’t walk away and just stood there, soaking up all his bullshit…

The rest of the night played out like a dance that lacked harmony; Hyunjin's smile never wavered from his face, just as his grip never wavered from your hand.

A throng of people already began to disperse out and about the main floor, though Hyunjin didn't even bother waiting for everyone to leave.

Walking past the elevator, he steered you towards the stairs, his eyes ridden with determination as he led you to a secluded area in the building.

The space oddly mimicked a kitchen given the steel accents and tile flooring…

You knew what was coming, and a strange mix of dread and exhilaration filled you as Hyunjin’s playful façade vanished completely.

“What the hell was that ____?” Hyunjin hissed without hesitation, voice low but intense as he took off his jacket and tossed it aside, already feeling too hot with his rage.

“I thought you knew better than to entertain guys like that… God, I… I brought you here to support me, ____…. to celebrate us… not so you could run off and flirt with strangers—”

“You know damn well I wasn’t flirting with him, Hyunjin,” you protested through a shaky voice, finally meeting his eyes, “I would never do something like that to you…”

Hyunjin’s expression softened slightly, but the tension remained as bold as ever.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you allowed it, ____,” Hyunjin returned, and you felt your spirit break all overagain.

“What do you mean I allowed it—what was I supposed to do, Hyunjin?… Scream like a damsel in distress while you were chatting it up with elite designers?” You raised your voice at him, and your use of sarcasm only provoked him further.

Pressing you against the wall, you felt your heart skip a bit at the anger radiating off of him now, and if he wasn’t so handsome, he’d likely look like a raging bull at this moment.

“I don’t want anyone thinking they have a chance with you, ____… I’m not just yelling at you for fun,” he scorned, only to take his free hand and hold your face in place.

You felt so ashamed at this moment, so confused; it was never your intention to encourage the stranger to behave in such a way, and you’d say Hyunjin was getting way too worked up over a simple interaction—

“Get out of your head slut, I’m still talking to you,” Hyunjin went on, keeping your body fused against the wall, “What were you just thinking about, anyways, huh?…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, and it had everything to do with the tears forming in your eyes now; Hyunjin had never called you such a thing—

“Oh, so you’re the kind of slut that cries instead of talking now?” He continued to degrade you, “because you sure had a lot to say when that guy had his hands on you…”

You shook your head at his words, not even bothering to hide your tears anymore as a few slid down your face anyway.

“Aww… What is it, dolly… hm? Do I have to touch you to get you to talk for me?” He whispered condescendingly, only to tighten his grip on your face and force a weak whimper out of you…

“H-Hyunjin—“ you stuttered while lifting your arm to remove his painful grip from your face, but he instead found your hand in his own, pinning your wrist to the wall.

“You don’t get to touch me right now,” he slithered impossibly close to your face now, and his voice went straight to your core, lingering there long enough for you to feel yourself pulse slightly.

It was embarrassing, honestly… the fact that you were getting turned on by the cruelty in his words…

Hyunjin looked down for a second, letting out an attractive sigh to exhale some of his nerves.

Your emotions were still spiraling inside you, and despite how the look in his eyes should’ve intimidated you, it only turned you on even more, and in all honesty, he was feeling the same way himself.

The only reason he looked back up so suddenly was because he caught sight of the way you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together for leverage, and he felt himself getting harder by the minute.

“Why’d you just stand there, love?… knowing I’d get upset like this…” Hyunjin whispered, voice hoarse as he looked at you with his piercing gaze, “Unless you wanted to make me mad… is that what happened?”

He honestly had rendered you speechless; you had no clue what he wanted to hear right now, and it didn’t help that your brain kept dozing off, failing to focus on anything but the thought of him fucking you—

“Hyunjin!” You gasped, feeling a wad of his spit decorate your face now.

“That’s how dumb sluts are treated,” he said, and it was clear that his patience had reached its limit on tolerating your bullshit. “And since you don’t have anything to say other than my name, I’ll just have to find a new use for your mouth.”

Letting your wrist free and removing his grip from your face, his hands find your shoulders, shoving you down to the ground knees-first before promptly undoing his pants, and he can feel your weak eyes watching his every move now…

His dick is quick to come out, too, eager and erect as one of his hands finds your scalp, angling your head upward to face him.

“Suck it,” he commands, and your lips hesitantly but surely invite his cock into the warmth of your mouth, and he visibly bites back a groan at the feeling.

Needing something to brace on, your hands find his thighs, but he swats them away, staying firm on his rule that you don’t get to touch him.

Your first instinct was to use your hands to help you take his length, too, but you knew better than to give that a try.

Opening your throat the best you could, you bobbed your head against his shaft at a medium pace, making sure you tightened your lips around the base just how he liked it.

But by now, it was getting much harder for him to seem unfazed as tiny groans of pleasure started to slip past his mouth the more and more you sucked, genuinely enjoying the taste of him.

Hyunjin was embarrassingly close to finishing, cursing under his breath while guiding your head to move a little slower, as you had only been sucking for a few minutes.

That’s when suddenly, he shoved your head down as far as your throat could go before you started gagging.

“Such a pathetic cock whore,” he spat, feeling himself twitch at the sight of foggy eyeliner staining your face now.

Pulling out of your mouth, a dense string of precum kept you together until he told you to stand up for him.

You were completely drunk on lust right now, and that was all without having a single swig of alcohol in your system.

Hyunjin’s hands found your waist, and you were promptly laid on the countertop, back-first.

The metal surface was cold against your skin, making your whole body shiver before your boyfriend eventually grabbed your thighs, roughly angling them so he could have perfect access to your cunt.

Leaning down, he was gracious enough to find your lips in a kiss, even though affection from him was one of the last things he felt you deserved right now.

“So wet already,” he murmured against your mouth, reaching down a hand to glide his digits over your folds, and you felt your abdomen tighten every time one of his silver rings grazed your sensitive sex, “Did that guy turn you on, or is it just me?”

“Ahh~” You moaned suddenly, and only because he slapped your cunt the moment you tried putting your hands in his hair for leverage.

He knew how much you loved his hair, and just touching him in general; not allowing you to have such access to him was doing exactly what he intended it to do…

“You know I only get this way for you, Hyun,” you whined beneath him, and he raised his eyebrows, surprised you had anything to say at all given your pathetic silence thus far.

However, his stoic expression soon returned as he brushed off your words, determined to teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget.

Hyunjin lined himself up with your eager hole, preventing any other thoughts from crossing your mind as he buried himself deep inside you, stretching your walls out inch by inch.

“Here’s something you can think about the next time another guy flirts with you,” he groaned at the tightness, and you swear a part of your heart crumbled at the fiery look on his face.

After the first few snaps of his hips, Hyunjin had your voice echoing off the walls, thighs trembling at the sides of his waist as he pounded into you at a pace you weren’t expecting so soon.

“That’s it, slut… let everyone hear how I make you mine,” he whispered, leaning back down to leave a trail of sloppy, hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, the both of you humming at sensation.

“Fuck~” you cried out with your eyes sealed shut, getting lost in the rhythm of your body rocking up and down against the countertop.

Your tits shook with the movements, and his pelvis never felt so good while grinding against your burning clit.

“You like it rough, don't you, baby?” Your boyfriend grunted, his voice strained with desire and effort.

Your hands went to find his shoulders for balance, but he had them pinned to the countertop in a matter of no time, snickering to himself at the frustration brewing on your features.

“Aww, don’t tell me you thought I’d move on that easily,” he smirked, only to hiss the moment you very intentionally clenched your walls around him.

“Please,” you begged, and you’re not sure what for, but Hyunjin obliged anyway, pounding into you with an increasing force with his balls slapping against your ass with each deep thrust.

The sound of your flesh slapping together filled your ears now, accompanied by shaky pleas and needy moans.

“God,” he panted desperately, releasing your wrists so he grip your thighs again, spreading you wider as he continued to punish your pussy.

Leaning down, Hyunjin’s mouth captured one of your erect nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, sucking and nibbling on it gently to send shocks of pleasure throughout your sweaty body.

“You’re mine, ____… all fucking mine,” he whispered through slurred words, and his voice was so low that you felt it in your knees.

You were getting close to the edge already as your body coiled tighter with each hit of his hips, but from experience, you could Hyunjin was even closer.

His mouth was right below your ear now as you struggled to keep your hands off of him, and with one more faithful attempt, you let your fingers get lost in his scalp, but this time, he didn’t reject your touch.

With gentle eyes, your boyfriend lifted his weight off of you, holding your face in place while finding your lips in yet another passionate kiss.

And was with that alone that your walls shattered around him, clenching and milking his cock as his entire body quivered at the powerful orgasm washing over him.

The metal countertop no longer seemed cold as his warm cum splashed inside you, his muscular body tensing slightly as adorably throaty groans slipped past his swollen lips.

“Hyunjin,” your voice came out quietly and breathy as his hips suddenly stopped moving, and when his dark eyes peered into your weak ones, you knew your misery wasn’t over quite yet.

“Oh, don’t even start,” he began, slipping out of your cunt with a foul wet sound, and your core almost cried at the sudden emptiness, “You’re lucky you even got that much…”

As badly as your inner being wanted to curse him out for chasing his orgasm only to deny you of a release, you decided it was best to simply sulk and accept it.

Sliding off the counter, Hyunjin helped you out by wiping the evidence of arousal and intimacy from between your legs before readjusting your clothes for you…

It was an interesting form of déjà vu as you thought back to a few hours prior when you helped him fasten his tie back.

Giving him a playful look, your fingers found the side of your dress as you gently tugged, alluding to the way he tossed his tie away earlier.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to be bad after everything I just did to you” he chuckled, playfully swatting your hand away. His laughter, although brief, was contagious, and you couldn't help but giggle yourself now as you leaned against his shoulder given the way your legs started to tingle from falling asleep.

The warmth of his body was comforting, and you felt a sense of safety in his presence once he secured a protective hand at your waist.

Hyunjin was sure to grab his jacket in his free hand as well, the fabric draping over your shoulders like a shield against the cool evening air as you both made your way back to the main venue.

The photographers were too busy capturing shots of the models strutting down the runway to notice you two slipping in, and thankfully so since neither of you looked as put together as you did half an hour ago with your hair slightly tousled and his shirt wrinkled from the prior fit of sexual tension.

You and Hyunjin managed to snag some seats in the back that were nestled under the soft, ambient lighting, casting a subtle glow around you.

Slender silhouettes of models glided before your eyes with their outfits appearing as blurs of color and fabric... though,your focus was entirely on the man beside you.

Leaning closer to him, you rested your head on his shoulder, sighing at the comforting scent of his cologne as a shy smirk danced on his lips.

“Are you okay, love?.... I mean... was I maybe too harsh earlier?” A now much calmer Hyunjin inquired through a whisper, voice low and teasing, but there was a hint of genuine concern in his eyes, “You looked like you were on the verge of passing out, honestly...”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed at his words, nudging him with your elbow; “I did not! I was just… enjoying the moment,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you.

“Enjoying the moment, huh?” He repeated playfully, raising an eyebrow at your demeanor, “Is that what you call it when you can hardly stand up on your own without even finishing?”

You laughed, the sound light and airy, and it felt good to let go of the tension from before. “Okay, maybe you were a little over the top, I'll admit--”

“Baby, why didn't you tell me?!”

“But,” you went on to continue, dragging out the word to get his attention again, “I still enjoyed every last second of it...”

He fell quiet at your words as yet another shy smile tugged at his lips, revealing his adorable dimples, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you recited, tugging the swell of his bicep even tighter now as both your eyes turned back to the stage, making sure to stay close to each other for the rest of the night.

✎𓂃 Thanks for reading DAY 11's fic entry for my 2024 Kinktober Event !! Once again, I'm a bit late to posting this, but nonetheless, if you're interested, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist here !!

♱ PERM TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy (miss you), @wonbinisbabygurl @watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

♱ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs @mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij @yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess @zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier @idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408 @crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg @d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

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palefacestudentlove · 1 month ago

Text

sanctuary - lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x reader

summary: six rejections, one simple knock, before a labyrinth only they could navigate turned into a sanctuary so sacred. unseen and untouched by the world. but built strong and steady for their little light.

a/n: love story by indila (orchestral ver) on repeat while writing this one.

masterlist

03:55

The number on the bedside alarm clock glowed in red. A soft crackle, from the baby monitor. Lewis stirred, eyes slowly blinking open in the still dark master bedroom, save for the soft light from down the hallway peeking through the slightly opened bedroom door. The soft glow of the light faintly illuminating the soft curve of the shoulder belonged to the figure beside him. The sight swelling the beating heart in his chest. So eternally beautiful, despite the visible exhaustion painted on her face. You had fallen asleep late last night, on the sofa in the living room. And Lewis had carried you into your shared bed.

He didn’t blame you. Motherhood demanded so much from you. Still, you had given everything for your little light: your body, your sleep, your energy. Not even once had he heard you complain about anything. Every night or early morning, you had been the first one to raise at the faintest crackle from the baby monitor, attending to your newborn son with a gentleness carved from love. But this morning, he beat you to it.

Another soft cry crackled from the monitor. Lewis’s lips curved into a soft smile.

A bit early today huh, bud?

Carefully, Lewis peeled back the duvet, not wanting to wake you up. His feet carried him to the nursery. Slow and reverent. Legs kicking, your son’s face turned toward his father’s direction as he stepped closer to the crib. His tiny fists clenched in the air, reaching to his father, begging him to take him into his arms. Lewis scooped the baby up, cradled him close to his bare chest. Instinctual. Almost instantly, the cries softened as soon as the baby registered his father’s warmth. One that he had become so familiar with even before he was born, when your womb was still his home.

“Hey… It’s okay, I got you, bud.”

The baby let out a tiny huff. Soft and warm against Lewis’s collarbone as your shirtless husband settled in a rocking chair tucked in the corner of the nursery. As the baby boy began to calm and drowning in sleep again, Lewis let out a breath. Soft. Relief and realization sinking in as his eyes looked around the room. Soft tiny clothes folded neatly, stuffed animals laying down on the carpet.

No words could carved out the feelings that were swimming through his veins perfectly. Just a few years ago, roaring engines, champagne on podiums, and restless chase of victory were all that coloured his world, mainly. Nothing he had ever experienced back then could prepare him for this warmth that was flooding his heart and soul. Nothing could prepare him for having his heart and soul beautifully wrecked by this—his firstborn, your own little light you had brought into this world, safe in his arms and his beautiful wife sound asleep just one room away.

But the path Lewis walked to arrive here was far from smooth.

Most people assumed it must have been effortless for him, to win you over. As if you’d crumbled just at the sight of his smile, as if the sound of his name alone had been enough to unlock the door to your heart. They were all wrong. He had to earn it. And he was almost brought down to his knees.

Six times.

Six painfully humbling and pride-crushing times.

Each time, your rejection was warm and gentle, but unwavering. Each time, you had sent him away with a strange combination in his heart. Not anger. Not bitterness. But something entirely worse but crushingly beautiful at the same time. It was frustration coated with deep admiration. By the sixth no, it was no longer just interest for him. By the sixth no, it had become crystal clear to him. The search for his forever is finally over. Every single note of noise he had known, every single charm he had learned to sharpen dulled beside the clarity your presence provided.

So on the seventh try, there was no call, no text, no flowers, no fancy stuff. Nothing.

Except a knock on the door of your parents’ house.

So you gave him a chance, one dinner. And that day, the hollow garden Lewis had kept sacred in his heart welcomed its first blossom.

But even after all of it–the seven tries, the slow and quiet weaving of something genuine, the slow mornings and unspoken nights spent together–Lewis still came dangerously close to losing you once.

You’ve always understood—clearer than most—how the world would never hand Lewis its gentlest grace. It was always loud and bright that grace was a language rarely spoken to him. You have witnessed through your own eyes and ears. How his warmth would be painted into arrogance in striking colours, and his confidence branded into defiance. The world would twist and bend everything genuine into something threatening. Every single time. And you recognized how it drained him in a slow and quiet erosion only love would notice. Even though he kept rising above it all. Because you understood how much the sport meant to him. Despite everything.

Unlike any other drivers, it was never just racing and winning for him. For him, it was about leaving the world better than he had found it. Something that will forever outlive the numbers, the glories, and the adrenaline. And you respected that with total admiration. So when he came to you with his heart in hand, you asked for only one thing: that your love remained a veiled sanctuary, untouched and unseen. Until the sport no longer claimed him. Until the day where he walked away from the track and the engines finally fell silent.

But it wounded him.

Having insignificant faces but yours surrounding him in his side of the garage at every race. Not being able to hold your hand in his for the world to witness. Having you kiss him and whisper “come home safe” before almost every race, but only behind closed doors. Witnessing how you would just smile through all the stupid headlines pairing him with women that never mattered to him.

You had asked for no recognition. Calm in your request. But Lewis saw through it. He knew that didn’t mean your heart didn’t ache for it, in the quiet hours, when the world was deep asleep. You were placing his happiness above your own. You were building a safe house for his joy with your own hands, at the cost of dimming your light. You swallowed the dark side of the world to avoid him tasting it. But Lewis couldn’t stand that. He didn’t want safety if it cost you your light. That was what led him to a choice that still haunts him until this very day.

He had tried to let you go once. Convinced it was the better choice.

“Maybe we should stop before it ruins us completely.”

And you walked out without a single tear in your eyes. Just a firm acknowledgment of what he wanted and had requested from you. If this was written in history, the ink would have you painted as someone weak. For walking out without a fight. But history rarely spends its ink in writing the untold stories that carry the heaviest truths.

You would have gone to war with zero hesitation in your bones if it meant your sanctuary remained untouched. You would have admitted your wrongs with no fear in your breath and learned how to fix it if that’s what it takes to shield what you were building with Lewis from unravelling. But what do you do when the war wasn’t declared by the world or yourself? What do you do when it was declared by the very person you would fight the world for? That was the one fight that killed even your fiercest fire, turning them into ashes. That was the one fight that put a blindfold on you, leaving you powerless, disarming you.

He had made a choice. So you honoured it. And for the first time, the sanctuary you had been building at the time appeared more like ruins, and felt less like safety.

Your departure was quiet and calm, but complete. Your stuff, removed spotlessly from Lewis’s apartment when he was away for a race. Your scent on his bedsheets and hoodies stripped clean, replaced by the floral detergent. Every single gift he had bought for you, packed meticulously in a box. There was no wait for him to come back before leaving. Not even the slightest consideration of it had crossed your mind. By the time he returned to his apartment, it was as if you had removed your entire existence from the world. From his world. Clean and untraceable.

The very first time he heard anything about you after that was after Silverstone. His first win after 945 days of a winless streak. At his home track. The one race where he had cried visibly, through his radio, on the podium, in front of the crowd, hugged by his parents. Yes. After that Silverstone.

Six days later. Quarter past nine in the evening. To be exact.

Carmen had dropped by. It was painful for her too, when she had heard about the news. But she knew Lewis had to know. So she lingered. Tried to make her presence soft and comforting. Because she knew how the news was about to wreck him that night. It carried something heavily meaningful in Lewis’s life. A name.

“Y/N was at the race today, sweetheart. She was there.”

His blood went cold. Limbs stiffened at the sound of your name. But Carmen didn’t even flinch. She, of all people, knew best how deep your name was carved into Lewis’s heart. She knew how your name was never just a name to Lewis. It’s a promise. It’s a movie full of memories that never left his mind. It’s poetry. And most importantly, a reminder.

Carmen knew that. She knew how this was so much more than just a simple news. And she knew how there was more to this news. So with a heavy heart, she continued.

“She was there in the crowd. Left before the podium. But she was there, the entire race,” she paused before continuing.

“She sat through the whole race, in the grandstand. Alone.”

Air was sucked out from Lewis’s lungs.

Grandstand?

A public ticket?

Alone?

Lewis swore he could feel the violent punch every single realization landed on him. Cruel. Hard. Ever since your departure, Lewis never failed to have a VIP pass saved for you. For every race. But not even once had you claimed it. And you came to Silverstone, through a public ticket?

You had shown up. Despite everything. Still looking after him, even from a distance. All this time, Lewis had convinced himself that he had done the right thing by letting you go. He believed it was unfair to put you in the shadows. He believed that allowing you to put his happiness above yours was a mistake. He was entirely convinced the decision he made was brave.

Except it wasn’t. And he was wrong. Entirely. Because every single night, hurt knocked on the door of his heart. And every time he woke up to your side of the bed empty, longing stood bold on the corner of his room. Mocking him cruelly.

What Lewis didn’t realize back then was how utterly and intricately different you are. You are poetry. The kind that never rhymes with others, but never fails to reach the deepest unreachable side of him where hands couldn’t. Unlike others who fell in love with his flowers, you learned to love his roots. Looking past the beautiful blossom of his magnificent flowers. You took your time, learning to love and care for the parts of him no one ever cared about. Especially the parts he himself sometimes couldn’t bear to touch.

While others became helpless when autumn hit, you stepped forward. Steady and soft, you offered your hands. Willingly tending to him with a gentle strength. Untouched by all the mess, even when everything golden of him started to fall. Allowing him to put his armour down. Building him a space where he may be weak. With you, he never had to stand on a stage. With you, he never had to perform. Through your eyes, he was never seen as a headline.

He is just Lewis.

Lewis had encountered hundreds, thousands of people in his life. Those whose life was all about how to shine in front of lenses and flashes. Those with purposeful smiles, perfectly timed laughter, and curated words. He couldn’t blame them. The world, especially the one he lived in, was built on attention and visibility. A place where everyone wanted to be seen.

Until you came. A fresh breath after drowning.

You moved through the world with just enough weight to just exist. You were a whisper. Always present, occupying the space. But never demanding, not even once. While others’ life unfolded in pixels through curated screens, yours unfolded in private. Untouched. Your life was never available for the world to scroll through. Every single knowledge about you was a privilege that had to be earned. No one knew anything about you except for the ones with the right key. No one knew your favourite coffee, or what song was on your favourite playlist. There were no selfies for people to zoom into, no words people can dissect and twist into their liking to fit their narrative.

The world never knew. They didn’t even have the slightest knowledge about your relationship with Lewis. Or about the break up. Not even when the two of you found your way back into each other’s embrace, again. Your love for Lewis existed in a silence so complete, it became a sanctuary for him. Untouched by the cruelty the world never fails to offer.

Back then, before he forced you into building a wall so tall around you, he hated the quietness. Mistook it for something so cruel and unfair. Back then, the quietness had appeared as distance and absence in his eyes. He felt like he was committing a betrayal so cruel—to love you in private so loud, but having to walk past you in public so quietly. But your time apart had softened that into something he had learned to appreciate now. It taught him with clarity to finally understand what you had always known.

The silence you chose back then, was never the absence of love. It was a protection. All of it—the stillness, the privacy—was an armour to keep your love a sacred thing. Pure and undisturbed by the world, only accessible to you and him.

The world’s first glimpse into your shared life came quiet. Greeting the world on a Monday evening. It came to greet the world through a post from Lewis. A single candid photo of you and him from the wedding. A love so infectious dulled the visible wedding bands in the photo. Four words in the caption. And that’s all it took for the whole world to explode.

I am finally home.

A statement made clear by Lewis to the whole world.

She is here. My sanctuary is finally here. And I am home.

07:44

The shy morning light tiptoed in, not yet daring to step in fully into the nursery. Afraid of disturbing a sight so crushingly beautiful in the silence. The only visible sound was the soft breathing of two sleeping figures. Your tiny little light tucked into the crib, lips slightly apart. The other figure, the larger one, rested on the rocking chair. Now placed closer, next to the crib. A sight that beautifully captured equal parts of devotion and exhaustion.

You leaned longer against the doorway before walking in quietly. Knelt beside your husband, careful and slow, letting your eyes roam over his face. Soaking in everything. Fatherhood had added a beautiful weight to his eyes, growing a warmth so sacred and deep with devotion. You laid your palm flat on his chest. Over the lion. Soft. Gentle. Your fingertips moved, tracing small circles first. A small hello. And then softly, scratch-scratch-scratch.

Come back to me.

The move was familiar. Instinctual. One that you would always do whenever you want to bring him back to you. After a long day where the world demanded so much from him. One that became increasingly frequent and regular during your pregnancy. To calm him down when he was sleepless, worrying over you. And even in sleep, his body never fails to recognize the touch. Even now.

“Mmhm…” his eyes fluttered open, slow and heavy.

You smiled, nails still scratching lightly, barely grazing his skin. Slowly pulling him back to you.

“Hi,” you whispered.

His gaze was unfocused at first, until it settled heavy on you—and one of his hands lifted, softly making its way until it rested on top of yours that was scratching his bare chest. Fingers drawing soft circles on the back of your hand. His eyes traced your beautiful features. His wife, wrapped in a soft linen robe. His wife, waking him up with a gentleness so achingly beautiful. Fingers leaving soft scratches on his chest, pulling him back. Drowning him in love, again and again.

“I fell asleep in here?" he rasped, voice thick with sleep.

You chuckled softly, nodding.

Lewis pulled you up, settling you into his embrace. One hand rubbing up and down your spine. The other one secured around your waist. He nudged your nose with him, before raising one hand to brush away a strand of hair. His thumb tracing the bottom of your lips, soft and slow. Before pulling you closer to him, letting you rest your forehead against his. Lips almost touching.

“Stay. Just for a bit.”

Your love story with Lewis was a labyrinth. A place so intricate and inescapable he had willingly chosen to be immersed in. There was a time, during your time apart, when every move forward felt like ten moves away from you. Each day stretched with your absence felt like declaring a war he never wanted. But in the heart of the tangled mess, it became crystal to him. That it was you for him. Always had been and always will be. So he walked deeper, putting one foot in front of the other while tending to the garden in his heart at the same time. To welcome you back when you come home. Whenever that was. The journey was far from easy. But Lewis had faith. And fear ends where faith begins. So he kept going.

Never to escape. Only to reach you.

When he found you, he reached for your hands. Together, you learned how to love each other, walked through every dead end and twisted turns with courage. And escaped the agonizing labyrinth. Even now, it still felt like a dream to him. Your son, safe asleep in his crib. Wrapped in the gentleness of the morning, protected by the loving gaze from both of his parents. You, safe in his arms. Embracing him with warmth through every single touch you laid on his skin. This was what Lewis almost lost. This was what he had almost walked away from, forever. But now held safe in his arms.

His sanctuary.

#lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #lh44 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #Spotify

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ineedpaigebuckets · 17 days ago

Note

Can you do a pazzi fic with ice play??? Like paige is the top and azzi is the bottom and azzi receives oral with ice play or some??

strip

this is disgusting i apologize in advance

it starts with a bet.

a dumb little dare over a deck of half-stuck playing cards, paige’s old hoodie draped over azzi’s shoulders and the two of them sprawled out on the carpet of paige’s apartment floor. music low, half a wine cooler left on the dresser. it’s late enough that azzi’s hair has started curling at the ends from the warmth of paige’s room, and her cheeks are flushed—not from drinking, not really.

she bluffs. for the third time.

paige catches it instantly.

she doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at her with this slow tilt of her head and a grin that spreads all the way through her eyes.

“strip,” she says. voice low, easy. almost bored. “and lie back on the bed.”

azzi raises a brow. “seriously?”

paige just shrugs. “rules are rules.”

and azzi knows—this isn’t about the game anymore. it never really was.

she stands, still smirking like she has any control here, and peels off her hoodie. then her tank top. her shorts follow, slow, teasing. no underwear. paige’s eyes drop.

“you knew you were gonna lose,” she murmurs, sitting back on her hands, eyes raking over her like she’s already tasting her.

“maybe i wanted to,” azzi replies, softer now.

she crawls backward onto the bed, head falling back against the pillows like muscle memory. they’ve done this before—so many times. soft nights and slow mornings and everything in between. but this feels different. heavier. her skin prickles with anticipation.

paige doesn’t follow. not yet.

she disappears into the kitchen. the freezer cracks open. the ice tray snaps.

“what are you doing?” azzi calls, half-nervous, half-curious.

paige’s voice floats back, smug and sing-song. “getting creative.”

when she returns, there’s a bowl in one hand. condensation slick on the outside. an ice cube in the other. her fingers wet. her mouth curled into something wicked.

“trust me?”

azzi’s breath catches in her throat. she nods.

paige steps forward, climbing over her, straddling her hips for a moment. “say it,” she says.

“i trust you.”

“good girl.”

then her mouth is on azzi. hot tongue dragging slow through soaked folds, lips kissing her clit with that practiced, perfect pressure. azzi moans, already melting, already twitching under her.

but then—

cold.

cold like lightning, cold like a slap, cold like nothing azzi’s ever felt between her legs before. the ice cube, held soft and steady between paige’s lips, lands right on her clit and azzi’s whole body jerks.

“paige—fuck—” she gasps, hips bucking.

but paige presses a firm hand to her stomach, pinning her down with just enough weight to steal her breath.

“stay still.”

her voice is a command now. no teasing. just heat and ice and control.

azzi’s legs fall open wider. her hands fist the sheets. her body betrays her completely.

paige alternates—warm mouth, freezing cube. her tongue traces where the ice leaves behind a slick trail of water and fire, then she presses the cube back again, this time circling her clit with slow, infuriating precision. azzi’s thighs shake.

“please—oh my god—” her voice is ragged, almost sobbing. “baby—”

“shh,” paige hums against her. “you can take it.”

her fingers slide in without warning—two, deep, curling like she knows azzi’s body better than her own. she does. the rhythm she builds is wicked: tongue, ice, fingers, curl, suck. repeat. slow, torturous, perfect.

azzi’s whole body tenses, her back arching. “i—i can’t—i’m gonna—fuck, i can’t—”

paige lifts her head, lips slick, a new cube already in hand.

“you can’t what?” she asks, cocking her head. “cum?”

azzi’s voice goes tight. fragile. “i—i don’t wanna pee.”

paige freezes for half a second. then—

her grin widens.

“oh, baby,” she says, voice dropping like a weight. “you’re not gonna pee. you’re gonna squirt.”

azzi shakes her head. “i can’t let go, i—”

“you can. and you will.”

“but i don’t—I don’t wanna—”

“i want you to,” paige says, voice rough now, like she’s barely holding herself back. “i don’t give a flying fuck what it looks like. make a mess. drench me.”

azzi’s eyes go wide. she opens her mouth to speak, but paige’s mouth is already back on her, licking harder now. more insistent. and her fingers—fuck—her fingers are unforgiving. deep, curling, pounding into that perfect spot while her thumb rubs ruthless circles over her clit, colder than ever from the new cube.

“let it go,” she whispers between strokes. “give it to me. i want it. all of it.”

and azzi breaks.

it’s not quiet. it’s not soft. it’s not anything she can hide.

her hips jerk up and she screams—a high, desperate cry as her body seizes and explodes, release crashing through her like a storm. wetness gushes out of her, messy, wild, drenching paige’s hand, her face, the sheets. her legs shake violently, toes curling, fists pounding at the bed. she can’t stop. it just keeps coming.

“fuck yes,” paige growls, not letting up for a second. “just like that, baby. holy shit, look at you—”

azzi sobs. actually sobs. overwhelmed and overstimulated and cracked open entirely. her body jerks one last time and then collapses, trembling and twitching and gasping for breath.

paige finally pulls back, mouth and chin glistening, hand soaked.

she wipes her face, breathless. “that,” she pants, “was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

azzi’s still out of it, eyes barely open, cheeks wet with tears.

“you okay?” paige asks, crawling up to kiss her temple.

“i didn’t mean to—” azzi whispers, voice wrecked.

“baby,” paige interrupts, cupping her face. “you were perfect.”

azzi lets out a shaky breath, melts into her.

“and i’m not done with you yet,” paige murmurs, reaching for the drawer. the harness is already waiting. “but you better drink some water first.”

azzi turns, heart still racing, and hears the soft clink of the harness buckles as paige tightens them behind her. it’s a small sound, but it shoots through azzi’s spine like lightning. her thighs tense. her chest stutters. she knows that sound. has heard it before. but tonight, it’s different.

tonight, paige isn’t playing around.

“wanna see how deep i can get you when you’re already dripping,” paige mutters, low and smug. “don’t tap out on me yet, baby.”

azzi’s still shaking when she rolls onto her stomach, breath catching as her skin touches the damp sheets she already soaked through once. her legs want to give, her hips sink weakly into the mattress, but paige doesn’t wait. doesn’t give her space to think.

the broad tip of the strap presses against her entrance—slow, steady, threatening. paige’s left hand finds the dip of azzi’s lower back, the other grips her hip tight enough to bruise.

“you feel that?” paige breathes, voice velvet and sharp at the same time. “so fuckin’ wet for me it’s embarrassing.”

azzi can’t speak. can’t even move. her mouth falls open against the pillow as her thighs start to tremble again. it’s too much. too soon. too good.

“words,” paige says, and she means it.

“yes,” azzi gasps, voice catching. “fuck—yes, i feel it—”

“good.”

and then she pushes in.

not slow. not teasing. not even pretending to go gentle.

just one long, relentless stroke that makes azzi sob into the mattress, her whole body jerking from the stretch. it feels like too much. like her nerves are still vibrating from the ice and the first orgasm that tore her apart. and now this—deep and hard and so thick she can feel it in her stomach.

her hips twitch forward, but paige’s hand snaps back down on her ass and holds her in place. a sharp slap follows.

“don’t run from it.”

azzi whimpers, face buried in the sheets.

paige leans over her, her breath brushing hot against the shell of azzi’s ear. “you begged for this. so take it.”

and then she starts to move.

the rhythm is cruel—deep, dragging thrusts that hit azzi in places she didn’t know existed. her moans have lost their shape, just broken cries between gasps. her knuckles go white where they grip the sheets.

paige grits her teeth, rolling her hips with controlled force. the friction of the harness rubs right where she needs it. she lets it build. lets the tension climb, one pulse at a time, without easing up.

“listen to yourself,” she growls, low and ragged. “dripping down my thighs. you’re a mess for me.”

“paige—fuck—i can’t—” azzi chokes, her voice thick with tears and heat.

“you can,” paige snarls, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her up onto her knees. azzi collapses forward, chest on the bed, ass up in the air. “you’re gonna cum again. don’t care if you cry.”

azzi lets out a noise like nothing human.

and then paige’s fingers are back on her clit—fast and brutal—while the strap slams into her over and over again. the new angle hits deep, sends sparks through her every time, and the added pressure against her swollen clit is overwhelming.

“you will cum,” paige growls. “you’ll soak me again. and again. until there’s nothing left.”

and azzi does.

a scream tears out of her throat as her whole body seizes. her legs kick, thighs twitching uncontrollably as she gushes again—louder, messier, her voice broken from it. there’s a wet slap between her thighs, and paige moans too—loud and guttural—as her own release hits from the pressure and rhythm.

she gasps into azzi’s neck, thrusting through it as her thighs tremble, riding out the sharp, tight rush of her own climax against the strap. sweat slicks her chest. her muscles lock.

but azzi’s still shaking, still gasping, still on her knees, so paige doesn’t stop. slows down—yes—but doesn’t stop. she moves again. smooth, shallow strokes, fingers still working azzi’s clit in slow circles.

“one more,” she whispers. “give me one more.”

“i c-can’t—” azzi whines, every nerve frayed. “paige, i can’t—”

“yes you can,” paige says, and now she’s gentler. coaxing. soft but commanding. “you’re mine, baby. give it to me.”

azzi sobs, broken wide open, hips rocking on their own. she’s soaked. twitching. her orgasm builds like an earthquake under her skin. it takes seconds. just seconds.

she shatters.

a high, keening wail fills the room as her body convulses—her legs give, her arms collapse, her cunt clenches hard around nothing as paige pulls out slow, lets her fall into the sheets completely spent.

paige drops the strap to the floor and climbs up beside her, breath uneven, sweat slick on her temple. she brushes the hair from azzi’s face, kisses her forehead, runs her hand down her back with slow reverence.

“you okay?”

azzi just nods, eyes still closed, mouth open, breathing ragged.

“that was…” she laughs, a wrecked, dazed sound. “insane.”

paige grins, stroking her cheek. “you gave me everything.”

“yeah,” azzi whispers, curling into her. “and you took everything.”

paige smiles and kisses her shoulder. “damn right i did.”

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nastybuckybarnes · 9 months ago

Text

Cling to me

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You overhear something you weren’t meant to hear.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Fluff,

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: wrote this one a year ago teehee but I LOVE this kinda shit I live for it. hope y’all enjoy

~*~

“So things are going well, then?”

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you really shouldn’t. It was an accident.

You had approached the bathroom door to ask Steve for a towel, not wanting to drip water all over the carpeted hallway, when you heard him and Bucky talking.

The bathroom fan is on, drowning out the sound of you stepping closer to the wood.

“Well, yeah, I guess so. I mean... I guess.”

You frown.

You thought things were going great.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and glances at the bathroom door then slightly lowers his voice, but you can still hear him clearly.

“She just... she’s real needy, Buck. She’s physically clingy, always sitting by me or on me and holding my hand and stuff... and she never leaves me alone when I’m out on assignments. I’m just... I need some space.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest for a moment before beating twice as hard, each beat smashing against pins and needles and sending pain radiating through your chest.

Too needy.

Steve thinks you’re too needy.

This is how it started with Jeremy.

You were too clingy.

Slowly, you back away from the bathroom door and slide down the wall, shivering at the wet droplets clinging to your skin, then put your face in your hands.

Steve won’t be like Jeremy. He can’t.

Everything will be fine, you just need to give him space.

You can almost hear Jeremy’s voice in your head, whispering words that he’d repeat when you were with him. But maybe he was right.

Just because you like being physical and spending time with him doesn’t mean he wants that too. You haven't even taken his wants into consideration.

A knock on the bathroom door startles your face out of your hands and you flip your head up, looking at the door with wide eyes.

“Honey? I’m just gonna go grab some drinks with Bucky and Sam. I’ve got my phone and I shouldn’t be home too late.”

You take a deep breath and nod even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, have fun!”

Your voice is a little duller than usual, a little less lively, but Steve chalks it up to the fan distorting your voice.

You stay rooted in place on the bathroom floor, knees hugged up to your chest, for hours.

You’re not sure why, whether it’s out of fear that he won’t come back or that he’ll be waiting out there to break up with you, but you’re terrified.

Eventually, after the chills have sunk into your soul and shivers are shaking your bones, you leave the bathroom and get dressed.

Usually, you’d put on a pair of panties and one of Steve’s shirts, but you can’t bring yourself to touch his stuff after what you heard.

You pull on a tank top and a sweater and your fuzziest socks, hoping to chase away the cold, though it feels like it’s here to stay.

The apartment seems so empty without him there, and you yearn to check up on him and make sure he’s okay, but you don’t go near your phone.

He’s a grown man and he can take care of himself.

You barricade yourself in the bedroom, cuddled up under the blankets and holding one of your pillows to your chest as you watch reruns of Golden Girls.

You fall asleep before he gets home, though you’re awoken by the sound of the door opening.

Instead of perking up and meeting him like you usually would, you stay in bed, pillow hugged to your chest and eyes shut.

He’s stealthy as he joins you in bed, sliding in behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

It takes everything in you not to shake his arm off.

As he leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, a tear slides down your temple and buries itself in the pillows.

~*~

Steve’s confused at your sudden change in behaviour, constantly checking his phone for texts from you and missing your touch when he sits on the couch reading a report.

You’re standing in the kitchen a few days later, talking softly to Yelena and Wanda while Bucky, Natasha, Sam and Steve all sit on the couches in your living room.

The two women lead the way into the living room and you follow them, not stopping your conversation as you take a seat between the two of them.

Steve’s eyes are focused on you, waiting for you to look at him, to realize that you’re not sitting in the right spot and that you should be closer to him, but you never do.

You stay engaged in your conversation, laughing at something Yelena says before turning your attention to Wanda.

Bucky watches curiously as Steve balls his hands into fists then turns back to the conversation he was having, his voice slightly more strained than before.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Bucky asks later that evening after almost everyone else has gone home.

You’re already in bed, oblivious to the conversation they’re having.

“I thought it was, but not cold turkey. She hardly texts me unless I text first, she doesn't kiss me goodbye anymore, and she hasn’t sat beside me once in the past week.”

Bucky shrugs, “you’re the one who said she was too clingy.”

Steve knows.

He fucking knows.

And maybe he’ll like it, but first, he needs to get to the bottom of why you’ve switched so quickly.

After bidding Bucky goodbye, Steve joins you in the bedroom, climbing into bed beside you and rolling onto his side to watch you.

Your attention is focused on the TV as if he isn’t in bed with you at all.

When he opens his mouth to speak, you reach over and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, then turn off the TV.

You don’t do it on purpose, but he doesn't say anything.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, turning onto your back and facing away from him.

He stares at you in shock.

The past couple of nights he’s come into bed after you’ve been asleep, but tonight he was sure you’d cuddle up against him like you usually do.

“Goodnight. I love you,” he murmurs, heart racing in his chest as he waits for your reply.

“I love you too.” There it is.

It settles his heart a tiny bit to hear you whisper the words, but he’s still confused by your actions.

You always cuddle up to him.

Always.

Every night that he’s been home for the past year.

And now you’re not even wearing his clothes to bed.

He can’t sleep at all that night, too focused on how strange you’ve been acting and how much he fucking hates it.

And then it dawns on him.

You must’ve heard him talking to Bucky.

That’s the only explanation.

His heart hurts in his chest and guilt floods his body. He tosses his head back against the pillows and squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself for ever speaking those stupid words.

He was just having a bad week. He was overwhelmed with work and briefings and then you were always by his side.

It was too much.

And now you’re doing everything in your power to distance yourself from him.

You’re lying in the same bed but you’ve never been further away.

Sure, he can feel the heat radiating off of your body, but you may as well be a thousand miles away.

The guilt wells up in his eyes and slips down his cheeks as he rolls onto his side and pulls you against his body, burying his face in your hair.

Fuck, he feels terrible.

All night he thinks about how much you do for him, how much you love him and everything you’ve given to him and sacrificed for him. And he couldn’t even appreciate you properly. No, he had to go and run his mouth about bullshit that he didn’t even mean.

He has to make this right.

He will.

He just has no idea where to start.

~*~

When you wake up the next morning there’s a strong arm secured around your waist.

You’re so used to waking up alone that you can’t help but cuddle into it. That is, until you remember his complaints.

Shifting as slowly as you can, you try to slip out of his grip, but he only wraps his arm around you tighter.

“You’re leaving?” He asks into your hair, his voice groggy.

You swallow hard and clear your throat.

“Bathroom,” is all you manage to whisper.

He lets out a heavy sigh but slowly unwinds his arm from around your waist.

“You’re gonna come back after, right?” He asks, his voice soft.

You hesitate before getting up, unsure of what to say.

Are you?

You don’t particularly want to.

Well, that’s not true. You want to, more than anything, but you don’t want to overwhelm him and smother him with your clingy nature.

“Do you want me to?” You end up asking, glancing over at him.

He slowly opens his eyes, sadness filling them, and you regret asking.

“Honey... what I said the other day... to Buck... I wasn’t thinking, sweetheart. I don’t think you’re too clingy, not at all. I think you’re perfect for me and the way that things have been lately… All the distance between us? It’s been unbearable. I hate it. I didn’t know what changed at first but... I’m sorry.”

Your heart is in your throat at the fact that he knows you heard what he said.

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I’m sorry,” you whisper, pushing into a seated position to get off the bed.

“Honey, wait. Please. Please, don’t go. I miss you. So damn much. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were. And... I know that will probably take time, but I just miss you so fucking much.”

Tears prickle at your eyes and you sniffle, refusing to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to be clingy. I know... I know I can be a lot. It’s one of the issues Jeremy and I had. I can give you space, Steve.”

His heart cracks and he sits up behind you, one hand finding your lower back in an attempt to get closer to you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want space. You’ve given me space and it’s been the worst experience of my life. I just want you back. I want to hold your hand and kiss you and talk to you and be near you. I love you and you... you make me feel important. You make me feel loved.”

He has to fight his own tears as he speaks, and you sit silently in front of him, eyes focused on the carpet.

“For so much of my life, I felt alone, besides Bucky. I felt like I had no one and no one would love me. And then I went under and I woke up and... everything was different. I was a man out of time. I never thought I would ever have found someone who loves me as wholly as you do. And I’m sorry for ever making you feel like you need to change yourself.”

His arms wind around you and he pulls your back against his chest, slowly rocking you from side to side as you sniffle.

“You are everything I have ever wanted and more, sweetheart. I love you for everything you are and everything you do, and I’m so damn sorry I ever made you feel like you were too clingy. You’re perfect for me. Sometimes I think that you’re the reason why I survived it all. Was so that I could find you. You’re it for me.”

His words help to heal the wounds he caused, but what really does it is the meaning behind it. The love he’s pouring into every syllable he speaks is powerful enough for you to feel without even trying.

You know he regrets what he said. But, more importantly, you know he’s not Jeremy.

Steve loves you.

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him, and his heart breaks even more when he sees the tears on your cheeks.

“If I’m ever too much, you gotta promise to let me know, okay?” You whisper.

He huffs out a weak laugh and shakes his head, squeezing you to his chest.

“You are never too much for me. You’re everything I could ever want or need and so much more. You’re perfect for me. And I’m gonna try my hardest to be good enough for you because I love you. I love you with my whole heart and soul.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you whisper, burying your face in his shoulder as he hugs you tightly.

And there on the bed in the dim morning light, Steve clings to you.

He clings to you like you’re his lifeline, like you’re the energy that keeps him going.

He clings to you, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve x reader angst #Steve x reader hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers x reader fluff #Steve x reader fluff #marvel fluff #nastybuckybarnes #Steve Rogers x reader angst

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