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mickyschumacher · 2 months ago

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[MEANS I CARE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: isack is entirely confused why his best friend is avoiding him. or in which you realised you're in love with your best friend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: childhood friends to lovers, mostly angst, bits of fluff, a reader with dismissive avoidant attachment, reader struggles with her emotions, initial anger from confrontational!isack but overall caring!isack, cute love confession at the end! // poorly proof read as usual

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: isack hadjar x bsf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.2k

𝐀/𝐍: poured a bit of myself into this one! it's hard to tell from my writing, but i struggle with expressing my emotions and telling people i care for them. i've heard it's quite common for older sisters to have avoidant attachment issues so... i guess i check the box ◡̈ anyway, this one might be a tad bit dramatic but lmk what you think! ♡︎ // also miss mcrae's album has a lot of avoidant attachment!!

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You and Isack were opposites in every sense that mattered.

Where one would claim he was too expressive, you couldn't bring yourself to show you cared.

Where he was indecisive, you held all rationality.

And where he trusted freely, you locked yourself up.

But nevertheless, you had been childhood friends since he moved next door to you. Neither of you had a problem with the way you both acted. It was sort of like give and take: where you lacked, he made up for it and vice versa.

It never really mattered. At least that's what you thought anyways.

This year was different from every other. There would be no other like it. Because Isack was debuting as a Formula One driver. His life long dream. And you couldn't be anymore proud.

You didn't outright say it–you couldn't. You remember smiling when he told you and saying congratulations before Isack simply rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug.

You remembered him thanking you when you pulled away, stomach churning at the lengthy hug. You were confused. Eyebrows furrowed, you asked why.

"For believing in me," he said with the most beautiful smile and the warmest brown eyes holding your own.

That was the defining moment... the moment you realised you were in love with your best friend.

There were signs. There were always signs.

Your extensive care for him and only him. The constant worry every time he went out on track. The small skip in your heart beat when he'd return home with your favourite ice cream. Your slight amusement when you'd pretend to be cross with him and he'd think you were being serious. The little trinkets he'd bring back from every race to put on the shelves in your bedroom. Or the way he lowered the volume of the TV before you'd even ask him to because he knew you didn't like it.

They were always there. But the line between best friends and whatever... it was so similar... so blurry. How could you've ever known?

But that day... it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over your head and reality had finally been opened to you.

You loved Isack. Not liked. Not admired. Not fancied. Loved. And you had been for years.

God it scared you. It terrified you.

People never said it to you but you knew how you were.

When you invested too much of yourself into one thing, you stopped it only moments later. You didn't want to stick around to see if something would be good. It was the assumption it would hurt. So if you could dismiss it before it even had the chance to... that's the only way you could ever relax.

You never understood how people did it. How you could give so much of yourself away. What happened when it all inevitably failed? Why wouldn't you protect yourself first? Why did you have to deal with the mess of emotions?

Loving Isack... it meant showing the most vulnerable sides of yourself. And it's not that he didn't know you. He was your best friend, of course he knew you. But that made it worse.

In your years of friendship, you had cried twice in front of him. And you hated it every single second of it. That he could see you break down. That you weren't the strong friend he normally relied on.

Loving Isack was going to fail.

You knew it.

You knew it when he crashed in the formation lap on Australia and it felt like a part of you had been ripped and torn into pieces when you saw him cry on the screens.

You knew it when he came to you, thought to be out of tears, but almost on his knees, hands immediately wrapping around you for a hug, asking you why this had happened to him and you couldn't do anything but apologise to him and tell him he'd come back stronger while you cried so silently.

When his parents thanked you for being there for Isack... fuck, you knew it would all backfire.

So you slowly stopped. Like you always did.

Fewer texts. Fewer jokes. More lies. Forcing yourself to do something–anything–else but care too much.

You hated it. You hated that it was bringing you some calm despite your body screaming at you.

It was getting difficult to keep it up. How many more times would you blamed it on the time zones? As if you hadn't memorised them the moment they came out. As if you hadn't been doing this his entire career.

But the small break after the Saudi Grand Prix meant Isack was back home. After you had missed your usual good luck text.

You had forgotten actually. You were in your room, studying quietly, unaware anyone would be home as your workaholic parents were out like normal.

Consequently, the thumps up your staircase were loud, almost deafening. Your ears perked up as the door of your bedroom went wide open.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Isack's shrill voice echoed in your bedroom, chest heaving as he stood in front of you, arms firmly to his side.

You turned from your desk. You eyed his attire briefly. The hoodie and sweatpants, the bags under his eyes... he'd probably just come from the airport. The one where you'd usually be waiting for him. "Excuse me?" You asked, throat dry from not speaking in hours.

Isack blinked, swallowing. He took a step forward to you, eyes flickering over you rapidly to see if you were okay. "Is something wrong? A-Are you sick? Are you stressed? Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

You could feel it. The tear in your heart growing while annoyance boiled under your skin. He didn't need to fix you. That was your job.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," you sighed out, standing from your desk before you walked to your shelves. You chewed on your lip, nervously eyeing the trinkets Isack had brought you.

You needed this conversation to be over before it went somewhere else.

"Putain de merde," Isack swore, running a hand through his hair. He walked to you again. "Like hell you don't... you don't talk to me for a week and avoid my calls and you don't know what I’m talking about? Like I'm crazy?" He asked with a small scoff.

You sucked in a sharp breath, turning to face him. "I told you with the time diff–"

A loud groan interrupted your sentence. Isack breathed slowly, fingers pressed on his nose bridge. "I swear to fucking God, if you mention that stupid fucking time difference again, I will lose my mind."

You stayed quiet. You weren't sure what to say. You wanted to peel out of your skin, you were so uncomfortable. You hated confrontation. Isack knew you hated confrontation. And yet...

Isack sighed quietly. He stepped closer to you, holding your hands with his gently. "Please, ma moitié. Please tell me what's wrong. Did I do something? Why... why won't you talk to me?"

Your eyes burned at the crack in his voice. Fuck, this sucked. You hated yourself for feeling like this. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue but you could never get it out.

"I..." you said shakily, forcing yourself to remove your burning hands from his while you pretended like you didn't see the hurt flash in his eyes, "It's nothing. Nothing is wrong."

"So it is something. Something has been bothering you. Since last year... since I told you about my seat... something's been wrong. What is it? What happened?" Isack queried softly, brown eyes searching yours so deeply for an answer.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Shit.

"You know you can tell me anything."

But I can't! You wanted to scream it. You just couldn't tell him.

"Isack, please... just– you know how I am. I'll deal with it, hmm?" You said, trying to muster up a smile.

He stared at you quietly and you were scared he was seeing too much of you. The debate in his eyes... the way he chewed his lip... he also couldn't tell if he should say it.

"You want to cry," he stated, making your eyes widen. "I can see it in your eyes. The redness. Your red cheeks. You want to say something so just say it! I'm worried for you."

"Stop saying things like that." You let out an exasperated groan. You brushed past him, clambering into his shoulder. "I don't understand how you do it," you murmured angrily more to yourself than him.

The tears were freely flowing down your cheeks before you knew it. You glared hard at your desk, eyes hot as though it would stop you from crying.

You couldn't see it but Isack could feel his heart breaking at the sight of your figure shaking. You could feel him gently lay his hand over your shoulder. "It's okay to cry," he mumbled, "I wish you wouldn't hide it."

You felt sick. Like your stomach was churning. It felt like his hand was leaving an imprint on you, searing you. Exhaustion was clouding your body. Exhaustion that had built up over the course of the past few weeks.

"I can't do it like you, Isack. I can't show I care. It's so hard. It's like I have to constantly fight myself," you quietly said, unable to bear this any longer.

"Hey," Isack murmured, hand travelling to your face to turn you to him. His eyes softened at your wet cheeks. Wiping them with the pads of his thumbs, he held your chin with his thumb. "It's okay. You don't have to do anything like me. Take your time. Do what you want when you want."

You breathed quietly while you stared at your best friend. He was right. It wasn't as easy as he made it sound, but you were so tired of feeling like crap. You focused on his encouraging smile and opened your mouth.

"I... you were right. I was avoiding you," you admitted, eyes falling to the floor in embarrassment. You could feel he wanted to say something but he stayed quiet, waiting for you. "I was avoiding you because I care."

Isack furrowed his brows. "I don't understand."

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating how much you wanted to say... how much you could say. "Last year... when you told me you got your seat, you thanked me."

He nodded in agreement. "For believing in me. Because you always do," he murmured, his free hand rubbing your own softly, comforting you.

You smiled gently at his words before taking in a sharp intake of air. "It just made me think, well, realise that I'm in love with you. And I always have been," you breathed out, the weight slowly lifting off your shoulders.

You could see Isack's eyes slightly widen but you continued. "And that terrifies me, Isack. Because it means I care. I care a lot for you. And I'm scared that because I care, something will go wrong. I-I didn't mean to shut you out. It's not what I want. It's just all I know. So I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I'm dumping this on you when you don't feel the same way and–"

"Wait, wait, wait," Isack interjected, hands both reaching to hold your face gently. He held your eyes with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Who's says I don't feel the same way?"

You mouth felt dry, heart speeding. "I... You do?"

Isack smiled, laughing softly as he nodded. "I thought it was obvious. That maybe you just didn't feel the same way."

He watched a dark expression fall on your face. You were in that same dreadful space you had just been in. "Hey, ma moitié, what's wrong?"

Your eyes fell to his once again. "What if I can't love you enough?"

It sounded strange but he knew what you meant. Even with all your care... what if you couldn't show you loved him enough? What if you couldn't express it?

"Not possible," Isack retorted, casually shrugging.

"But I–"

"I see it," Isack firmly told you, quietening you easily. "I see it when you're at my races and you stand on the side, letting me go to my parents first. I see you and your camera taking pictures of us when you think I don't. I see your heart. I see all of it."

You blinked, eyes burning all over again. For the first time in forever, you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. "Je t’aime, Isack.

His arms wrapped around yours, holding you closer to him. Isack smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Je t’aime, ma moitié."

"Did you bring me any souvenirs?" You mumbled against his shoulders, sniffling slightly.

You could feel his body rumble with a chuckle. "Depends. did you even watch my race or were you busy 'sleeping?'"

You pulled away, making a face, guilt still swirling within you. "I did watch it. You know I watch it even when I'm mad at you," you pouted.

Isack grinned. "Then of course I did."

#mickyschumacher #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #isack hadjar x reader #isack hadjar

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vanillefawnn · 1 month ago

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Leather & Lace 𖹭.ᐟ

Dean winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive content, Sam being the poor third wheel and getting stuck between you Dean's freakness, language

Summary: You like to leave Dean little trinkets when he goes on hunts, just little things to help keep you in his head when he's out on the road.

Authors note: I'm gonna tackle this man and get him PREGNANT !! (I also did NAWT proof read this sooo ye)

Dean wasn't a sentimental guy—not really. Not in the way people wrote sonnets about or cried over in movies. But there was something about you that rewired the whole system, made him soft in places he'd spent his whole life keeping armored.

It started with a polaroid.

The two of you at a diner somewhere in Missouri, your face squished against his shoulder, both of you grinning like idiots. He found it one morning tucked into the crease of Baby's dashboard, right between the speedometer and the gas gauge.

"Figured you'd miss my face," your neat hand writing read on the back.

He chuckled, thumb brushing over the image as he slid it into the glovebox. He would miss your face, hell, he already did.

From then on, it became a thing.

Every time Dean left for a hunt—wether it be with Sam or solo—there was always something left behind. A sticky note on the steering wheel that said "Drive safe, handsome. I'll be thinking about you." Sometimes, a folded square of paper that smelled just like you, perfume soaked into the fibers until it clung to the leather seats like memory.

Dean had never told you how much it meant. He didn't have to.

But then—somewhere along the line—it stopped being just sweet.

One week, he found a photograph.

And not the diner kind, either.

It was tasteful, if not exactly safe-for-work—your body clad in soft, black lacy lingerie, all curves and skin and confidence. Dean found it when he was rummaging for a cassette tape. Sam was two feet away, completely unaware.

Dean coughed—choked, really—and shoved it into his jacket pocket like it was a contraband. His ears were pink the entire drive to Minnesota.

The next time, it was a lipstick kiss on the rearview mirror. A perfectly formed pout of crimson that made his gut twist in all the right ways. He sat there for a moment, hand resting against the glass like he could somehow hold it.

Sam noticed that one.

"Oh my god," he'd muttered "Can you two not?"

Dean just smirked and peeled out of the parking lot.

But nothing—not one thing—compared to what he found this time.

He was loading up the impala, tossing a duffle into the trunk, shotgun shells rattling in his pocket. Sam was still inside. Grabbing coffee, grumbling something to himself about early mornings and the lore of the case they were working on.

Dean slide into the driver's seat, ready to start the engine—and froze.

There they were.

Hanging from the rearview mirror like the worlds most scandalous charm.

Baby blue lace panties.

Your panties.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Nope. Still there.

Delicate, floral patterns, tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hand. His name was stitched in tiny cursive into the inner waistband—Dean, in pale silver thread. His jaw clenched.

The fuck were you trying to do to him?

He practically snatched them off the mirror, glancing around like some cop was gonna pull up and arrest him for public indecency. His fingers brushed the lace. Soft. Still warm from wherever you'd hidden them. Maybe even your skin. His brain was officially out of commission.

You'd attached a note to them, of course.

"Thought you might like to keep a little peice of me with you."

Dean was gonna die.

Actually, no—Sam was gonna die. Because the second he saw these? it was over.

Dean shoved them into the glovebox like they were ticking explosives, slamming it shut just as Sam rounded the corner with two cups.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

Dean cleared his throat. "Nope."

"Your face is red."

"It's hot."

"It's forty degrees."

Dean started the car. "Shut up."

Sam blinked. "Why does it smell like her perfume in here again?"

Dean said nothing.

Sam groaned, leaning back in his seat, already regretting this entire trip. "You two are disgusting."

Dean just smirked, hand resting on the wheel.

But later, that night, when they checked into a ratty motel, Dean opened the glovebox again—just to see them. To touch the lace. Hold them against his chest, breathe you in.

And that night, when he slipped between the sheets. He tucked the panties beneath his pillow and fell asleep to the ghost of your perfume and the sound of your voice in his head.

Yeah.

Maybe he was sentimental, after all.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean x reader #dw #supernatural x reader #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #need him #gonna get him prego #tumblr #omg #gimme #pls #goodGAWD

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ballsandbabes · 17 days ago

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Bleed through love: Geum Seong-jae x Reader

Authors Note: I normally dont write about other things than Sports, BUT...I started with Weak Hero and find the story really exciting. While reading, I found Geum Seong-ja's character very exciting. Y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

Summary: Love is never easy, but it is difficult when you fall in love with Seongje. But what happens if he's interested in you too?

Genre: Universe of Weak Hero, slow-burn romance, character drama, fluff with grit, slightly toxic depiciton of a relationship.

Life wasn't fair. Not for you. Your parents were once respected doctors at a good clinic. But even there, corruption flowed through every vein of the institution. That is, until Kim De-Uhn, the director of the clinic, died. And therefore the only person who had protected this secret. As soon as the new director was in office, all employees were fired, including your parents. They had done nothing wrong, but the director wanted to get rid of all old employees in order to be able to completely rebuild and improve the clinic's reputation. With everything that came to light afterward, it made it difficult for your parents to find work again.

And that's how you ended up at Eunjang High School. A cruel, brutal and unrelenting chaos of a school life. You had once had dreams. Dreams of a good, carefree life as a graphic designer. But now it was about surviving this cruel and terrible place.

If you didn't belong to one of the thug squads or knew a member, you could actually get through everyday school life just fine. And that's exactly what you did. You were quiet, reserved and didn't attract attention. Which doesn't mean that you didn't have your reputation at school. The classmates who knew you knew how good you were. Smart, well-read, intelligent, one or two boys would also say that you were very beautiful.

“Omg, I heard Yeon Sieun got into a fight with someone again,” said Daehyun, your best friend. "Oh come on, let's not interfere. That happens every day," you said as you prepared for the next lesson.

You first met Geum Seong-jae after a math test.

You were sitting alone in the hallway, reading glasses slipping down your nose, notebook open across your lap as you reviewed formulas for fun — because yes, that’s the kind of person you were. You liked rules. You liked logic to a degree. You liked knowing that hard work, in school at least, led to clear answers.

He walked by bleeding from the lip.

And you didn’t look away.

“You....you okay?” you asked, calm and straightforward. At that moment you didn't even know why you had spoken to him. Actually, it was against all your rules, but you did it anyway. How reckless.

He slowed. Stared. He was used to flinches, whispers, or forced politeness. Not concern. Especially not from a girl in a sporty zip-up Hoodie with ink on her fingers. He scoffed. “Do I look okay?”

“You look like you got your face slammed into a locker. Twice,” You said while adjusting your glasses. Why did you say that?

That pulled a sharp laugh from him—surprised and short. Then he turned to leave, but not before shooting you a sideways glance.

“Don’t get involved,, stupid girl” he muttered.

But you were involved, in the way that people like you always were — because you believed people and their actions could be understood, even when they didn’t believe it themselves. You would know what he was like. He had shown this often enough when his bloody knuckles had slammed into his opponent's jawline until it was brimming with blood. That's why you knew you couldn't change him. You didn't want that either, but you wanted to be able to understand him, understand why he did what he did.

___ _ _ _

You saw each other every now and then, especially on the way home. When you had to move, the neighborhood you lived in, was different, more unsafe.

It had started with the conversation in the hallway of the school, that Seongje found himself thinking about you. What was the point of this stupid girl to just babble at him like that? Was she crazy?

You hadn't cared who he was, you had just wanted to make sure he was okay and he couldn't quite understand that. He had told himself he was here purely by chance as he waited outside the shabby little art room. Movement. He looked into the room through the tiny, dusty window. You helped a classmate with her picture. Your eyes focused and full of helpfulness. Your body language inviting and sisterly.

Another time you stopped at the sports field on your way from the entrance hall across the courtyard. You had actually never seen him play sports before, that was more Hoo-min Park's thing. Also a bully at your school. It was where you realized how strong and athletic Seongje actually was.

So it went back and forth. You noticed each other. However, without anyone else noticing.

The next time, he found you.

A kid from another class had tried to cheat off your quiz, and when you refused, he pushed you against a locker and called you a stuck-up nobody. You didn’t cry. You stared him down and told the teacher. He got detention.

You got called names. By lunch, your books had been tossed in the hallway. Again.

And Seongje saw it happen.

You didn’t saw him, therefor thinking he wouldnt bat an eye — he didn’t exactly have a reputation for defending nerdy girls with moral backbones. But then, at the end of the day, the kid who shoved you left school with a bloody nose and a limp. What had happened?

You and your friends sat on the wall of the schoolyard as you discussed in whispers what had happened to the guy who had been so mean to you. "Maybe this is all just a stupid coincidence," Mia said, her voice low and wavering. "I don't think so, the boys may be brutal, but that doesn't mean they can't think," Jiun said.

And then you would have seen him. Just early enough to see him put his bloody hand in his pocket. While you were still running, you said goodbye to your friends as you ran after him.

“Don’t thank me,” Seongje told you when you caught up to him later. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“Then why?” you challenged him to answer you, arms crossed, refusing to let him brush it off.

His eyes lingered on your face. "...Because you didn’t flinch. You even have the guts to talk to me like that."

___ _ _ _

He started showing up more after that. Not obviously. Just… nearby. Lingering. He'd stand outside the library and pretend to scroll through his phone. Sit behind you during lunch and pretend to sleep. Glance your way in class and immediately look away when you noticed.

You first didnt notice, but when you did, you never called him out. You just let him hover — because you knew that for someone like him, proximity was connection.

He asked you once, late in the hallway after everyone had left: “Why are you always trying to do the right thing? Even when it sucks for you?”

You closed your locker and smiled at him. “Because someone has to. I don't know, but maybe it will help someone. Maybe it will help someone if I point out to the teacher that we cannot move the date forward. And maybe if I do it enough, someone else will too.”

“…That’s so stupid,” he said quietly, laughing at you.

But the next week, he returned a lost wallet to a first-year without taking the cash inside. Even if he had thought about taking it.

Geum Seong-jae wasn’t gentle. Not in the slightest. To be honest, he was brutal, crazy and arrogant. Despising people who are or act weak, people like you. He wasn’t patient. His anger lived just under his skin, hot and volatile.

But with you?

He showed a very strange side of his, in ways you couldnt really describe. And explain even less.

He "walked" you home but never admitted it, basically he followed you from a few meters away. He "asked", more like teased or bullied you with questions about your favorite books and pretended to be bored....then he would steal them from you. He tried to fix your broken calculator once. Failed. Replaced it in your bag without saying a word. Which got you into massive trouble. Because the guy sitting next to you had lost his calculator, which was also new, and simply accused you of stealing his calculator. What was that about? Did Seungje want to bully you?

And when you asked him, one day, why he hung around you at all, he shrugged and said,“Because you entertain me with you "good morals".” “What do you mean,” you asked him, confused. He explained to you that you weren't an angel either. You lent your study materials to a classmate so that she could copy and not fail. Actually, you weren't allowed to do that. And unfortunately he is right. In an attempt to do something good, you had done something forbidden. An interesting thought came to you during this conversation…maybe it was the same with him?

___ _ _ _

It started like any other day — quiet, normal, deceptive. But you could tell something was off the moment Seongje stepped into school. His eyes were darker, shoulders tense, fists already curled like he’d been in a fight before first period even began. You didn’t ask — not yet — but you stayed close.

When the news spread through the halls that some guys from a nearby school had jumped one of Seongje’s friends outside the gates, everything unraveled fast. By the time you found him, he was already throwing punches. It wasn’t a fight — it was an explosion. Raw, furious, unstoppable. One of the boys lay curled on the concrete, bleeding from the mouth, teeth lose, while Seong-jae slammed the other into a wall, again and again, knuckles cracking with every hit.

“Seongje!” you shouted, running toward him. He didn’t hear you.

“Omg...Stop—please!” You grabbed his arm, your voice trembling but strong. “He understood, but if you continue you could kill him.”

He shoved you back without looking. Not hard — just to get you out of the way. But your foot caught the curb. And you fell. Hard. The third boy gripping you by your wrist, twisting it. You let out a cry of pain. The sound of your body crying for help, in pain, was louder than his fists.

That’s when everything stopped.

His fist hovered mid-air. His head turned. And when he saw you — clutching your wrist, eyes wide in stunned silence — his entire body locked. He let go of the boy he’d been pummeling, who collapsed with a groan. Then Seongje stumbled toward you, color draining from his face. Freeing you from the clutches of the third boy, while hitting him with his fist.

“Y/N…”

You sat up slowly, wincing. Your wrist throbbed, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the look on his face — pure devastation, like he was watching everything he built crumble in real time.

“I didn’t—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was you, I just—”

You looked at him, really looked. Tears in your eyes, caused by through pain inflicted by him. His hands were shaking. Blood was on his knuckles, and you didn’t know whose. His breath came fast and shallow. But his eyes — his eyes were breaking.

“I told you,” you whispered, “you’re more than your anger.” He sank to the ground beside you, knees drawn up, hands buried in his hair like he wanted to tear it out.

“I’m not,” he muttered. “I hurt you. I did hurt you.”

You reached out gently, laying your uninjured hand on his.

“I’m still here,” you said. “That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

He looked at you like he didn’t deserve to. Like he’d already accepted that you’d walk away. Like they always did. But you, for what ever reason, didn’t. So if you wouldnt walk away, he had to. He didn't want to see you, being hurt by him ever again.

And so time passed. Time when it felt as if all the moments of stares, anger, closeness and acquaintance had never existed. You became strangers.

___ _ _ _

Time passed. Like it always did. Slow, awkward, cruel.

You and Geum Seongje drifted, the way people do, when things go unsaid — not out of hate, but out of history too heavy to carry. After the fight, after your wrist healed, after he stopped meeting your eyes in the hallway... things just broke.

Now, you were strangers again. You started dating someone a few months later — a boy from the year above, pretty handsome, tall and smart. He was kind, on paper. Well-dressed. Smiled when teachers looked. And most importantly, he wasn't complicated. He didn’t throw punches. He didn’t carry the weight of anger behind his eyes.

But Seongje noticed the difference right away. You didn’t light up when you talked about him. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. And when Seongje saw you walking with the guy, hand-in-hand but looking at the ground — he knew.

And then, some afternoon that week, he saw him. Behind the convenience store, Seong-jae caught him — your perfect boyfriend — with his arm wrapped around girl. A girl that wasnt you. The boy was grinning like he hadn’t just lied to you with every kiss.

That was the moment he snapped. No hesitation. No warning. Fist met jaw. Shoulder hit wall. The guy screamed, fought back, but Seong-jae was fire — wild and wordless. His only thoughts were: How dare you. How dare you touch her, lie to her, ruin her happy smile like that.

By the time it ended, Seongje stood panting over the guy’s crumpled body, fists bloodied, eyes burning. He didn’t even run.

He wanted you to know. You did find out. And you were furious.

You showed up at the nurse’s office where they were patching up his busted lip.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice shaking — not from fear, but something deeper. “You can’t just fight everyone who looks at you the wrong way, Seongje!” There it was. At such times, you showed a fire equal to his. Anger, disappointment and the urge to fight. It fascinated him how you could be so loving, caring and so spirited at the same time.

He stared up at you, eyes shadowed, like he’d already accepted your rage before you even arrived.

“I saw him,” he said quietly. “Cheating on you...with that dumb blonde from the second year. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it slide.”

Your anger deflated. You blinked, stunned.“…What?”

He looked away. “He doesn’t deserve you. No one like that does.”

Silence hung heavy between you. And in it, something softened.

“I’m not....yours.... to protect anymore. I never needed that kind of protection...so whats up with this shit of yours??,” you whispered. Not cold. Just… honest.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I still want to.”

After that, things began to shift. Slow. Careful. You started saying hi again in the halls. He started waiting just a little longer near your classroom. One day, he handed you a drink — your favorite, the one you hadn’t told him you still liked. You took it without a word.

One night, you caught him waiting for you outside the library.

“Thought I’d walk you home,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”

You smiled. “Maybe they don’t have to die. and maybe you walk home with me, instead of behind me?”

From then on, it was the little things. Your hand brushing his on the bus, neither of you pulling away. Him walking on the outside of the sidewalk. You fixing the cut on his knuckle or cheek after another scuffle — gently, like touching something sacred. Him pretending not to look at you or care about it. You pretending not to notice.

You waited. Because if there was one thing you learned about Geum Seongje, it’s that he didn’t need someone to rescue him — he needed someone to stay.

___ _ _ _

It started on a late spring afternoon, the sky grey and heavy. You were leaving school when the downpour hit. You didn’t have an umbrella.

Of course, he found you just at the right time (he had probably followed you again) — running, hair soaked, backpack clutched to your chest. He didn’t say anything. Just walked up and stood in the rain beside you.

Soaked. Still. Silent.

You looked at him, laughter bubbling from your chest.

“This is stupid,” you said, smiling. “We’re going to get sick.”

“Probably,” he replied. You shook your head. “Why do you always show up?”

His voice was low, sincere. “Because you make me want to be someone who doesn’t run away.”

Your breath hitched. Rain clung to your lashes, little droplets haning on for their dear life. His hair stuck to his forehead., soaked and wet He looked at you like you were the only solid thing left in a world that never gave him a place to rest. This time his eyes only show the madness of letting you into his life. The madness of believing that a stupid girl couldn't hurt him. But you could. Whenever you weren't there, he couldn't see you. The fear that something would happen to you cut through him like a sharp knife.

You stepped closer. He didn’t move. “You’re not a bad person, Seong-jae,” you said, voice barely louder than the rain. “You’re just scared someone might understand you... believe that even you have good intentions...sometimes.”

“…You believe that?”

“I do,” you said quietly. Unsure if these words wouldn't make him angry. And then, he leaned in — slowly, softly — and you met him there, in the middle of the storm.

The kiss was everything it shouldn’t have been. Wet. Clumsy. Honest. Madness.

His hands gripped the sides of your face like he was terrified you'd disappear. Yours found his chest, feeling the heartbeat under bruises and bandages and broken pasts.

When you pulled away, breathless, you smiled.

He did too. Not wide. Not perfect. But real.

BONUS:

The boxing hall was dimly lit, smelling faintly of sweat, leather, and something weirdly nostalgic. The rain had stopped hours ago, leaving the city hushed outside, the world tucked into sleep. It had been a few weeks now since you two shared that rainy kiss.

Inside, you were wrapping your hands with practiced slowness — or, at least, trying to. You had no idea what you were doing. You had never been in a place like this before and to be honest it scared you a little. On the other hand, you were happy that Seongje took you into his world with him. A sign of his affection towards you.

“You’re doing it backwards,” Seongje muttered, walking up behind you. His fingers brushed yours, fixing the tape with the kind of care that didn’t match his bruised knuckles or the way he usually handled the world. You glanced up at him, teasing. “I didn’t know Mr. Punch-Everything-In-Sight was a hand-wrapping expert.”

He gave you a sharp look, a fire flickering behind his eyes. “If you're gonna fight, you're gonna do it right.”

“Who says I want to fight?,” confusion rose in your voice. Shouldn't this be something like a date? Sure, it had been weird when he asked you to tag along, but when has it ever been normal with him?

His voice dropped. “You're with me now.” That shut you up — not because it was possessive, but because it was protective. His way of saying I won’t always be able to catch them first. The gym was empty but alive with silence. A single bulb flickered above the ring.

“You're not gonna hurt me....,” you asked, better demanded gently, stepping up into the ring.

He hesitated. “I might.”

You smiled, pulling him by the hand. “Then....Then teach me how to hit back.”

He started with stance — guiding your feet, steadying your shoulders. He circled you slowly, correcting posture, nodding when you got it right. But every time his hands touched you — waist, arms, jaw — it lingered just a moment too long.

And you noticed. “Try,” he said, lifting the pads. “Throw one.”

You did. It wasn’t clean. But it had heart.

He smirked. “Again.”

You hit harder. He chuckled lowly, his mad smile starting to appear on his face. “Better. Where’s that fire when you’re doing math equations?”

You dropped your fists and raised a brow. “Well.. its different...wait?You like my fire?”

He stilled — caught off guard for just a second. “...Yeah. A lot.”

Your eyes locked. Then you stepped in — slow, deliberate — sliding your hands up the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. Dragging him towards you.

His breath hitched. “Y/N…”

You tilted your head. “You gonna stop me?”

“No,” he whispered. “Never.”

And then you kissed him. No hesitation. No buildup this time.

It was all sharp angles and soft mouths, the snap of tension finally breaking. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him, teeth clashing in a kiss that tasted like adrenaline and something long overdue. It was wild and demanding.

You tugged at his shirt. He growled — low and real — before lifting you gently and setting you on the edge of the ring.

The contrast between his rough grip and the reverence in his gaze lit every nerve in your body.

“You sure?” he asked, chest heaving.

You nodded, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure.”

And in that old gym, where ghosts of fights past echoed in the walls, you gave yourself to him — not just your body, but every piece of trust he thought he didn’t deserve. And there you saw it, his version of gentleness.

His lips on your neck. Your hands in his hair. The quietest moans swallowed between kisses. Him trying his best, so his strength never bruised you — it only held you steady. And your softness never made him weak — it grounded him.

For once, Seongje had developed a strong respect for will and strength, other than his. His madness faltering, knowing you could understand his being.

For the moment, he just was mad about you.

I hope you liked this special piece. Love Becca <3

#weak hero class 1 #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #weak hero x reader #weak hero webtoon #whc2 #geum seong je #geum seong je x reader #wolf keum #weak hero kdrama #geum seongje #weak hero season 2

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kaiyunsim · 1 month ago

Text

dangerous —

pairing : neighbor!taesan x gn!reader

genre : fluff

summary : what do you do when you get a text from your neighbor in the middle of the night asking to head outside? answer it. who knows what’s to come? no one. but one thing is for sure. it’s not going to be a normal night

a/n : this is the last one guys !! hope u enjoyed 19.99 :)) very fun to write and lots of love to everyone reading <3

queueing : dangerous - boynextdoor, say - keshi, flamin hot lemon - jaehyun, rendez-vouz - baekhyun

[19.99 masterlist]

— wc : 3.8k — not proof read —

you’re brushing your teeth when the first pebble hits the window.

at first, you think it’s nothing. probably just the wind or a tree branch or a cat being annoying again. but then it happens again. a sharper sound this time. too precise. and you freeze with your toothbrush halfway to the sink.

you shuffle to your window and peer out into the dark.

han taesan is standing in your yard.

no. more accurately, han taesan is standing just outside your yard, leaning casually against the fence like he owns the street, like he didn’t just pelt your window with two small rocks. his hoodie is up, shadowing his face, but the flashlight in his hand flicks on and off twice. deliberate. like a signal.

you blink. and then blink again.

because han taesan is the neighbor you’ve always kept a healthy distance from. he’s the reason the neighborhood group chat has three different emergency threads. he’s the kid who climbed onto the school's four-story roof last year just because someone dared him. he’s always getting written up. always being talked about. always loud, always laughing.

but tonight, he’s quiet. tonight, he’s looking directly at you.

you don’t move. he shifts slightly, then pulls something out from behind his back.

a sign. well, it's a napkin, but it works as a sign. he holds it up, and in bold, messy marker it reads:

come with me. just for a bit.

your heart skips.

you’re not the type to sneak out. not the type to say yes to things like this. you’re the “text me when you get there” kind. the “curfew means curfew” kind. your phone is already in your hand, screen glowing with the drafted text you were going to send to your mom about finishing homework and heading to bed early.

you look back out the window. taesan grins and pulls out another napkin where he starts scribbling onto it once again.

you’ll regret it if you don’t.

the grin gets to you more than it should. it’s not cocky. it’s a little hopeful. a little excited. like he’s waiting to share something no one else gets to see. like he picked you.

you sigh. your thumb hovers over the text message. you think about deleting it. you think about shutting the window. you think about how weird tomorrow might feel if you go. and like a ghost possesed you to be different tonight, you delete the draft and throw on a hoodie.

you leave the light on to make it look like you’re still in your room. your heart is pounding in your throat. this is ridiculous. this is so dumb. you’re halfway down the stairs before you even realize you're moving.

you make sure to take out the batteries from the door alarm and open it but the front door creaks. you wince. freeze.

nothing.

you slip outside and shut it again, as slowly and silently as possible. the porch light is off. the night is cold and still and too quiet. every crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers feels like a siren.

taesan is already walking backward, waving you toward the end of the street.

you jog to catch up.

“you actually came,” he says, eyebrows raised.

“you threw rocks at my window,” you whisper back, still out of breath.

“and you came,” he says, like that’s proof of something. “i’m impressed.”

you roll your eyes. “what is this, exactly?”

taesan shrugs, flashing the flashlight briefly at your feet. “just something i want to show you. it’ll be worth it.”

“is this the part where you reveal you’ve been hiding a stolen motorcycle in your garage?”

he grins wider. “nah. that’s next week.”

you laugh before you mean to, and he catches it. his gaze lingers on you for half a second longer than it should. you pretend not to notice.

the neighborhood looks different at night. each house is a sleeping giant. windows glowing softly. no cars. no noise. just the two of you, cutting across sidewalks and hopping fences like fugitives.

“we’re gonna get arrested,” you mutter.

“technically,” he says, “we’re just walking.”

you glance over at him. “most people walk on the sidewalk.”

“most people are boring.”

you duck as a red dot from a camera catches your gaze. taesan hisses a laugh and grabs your wrist, yanking you behind the nearest hedge.

you land too close together, knees bumping, breath tangled.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

the light eventually shuts off.

“okay,” you whisper, barely audible. “maybe this is kinda fun.”

“told you,” he says. “but it gets better.”

“what is this place, taesan?”

he looks at you, serious for a moment. “it’s where i go when the rest of this place feels too small.”

you stare at him.

he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “that sounded cooler in my head.”

you nod slowly. “nah. it was kind of cool.”

he perks up again. “yeah?”

“don’t push it.”

you keep walking, this time side by side.

the thrill is still there, tingling just beneath your skin, but there’s something warmer now too. a weird quiet comfort in the way your steps sync. in the way taesan hums softly when there’s no conversation. in the way he sometimes looks at you like he can’t believe you’re still here.

“so,” you say after a while, “do you do this often?”

“sneak out? yeah.”

“no, convince innocent bystanders to join your criminal antics?”

“not really,” he says. “you’re kind of a first.”

you glance at him.

he doesn’t look back.

instead, he points ahead to a chain-link fence.

“almost there,” he says.

you don’t know where there is yet, but you know one thing for sure: you’re not turning back.

not yet.

you’re halfway across a playground you didn’t know still existed when taesan suddenly veers left, hopping a low fence like it’s muscle memory.

you follow, breathing harder now, adrenaline buzzing under your skin in a way that makes you feel alive and reckless and a little bit stupid.

“we’re really far from my house,” you say.

“you mean our house,” he corrects, turning around with a crooked grin. “we’re neighbors, remember?”

“yeah,” you mutter. “this feels like the kind of bonding experience that ends with a demon being summoned.”

he laughs, loud and bright in the empty dark. it echoes between the old school buildings as you both duck into a narrow path between chain-link fences.

“you always this dramatic?” he asks.

“you always this mysterious?” you shoot back.

he considers this. “i try not to be. people make assumptions when you stop explaining yourself.”

“so you just stopped explaining?”

“i got tired,” he says, voice quieter now. “and my friends moved away. it’s easier not to miss them if i don’t talk about them.”

you glance at him. there’s something different in the way he walks now. slower. not just because the path narrows, but because he’s remembering.

“this the part where you tell me about your tragic backstory?” you ask, teasing, but softer.

he snorts. “nah. just… there used to be five of us. every friday night. we’d sneak out, go exploring, steal snacks from the convenience store if we were brave enough. we called it ‘operation getaway.’”

you raise a brow. “wow. that’s so dramatic.”

he nudges you with his shoulder. “shut up.”

“i’m just saying,” you grin, “sounds kind of adorable. were you, like, the fearless leader?”

“duh,” he says, then adds quickly, “i mean—no. maybe. i don’t know.”

“taesan,” you drawl. “are you sentimental?”

he stumbles over a crack in the pavement.

“what? no,” he says too fast. “no way.”

“you totally are.”

“i’m not.”

“this is your secret memory lane. you’re taking me to your old hangout spot. you’re sharing stories about your childhood gang—”

“okay shut up, you’re ruining the moment.”

you’re laughing when he shoves you lightly, and he’s laughing too, except it sounds more like relief. like he’s glad you didn’t run at the first sign of something real.

you climb up a slanted dumpster and hop down the other side, landing next to him in a hidden alley you didn’t even know existed. it smells like asphalt and wild mint.

“how do you know all these weird paths?” you ask, brushing your hands on your hoodie.

“been running through them since i was twelve,” he says, glancing around. “they don’t teach this stuff in school.”

you pause, realizing you’ve been walking for a while now, and not once have you felt lost.

“now, where are we going?” you ask.

he smiles. “you’ll see.”

you roll your eyes. “vague. mysterious. definitely suspicious.”

“all the best things are,” he says.

you keep walking, but something changes.

at first it’s small, a flicker in your peripheral vision. a low hum. the kind of noise you don’t notice until it’s been going on for too long.

you glance behind you.

a car. old. paint chipped. headlights off. moving way too slow for a place with no stop signs.

you squint. taesan hasn’t noticed yet. he’s ahead of you, already halfway through a shortcut behind someone’s backyard. but when the car creeps past again, this time from the other side of the block, you speak up.

“hey… that car’s weird.”

he stops mid-step. turns. his eyes scan the street, sharp now, calculating.

“which one?”

you point. it’s gone again.

his jaw tightens. not dramatically. just enough that you notice.

“it’s probably nothing,” he says, voice level. “somebody getting lost.”

but he’s looking around more now. less joking. more alert.

you don’t ask questions. not yet. you just fall in step beside him again, a little closer this time. and when you reach a side street with no streetlights, he reaches out and takes your hand.

just like that.

no big deal.

except your fingers are burning where they touch.

“shortcut,” he says, tugging you into the dark between two buildings. “we’ll cut through here.”

you don’t argue.

your shoes scuff against broken pavement, and his flashlight flicks on, just long enough to catch your footing. it smells like rain and something else, dust maybe. you can hear your own heartbeat louder than your steps.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, still holding your hand.

you nod, even though he’s not looking.

“yeah.”

you’re more than okay. you’re terrified, and excited, and fully aware that you’re wandering through alleys with a boy you barely know but somehow trust anyway.

and then, as you turn the corner, he stops. you almost run into him. he’s staring up at a narrow fire escape tucked between two brick walls.

“this is it,” he says.

you follow his gaze. “what is?”

he grins. “our rooftop,” he says. “c’mon. don’t wimp out on me now.”

you eye the ladder. it looks… less than safe.

“you first,” you mutter.

he’s already climbing.

you wait until he’s halfway up before starting after him, hands trembling with cold and adrenaline.

when you reach the top, breathless and heart pounding, he’s standing there—arms spread like he’s welcoming you into a secret universe.

and what you see takes your breath away.

city lights stretch in every direction. soft, glowing. like someone shook glitter over the world and let it settle in the cracks. the wind brushes your face. it’s quiet up here. peaceful. far away from everything.

“taesan…” you say, voice small.

he glances over. “told you it’d be worth it.”

you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until your back hits the cool rooftop, and the stars spin a little above your head.

“oh my god,” you gasp, laughing between breaths. “we almost died on that ladder.”

taesan collapses next to you with a dramatic sigh. “worth it.”

you turn your head. he’s grinning again, eyes squinting up at the sky, hoodie bunched at his elbows. you’re close enough that your arms touch, and the heat from his skin is louder than the wind.

“so,” you say after a beat, “this is your big secret spot.”

he hums. “yep.”

“it’s actually kind of... amazing.”

“you sound surprised.”

“well,” you grin, “i was expecting like, a junkyard. or maybe a haunted gas station.”

“jeez, you just hate me i guess,” he deadpans.

you nudge his shoulder. he doesn’t nudge back.

instead, he says, quieter now, “i thought you weren’t gonna come.”

you glance at him.

his eyes are still on the sky, but his voice dips, softer around the edges. “i had the sign ready and everything. would’ve felt dumb just standing down there.”

your chest squeezes. “so you planned that?” you ask, raising a brow.

he side-eyes you. “no.”

“taesan.”

“okay maybe.”

you laugh, and he smiles like he can’t help it. there’s something different about this version of him. less troublemaker, more boy with too much heart and nowhere to put it.

you sit up, the city stretching behind him like a dream, and for a second, just a second, you wonder what would happen if you leaned in.

he’s looking at you.

you’re looking back.

his hand brushes yours, light as static.

you close your eyes, move closer

and then—

“oh hell no.”

you both jolt upright.

from the opposite side of the rooftop, two shadows emerge, both climbing over the edge like it’s their usual entrance.

taesan groans. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“bro,” the short one says, stepping into the light, “you knew we were coming tonight.”

“i forgot!”

the second boy, a much taller, with round cheeks and wide eyes, waves cheerfully, like he hasn’t just interrupted the moment of the century.

“hi!” he says brightly, to you. “you’re not part of the usual rooftop squad.”

“not yet,” you mumble.

“don’t be nice,” taesan grumbles, standing. “you just ruined the vibe.”

“you ruined the vibe by being early,” the short one fires back. “we had a whole timing plan!”

taesan sighs like this is a very old argument.

“y/n,” he gestures between them, “this is riwoo, angry, dramatic, and woonhak, baby of the group.”

woonhak beams and does a little wave again.

you can’t help it, you whisper to taesan, “he is the cutest.”

taesan just groans louder. “don’t encourage him.”

woonhak plops down like this is his house and you’re the guest. “you guys bring snacks?”

“do i look unprepared?” taesan mutters, already pulling a bag of chips, two rice cakes, and a bottle of melon soda from his backpack like some kind of urban picnic magician.

riwoo raises his eyebrows. “you brought donuts? for them?”

“shut up,” taesan says, tossing the pack across the rooftop. “you can have half.”

“i want a rice cake,” woonhak chirps.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” taesan says, handing it over.

you watch all this unfold. three boys on a rooftop at midnight, bickering over snacks and spots on the concrete, and suddenly, the night feels warmer. this is the side of taesan no one gets to see. the one who keeps old traditions alive. the one who remembers to bring enough snacks for everyone. the one who laughs like he means it.

you end up sitting between woonhak and riwoo, passing the soda back and forth as stories start to spill out. ones about rooftops and ruined bikes and the time taesan broke a pipe trying to slide down it like in a movie.

“he landed in someone’s pool,” riwoo says, deadpan.

“i was aiming for it!” taesan insists.

“you broke your arm.”

“yeah, after the pool part. technically still a win.”

you’re laughing too hard to respond. your face hurts from smiling.

taesan glances at you, eyes crinkled. there’s something in his gaze you can’t place, soft and searching, like he’s trying to memorize the sound of your laugh.

you look away, heart thudding louder than before.

somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. a train hums. the city never really sleeps. but for once, it feels like the world’s paused just for you.

you tilt your head back. above, stars scatter across the sky like glitter spilled on black velvet. below, you can see the town, tiny houses, sleepy streets, the faint glow of your porch light still on.

you think about curfews. about rules. about how this night wasn’t supposed to happen. and then you think about how glad you are that it did.

the sky is turning that pale, impossible blue, like someone pressed pause on the night right before it gave up.

you walk slower now, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, the rooftops and alleyways behind you, your house still just out of sight.

it’s not the kind of slow that comes from being tired. it’s the kind of slow that says please don’t end yet.

taesan’s quiet too. not in a bad way. just thoughtful. he kicks a pebble down the sidewalk, his hand close to yours but not quite touching. you want to say something. you don’t know what.

instead, he says, “you ever stay out this late before?”

you shake your head. “never.”

he looks over. “so… i was your first time?”

you scoff, elbowing him. “don’t make it weird.”

he laughs, but it’s soft. tired. fond.

you turn onto your street and the quiet shifts. not peaceful anymore. heavier. because from here, you can see it.

your porch light is on.

and the light inside the living room, off when you left, is now glowing faintly behind the curtains.

your heart drops to your knees.

“shit,” you whisper.

taesan stops next to you. he sees it too.

you both just stand there for a second, frozen like deer in someone else’s headlights.

“okay,” he says finally, breath visible in the morning chill. “don’t freak out. could just be uhh—like, someone got up to pee. lights got left on.”

“yeah,” you say. “totally. because my family just loves wasting electricity.”

you take another step. then another. your yard is a war zone of betrayal. every twig looks louder. every shadow feels like an accusation.

taesan nudges your fingers with his. not quite a hold. just a reminder he’s there.

“don’t worry,” he says, too gently. “if you get caught… i’ll take the blame.”

you blink at him.

“taesan.”

“i mean it.”

“that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard,” you whisper, but you’re smiling. kind of. it’s tight. terrified.

you reach the edge of your driveway and crouch instinctively. like you’re in a spy movie. or about to commit a very boring felony.

taesan follows your lead, ducking behind your mom’s flowerbed.

“okay,” you mutter. “plan?”

“i distract. you sneak in. climb up that janky trellis like you’re in mission impossible. easy.”

“you do realize i’ll owe you for life if this works.”

he shrugs. “worth it.”

you glance toward the house.

the window to your room is slightly cracked open, just like you left it when the nights got too warm. but that means you didn’t close it. which means someone might’ve noticed. might’ve gone to check.

your throat is dry.

“i’ll go first,” you whisper. “if it looks bad… run.”

he frowns.

“i’m serious,” you add. “don’t make this worse than it is. just—run.”

he hesitates. but nods.

you creep across the yard. one foot. then the other. the grass is damp. your hoodie feels too loud. everything is glass and you’re walking with a hammer. you reach the side of the house. make it to the window. fingers wrap around the wood. you glance back—

taesan’s crouched low, watching you. he gives a tiny thumbs-up.

you roll your eyes and start to climb. it’s harder than it looks. the wood creaks. your foot slips once. but you make it, window ledge, fingertips, finally swinging one leg over—

and then it happens.

the creak.

that one stupid floorboard by your desk. you always forget. it always betrays you.

your heart stops.

you freeze, mid-step. barely breathing.

down the hallway, something moves.

a shadow.

a person.

you hiss—“go!”—at the window, barely loud enough, but taesan hears.

he’s already moving. but he doesn’t run. he hesitates. stares up at you one last time. something flickers in his eyes. regret, apology, maybe just goodbye. and then he bolts.

vanishes behind the neighbor’s hedges like he was never there. you’re alone now. and the shadow’s getting closer.

—

the house is too quiet after the storm.

you’re still standing in the hallway when the words settle in the air like dust:

“you’re grounded for a month.”

you don’t argue. you just nod. what would you even say?

the silence that follows is somehow worse. the kind where you can feel someone’s disappointment before they even say it. like static in your bones.

you mumble something like “okay,” something like “goodnight,” and shut your door behind you.

your room is dark except for the bluish light bleeding through the window. you can’t bring yourself to turn on the lamp. the adrenaline’s gone now, but your heart is still racing like it doesn’t know the night’s over.

you’re not even sure what you’re feeling.

regret?

not exactly.

fear?

kind of.

mostly it’s just… him.

taesan.

his hand brushing yours. his laugh on the rooftop. the way he ran when you told him to, but didn’t want to.

you sit on the edge of your bed and realize your fingers are clenched around something.

it’s a note, on another one of those stupid napkins. you forgot he gave it to you, folded into your palm like a secret before you climbed the trellis.

it’s crumpled now, smudged from your grip, but you unfold it anyway.

his handwriting is messy. like him.

“if we get caught, blame me. but if it’s fun, you have to admit i was right.”

you close your eyes. you don’t even hear your phone buzz until the second time. you dive for it.

taesan: did you make it?

you bite your lip. thumbs hover over the screen.

you: define “make it.”

you wait. your heart is loud again.

taesan: define “regret.”

you almost laugh. almost cry. your fingers tremble as you type, curling under the covers like the walls can’t hear you.

you: i don’t.

a pause. then the three dots again.

taesan: knew it.

you roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling. your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re trying not to smile. you don’t know what this is. you just know it matters.

—

it’s past midnight when you hear it.

click.

soft. quiet. outside your window. you pause your music and sit up. it’s nothing. probably. a squirrel. the wind. you peek through the blinds anyway. and there he is.

taesan.

hoodie up. hair messy. standing at the edge of your yard like a dare you forgot to take. he sees you and holds something up.

a napkin.

scribbled in sharpie, crooked but clear:

“worth it?”

you stare at him, press your forehead against the cold glass, and nod.

taesan’s grin splits across his face. cocky. blinding. he doesn’t stay.

just throws you a wink and disappears again. back into the dark, like a secret the night let slip for just a second.

you crawl back into bed and keep the napkin. fold it. press it into your notebook. write the date in the corner.

because later, when you’re older and the world feels a little less magic, you’ll want to remember this:

the rooftop.

the laughter.

the near-kiss.

the sprint through shadows.

the moment your heart cracked open at the worst possible time.

you got caught. but you also chose it. and that kind of feeling?

that’s worth everything.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

series taglist : @somber-reads @saritahwang

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver @solkver @lov3lyaaru @tanghuyuj

339 notes · View notes

salemrph · 5 months ago

Text

Wine, Lies and Longing

Summary: You win a romantic vineyard getaway, a dream escape you never expected. Unsure of who to take, you impulsively invite Sylus. What starts as playful pretending, soon becomes something far more real. In the heart of the vineyard, surrounded by the sweetness of wine and the glow of moonlight, you begin to wonder: is this just an act, or the start of something you’ve always longed for?

Based on the new banner Night Rendezvous!

Character: MC x Sylus // Genre: romantic, soft, explicit sexual content // Pet names: Kitten, Sweetie // Word count: 8,827 | Reading Time: 35 min | AO3 |

A/N: This was written before Night Rendezvous officially dropped, inspired by the clips we’ve seen over the past two days. Please note there might be some errors—I was absolutely frantic about the banner while writing this! I just couldn’t get Sylus out of my head.

WARNINGS: mdni, biting, penetration, cum. Remember, fanfics are not a reliable source of sexual education. For questions about protection and birth control, talk to your doctor.

A weeks ago, after visiting your regular supermarket to pick up your usual after-mission dinner set, the kind cashier, while taking your point card, reminded you about the ongoing special raffle.

"Miss, do you want to participate in the lottery?" You looked at the display banner on the counter. The image of serene mountains under a captivating sunset, the sparkle of a drop of water on a bunch of grapes, and the faces of people happily enjoying an unforgettable moment. “Two days in a mountainous region with beautiful views” it read— a getaway promising wine, relaxation, and a fleeting escape from your daily chaos. You paused for a moment, thinking that a vacation wouldn’t be a bad idea, especially since you’d been continuously working on missions, paperwork, and grueling training sessions. You let out a soft sight, the exhaustion creeping into your thoughts. What could happen? In worst case, you would not win the prize, and at the moment, simply filling out the digital form will maybe bring you closer to a small break. Without overthinking it, you nodded, typed in your details, and submitted your entry.

Not even sure, when that happens, you blink a couple of times while checking your email. You can hardly believe your eyes. You won, you actually won that stupid getaway for two! The excitement bubbles up in you like champagne, because you never win anything. You can already imagine the fresh air, the rolling hills, the luxury of it all. You want to scream. You do a little dance in your living room. This is how it should be. Without thinking twice, you call Tara to share the news. After a few rings, she picks up.

"Hey, my favorite person!" she say cheerful like always.

"Tara, guess what?" you ask enthusiastic, you don't wait for her to answer "I won a trip for two to a vineyard! Wanna go on a girls' trip?"

"Say what?! Really? That's amazing!"

"I know! I'm really excited." you explain to Tara briefly what kind of trip it is. “Oh, we could have a lot of fun. Are you in?”

"Oh, I would love to, but… isn’t this kind of trip for couples?" You freeze, your smile faltering.

"Couple? Let me check..."

A shadow of doubt creeps in, heavy and unwelcome. Frowning, you swipe back to the email announcing your prize, it took you a moment to go trough the conditions. Your stomach tightening as your eyes land on the fine print: Only couples allowed. Your mind races, a mix of disappointment and worry swirling inside you. You stare at the screen, torn between laughing at the absurdity and groaning at your oversight.

"What should I do?" you ask, feeling a little lost.

"We could just say we’re a couple" says Tara laughing a bit.

You lean back against the couch, chewing on the idea. Pretending wouldn’t be that hard, would it? It’s not like the vineyard is going to demand proof of your relationship. Still, the idea feels... complicated. Then Tera continues with a playful tone.

"Or..." she teases, "...you could ask Mr. Skye to go with you? He has a crush on you. Maybe this is the perfect chance to level up your relationship with him."

The thought alone makes your cheeks heat up. Sylus? Taking him with you? Your heart flutters. It wouldn't be the first time with him on a trip but... on a exclusive couple trip? You remember the time you were with him in that castle, telling you that weird story to help you fall asleep, but you strangely ended up being bitten by him on the neck. Your cheeks are starting to burn, the feeling of his teeth on your skin was intense. You put a hand on your neck, it feels like it was yesterday.

“Are you there?” You shake you head, trying to come back to the conversation.

“Really? Are you serious?” feeling a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, and it’s a romantic vineyard trip. It practically screams opportunity!” Her words make you feel more nervous and you go silent again. She only wants to ship you with him. Her personal real time K-drama. "I think you should ask him,” she presses, a bit insistently. “It could be fun. Worst case? You survive the trip. Best case? You come back as a couple. Just saying"

“Tara...” you sigh. “I don't like him—"

“Bullshit!” she cuts you off, her voice cheerful and confident. “You have a thing for him, admit it! Be happy with him. You know what? I’m not going with you.” She laughs. “Ask him and have fun! And call me for the little dirty details. Byee”

“Wait! Tara?!” And with that, the call is over, leaving you staring at your phone.

You groan. The room feels too quiet, too charged with the sudden possibility. Sylus—always confident, always composed—would undoubtedly say yes. You could already imagine his reaction: that cocky tilt of his head, his dark eyes narrowing with amusement. You bite your lip. Tara is right, he is hot. Terribly hot.

You glaze on your phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Should I, shouldn't I text him? Your heart is racing. How could you wrap this up to make it less... weird? The last time you came up with a plan, it wasn’t that difficult, was it? The couple photo shoot... well, OTTO was very insistent that you take part in it. In the end, it was fun... and you had a kind of romantic moment with Sylus. Maybe you can see this as a payback of all the time he help you with stuff.

But why Sylus? You could just ask the other friend you have, right? You go through the scenario in your head, imagining how it might go if you asked Zayne, Xavier or Rafayel. I mean, the boys are cool, but bringing your co-worker/neighbour could be very relaxing. Xavier wouldn’t be interested in the wine, but he’d enjoy the fresh mountain air. Zayne... you sighed. He was always too busy to go anywhere. Rafayel could be fun, but the idea of playing bodyguard while travelling didn’t appeal to you. You're starting to feel sleepy from all this thinking, and feel like to take a nap is the right solution to not deal with this. It's early in the morning. Or should you maybe have a coffee and go for a run. You sigh. This can't be so complicated.

After what feels like an eternity of hesitation, you finally decide to at least ask Sylus first. Just as you gather the courage to type something, your phone buzzes. A call from him.

“What are you doing?” he says without even saying hello.

“Working” you lie.

“You sound tired, kitten.” he says, a hint of concern threading through his voice. „I thought you were going to take a break after all that missions”

You feel the warmth in his ton, it make you feel... good. “I'm planning too.” Thinking how to bring up the trip. “I just need to finish a few things.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again, the softness of his words taking you by surprise. “If you ever feel overwhelmed, you're always welcome at my place”. You smile like an idiot without notices it. If Tera were there she would have teased you about that.

“I will...” you try to compose yourself. “Why are you calling me now? Isn't this you bed time hour?

He laugh softly, a sound that always seems to melt your heart if you're not careful “I like to hear your voice before I go to bed. That's way I call”.

“I see...” you murmur.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Well...” you hesitate, the words feeling awkward in your throat. “I won this trip for two to a vineyard. I was talking to Tara, she doesn't have the time to come with me. And I... I know it’s a couple’s thing, but I would be a shame—”.

“Go to the point, kitten” he interrupts with a laugh.

“I wanted to ask you, if...” you close you eyes, as if that would save you the embarrassment in case he says no. “...you could come with me? I owe you for few things.”

There’s a moment of silence before he answers, his voice calm, yet with an undertone of amusement. “Sure, I’ll go. Wouldn’t want you to miss out.“ The relief washes over you, but there’s a strange flutter in your chest too. You try to ignore it. “Send me the details.”

“Alright. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, kitten.”

...

When you finally arrive with him at the vineyard, the atmosphere is perfect. The air is crisp, the vineyards stretch out beneath a sky painted in soft pastels, and the scent of fresh earth and ripe grapes lingers. The estate’s stone pathways crunch softly beneath your feet as you make your way to the guest rooms.

The room is picturesque and charming, with rustic wooden beams and a window overlooking the sprawling vineyard. But your eyes are drawn immediately to the bed. One bed. A king-sized one, with crisp white sheets and pillows that seem to mock you with their perfect arrangement. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, the reality of it sinking in. Calm down! You have slept with him in one bed, more then you want to count.

Sylus steps inside behind you, he sets your and his bag down, his usual confidence radiating from him like a second skin.

“Looks cozy” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk just shy of teasing.

You manage a laugh, though it comes out shaky. “Cozy is one way to put it.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall with an ease that makes your stomach flip. “You nervous already? We haven’t even opened the wine yet.”

You roll your eyes, desperate to mask the heat creeping up your neck. “As if. Just… surprised, that’s all.” He chuckles, the sound low and velvety, sending a shiver through you.

“Surprised, huh?” Then, with a playful tilt of his head. “Relax, my love” You get goosebumps hearing him say those words. The pet name drips with mockery, but the way he says it makes your breath hitch.

“You don´t have to call me that”

“Why not? This is a couples trip, doesn't it?” His smile is maddeningly confident, his tone bordering on a challenge. You let out a long sigh, trying to steady the flustered mess inside you.

“You’re really leaning into this, aren’t you?”

He straightens, stepping closer—too close. His voice drops just enough to make your pulse quicken. “We want to make it convincing. Or do you have a better plan?”

It’s not the first time you’ve had to pretend to be couple or lover, or whatever, but somehow, this feels different. You’re not on a mission with him, not playing a part for someone else's benefit. This is personal—too personal.

Sylus strides over to the bed, his movements deliberate. He sits down with the kind of ease that suggests he owns the space, leaning back on one arm as if the room was made for him. You perch on the edge of the bed, trying to relax, but every part of you is hyper-aware of his presence—the faint spice of his cologne, the quiet rustle of his shirt as he shifts, the heat radiating from him even at a distance.

“No, I don't.” you say annoyed “I... just hope we can enjoy this.” Your words trail off as you glance out the window, desperate for a distraction. It’s definitely a super romantic place, the kind of setting you’d see in a movie. You cling to the view, hoping its beauty will steady your swirling thoughts.

Sylus looks over at you, a faint smirk on his lips.

"I’m sure it’ll be enjoyable, either way. We’re in the right place for it" he says, his voice low and confident, as if he already knows how the weekend will unfold. You swallow hard, forcing a smile.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his smirk deepening. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

You turn your gaze back to the vineyard, trying to steady your racing thoughts. This is just a weekend, you remind yourself. It’s just Sylus.

...

The agenda for the day is simple—nothing too complicated. Just a tour of the property, along with the other couple staying at the vineyard. Then, a wine tasting session to enjoy the local flavours, followed by a leisurely dinner under the stars. Afterwards, you’re meant to relax, enjoy the evening, and retire to bed. Easy, right?

But despite how simple it sounds. As you make your way through the vineyard with Sylus by your side, everything feels heightened, even the sound of your footsteps crunching on the gravel path. The soft laughter of the other couple fills the background, but it feels distant. In your distraction, you trip slightly over your feet. Why are you even wearing heals? You catch yourself, but before you can fully regain balance, Sylus is there—his hand firm on your arm, pulling you closer. He steadies you effortlessly, his proximity sending a rush of warmth through you.

“Give me your hand,” he murmurs, his voice low, smooth. You blink, still a little off-balance, and look up at him, confused “What?” He smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You surely don’t want to break you ankle or ruin your dress, do you?” His words are wrapped in a teasing edge. You eye him suspiciously, your pulse racing.

“Besides,” he continues in a soft whisper, his breath warm against your ear, “that’s what couples do. Care for each other.”

The heat of his hand in yours makes your heart race, his touch unexpectedly gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. You try to focus, try to shake off the unexpected flutter in your chest. But his proximity, his warmth, makes it hard to think clearly. Maybe…

The tour guide’s voice weaves through the warm air, narrating the history of the vineyard with practiced ease. But you barely register the words.

The wine tasting that follows feels like an eternity. Each sip is a kaleidoscope of flavours, yet none hold your focus for long. The richness of the reds, the crispness of the whites—they all blur together as you try to ground yourself, but it’s impossible with Sylus nearby. His gaze lingers too long, his teasing comments too precise, cutting through your resolve with the ease of a knife through silk.

“Not bad,” he says, his voice low and smooth as he swirls the wine in his glass. His dark eyes glint with amusement. “But I’ve tasted better.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool. “Oh, I didn’t realice you were such a wine connoisseur.”

He leans in slightly, his tone dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “I have a talent for recognising quality.”

A smile tugs at your lips, genuine this time. You can't help it. Each exchange feels like a dance, his confidence pressing against your composure in a way that leaves you breathless. Actually, you want to bite back with some sharp words, but there it is. That soft smile, the same one he had after the boxing match, under the falling snow... Your lips part, but instead of speaking, you just look back at him. Everything seems to slow down. Is the wine affecting you? For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he feels it too. You eyes darts on this lips, how would they taste?

And then, just before the moment slips away, he does something unexpected. He sets his glass down, his movements fluid, and without breaking eye contact, he reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is light, but it lingers just long enough to make your skin tingle.

Before you can even process it, a soft tap on your shoulder pulls you from the moment. Two women approach, giggling like schoolgirls, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

They interrupt the bubble you’ve found yourself in, and the weight of Sylus’s touch vanishes as if it was never there. But the heat in your chest lingers, a faint trace of the connection that just passed between you.

“Excuse me” one of them says, her voice light and playful as she glances between you and Sylus. The other nudges her, stifling a giggle, and you can already feel the familiar mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up.

“We couldn’t help but notice” the first woman continues, her smile widening, “you two are just the cutest couple. You’ve got this… spark. It’s like you stepped out of a romance novel!”

You blink, caught off guard, the glass of wine freezing halfway to your lips. A flush rises to your cheeks, and you can feel Sylus shift beside you, his presence suddenly more commanding.

“Oh, really?” he says smoothly, his tone carrying that trademark confidence. He slides an arm casually around your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse quicken. “Well, I’m glad we’re keeping the vineyard’s reputation for romance alive.

His words, so effortlessly delivered, make the women swoon audibly. “The way you two look at each other—it’s just magical!”

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as strained as it feels. “Thanks” you manage, your voice tight as Sylus’s hand lingers on your hip, warm and steady.

“Are you two married?”

“No” you say quickly, your voice a little too sharp, too defensive.

Sylus, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He looks at you, then smiles smoothly at the women. “No but...” he says as he looks back at you. “Our soul are already bound, so is better then marriage.”

The women gasp, eyes widening in surprise. “Such a poetic man...” the first woman exclaims. “You two are perfect together!”

You blink, momentarily stunned, unsure of how to react. Sylus doesn’t seem at all phased by the lie, his calm demeanor making it feel like a perfectly natural thing to say.

“Thanks” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “We’re very happy.”

You smile politely, trying to shake off the warmth creeping up your neck. The words linger in your mind as you finish your wine, but you can’t help but feel a little more self-conscious now. They really think you’re with him. You can’t help but wonder if the lines between roll playing and reality are already starting to blur.

The women chat a little longer, their compliments spilling over like the wine in their glasses. Finally, they flit away, their laughter trailing behind them as they disappear into the crowd.

You exhale sharply, stepping out of Sylus’s hold and turning to him with narrowed eyes. “Really? Our soul are bound? Better then marriage?”

He grins, unfazed, leaning closer until his voice drops low enough that only you can hear. “What?” His gaze locks onto yours, his smirk softening into something almost tender. “Saying the true is sometime easier then coming up with some lie, sweetie”

Maybe he’s enjoying this a little too much. But if he’s enjoying it, why don’t you enjoy it too? You think to yourself, a strange thought whispering at the back of your mind. Even if it’s just for this trip, just for the moment.

The wine has already begun to work its magic, loosening your inhibitions and making everything feel just a little more carefree. Before you can fully think it through, you find yourself clinging to Sylus’s arm, your fingers lightly gripping the sleeve of his jacket. The warmth of his presence settles against you, his steady pulse beneath your touch a reminder of just how close he is. You feel the tension in your chest ease, replaced by something else, something much more complicated.

Sylus’s smile stretches wide as he looks down at you, the corner of his lips curling in that smug, almost predatory way he always does when he knows he’s got your attention.

The quiet hum of the evening settles back in. It’s as if a small door has been opened, and you’re not entirely sure what’s on the other side, but for now, you’re curious enough to stay a little longer.

Sylus doesn’t move, his arm still locked with yours, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low and teasing. “Enjoying yourself so far, sweetheart?”

You glance up at him, maybe... just maybe... it won’t be as simple as you expected.

…

Dinner arrives just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting the sky in soft, dusky hues. The air feels cooler now, but the warmth of the intimate atmosphere wraps around you, drawing you closer to the cozy setting. The flickering candlelight dances across the stone walls, casting playful shadows that seem to shift with every movement. It’s romantic, the kind of dinner scene you only see in movies, and for a moment, it feels like you’re part of a story you’re not sure you want to end.

Sylus is seated next to you, his tall frame glowing softly in the dim light. He’s quieter than usual, but his presence is undeniable. Every now and then, his eyes flicker to yours, and there’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you want to jump from your chair and lose yourself in him right there.

During the dinner, you find yourself addressing him a few times as “my love” or “honey”, while taking in the large group at the table. The words slip from your lips without thinking, and each time they do, a little thrill runs through you. You’re playing the part, but in some strange way, you realize you’re not pretending anymore. You’re enjoying it, living it.

You let your fingers brushed against his hand, and before you know, you’re subtly holding his hand beneath the table. The simple touch sends warmth up your arm. The intimacy of the gesture, hidden from the others, feels like a secret shared between just the two of you. You pass him food, feeding each other bites of your meals, exchanging tastes like lovers. Each touch, each glance, each shared moment feels more natural than it should.

You’re lost in the closeness, in the warmth of the evening, in the role you’re playing so effortlessly. It feels easy, too easy, to slip into this new dynamic with him. And for the first time since you arrived, you stop questioning it. For tonight, you’re his beloved. And maybe, just maybe, you can stay like this forever.

The evening winds down, and you’re a bit tipsy, your cheeks flushed with a soft pink. You decide to step outside for some fresh air, leaving Sylus talking to the owner of the vineyard. The nice warm sun is long gone, and the coldness of the mountains is a refreshing contrast to it. The vineyard stretches out before you, bathed in moonlight, and the quiet of the night feels peaceful. You feet are hurting, you've been walking with high heels all day.

You take a deep breath, feeling good, light, and free. For the first time in a while, you realize something you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider: You’re in love with him. There’s no denying it anymore. It’s there, right at the center of your heart, a truth you can’t shake. The way he looks at you, touches you—Every glance, every subtle move he makes, has stirred something deep inside you.

You stop for a moment, letting the breeze tousle your hair, and close your eyes. You’re here. You’re alive. And for this moment, you’re letting yourself feel what you feel, without worrying about what comes next. There’s something beautiful in the simplicity of it, in allowing yourself to just be in love with him. Tonight, you are free to love him, even if you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

As you walk over the veranda, along wooden floor, you heels clicking, feeling the silence around you, lost in your thoughts, you hear his voice cut through the stillness.

"My beautiful beloved, where are you going?" Sylus’s voice is smooth, playful.

You turn around and give him the most sincere smile you've ever shown him. If someone else had seen the look on your face at that moment, they might have thought you'd given him your whole heart in that single expression. And if someone had told you what Sylus felt when he saw you smile like that, you might not have believed them.

You’re startled to find him so close, just a few steps behind you, his figure illuminated by the silvery glow of the moonlight. His eyes are fixed on you, that familiar, confident smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your heart race. "Just needed a moment," you reply softly.

He steps closer, his presence magnetic, his gaze never leaving yours. "I see."

The heat of the wine bubbles up in your chest, but it’s the way he stands there, close, that makes the moment feel heavier than it should. He watches you as if he’s trying to decode something, a quiet challenge in his eyes. Then, without another word, he removes his jacket, the fabric brushing against your arms as he drapes it over your shoulders.

“Thank you” you say a bit shy.

“No need.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s glaring at you. You step closer to the railing, perching on it with half your body leaning out, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. Your mind drifts, flitting from thought to thought, nowhere in particular yet everywhere all at once. You’re enjoying it more than you expected. You hate to admit it, but Tera was right. You’ll need to thank her for pushing you to this.

“You’re staring” you say softly, trying to sound playful but failing to hide the nervous edge in your voice.

“Am I?” he counters smoothly, the smirk growing as he tilts his head slightly. “Maybe I just like what I see.” Your cheeks flush, but you don't look at him. Your eyes are still locked on the scenery.

“Mm-hmm” you hum.

“You’re quiet.” He remarks after a moment, his voice softer now, almost contemplative. “Something on your mind?”

You take a steadying breath, eyes still on the horizon. “Just... enjoying the view.”

He chuckles low. “Good to know I’m not the only one. Though, as beautiful as this is, we should head back—I’ve got something prepared for us.”

You tilt your head in curiosity, trying to read his expression, but before you can ask he gently takes you hand. You suppress a sigh as he guide you to stand up from the railing. You follow him, but the moment your feet hit the ground, the discomfort you’d been ignoring flares up. The cooling evening air has made the snug fit of your pretty shoes unbearable. You let out a soft whine as you take a couple of steps, causing Sylus to stop immediately. He turns, his brows furrowing with concern.

“What wrong?” You shake your head quickly, not wanting to make a fuss.

“It’s nothing... just my feet hurt a little”.

His gaze drops to your shoes, assessing the situation in an instant. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Sylus lets out a sigh, but the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “You’re hopeless sometimes, kitten.” Without another word, he scans the area, his gaze landing on a nearby chair on the veranda. He strides over to it, picks it up, and places it gently in front of you.

“Sit” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. You do as he said then he kneels in front of you.

“What are you—?” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a knowing look.

“Taking them off. Lift your leg.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intimacy of the moment not lost on you. You hesitate for a moment, but his steady gaze convinces you, and you lift your leg. The touch of his fingers on your ankle is electrifying. The dress you're wearing is riding up a bit. Concerned that he might catch a glimpse under the skirt, you discreetly try to lower it. Sylus doesn’t seem to notice or care, his focus entirely on your feet as he gently works to ease the discomfort you’re feeling. Still, you’re glad you're wearing cute panties, just in case something... happens? A few moments later your feet have been released from their prison, you feel relieved.

“This feels better, thanks” you say softly.

“Look at that, a second thanks I get today” he chuckles. Sylus stands up a little and leans over you. He's too close. "Hold on tight."

You feel his hands slide under your thighs and the other hand behind your back. In an instant, you find yourself lifted into his arms. You curl up instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, your body seeking the warmth and security he offers. His eyes flicker to your shoes, the red and black mist picks them up, placing them in one of his hand, not breaking stride as he carries you effortlessly.

“Put me down, Sylus” you say, a hint of laughter in your voice despite the situation.

“Do you want to walk barefoot?” he replies, his tone teasing but unwavering as he holds you close, his grip firm and steady. “Stay still, fussy kitten.”

With a pout you stop squirming in his arms, the smell of his perfume mixed with wine is incredible. You feel almost drunk, not from the wine itself but from the sweet and earthy mix that fills your senses, an alluring combination that invades your nose and makes your head spin just a little. You want to bit his neck.

He walks with you in his arms through the mansion, past couples lingering in the dining room. You catch a few glances from them, including the two women from earlier, who sigh at such an adorable image. A sense of pride swells inside you, and you feel almost lucky, as if you’re the center of attention in the best way possible. As you continue down the hallway toward your room, you look up, and your eyes meet his. That look again. Soft and tender.

As the door opens, you blink in surprise. The room is lit by soft candlelight and the chimney, the air sweet with the scent of fresh flowers, and a bottle of wine chilling in ice sits on the table. It feels like something straight out of a romance movie.

"Sylus, you don’t need to pretend in here" you say low, the question hanging in the air.

He meets your gaze, unfazed. "I’m not pretending." his tone very calm. You raise an eyebrow. He gently lowers you onto the bed, his hands steady and careful. He places your shoes on the floor beside the bed.

"Were you pretending before, being touchy and calling me pet names?" His question hits you like a spark.

You blush, stumbling over your words. "I..."

"It’s alright," he cuts in. “Lay down if you tried. It has been a long day” he look down, while unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the sculpted muscles of his chest. The sight is fascinating and you can’t help but feel the absurd urge to lick every inch.

“I'm not” you feel your restraint cracking inside you, the longing for him is taking over.

“If you don't want to lie down” he continues, his voice smooth but with a hint of challenge “we can make the most of our time before dawn.” He step back, turning to the sofa for a moment. “Do you want some wine?”

This feels insane. You feel insane, but how long can you hold back? Isn’t this the perfect setup—wine, candlelight, fresh flowers, and a whole weekend for two? It’s a scene straight out of a dream. You stand up from the bed, your bare feet soft against the floor. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, desire surging within you, irresistible and raw. You walk toward him, feeling both bold and vulnerable, wanting something more.

“Forget the wine” you say, almost offended by the suggestion. Without the heels, you feel smaller in front of him, but the fire inside you pushes that discomfort aside. You place one hand on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingers.

Sylus looks down at your hand, his gaze flickering to yours with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “I thought you were done with touching” he teases. You don’t answer, your pulse quickening. Damn him, it feels so good. Your fingers trace the opening of his black shirt, and you notice the slight change in his breathing. It’s subtle at first, but you can feel it—the way his chest rises and falls more sharply.

Sylus takes a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes locking with yours. You can tell he's holding back, but just barely. You smile, a little smug, pushing him down onto the sofa. He falls with a loud thud, but before he can settle, you quickly sit on his lap, both legs draped at his sides. Your dress shifts up with the movement, but this time, it doesn’t matter. You want to provoke him more than ever. Your hand returns to his chest, tracing irregular lines with your finger, the soft skin beneath your touch sending a pang of pleasure through your body. You can’t stop yourself from drawing closer, feeling the magnetism between you pull tighter with each passing second. He watches you intently, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You feel alive, every nerve on edge.

Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, and his eyes—his smoldering, unreadable eyes. You want to kiss him. The desire to feel his lips on yours is overwhelming, and you can’t fight it any longer.

Without thinking, you place your hand on his neck, your fingers trailing up to his cheek, the warmth of his skin... why did you take so long to get closer to him? At this point, that cute black underwear you wearing is wet, soak even. The heat between your thighs almost unbearable. Does he know what you want to do next? His playful, almost knowing look in his eyes would definitely say yes. You feel his control slipping, and it makes you ache for him even more.

You close the distance, moving your hand at the back of his neck, as you pull him closer. The moment your lips meet, everything else fades away. The warmth of his lips, the intensity of his touch, it's everything you've been feeling building up to this. You melt into the kiss, your body pressing closer to his, a wave of desire crashing over you. His hands move instinctively, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, and you respond just as fiercely, your heart pounding in your chest. You pull away breathless, your chest rising and falling with each quickened breath in the silence that follows. You look into his eyes, wide with disbelief at what just happened, your mind still trying to catch up with your body. Again, again, again, please.

Sylus moves forward, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. You sigh in both pleasure and relief, feeling every inch of the tension melt away as his kiss deepens, as if it’s the only thing that matters in this moment. You feel his hand gently but firmly cup your cheek, his touch sending a shiver through you.

The kiss is fierce and consuming, his urgency matching your own as his other hand slides between your shoulder blades, pulling you against his chest. His body presses into yours, as if he can’t bear to be apart for even a moment. His tongue tangles with yours, a messy, erotic dance that sends shivers down your spine, down to your core. It’s chaotic, passionate, and you can’t help but surrender to it. All you can feel, all you can think about, is him—his warmth, his touch, the raw desire radiating from him, and the storm building between you both. You’re lost in the sensation, in the wildness of the kiss, the taste of him.

Sylus adjusts his position slightly, moving you with him as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. He needs to be able to focus—focus on you, on your lips, on his throbbing desire in his pants that's driving him crazy. The tightness in his pants is almost unbearable. The soft material of your dress became a frustrating barrier to his touch, his hands hover over you, desperate to feel more.

„S- sylus...“ you manage to say between kisses, your voice filled with need. “Bed...“ His grip tightens around you hips. You can feel his hard dick between your legs since a while. He gives you a slow, deliberate kiss.

"Alright" he murmurs, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, your body pressing against him as he moves swiftly toward the bed. The kiss never breaks as he places a knee on the bed, shifting you to the center, and gently lowers you onto the soft sheets. Your body tingles with the need for him, every inch of your skin alive, and the way he hovers just above you makes you feel like you're teetering on the edge of something you've both been craving since the being.

His nose brushing along the curve of you neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. Then, the slow, intentional sweep of his tongue follows, sending a wave of electric shivers down your spine. You let out a soft whimper. Sylus hums against your neck.

He moves back, kneeling between your legs, and gently places one hand at the back of your thigh, moving down to lift you leg. His touch is careful, his eyes never leaving yours. Your dress moves up, covering barley your panties. He kiss you inner thigh, and move down to your knee.

Sylus's gaze darkens, and a small, almost smug smile plays at the corners of his mouth. His voice is low, raw with need. He pauses, lips brushing lightly over your knee before pulling back slightly, meeting your eyes again. "You haven't changed your mind, have you? Because... I just can't hold back anymore."

“No, but...”you pause, unsure where the insecurity is coming from. Sylus lifts an eyebrow, sensing the shift.

“Speak, my love” You sit up slightly, reaching for his face, your fingers gently tracing the spot where you had cut him the first time you met. Sylus gasps at your touch, the surprise in his reaction softening your own doubts.

“Am I being too greedy... if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me? He takes your hand, his grip firm yet tender.

“You always had that right.” He presses a soft kiss to your wrist. "Which means... you can be even greedier. Do you want it, kitten?"

“Yes” you smile, the tension easing slightly.

He leans in slowly “Good“ his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss, first teasing with a slow lick before diving deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hungry urgency. You fall back on the bed with him, he assaults your neck, with bites marking your skin as he has always wanted. His breath near your ear is driving you wild.

You gasp against him, your hands gripping his shoulder as you pull him closer. You find yourself not wanting to stop, not wanting to break away. The overwhelming sensation burns like fire. You elevate you hips to met his. Why is he taking so long?

"Looks like we're on the same page when it comes to not waste time." Sylus caress you cheek. You pout, turning your head away to avoid his gaze, but he’s quicker. He tilts your chin back toward him with a gentle but firm touch. "Stay focused, kitten" he murmurs playful.

Before you can respond, he moves his hand to cover your eyes "Don't look" he begins to kiss you again, his breath coming out in sharp gaps. What does he mean? You want to see him—to witness his composure faltering, to know you’re the one making him feel this way.

Sylus seems to savour the moment, his quiet sounds of pleasure against your lips filling the air like a melody only the two of you can hear. To you, it’s music—raw, intoxicating, and divine—a symphony of the gods, stirring a desire so pure and all-consuming it leaves you breathless. The weight of his body presses against yours, his movements slow as he grinds against you. The pressures of his hardness between your legs.

His long fingers trail down your arm, stopping at your wrist before moving to your palm. He laces his fingers with yours, squeezing hard, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. You melt to his touch. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and he chuckles faintly, the sound vibrating against your skin. The heat coursing through your body is dizzying, your thoughts hazy as the fabric of your fucking clothing feels increasingly stifling, an annoying barrier to his touch.

“You're not allowed to stop me until I'm finished.” he whisper, you nod. You starting to get desperate. You pull at his shirt with your other hand. Sylus smirks as he lets you remove his shirt a bit clumsy. The shirt falls finally to the floor in a careless heap, forgotten. His hands move to your thigh, slipping beneath the fabric of your dress. His fingers pressing into your skin as if staking a claim.

Sylus shifts slightly as his lips trail a path down your jaw. His other hands move with purpose, finding the hidden zipper of your dress on your back. You lean into him, your hands getting behind the waistband of his pants. Sylus smirks at your impatience, his fingers pausing briefly. The sound of it lowering fills the quiet space, mingling with the soft hum of your unsteady breaths. The fabric loosens, slipping off your shoulders.

Your hands moving to his belt, fumbling slightly as your nerves spark with adrenaline. He catches your wrist, stilling you for a moment. “You're truthly restless” he says with a teasing smirk, leaning down to kiss you again, as if savouring every second. He moves slightly to help you lift your dress over your head, the soft fabric slipping away easily and pooling on the floor beside his discarded shirt. You’re glad now that you picked out your favourite set—black with little red details you thought he might notice. From the way his eyes linger on you, it’s clear he does.

Your hands slide back to his waist. You glance up at him, and he gives you a small nod, his smirk never fading. Slowly, you undo the button and tug the fabric down over his hips. Sylus moves just enough to help you, kicking them off before settling back against you. Black boxer. Sexy. You bite your lips when your eyes fall on the the bulge you've been wanting to see for so long. Is pressing hard against the fabric, you can see the size and then the wet stain off precum.

Even is Sylus love to see you in you beautiful set, and would love to contemplate you more. His cock is starting to hurt, and your lascivious gaze on his good piece isn't making it any better. He puts his hand on your back again, without realising it your breasts are exposed. The bra...it doesn't matter.

He exhales loudly, he can't remember how many times he's wanted to undress you since he met you. His beloved, his heart, his curse, his everything. Make you his. Bite, lick, kiss, sweating together, feeling your pussy wet around his cock. Hearing his name while coming because of him. His mind races, each thought more urgent than the last. This is it. Finally. You’ve said yes, you’ve chosen him. You love him back, and it's everything he’s ever dreamed of. That thought ignites his desire even more, the last bit of restraint crumbling away in his mind.

His body presses against yours with a new intensity, and he can barely think past the feeling of you beneath him, in his arms.

His tongue licking over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around your breast. You whine softly, his heat radiating off you. One hand come over to your other nipple. His finger brush softly over it before squeezing it. You arch your back and whine again. The feeling of both nipple begin stimulated is making your pussy pulse in anticipation. You want him inside, now, fuck the foreplay. You're wet enough to take him in.

“Sy...” you want to say tell him, but bites down making you gasp, trailing off. You could come in any moment, you started to moan. Finally he lets one nipple free.

“So ready...” he whispers, fingers reaching your panties drenched. Sylus coos, his thumb pressing against your clothed clit to rub firm circles into the throbbing bud. You glare at him. His finger slipping beneath the fabric. Playing around you entrance, then one finger finds your warmth, you gasp loud at the sensation. At this point, your body is burning with need, every nerve begging for him. The motion of his finger, trying to find you sweet spot is driving you inside. You move you hips against his hand, trying to get more contact. He only laugh and lick again over you nipple.

A second finger is added, stretching you, you moan harder. His finger curls inside you and then...

“Sylus” you whimper, he hit you g-spot. A sharp wave of pleasure courses trough you again.

“That's it” he kiss you with hunger, while thrusting his finger inside you. You hold on his shoulder, opening wider you legs to give him more access. You don´t want to come, no yet, but if he continues like this. Sylus feels you tightness around his finger. Like he said, you not allowed to stop him. You moan and whine against his lips.

“I'm close...“ your words are a pleading gasp, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge. He smirks, his pace unwavering.

“Don't hold back“ he growls, low and commanding. You feel the pressure building inside you, the tension prolong. His kisses paired with the feeling of his other hand on your hard nipple with the frenetic rhythm of the finger is way to much.

“Sy..” you voice breaks as the tension snaps and you come uncontrollably. You body shaking in waves of pleasure. Sylus's finger still inside dragging out the last bit of release. When your breathing begins to steady, he withdraws them. His face is buried in you neck, his breath hot on your skin.

“I want to hear more of that.” Before you can even think of a reply, Sylus removes you panties and then his boxers. You gasp when you see his cock standing hard, long and thick. You bite your lips, you want to have it... Sylus stroke his cock his eyes not leaving yours. “Is time for the main course.”

He positions himself between your legs again, running his fingers over your entrance again before placing his cock. You moan as he thrusts his cock between your folds, slowly. He is so big. Your eyes flutter close, taking all the sensation in. Is overwhelming. Sylus gasp too when his cock is half way inside.

„Breath for me“ Sylus whispers, his breathing is growing heavier by the second, forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting his cock into you too hard. You try to relax your walls, you breathe out.

"Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good. His thumb stroke your cheek, and place a soft kiss on your lips. He started to move, softly to adjust in the new sensations, of being inside of you. For the first time in lifetimes. Sylus breath is uneven, hips rocking into you. Nails clawing down his back as you try to steady yourself, his face against your neck, growling, no, moaning lowly. Harder.

“Sy..Sylus” you moan. “More...”

“As you wish." He shifts and his cock hits you deeper, setting fireworks on in your brain while you moan so loud, that you swear the other in the dinning room could have hear you.

“Right... there.” Sylus smiles, capturing your lips once more in a hungry, passionate and deep kiss. Your tongues play, licking each other. The desire you feel is far beyond what you've ever felt with anyone. You feel like you could devour him, a violent thought that might even make you want to shoot him again. Tear out his heart of his chest. You discard the violent idea of hurting him.

You hug him closer with you legs, his cock slamming in a delicious rhythm. The lascivious sound that emanates through the silence of the room, the rustle of the sheet under your skin, the slight creaking of the bed as Sylus thrust his cock inside you, a symphony that you wish would not stop.

Each movement, each shift of his body against yours, sends a wave of heat through him, making it harder to stay composed. His muscles tighten with every gasp and every whimper that comes from you. Your fingers pulling at his silver hair, it's like adding fuel to the fire. And when you react, when you respond to him, it sends a surge of satisfaction and longing that almost overwhelms him. Sylus knows he’s on the edge, his cock twitch inside you, becoming even harder.

“Sy- Sylus,” you moan, pulling his head up to kiss him. He returns the kiss just as hungrily as you are. “Gonna cum...ah, pl..please”

“Come- come for me” he says brokenly. He pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck obediently, eyes closed to feel the comfort of his skin, losing yourself in it. Sylus groans. You squeeze him. You feel the orgasm bubbling inside you, the tension before the sweet fall. You want to hold on to it. “Come with me...” You open your eyes. What did he said? You meet his glowing red eyes. He pick up the pace, intensity growing inside him. Hammering into you g-spot at every thrust. You hold onto him and the sheets even tighter. A little more, just a little more.

“Can I...?” he started, driving into you more and more, near to explode in any second.

“Yes... please...” you nod eagerly. “I...” As if you had uncorked a shaken bottle of champagne, the orgasm reaches you in a bliss. Your body shakes and trembles. A few seconds later, Sylus follows you with a long growl, pressing his lips against yours, sharing that sweetly overwhelming moment. His hot cum spreads inside you, Sylus doesn't stop, he continues to move inside of you slowly. His lips pull away and he leans his forehead against yours,

When you open your eyes, the adoration in your stare was so palpable. He intertwining his fingers with yours, guiding your hand towards him, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You two stay silent, breathing still ragged and coming out in bursts. For some reason, you still feel heat, desire in your body. It hasn't been enough. You want more. As if he could read your mind, Sylus smiled.

“We can do this as long as you like, kitten,” he says, his voice a gentle, warm promise. His eyes sparkle with amusement as he kisses your cheek. You smile at his words.

The night stretches on, the two of you lost in each other, pausing only briefly to share sips of the forgotten wine on the table. One by one, the candles burn out and with that a new day begins.

Your mind drifts, basking in the warmth of the memories from the passionate night. For a moment, you forget that you never told him how you truly feel—but that’s alright. There’s time, you remind yourself with a small, hopeful smile. This is just the beginning, and you know deep down that there are countless moments ahead to share your heart with him.

Exhausted but content, you fall into a peaceful sleep in Sylus’s arms. He stays awake a little longer, watching you with a soft, almost reverent gaze, his heart full. Only when the first light of morning filters into the room does he finally close his eyes, holding you close as sleep overtakes him.

-----

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lockeswoodss · 2 months ago

Text

Throuple It

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(This is a prequel to "Double It." I don't think the order read is important, but Double It was written first. You can read Double It: Here )

Summary: You and Robby have been a couple for over two years. You're in love and content, but can't help but feel something's missing. Despite Jack being in arm's reach, none of you are bold enough to chance breaking your friendship; that is, until Robby's had enough of going in endless circles. Will his risk pay off?

A/N: This kinda got away from me. I don't normally write one-shots over 3,500 words, so this being over 4,000 is weird for me. I hope you enjoy it because I'm most likely I'm not gonna be able write again until mid-May 😭

WARNINGS: Smut, MMF Threesome, Oral (Both M & F Receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Jerking Off, MxM, Intimate Aftercare, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink

Jack and Robby are intimate with each other. If you don't like that, this probably isn't the fic for you.

*Written before season 1 finale, so Jack's anatomy isn't up to date. It will be in future fics*

Tag List: @nocturnalrorobin (LMK if you don't want to be tagged in the Pitt stuff)

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You let out a content hum as the just-below-scalding water hit your skin. It, objectively, had been a long day. Not that every day in the Pitt wasn’t long, today had been especially grueling. You’d had a heartbreaking case of child abuse to kick off your shift, and it only went downhill from there. You took a deep inhale of the steam-filled air and tried to let this shift roll off you like the water coursing down your body. You’d only clocked out less than an hour ago from a twelve-hour shift, but you were trying to get better at leaving work at work. You knew it was a Herculean task and you’d most likely never fully be able to let things go, but you had to try. Not only for you, but for Robby. When you got together over two years ago, you’d made a promise to hold each other accountable for any self-destructive behavior. Hell, you even got him to go to therapy. Was it only twice a month? Yes. Did he bitch about it the entire week leading up to it? Also, yes, but you were still proud of him.

He had even begun to take small steps to solidify preexisting relationships. You both had issues with isolation/blocking everyone out when you should really be reaching out. He’d been getting coffee with Dana before work and becoming more vocal with those he was mentoring. He and Jack had even started watching football together when they both had off. They’d been alternating where they watched. Tonight, it was at your townhouse. You had triple-checked with Robby that it’d be okay for you to be there. You had offered to stay with a friend for the night, but he insisted that it was just Jack; there was no reason to worry.

Fuck, Jack, now he’d always be a special case. You were as close to him as you were to Robby, until you and Robby started officially seeing each other. You didn’t have any definitive proof, but you had felt him pull back and retreat. He’d never done anything bad by you or been outwardly dismissive; your relationship just felt off. In a way that makes you overly cautious when interacting with him. You didn’t want to spook him and lose him altogether. What you wouldn’t give to have your old dynamic back. Or maybe something else.

You quickly shook your head, dismissing the thought as you turned the water off. That was a yearning you’d only shared with Robby, cocooned in his arms, bathing in the early morning light. You trusted him enough to let him in on your internalized feelings. To your surprise, he’d shared a spark of that feeling with Jack. You knew Robby had been with men in the past, but unlike you didn’t identify as somewhere on the queer spectrum. He prefers not to have a label, instead, he views his attraction as a case-by-case basis rather than a blanket identity. But that confession didn’t catch you fully off guard.

No, what really surprised you was when Robby asked if you’d like to make a pass at Jack, as a couple. You knew it was a possibility, but you’d never let yourself believe that Robby would feel the same way, let alone want to attempt to pursue Jack. It was a hard call to make. He had always been better at reading people than you were, but you were more practical than emotional. You’d made a pros and cons list, and the cons ended up winning. You’d both agreed to be there for him as a friend; Robby more begrudgingly than you.

You tried to push all that to the back of your mind as you crossed into your bedroom. Shit. It was way later than you thought. They’d be here any second. You quickly got ready, dressed in a pair of leggings, a tank top, and an oversized hoodie (that was definitely not Robby’s). You had just managed to slip your slippers on when you heard the door opening downstairs. You crossed the hall over to your stairs and began to descend, the smell of Indian food getting stronger the closer you got to the kitchen. You paused at the doorframe, taking in the sight of Jack and Robby’s shared smile as your partner passed Jack a bottle of beer. You were hesitant, debating if you should retreat back to the living room to let them have a quiet moment that was so rare in your line of work. Before you could decide, Robby turned to you and looked down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey, Love,” he greeted, pecking you on the lips, blocking your view of the rest of the kitchen. You immediately knew something was up. You quirked a brow at Jack over Robby’s shoulder, and he just shook his head with a small smile, before taking a swig from his bottle. You gently, but firmly pressed by Robby, before your eyes widened at the sight of the takeout. Three. There were three bags of takeout, each the size of a standard brown grocery store bag.

“Michael,” you said, in an even tone, turning to face him. You could see the cringe on his face as he geared up for your lecture. He knew he was in trouble, not because you only ever called him by his first name when he fucked up (or was receiving punishment), but because of your tone. You’d never been a shouter; when you were arguing or annoyed, you got quiet and deliberate with your tone.

“Why is there enough take-out to feed the entire city.” You asked with a quirked brow.

“You like leftovers?” he responded, you faintly heard Jack huff a laugh behind you. You just gave him a disappointed look before letting out a sigh and turning away from him, shifting your focus to the three massive bags of food.

“I just lost my takeout privileges again, didn’t I?” he asked jokingly, leaning back against the counter next to you.

“What do you think?” you asked, giving him side eye.

“Plates are in there,” you said to Jack, nodding at the cabinet next to him. He wordlessly grabbed three ceramic plates and opened the drawer below the cabinet for three forks and spoons as you finished laying all the food out.

“Feel free to dig in,” you said, smiling up at him. You switched places with him to grab a soda from the fridge. Ever decisive Jack had already filled his plate and headed to your adjacent living room, while Robby spoon hovered over multiple dishes. Your vision strayed from your partner; eyes locked on Jack’s ass as he bent down to take a seat on your armchair. Why did he have to have such a pinchable ass? You debated whether you should be sad that he was always in baggy scrub bottoms that did nothing to show off his figure, or happy that you were in the group of people able to see him out of scrubs.

“See something you like?” Robby whispered in your ear, arms wrapped around your middle.

“Shut up,” you groaned, face warm, as you turned to make your own plate. You couldn’t decide if you were more embarrassed by being caught or checking out Jack to begin with. It’s not like you made checking him out a habit, but when you were able to do so discreetly, you jumped at the opportunity. You were still foaming at the mouth from walking in on him changing tops two weeks ago. You saw the briefest glimpse of his toned stomach and happy trail. God, what you’d give to see where that trail led. Okay, maybe you were a little obsessed. You once again had to center yourself before your imagination could fully run away with it. You broke out of Robby’s grip and quickly made your plate, grabbed the bag of roti, and turned on your heels, heading for the couch. You sat down cross-legged before picking up the remote and attempting to find the right channel. You tried to find it for a few minutes before Jack put you out of your misery.

“It’s on channel 67,” he supplied, before taking another bite of food.

“Thanks,” you smiled, typing in the number. The game clicked on as the coin toss had just been called.

“Not a football fan?” he asked, before you had the chance to answer. Robby interrupted you as he plopped down on the couch next to you.

“Do you even know the rules of football?” Robby asked, teasingly.

“Ish?” you replied, taking a bite, “I know the general aspects of the game, but I couldn't tell you anything strategy-wise.”

Jack nodded, still chewing. A quiet fell over you as you all enjoyed your dinner (and minimum the next three meals) of Indian food. You’d ask questions here and there as the game progressed, which Robby and Jack answered. You all shifted into comfier positions after you’d finished your meal. Jack slid his plate onto the coffee table before kicking his feet up on the ottoman. You’d curled up into Robby’s side, his arm reclined against the back of the couch. He pulled down the blanket resting on the back of the couch and draped it over you after the draft had finally gotten to you, causing you to shiver. You shared a smile, his arm migrating down to rest on your hip under the blanket. You frowned when you looked back up and saw Jack’s jaw clench and unclench. You immediately recognized it as one of his grounding techniques. What you didn’t know was what had caused him to get frustrated. Your vision shifted back to the game as you thought back to everything that had happened since he’d gotten here. Maybe he was still dealing with something from his shift earlier. You were so in your head; you didn’t notice Robby’s hand moving closer to your core until he was actively cupping your clothed pussy. Your eyes widened; you kept your gaze locked on the TV screen.

You tried your best to school your face as Robby stroked up and down your core above your leggings. You bit your lip as his hand dragged up one last time before he slipped under the elastic of the top of your leggings. Your face warmed as he now cupped your bare pussy.

“No, panties?” he whispered in your ear, “Naughty girl, were you expecting this? Am I not giving you enough attention? Is that it? Fuck you’re dripping, that’s it isn’t it? Daddy’s not giving you enough attention, so you have to act like a slut to get my attention; while we have company. What would Jack think? Bet he wouldn’t have any patience for your brat behavior.” Robby’s voice dropped, before he continued, “Squeeze my arm twice if you want to keep going.”

You hesitated, your face felt like it was on fire as your hand locked around Robby’s wrist. You gave it two quick squeezes, eyes locked on the commercials playing in front of you. Robby places a loving kiss on the crown of your head, before slipping a finger into your pussy. When he was met with no resistance, he quickly added another finger. You held back a whimper as he slowly thrusted in an out, taking time to hit all the little spots that drove you crazy, his thumb hovering above your clit. He was taking his time with you. If he really wanted to, he could make you cum within a few minutes, no he wanted to play with you tonight. Your eyes widened as he suddenly switched it up and began to circle your clit in quick succession and thrusted in and out of your pussy at a breakneck pace. You struggled not to moan, the wet smacks of Robby’s palm against your pussy were just contained under your throw blanket. Fuck you were close. Fuck, what were you going to do? You tried to think of something when Robby’s thick fingers suddenly stilled. You let out an involuntary whimper in shock.

Fuck

There’s no way Jack didn’t hear that. He was too damn perceptive to begin with, coupled with the loud volume of your whimper sealed your fate. You swallowed thickly, slowly shifting your focus from the TV to Jack, Robby’s fingers still lodged in your pussy. Your eyes widen as you eyed Jack, his eyes already focused in on you. His gaze didn’t waver, like a predator sizing up his next meal. At least his jaw wasn’t clenched anymore. Could you even count that as a win?

“Robby,” Jack said, breaking the silence,

“Yeah,” Robby answered nonchalantly, like he wasn’t knuckle deep in your pussy.

“Make her cum,” He ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Robby playfully, a lazy smirk scrawled across his face. Before you could even process the situation, Robby was adding a finger and thrusting back into your pussy fast. His other hand slipping down between your legs to toy with your clit as he curled his fingers against that spot.

“Fuck,” you moan, rocketing towards your release, eye still locked on Jack’s. Your hips involuntarily chased after Robby’s fingers as the coil in you tightened impossibly fast. You whined desperately, hips humping at his hands.

“Dadd-Jack, Fuck, I’m gonna-” you managed to spew out before your orgasm cut through you. You held Jack’s gaze as you convulsed around Robby’s fingers. You moaned as Robby worked you through your orgasm. He slowed his pace when your breathing evened out; his fingers stilled, still filling you. The game fell into the background, all your focus aimed at Jack.

“Fuck,” Jack groaned shamelessly palming himself through his jeans, “Does she always look so pretty, when she cums?”

“Always,” Robby answered without hesitation, “Though she looks even prettier when she squirts.”

“Is that right?” Jack asked, teasingly raising a brow at you. The heat rushing to your face paired with the warmth of your orgasm made you feel uncomfortably hot. You hid your face in Robby’s shoulder, embarrassed, as they continued to tease you.

“Yeah,” Robby started to answer his question, “Quickest way is oral, especially when she’s already warmed up with an orgasm.”

“You go down on her or does she sit on your face?” Jack prodded ,

“Either,” Robby answered, honestly, “You know how shy she can be, though, easier to convince her to open her legs than actively sit on me.”

“I can see that,” Jack responded in a teasing tone, sounding closer than before, “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

“Better,” Robby brags, “Wanna taste?”

Your eyes snap open at his offer, his fingers flexing in your slick pussy. You let out a whine as he slowly worked his fingers out of your pussy. It was quiet for a moment before you heard Jack let out a moan. Your curiosity outweighed your embarrassment, eyes widening as you pulled back from Robby’s shoulder.

Fuck, the sight alone made your clench around nothing. Jack didn’t just lick your release off of Robby’s fingers, no, he was cleaning them. Sucking them clean, while holding Robby’s gaze. Your core was once again aflame, only heating up more when the realization that he was tasting your wetness before you’d even had the chance to kiss. He let out a groan before he released Robby’s fingers with a “pop”.

“You're right, she does taste better than she looks.” Jack caught your gaze, smirking down at you, “Bet she tastes better from the source though,”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at Jack’s boldness. You let out a whimper, core pulsing in need.

“Please,” you panted in need, you didn’t know where this was going or how it would affect the foundation of your relationship. You were too far gone, your pragmatism and caution put in the rearview mirror. All the time spent longing and lusting after Jack took the wheel.

“Ask properly,” Robby scolded into your ear.

“Please go down on me,” you begged, tears pricking your eyes from frustration.

“Please go down on me?” Jack prompted you,

“Sir, fuck, please go down on me Sir.” You whined. You saw something shift in the way Jack was looking at you. You worried, you’d gone too far for a moment. You never discussed it before, but calling him Sir just felt right. All your worries disappeared as he gently cupped your face, his calloused thumb stroking up and down your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praised, drawing you in for a kiss, your eyes fluttered shut as you let Jack take the lead. You couldn’t help but moan as Jack dominated the kiss. It was rushed, desperate, and raw. Raw, like he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. You could analyze that later; for now, you needed him. You gasped into the kiss as he tugged the blanket loose from your lap. Revealing your bare pussy to him. He groaned, helping you kick off your leggings, leaving you in Robby’s hoodie for now. You pulled him back in for another kiss while Robby dragged you onto his lap. He eased your legs apart for easier access for Jack. Your hoodie and tank top don’t last long between the two of them.

You were panting, lips puffy, when Jack finally pulled back and started to kiss down your neck. He worked slowly and deliberately as he nipped and sucked down your chest; like he was committing this moment to memory. You moaned desperately as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, his cold hand twisted and tugged at your other nipple. Robby held your arms to the side as he wrapped his arms around your middle. The scruff of his beard tickled your right shoulder where his chin was perched. His other hand still on your hips the moment you tried to grind forward, against Jack’s growing bulge. You were beginning to get desperate.

“Baby,” he said in a warning tone, immediately identifying the shift from lust to need. You both loved and hated how well he knew you. All you could do was whine desperately for Jack. You didn’t care how he took you; you wanted him now.

“Daddy,” you groaned, “can’t”, you panted, “fuck please Sir, need it, need you so bad.”

“You can and will wait,” Robby said in a strict tone, “Or do you want to be punished? I was gonna teach Sir how to make you squirt, but I bet he’d love to see how desperate you get from a few rounds of spanking.”

Jack smirked up at you, hovering right above your mound. You were on the edge of full-on crying from frustration when he finally parted your slit with his thumb. A moan tumbled from your lips as he broadly licked from your opening to your clit. He toyed with your clit as he waited for further direction from Robby.

“You’re gonna have to make her cum again, she only squirts when she’s overstimulated or edged. After she cums don’t let up. Her safe word is ‘code’. We use the stoplight system.” In lieu of answering Robby, Jack started off by thrusting two fingers into your already stretched core.

“Fuck,” you moaned as his lips sealed around your clit. You knew you wouldn’t last; you were too geared up by his teasing.

“Good girl,” Robby praised in your ear, “Does he feel good love?”

“Daddy,” you panted in response.

“You gonna make a mess for us?” He teased.

Before you could respond, Jack’s fingers curled at the perfect angle to hit that spot. The one spot that Robby would avoid delaying your release when you were being punished. The spot that never failed to make you crumble.

“Daddy, please, can I? Can I please?” you begged, bordering on a shout.

“Go ahead love,” Robby encouraged,

You felt flushed as you let yourself succumb to the pleasure. Thighs quaking around Jack’s head, clit pulsing, and voice raw as you came with a shout. As directed, Jack didn’t let up. He continued tracing patterns onto your clit, his finger’s never breaking pace.

Fuck

You could feel your next release festering in your core; it was all too much, too soon. You were already wound so tight that you’d only last a few more seconds. You didn’t have any time to ask permission, before it was shooting through you. At some point, Robby released you, allowing your hand to find its way laced with Jack’s hair as you came flush with his face. Jack’s name like a prayer on your lips as you seize, completely overstimulated. You fell boneless against Robby’s frame, as you attempted to recover, breath coming out in stuttered gasps. Jack’s lower face was a mess, slick, pupils blown. He gently eased his fingers from your heat, pulling the collar of his t-shirt up to wipe his mouth. As you came back down to earth, you felt Jack’s even breath against the back of your neck. At some point, he had migrated up to the couch, cradling you between him and Robby.

“You alright, baby?” Jack asked, after you finally came back into your body. You hummed for a moment before answering.

“Yeah,” you said, in a small voice, taking a deep breath, “It was just a lot.”

“Do you think you’re done for the night?” he asked, rubbing soothing circles into you hip, cock throbbing against your back.

“But you and Daddy didn’t-” you started before Jack cut you off.

“You’ve already been such a good girl.” He said soothingly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “How about we get you comfortable and I’ll take care of Daddy. Does that sound good, love?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, involuntarily clenching at the thought of the two of them together.

“We’re going to need words, love.” Robby reminded you patiently.

“’ Kay,” you nodded, the edges of reality starting to get a bit foggy. Robby’s desperation showed through as he helped you settle on the other end of the couch, curled up in your throw blanket, pillow supporting your lower back. He gave you an emotion-filled kiss, pecked your forehead before he turned to meet Jack’s gaze. You let an involuntary gasp as Jack shoved Robby back onto the couch, partially kneeling on the couch. His right knee was placed strategically between Robby’s spread legs, while his left leg remained standing. Robby immediately started grinding up against Jack’s thigh as Jack fists the hair at the nape of Robby’s neck, forcefully pulling him in for a kiss. You bit your bottom lip to suppress a moan, getting wet all over again. They immediately started out rough to a level you normally had to beg Robby to be with you.

They looked perfect together to the extent that you didn’t know if you should be jealous or turned on. You couldn’t tear your eyes from them as they began to strip. Your focus locked on Jack’s bare chest as he began to work down his jeans, his happy trail leading down to his already hard member. Once they were both bare, Jack gave you a quick glance; a smirk pulled at his lips as he took in your wide eyes and repressed whines. Robby monopolized the opening to grip Jack’s hips and flip him, before sliding down between Jack’s legs. Jack let out a stuttered, “Fuck”, at the sight of Robby between his thighs.

“This alright?” Robby asked with a smirk, hands pushing Jack’s legs apart to make room for his broad shoulders.

“Fuck,” Jack groaned once again, “Yes,” he let out hesitantly.

Jack hissed at the contact of Robby’s tongue. He licked up the underside of his cock, before teasing his tip and swallowing around Jack. A moan cut through Jack as Robby bobbed up and down. He started out slow, before building up speed. It only took a few passes before Jack bottomed out. Jack threaded his fingers through Robby’s hair in a tight grip. He controlled Robby’s movements as his hips began to thrust up to meet his mouth halfway. From your spot, you can see Robby beginning to tease himself, before he began to thrust up into his hand at the same rate Jack was down his throat. Jack groaned, throwing his head back against the couch, his hips stuttering.

“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, instead of pulling away Robby right hand settled under Jack’s thighs pulling him closer. His left hand squeezed himself harder, pumping himself faster to sync up with Jack. They locked eyes as Jack came down Robby’s throat, his cock still hard in his stilled fist. Jack let out another groan as he eased out of Robby’s mouth, followed by a surprised whimper when Robby leaned forward and stated to lick Jack’s cock clean.

“Fuck, good boy,” Jack groaned, leaning forward and cupping Robby’s face. He pulled Robby up for a kiss, this time much more gently, as he was still high off his orgasm. Robby straddled his lap, reciprocating Jack’s emotional kiss. A kiss that would always say more than what either man was willing to divulge about their emotions. Robby gasped against Jack’s lips as his hand wrapped his still throbbing cock. Robby moaned shamelessly, falling face-first into Jack’s shoulder as he took care of him. It didn’t take long before Robby’s cum painted their stomachs. You rubbed your thighs together needily as Robby panted softly against Jack’s shoulder. You could see their lips move as they spoke in a low tone to each other. Before you knew it, Jack was picking you up and carrying you up to the bathroom off of your master bedroom. He pulled you in for a playful kiss as he set you down on the counter. You were vaguely aware of Robby filling the tub in the background. You shared a soft, intimate bath, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Afterwards, you were tucked into bed, Robby settling in behind you. You quickly caught Jack’s wrist as he pulled away to leave.

“Please,” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes. Not yet immune to your puppy dog’s eyes, he turned around and kissed the back of your lovingly as Robby pulled you back to make room for him. You fell asleep on his chest, and Robby curled up around you. While you didn’t know what to make of this new dynamic you could worry about that in the morning. Right now, all that mattered was you were safe and so were your partner(s).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! I hope you enjoyed it. I am working on two other Pitt Fanfictions (One where Robby is solo, and the other is a soulmate AU), but I have a million papers due, so I'm probably gonna be on a forced hiatus til mid-May. I just want these old men to kiss and be taken care of 💛

Anyway, hope you're having a good day wherever you are ^-^

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader x michael robinavitch #warnings in description #smut #cross posted on ao3 #pre canon

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gothicfied · 8 days ago

Text

THE DEVIL IN YOUR EYES WON'T DENY THE LIES

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader, best friends to ???

Summary: Even though it seems like Jude and you were always destined to be with each other, he wouldn't realize it until someone said it directly to his face. After months on plotting on your best friend, who drops hints here and there even if he didn't want to, he is now suddenly rumored to be mingling with another girl. She can't stand your guts and she'll make sure you know that.

Word Count: ~6.5k

Reading Time: ~26 minutes

Warnings: Mentions of drinking alcohol, Jude is kinda an asshole but not really, girl on girl hate, reader is struggling with her feelings for 99% of the time, Jude's stupid and proves himself to be stupid multiple times, mutual pining (if you squint), no happy ending/it's an open ending, not proof read (English isn't my first language)

A/N: omg seriously, I don't know what possessed me to do this. This is unnecessarily long and tbh I've never written a fanfic this long before. This took like a week and I think you can notice that in the way my quality of writing deteriorates LMAOOO sorry, the ending fell a bit flat, but I just didn't have the motivation anymore, especially after the literal DEVASTATING news of Lukita leaving the club????This calls for a part 2 tho, but only if it's really wanted this time. Title are lyrics from "back to friends" by sombr lolololol

It wasn't always easy being linked to one of the most popular footballers in the world. Even if the public was hit in the face with the fact that you and Jude were just friends, they wouldn't get it. And, it wasn't even like you guys never clarified it. In every interview, the footballer was asked at least once or twice about you and you couldn't even post an instagram story without people flooding your DM's with questions like:

"are you Jude's girlfriend???"

"can you guys just make it public?"

"you know it's legal, right?"

You and Jude. Well, you go way back. Okay, however far 'way back' goes with only 21 years of age. You had transferred schools in 6th grade and while everyone kind of ignored you on your first day, Jude didn't. He sat next to you in class, did group projects with you when no one else seemed to want to partner up with you, ate lunch with you when the only two friends you had were sick or just not in school... there were a lot of things he did out of pure kindness and platonic love that helped you through middle school. It wasn't like you were bullied or purposefully left out, it just seemed like you were to unnoticeable.

The two of you were inseparable by the time highschool started. Jude was doing the most with his talent in football and you were always right there cheering him on. His family loved you, your family loved him, it was almost like a future together was already carved out for you. You'd comfort him after a horrible loss, Jude would stay up hours just to study with you in your worst subject, and the both of you would sometimes sneak out to the park on random summer nights to stargaze. That's where the heavy stuff was shared.

"You have no idea.. I feel so secondary to my sister." You complained after your parents forgot one of your hockey games again, just because your younger sister had this math exam she so desperately needed to study for, with both mom and dad. Bullshit. She knew she was good enough and yet she still threw a fuss, just to annoy you. That's the kind of person she was: an attention seeker. "Shut up," Jude barked back, but there was no actually bite to his words, "you're not secondary to anyone! I'm being serious, your parents and sister are the problem. Not you." He slowly turned his gaze away from the night sky, stars shining as bright as they could in the light pollution of the city. "I'm just... Thank you for being there. Even if we didn't win." You also turned your head in his direction and met his eyes, ones so pretty you thought you were going to choke on your own spit. "You're always there for me, too. I'd be stupid if I missed your games!"

The first very big change came with Jude's transfer to Borussia Dortmund. Really, Germany?

You cried, and cried.. and cried some more when the day finally came where he had to move, to pursue is dreams. Sure, they were mostly tears of sadness and frustration and maybe you were a little mad at him, but you couldn't deny the proud feeling you had when you saw his debut. Jude in this big stadium with an even bigger fanbase cheering him on felt so right. He deserved it all, because you knew how much sweat, blood and tears were already invested into his football career.

But don't think he had forgotten about you! Anytime you could because of school and stuff, Jude would fly you out to his games. Proudly, you wore the last name 'Bellingham' on the back of your jersey, which always fell quite a bit too big on you. The footballer insisted on giving you his shirts after a game.. That just meant you had to wash the god damn thing four or five times to get all the sweat and the smell of grass out of it. Denise, Jude's mom, thought it was the cutest thing ever, always taking pictures of you whenever you attended a game with her.

Truth be told, Denise was more of a mom to you than your own parents. As the oldest, you felt left out and ignored by your parents because of your sister anyway, but when your baby brother was born, it was like you didn't exist for them anymore. Then, it kind of turned into a tradition for you to spend days like New Years at Jude's house. His father, Mark, helped you with your Uni applications and Jobe, his younger brother, had always treated you like family anyway.

It didn't come to a suprise that they'd take you on vacation, too. One time, there was a mix up with the rooms and, no matter how much Mark and Denise begged Jobe to just share the room with his older brother for a few days until things got sorted out, he flat out refused. "No! He's messy, leaves his clothes everywhere and kicks me in his sleep! I'm not doing that again."

Now that you were sharing the hotel room with Jude, you started to wonder how this shit would mess with your feelings about him. Yeah.. you may or may not have developed a slight crush on your best friend in the last couple of months, fueled by the tiktoks people made about the two of you. Jude was obviously not ashamed to post you in his story whenever you were together, apparently giving people the impression that there was something more going on. Oh, you wished it was like that.

You were sharing a bed. It was very late at night and all you could think about was one Insta gossip page posting about yours and Jude friendship... relationship? It was on your feed, it's not like you intentionally searched for it! You were quickly ripped from your thoughts when you felt a large hand slide over your stomach and pull you closer as soon as the half-awake Jude realized it was you that he grabbed and not a pillow. After that, he went right back to snoring. No shot he'd remeber doing this the morning after, but you were just giggling to yourself now. He likes you... he just has to!

The whole sharing-a-room-on-vacation thing became a tradition, too. You obviously didn't mind it, Jude didn't either. Whenever he thought you were sleeping, which you sometimes even were, he'd carefully put his arms around your neck or waist or anything and hold you close until he fell asleep himself. Then, the next morning, he'd act as if he was just as suprised as you at the way you both were tangled up in bed.

It also became your reality when he transferred to Real Madrid. Wow, Spain. This was it. Hopefully his club forever, since you were a big fan, too. Jude's debut there was nothing short of breathtaking, and skipping Uni to come down to Spain was all worth it — Especially for the hug he gave you after he sought you out in the tunnel. He ran to you like a little child to his mother, picked you up and spun you around while all you could do was squeal and laugh. You couldn't even try to pry yourself from his grip, not that you wanted to anyway. The post match interview was surely interesting.

"And, tell us, who's your biggest supporter outside your family? Probably the girl you've been taking with you everywhere you go, huh?" The interviewer of some sport programm you didn't know asked Jude, to which he just laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Yes, yes! Her, of course.. who else?" He looked nervous when answering that question. And he was, definitely in that moment, because he felt like the whole world was watching him trying to not make it obvious that he had a huge thing for you. "Girlfriend?" The interviewer asked again, to which he shook his head: "Oh, nooo... I love her, you know, but we're best friends. Not.. Not together."

This brings you to now. Laying in the bed of the guestroom in his huge house in Madrid. It's summer and even the nights here have you sweating like no tomorrow. Not only that, but you can't sleep. You stare at your phone with your instagram feed open, a picture of you and Jude plasted right on the screen with the all-too-well-known 'Owkayy' starting the rampage this WAG fan account was always on. It's a picture of the both of you right after Real Madrid won the Champions League just a little over a month ago, with Jude staring down at you like he was dying to kiss you. Next slide was a picture of you comforting him after the loss against Spain in the EUROs just like two weeks ago. You'll never escape the rumors.

Everyone and their mom was convinced you belonged to each other. And, that thought made you so happy, you could even overlook the threats his fan girls sent you in your DMs. Who cares what they think, right? Everybody on the planet thinks you'll be with him!

There was this one other thing, though. Because obviously, you couldn't even have one thing to yourself in your life.

This influencer from the States, Amy or whatever her name was, you didn't really care enough to look, has been linked to Jude more often than you wanted.

Truth is, obviously you cared enough to look. Amy Samuels, 25 years old, beauty influencer, lives in New York, has two brothers and a step-sister, models in her spare time... She was everything you're not.

She was this beautiful blonde girl with the most piercing green eyes you had ever seen, her makeup always looked flawless and worst of all, she seemed down to earth. You thought maybe she was one of those unlikable, snobby instagram models slash influencers slash entrepreneurs, but no. She was a family person, had a cute dog she always posts picrures of and actually did her job pretty well.

You knew better than to let yourself get fooled by the image she puts up on social media, but her smile made it hard to forget that she seemed to be absolutely perfect. How Amy and Jude even got to know each other personally, you don't know. It must've happened over last summer or something, the time where you couldn't come to visit him, but had to stay home because of school stuff. And well, frankly because your life revolves around more than just Jude Bellingham.

There's countless of instagram stories she uploded with the same location tagged at the same time when he was there. One location in particular, you recognized right away: His bathroom. Not the bathroom of the guestroom, or the normal one out on the hallway, no. His. Bathroom. It made your blood boil. But why? In the end, isn't it your own fault for not telling him about your feelings sooner? On the other hand, he's been leading you on. You were so convinced you guys were soulmates, practically made for each other.

The emotional bond between you seemed to never loosen, no matter what you guys were put through. There were times where your friendship was definitely tested: that one toxic ex boyfriend you had in 11th grade, who absolutely refused to let you be friends with any male. When you tried to explain that to Jude, he was ready to go beat that guy up. He'd never tell you how relieved he was when you showed up crying at his doorstep, because you finally gathered the courage to break up with him.

"I feel.. I feel like—" You paused and sniffled hard, tears streaming down your face and there was nothing Jude could do to stop it. "such an idiot." To say he was startled to have you text him so late at night, asking if he was still awake because you really, really, really needed him right now was an understatement. But, thankfully he managed to smuggle you into his room without waking anyone in the house. Now you're just sitting on his bed, pouring your heart out about everything your now-ex had done to you in the last few months. Jude held you close, extremely close that night. After about an hour of violently crying into his chest, you had falled asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. The boy was wide awake, though, and surely didn't get any sleep at all. He cradled your face to his chest, his fingers gently threading through your hair to calm you down whenever you'd slightly stirr awake again. He felt so many emotions in that moment, mostly because he always thought he was the worst at comforting people, but you seemed to feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. That's what counted to Jude.

You were there when Dortmund lost in the UCL final to comfort him when he cried on your shoulder after getting in the car. The whole car ride long, you held his hand, telling him how good he played regardless and that the trophy is going to be his next season. Jude didn't reply. He stared out of the window, but you didn't mind. Back in the hotel room, he hugged you for what felt like an eternity, thanked you and kissed you on your forehead. Yeah, you guys have been through the worst.

Jude took you to any award ceremony as his plus one. For the longest time, a picture of the two of you on the night he won The Golden Boy Award was his lockscreen. And now? He's going to throw that away. His obvious feelings for you. He's not going to stop you whenever you kiss him on the cheek, hold his hand, sleep in the same bed as him. He won't correct himself when other people refer to you as his girlfriend and he'll laugh along whenever his parents call you their 'daughter-in-law'.

Oh, what a fucking asshole he is.

You think back to the time where Jude told you about a 'new acquaintance' he made while on a trip in New York. He'd talk about Amy from time to time, naming her a friend of his and sometimes you'd even see her at functions or parties or when going out with his friends. Somehow, she was always there. You never really thought anything of it, until those Instagram stories started to pop up and new rumors about Jude's dating life started to bubble. Suddenly, everyone around you was asking the same thing: 'Aren't you guys together?'

...

You woke up just as cranky as when you fell asleep with your phone in hand, the clock on the wall ticking being the only sound that filled the room. Denise was out of the country, just to visit Jobe for an exchange and to 'leave the house for you and Jude' wink, wink. God, how was it already this warm outside? August in Spain was no joke. You woke up sweating and you went to bed sweating, no matter how much deodorant you put on or if you showered like three times.

It was already 11am when you stepped out of the shower and brushed through your wet hair to let it air dry. You haven't heard a single peep from Jude yet, but maybe he was just letting you sleep in.

Your suspicions were proven to be true, when you made your way downstairs to find him making breakfast. The sound of your bare feet against the glass steps made Jude cock his head in your direction, smiling sweetly when getting a glimpse of you. "Thought you died up there, not gonna lie." He chuckled, but you were really not in the mood for it right now. Instead, you just groaned in slight annoyance and sat down on the couch, which was right in front of the open kitchen.

"Okay.." Jude came up to you, plate in hand. It was an attempt at making you your favorite bagel, which he's been trying to get right ever since you came back from your vacation in the US, craving it.

"Not funny?"

"No?"

"What's up with you today?"

"I just— Didn't sleep well, that's all."

After you took the plate out of his hand, Jude sat down next to you, stretching like he had just worked a 12-hour-shift just to sneakily put his arm around your shoulders. You were wearing one of his jerseys, but he still 'had' to push your hair to the front to check if it was his last name on your back. "It looks really good on you, you know?" Whatever you might've seen last night, no matter how mad you were at him or how frustrated you were with your feelings, that comment made you smile. You really tried not to, you tried looking away and pretend like the pool outside was more interesting than this conversation, but of course, Jude picked up on that. "I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah..." You rolled your eyes, "Thank you."

While you guys were having breakfast, Jude mentioned some party one of his new friends here in Madrid were throwing, even though he said it was more like a hangout with friends than an occasion to get super drunk. He obviously wanted you to come with, to which you first complained about: Those were his friends, not yours. You already knew you were probably going to be left out and it will just turn boring super quickly. Although Jude's spanish wasn't great, he at least knew some. Also, you were so sure she was going to be there too. Especially when he said there won't be just his spanish friends there.

"Look, they really wanna meet you. All of them." You gave him a weird look, sipping on your water. "You're a liar." What on earth could he have told them about you to make them so interested. There was nothing to you, except the occasional rumors about the relationship between the two of you. You led your own private life and you were happy with it. "Come on, it'll be fun. I swear." You really shouldn't. "If you feel uncomfortable, we'll leave."

"Oh my god, fine."

...

It was just as you had predicted. Your best friend of the night was the host's, Rafael's, dog. The golden retriever was resting his head on your lap while you admired his beautifully soft, golden fur. Every now and then you heard your name in a conversation others were having in spanish, followed by a question stringed out in bad english, about your life and football. The ones who also didn't speak the common language in the house were somehow still incorporated into the conversation. Maybe it was you, maybe it was the fact that you didn't really want to be there and others caught up on that. Or maybe it was because all your attention lied on Jude and Amy, who had been having a conversation for at least 20 minutes in the kitchen now.

You knew you shouldn't sit there and feel sorry for yourself, because it was pathetic and stupid. Why get so worked up because of a boy? You're not his girlfriend, not his situationship, not his talking stage. A right to be jealous of some random girl never existed. Weird feelings brewed in you, like you're going to explode if they don't stop. She's giggling at his jokes, touching his arm in a specific way that made your stomach turn, and he was entertaining all of it.

You were staring for too long, apparently. Long enough for Amy to notice. When her eyes locked onto yours, it's like all the life disappeared out of them. Her expression immediately turned sour, filled with condescension and some type of disgust, you were pretty sure. Quickly, you turned your head away from their direction, rather focusing on the dog laying in your lap. Amy, on the other hand, decided she didn't want you to ever lay your eyes on them together again, taking Jude by the arm and dragging him to god knows where. You didn't notice, you didn't even dare to look back after a few minutes. Your face felt hot, like shame had been written on your forehead with a red sharpie.

"Here, I made this for you. You kind of look like you need it." Said a girl who suddenly popped up next to you on the couch. Most other people have started lounging around outside, so it had quieted down significantly. In her hand was a drink and first you thought about taking it twice, since she was a stranger and all. "Take it. It's not poisoned or anything." So you did.

The girl introduced herself as Mirabell, a friend of a friend of someone here you didn't know. But she knew you.

"You're Judes Girlfriend.. right?" Mirabell asked very carefully, like she was dreading the answer to the question already. "What? Oh, no. We're best friends." Your response made her sigh relief and laugh, lightly hitting your shoulder. "Jesus! Thank god you are. I really didn't want to explain how he had taken off with Amy. Like, you know, as if he was cheating. But he isn't! Because you're not a couple!" At this point you were pretty sure she shouldn't drink any more alcohol.

Mirabell turned out to be very nice and funny, and finally someone who was willing to have a normal conversation with you. She was also the one who dragged you outside, after you got tipsy enough to not be so shy anymore, and properly introduced you to her friends. After literal hours, you felt like you at least had a right to be here.

At some point, it was just you again, leaning over the railing of the balcony and watching the small cars drive by on the streets beneath you. The alcohol flowing through your veins made it feel like you were way higher up than you actually were, making you grip the metal under your fingers like you'd fall if you didn't. You let your eyes sheepishly wander over the scenery in front of you, taking in the cold breeze of the night that came like blessing in the usual warm weather. It was so peaceful and quiet, with no one bothering you. It almost made you forget all your worries. Almost.

You were promptly ripped out of your thoughts when you heard the balcony door slide open and someone step out. "You okay?" A familiar voice rang through your ears, and thankfully you weren't quite drunk enough to not recognize who it was. "Yeah, don't worry about me." You replied to Jude's question, turning around to face him. He had a small smile on his face while eyeing you up and down.

"Come on, let's go."

"Wait, why?"

"I didn't get to spend time with you at all. And, I'm sorry for that. Let's go back home and maybe we can get something to eat on the way?"

Your interest was piqued when you realized he must've actually felt bad leaving you all alone to go with this... girl. After a moment of pondering, you agreed and let him drag you through the apartment by your hand, obviously planning to make an irish exit.

"Jude wait! Where are you going?" Oh great. You could've recognized that voice from anywhere. Embarrasingly so. It was just that you had to watch every one of her Reels to check if there was actually nothing wrong with her. And sadly, maybe sadly, her content was actually quite enjoyable. Amy yanked at his arm, the one with which he was still holding you hand, making him let go of you. You quickly whipped your head around, giving her a look like she had just insulted your mother with that gesture, but Amy didn't seem like she even cared enough to look your way.

"We're going home?" Jude replied in a matter-of-factly way, making Amy giggle nervously. "But why? I thought.. you know, I'd come over later. Why are you taking her with you?" Her eyes first dropped down to your shoes, than your shorts and top and finally your face. That short moment alone made you feel so small in her presence alone, especially when she looked at you like you were an alien. You didn't even know women could hate other women this much. She didn't even know you.

Jude, while being a man, didn't let that go as unnoticed as the blonde probably would've liked, and removed his arm from her grip. "She's literally staying with me. Didn't I explain that to you?" Amy tried playing it off again with a laugh and apologized.

After a bit of small talk, where she interrogated you about your friendship with Jude, while he was getting your jackets, you were finally out of there. Amy's words stung more than you liked to admit. Even if you didn't have a crush on Jude, even if you weren't jealous of her, no one wants to hear that. And even if with the confidence given by the couple of drinks you had, you still couldn't stand up for yourself. Reason number one billion why you felt so pathetic.

...

"Sooo, did you still have fun without me? I know, hard to imagine you can, right?"

You didn't say anything.

"That was a joke."

"I know it was. And I did."

He didn't say anything.

"Yes I did too! Thank you for asking!"

"Sorry."

The whole car ride back to Jude's place felt off and awkward. He wasn't stupid. He knew why. Maybe not to the extend where he could come to the conclusion that you liked him, but he knew it was something about Amy.

Seeing you so slumped in your car seat made him knit his eyebrows together. It was like a war was going on inside of him: Did he like you... or did he like her? He's 21 and can't even figure his love life out. This felt like some highschool bullshit that he really didn't want to to deal with anymore.

In the next couple of days, he tried not to bring Amy up again. He used to, in some conversations at least or he'd even ask you what you think her favorite flowers were, or what kind of jewelry would fit her aesthetic. Jude thought you were just sensitive to the topic because you were jealous she got more attention than you did. Did you really think a man would be smart enough to realize any of his mistakes here?

Two nights later, you were on the phone with your girl best friend back at home, Alicia. You had already cried your heart out to her in the past, complaining about how Jude was giving you such mixed signals and then pretended like nothing happened the next day. "Girl, I'm being serious. You have to set things straight or else it'll tear you apart." She said, sounding tired and concerned. You hated bothering her so much with your stupid problems that actually had an easy fix.

"Oh my fucking god," You mumbled to yourself, half asleep, half still focusing on the chat with Mirabell. It was way too late to function correctly, but when your new friend texted you 20 minutes ago with an invitation to go to the club with her, you woke up a little again. Should you come along? Maybe you'd meet someone to get your mind off if him.

You sighed and texted her back: "Yeah, sounds great!"

...

Carefully, you walked down the stairs in your heels, already regretting your decision to wear them. Jude was waiting for you at the front door, focused on his phone while his fingers tapped away at the screen. He looked good. Too good for your liking. With his shirt buttoned down a bit, shorts hanging low and sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, you could think he was doing it on purpose. The sound of your heels clicking against the floor made him lift his head in your direction and grin.

"Woah," Jude chuckled, feigning shock at how good you looked. "You look.. amazing tonight. Who are you trying to impress?" That line alone proved to you that he was an idiot. A complete idiot you've been wasting you time on. On the other hand, you would be lying if you said his compliments didn't make your heart flutter. It was so odd: Jude looked at you like you were the light of his life, gave you compliments like you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, yet he'll still immediately turn his back on you when he spots Amy at the club. "Thank you."

You tried to pretend like everything was normal, engaging in your usual banter while on the way to the spot y'all had agreed to meet up at. It was hard to ignore your feelings, not only for him but about this situation as a whole. In your mind, you were overreacting or even exaggerating your own problems to justify feeling bad for yourself. These were your last three days in Spain and you also just felt awful treating Jude in a way he didn't deserve, since he didn't really do anything wrong.

The feelings of shame and anger, mixed with a fun group of people, music and alcohol was calling for a disaster. Immediately after getting together with the group, you shifted your focus on Mirabell and other people, just to save yourself from the venomous looks Amy gave you.

You definitely had your fun getting to know new people, drinking and vibing to the music. Rafael, the guy from a few days ago, was very obviously hitting on you and was great at making you feel comfortable around him.

Maybe a little too comfortable.

Seeing Amy basically sit on Jude's lap in the booth next to you made all the feelings you've been bottling up the past week spill over. Right when Rafael took you to the bar to get a new drink, he noticed how your mood had dropped. And after asking if everything's okay, you couldn't hold it in anymore. While you didn't cry, you did complain about the situation quite a bit, very emotionally.

"Yeah, I kinda knew he was an asshole," Rafael said while looking down at you. You were leaning against the wall next to the emergency exit, where things were a little quieter than at your booth. "I know that now, too." You didn't know if the last Lemon Drop you had was making you feel like you were going to throw up or if the situation just upset you this much.

You wished you didn't care for it. You wished you were nonchalant enough to let these last few days pass over and then crash out when you're back home. But you weren't and you won't. Rafael, while only really knowing you for two hours, tried his best to comfort you.

What you didn't see was how Jude eventually approached you guys out of nowhere, seemingly annoyed 'catching' you with one of his good friends. It wasn't for that reason that he came up to you, though: "Hey.." He slightly yelled over the volume of the music. You could feel the bass boost in your whole body. Jude looked at Rafael and then back to you, confused, irritated maybe, but it also seemed like he was in a hurry. "What?" Rafael responded back, doing you a favor of speaking for you when you clearly couldn't. "Is she okay? I just want to talk to her." The Spaniard in front of you gestures Jude to come closer in an annoyed manner, because he couldn't hear him. After repeating himself for like three times, which Rafael was making him do on purpose given his smirk, Jude just gave up and leaned to you.

"I... Me and Amy are gonna leave and walk around in the city for a bit. Do you need me to drive you back?"

"I'll take her back to yours."

Jude shot his friend a glare, but you just agreed with Rafael. The look they gave each other was enough to kill.

"Go. That girl is waiting for you, isn't she?"

Rafael gestured to Amy who was just standing a few meters away. That stupid grin on her face made your blood boil.

...

What was up with you? Jude couldn't make a single thing out. The past week you've been acting so strange and he missed you. Missed the old you. He thought that might be corny, since this is probably something easily fixable, but he couldn't help thinking that way. What had upset you so much? Why did his own friend seem so annoyed with him?

Amy and Jude were strolling alongside a river and she kept pretending she was almost too drunk to walk, purposefully falling over to grip his arm. She was talking about some thing her girl friends did without her — Like a brunch or something. He didn't really care and didn't make the effort to at least look like he was interested. His thoughts lied on you and if Rafael really took you back home. What if he didn't? What if you liked him enough to go back to his place? What would he do if one of his friends would be interested in you? What would he—

"Jude!" Amy snapped her fingers in his face to get him out of his trance. "God, what is up with you? Is your alcohol tolerance that low?" She was clearly joking, but Jude didn't laugh alongside her. He made a comment about how she should never even dare to snap her fingers at him like that again and that he's seen her do it multiple times now. "That's serious not okay." Jude said, "people around you aren't dogs."

Only silence followed that.

Suddenly, after he kind of destroyed the mood, Amy seemed to be able to walk just fine on her own. It made Jude scoff.

"Don't tell me you're seriously thinking about her." Her tone was so foul, it gave Jude goosebumps. "Seriously! Oh my god, you can't be serious!" She raised her voice, "She? Her? That girl? Are you serious?" Up until this point none of the two had even talked about you for one second. That Amy immediately knew what Jude was thinking about made him think.

"Amy," Jude stopped dead in his tracks, pulling her back by her hand as she tries to keep walking. "What the fuck is your problem?" Now his tone was bitter. Ever since the two of them got to know each other, there always seemed to be a certain dislike towards you from Amy and he really didn't understand why. How could anyone hate you? Ever?

"What? In general or with her?" Amy tried making light out of the situation again, laughing like he just made one of his stupid jokes again. Was it insecurity? Did you make her feel insecure? The longer Jude looked at her, the less he understood his own actions. His feelings? his decisions, his past.. they don't lead to her. Nowhere even near her. What the fuck was his problem?

"You are.. you are so selfish. Do you know that? Actually, I think your just mean," Jude took a deep breath, "You're miserable, is that it? I don't have another explanation for your behavior around other women. She's my best friend and you've only ever talked crap about her." Amy's face didn't drop in the slightest. No, it seemed like has been preparing for the conversation.

"What are you yelling at me for? She's the one cockblocking you from every other girl you meet!" The two were lucky no one else was on the same small path as them right now. The river seemed to absorb their yelling with it's sounds. "You take her everywhere you go. I don't get it! She's the definition of mid! Mid tier! Has done nothing successful in her life! Jude, please, she's just using you for fame."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jude looked at Amy like she just said the most outrageous thing in the world. To him, she did. "You know what?" Without raising his voice any more, Jude did a 180 and walked away from her, the frustration visible in his steps.

"Wait! No, Jude! Where are you going?"

...

With how fast Jude arrived back home, you could've thought someone died or something. Treating Madrid like a Mario Kart Track, he raced home in under five minutes and was now fiddling around in his pockets to find his keys. Jude was cursing himself, because he understood now. He finally understood and he felt so stupid.

He sighed with relief when he saw you had parked your heels right at the door when he stepped inside. The TV in the living room was on, but when he called out your name, it didn't seem like you were there.

Jude assumed you were upstairs in your— The guest room, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the lights through the small crack at the bottom of the door. He knocked, gently, and said your name: "I know you're in there.. Please tell me you're in there." Why wouldn't you be? You had no where else to go.

"I'm so sorry."

No reaction.

"Please talk to me".

No reaction.

Jude sighed.

"I'm stupid. And an asshole and a bastard and I know I messed up. Please, yell at me, insult me, do literally anything!"

Inside your room, you were trying to tune him out. You were laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling with your eyebrows knitted together and your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't feel like crying, surprisingly. You thought, when this moment finally comes, you'd fold in a millisecond and pour your heart out to Jude, but no.

After a moment, your feelings did end up betraying you felt the lump in your throat get more painful by the second. You heard a sound from just outside your door — Jude had sat down on the floor, resting his back against the doorframe.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm— That's all I can say."

Why is he making this so damn difficult for you?

"I'll sit here until you want to talk, okay? I'll sit here all night if I have to."

Yeah, safe to say both of you wouldn't be sleeping that night.

#jude bellingham #real madrid #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #real madrid x reader #football x reader #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic #Spotify

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bingbongsupremacy · 1 month ago

Text

70 Years Apart

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, rejection, ghosting

Summary: A one-night stand with Bucky before he leaves ends with you pregnant. You tell him what's going on. How will he respond?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

I didn’t mean for it to happen.

Not the party. Not the drinks. Not the way his eyes locked on mine through the haze of smoke and laughter like he already knew how I tasted. And definitely not the baby now growing inside me.

But it did.

That night in Brooklyn had been one of the last warm ones before autumn settled in, the kind that wrapped the air in a humid cloak and made every movement feel a little slower, a little heavier. I hadn’t planned on going out, but Clara insisted. She said we deserved one last hurrah before the world got darker and we had to prepare for college.

"He's leaving for war," she’d said. "Half the boys are. Might as well dance while we still can. Maybe we'll get lucky." She smirks while eyeing a group of boys leaning against the wall of the abandoned warehouse. The boys-most I've known growing up, are loudly chatting. Bucky Barnes is amongst them.

With liquid courage running through my veins, I asked him to dance. No fear of rejection. No worry. Just confidence. After all, this would likely be one of the last times I saw him for a while. Why not do what I've always wanted to do.

He said yes. Then we danced.

Bucky Barnes was smooth with a capital S, charming in that roguish, self-assured kind of way that made girls swoon and boys scowl. I’d only spoken to him a handful of times before that night — always in passing, always brief. A polite hello in the hallways, a helpful answer when one of us needed help with homework. A smile. A nod. Once, a quick compliment about my dress that made my cheeks go hot. Despite us going to school together all throughout middle and high school, I never really knew him. He had his friends. I had mine.

But that night? He saw me.

And I let him.

We drank. We laughed. We kissed behind a big tree lit by the moonlight. And before I could think twice, I let myself fall into something warm and reckless. It didn’t last long, just one night. We were never looking for anything serious. He was on his way to the war. I was on my way to school. It was one tangled, breathless memory.

Then he was gone. Not gone-gone, not yet. But gone from me. He’d said goodbye with a kiss to my hand the next morning and a promise that he’d write if I ever wanted to talk again.

I never wrote. I didn't need to.

Not until now.

Not until the little stick I bought from the corner pharmacy turned pink in both windows, and I sat down on my bathroom floor and stared at it in shock. I want to curl up and cry. I want to scream. This can't be happening. Not now, not when I had just began school

I don’t know him. He doesn't know me.

We're two strangers who, for one night, spent some time together.

I kept repeating that like it would change the facts. Like it would make the wave of nausea (part baby, part panic) fade from my throat. But it didn’t.

Now I’m here, at the base where he’s training, a dusty field of tents and shouting voices and trucks that roar like thunder. I clench the strap of my bag tighter against my shoulder and try not to bolt. My hands shake as I get closer.

A soldier points me in the right direction. I catch sight of him near the barracks, shirt half-unbuttoned, dog tags clinking against his chest, laughing at something one of his friends said.

He looks even better than I remember. That makes it worse.

I want to turn around and run to Clara, who's waiting in the car. Maybe come back another day. Or not. But I don't. I force myself to stay. “Bucky,” I call out, barely above a whisper.

My heart pounds against my chest.

He turns.

His eyes find mine in an instant, just like they did that night. His smile falters when he sees the worry behind mine.

“Y/N?” he says, confused but smiling. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you again. Not here. Why are you here?” He steps closer.

I try to smile but I can't. My worry is too powerful.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

His brows furrow. “Of course. Yeah. This way.” He nods toward a quieter area behind the mess hall. I follow, heart pounding, breath shallow.

He leans against a low wall and crosses his arms. He steadily holds my gaze. “You alright?”

“I… not really.” My voice is so small. I hate it. I don't want to tell him, but I have to. He deserves to know. So I rip the band-aid off. “I’m pregnant, Bucky.”

His face doesn’t change at first. He blinks once. Twice. Like the words haven’t quite landed.

Then they do.

“You’re...? And I’m...?” His voice cracks in a way that makes my stomach twist. “You’re sure it’s mine?” His eyes scan over my body, like he's looking for some sort of proof. His eyes land on my stomach which has not started showing yet.

I nod. “Yeah. It’s yours. I haven't been with anyone since...” That night.

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Damn.” I can see the thoughts racing through his head.

I look away and wait for it. The panic. The backpedaling. The "sorry, but I can't, you understand, right?" But it doesn’t come.

He looks back at me with something soft in his eyes. “Are you okay? How… how far along?”

“Almost two months.” I look back at him, surprised by his response.

“And you just found out?” His eyes flicker back to my stomach.

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” I admit. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. Or if I should tell you. I mean, we don’t really know each other. And you’re about to go to war. This would be so much to add on to your plate. I don’t even know if—if you want anything to do with this.” I gently place a hand on my stomach.

Silence. A breeze kicks up, scattering dust across the ground between us.

“I want everything to do with it,” he says finally. His voice is low, steady. “With you. With the baby. I know we didn’t plan it — hell, we barely knew what we were doing, but I’m not the kind of guy who runs. I promise you that. I helped make it, and I'm going to help raise it.”

I look down. My hands are trembling. It's a relief. I should feel better. But I'm still scared.

He takes a step closer, reaching gently for one of them. “I’m scared, too,” he says. “I don’t know what the hell’s going to happen out there. But I do know this, I’m coming back. And when I do, I’m going to take care of you both.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” he says. His grip tightens, reassuring. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve seen what war does. I know I might not get another shot at a real life if I don’t hold onto this. Hold onto you.”

“Bucky—” My throat catches on his name.

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good father,” he continues, “but I want to be. And if you’ll let me… I want to try.”

My heart shatters and knits itself back together in a single breath.

“I’d like that,” I whisper. This is going better than I thought.

He smiles, gentle and wide, and for a moment, it feels like maybe the world isn’t falling apart. Like maybe we’re allowed this — just this — before the storm comes.

He leans down, presses his forehead to mine.

“I’m coming back to you,” he murmurs. “No matter what. I promise.”

And I believe him.

God help me, I do.

----

When Bucky leaves we write to each other, almost every day. I give him updates and exciting news and try to keep his hopes up. He sends me beautiful poems and hopes for the future. Through these letters I get to know him, as he does me.

I learn his favorite color and food. What he likes to do in his spare time. He tells me about his best friend, Steve and his family.

I tell him about me.

Suddenly our relationship begins to change. We're not just some people brought together by a surprise baby. We're friends. We're close.

I look forward to reading his letters-to getting to know him more. My anxiety turns to excitement. My happiness turns to love. I began to fall in love with him, and I think he was falling for me too.

Then I got the letter.

Letter from Bucky Barnes

Postmarked: December 13, 1943

My dearest Y/N, I think about you every single day. That night in Brooklyn feels like a dream now, like something too warm and sweet to have been real, like a movie reel I can’t stop replaying in my head. You in that dress, laughing into your glass, your eyes sparkling in the moonlight. I remember every inch of you. And now I think of you with a hand on your stomach, feeling the tiniest flutter of the life we made together. I won’t pretend I’m not scared. Some days out here, the noise is so loud I can’t think straight. But your name grounds me. I whisper it under my breath when the bombs fall. I think of our child — our baby — and I remember why I need to come home. Why I fight. I want to be there when they take their first step. I want to teach them how to throw a baseball, how to tie their shoes. I want hear them learn to talk and laugh. If it’s a girl, I hope she has your eyes. If it’s a boy, I hope he laughs like you do, like sunshine cracking through clouds. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. I’m heading somewhere dangerous, can’t say where. But please believe me when I say I’m fighting to come back to you. Every bullet I dodge, every breath I take out here, it’s for you. For the baby. You've given me something to look forward to, to fight for. And I will come home. I love you, Y/N. Yours always, Bucky

Three Weeks Later

Brooklyn, January 1944

The letter is folded neatly, worn at the creases from how many times I’ve read it. Sometimes I hold it against my chest, like I can press his words into my skin and make them stay.

Today I have it clutched in my hand as I waddle, yes, waddle, down the steps of my apartment, the cold air biting through my coat. I’m seven months now. The baby kicks stronger every day. It’s the only thing that reminds me that Bucky was real.

Clara is already standing at the end of the sidewalk, scarf wrapped tight, her eyes glassy. She doesn’t speak.

That’s when I know.

I stop walking. My breath clouds the air in front of me, and suddenly it feels too thick to breathe.

“Clara?” My voice is already shaking.

She walks up, slow and quiet. Reaches out like she’s scared to touch me.

“They came to my house,” she whispers. “Figured you wouldn’t want to be alone.” Her eyes confirm my fears. Sadness. Worry. Pity.

I blink. The world tilts. “No.”

“Y/N…”

“No, no. He said he’d come back.” My chest tightens. The baby kicks hard, as if they can feel the panic rising in me. “He promised, Clara. He promised me.”

“They said it was during a mission. He fell from a train — they couldn’t find a body.”

My heart pounds.

“No body?” My voice latches onto the words like a lifeline. “Then he’s not gone. He’s not. Maybe he’s hurt. Maybe he's lost and they just need to find him! Maybe—”

“Sweetheart—” Clara's voice cracks, emotion coming through.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, voice sharp and foreign. “Don’t—don’t act like it’s over. He wouldn’t leave me like this. He promised, Clara. He promised me. He promised our baby.”

I press both hands to my belly, trying to ground myself in something real. But the world is cracking open around me. The sidewalk. The snow. The windows lined with frost. It’s all wrong. None of this is supposed to happen. He wrote me. He told me he loved me. He wanted this.

I sink to the steps, knees giving out. This isn't true. She's lying. She has to be. Bucky's going to be home soon. I know it. He has to be.

The letter slips from my fingers into the snow. I snatch it back, heart thudding, and cradle it like a lifeline.

“I’ll keep reading it,” I whisper. “Every day. Until he comes back.”

Clara kneels beside me, arms around my shaking shoulders, but I don’t cry. Not yet.

If I cry, it means I believe he’s really gone. And I’m not ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be.

Not when I can still feel him in every heartbeat. Not when his baby is still kicking inside me. Not when his last words were a promise.

“I’m coming back to you.”

----

I should have listened to my instincts the night I woke to the sound of the window creaking open.

Brooklyn was never quiet, not truly. Someone's always out and about. But that night was too quiet. I remember the way my breath fogged in the cold winter air as I sat up, rubbing my swollen belly, half asleep.

The next thing I remember is the flash of metal. A deep rumbling voice.

A sharp sting to my neck.

The scream that never made it out of my throat.

My eyes shutting on the image of someone standing next to me.

When I woke again, it was under flickering fluorescent lights. My wrists were bound, cold steel cutting into my skin. There were voices, clipped, foreign. German. One of them said the word Versuchsperson.

Test subject.

I knew that word. My stomach lurched, and not from the baby shifting inside me. From fear.

Where am I?

They didn’t care that I was pregnant. They cared only about what my body could endure.

“If she survives, we can push the limits of cryostasis on vulnerable subjects,” one of the scientists murmured.

“She is carrying Barnes’ child,” another replied, clinical. “Genetic value. Possibly enhanced.”

“Not likely. She looks too far along to have conceived after the enhancement. It's most likely from before. ”

Enhanced? Bucky? What is going on?

No. No, no.

I thrashed as they wheeled me into the freezing chamber — the same kind I’d only ever heard whispers of. It's terrifying.

“Please,” I sobbed. “Please don’t do this. I’m pregnant. Please.” My shoulders shook from fear.

No one looked at me. No one stopped.

The fluid began rising. Cold seeped into my skin like needles.

“I have a baby,” I whispered, teeth chattering, as my body began to shut down. “Please-” I beg.

Everything went black.

-----

I woke to alarms and shouting.

My vision was blurry as I tried to adjust to what's going on.

Not the Hydra voices I’d heard when I went under. No, this time, it was English. American. Familiar.

Memories hit me like a freight train, shocking me as they all rushed back at once.

They cracked the glass, pried me out. My legs didn’t work. My body was limp, useless. But I was alive.

And the baby—

A stab of pain hit me before I could think. Pain worse than anything I could've imagined. My scream tore through the sterile air, and someone was shouting, “She’s in labor!”

I didn’t know what year it was. I didn’t know who these people were. But I knew I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Any baby was on the way.

-----

I named him James.

Not for Bucky- not just for Bucky, but for the piece of him that lived inside our child. His eyes are exactly the same. The same shape, the same stormy color. Sometimes, when he laughs, my heart cracks open all over again.

We live in a small apartment SHIELD set up for us. Stark helped with the furniture, though I didn’t ask him to. Said it was the least he could do after “pulling an actual time traveler out of a Hydra tomb.”

The world is… impossible.

There are tiny computers in everyone’s pockets. Cars that drive themselves. Food that comes in boxes with instructions printed on plastic. I still flinch when doors open automatically. Things are very different.

SHIELD checks on us regularly. Mostly research. Blood draws, vitals, endless psychological evaluations. They’re studying me like I’m a relic. And maybe I am.

I try to keep James out of it, but they’re fascinated by him too. “Genetic goldmine,” I once overheard. I don’t let them take him anywhere without me.

He’s my whole world now.

I tell him stories about the 1940s. About jazz clubs and movie theaters with curtains. About his father, though I never have the words right.

How do you explain a love that bloomed and died in less than a week but left a scar that stretched across time?

----

I don’t expect to see him. Not today.

It’s just a standard check-up at the SHIELD facility — a few blood samples, a scan or two, a quiet nod from Dr. Cho saying I’m still stable, still alive, still miraculously whole. I’ve done this dance for years now, adjusting to a time seventy years ahead of the world I knew. Raising my son in a place that barely feels real, in a body that should’ve crumbled long ago.

James skips beside me down the hallway, holding my hand with sticky fingers, clutching his toy dinosaur in the other.

“Do you think Mr. Wilson will be there?” he asks, hopping every third step.

“If he is, no jumping on his wings this time, please.”

He giggles. “But I was gonna fly!”

I smile, brushing a hand through his hair. He’s grown so fast — not just taller, but louder, bolder, full of that same spark I used to see in the boy who once kissed me behind the big oak tree and whispered that everything would be okay.

My chest aches every time I think about it.

Bucky knew. He knew I was pregnant before he shipped out. I told him just a few days before his unit left. We cried, clung to each other, and made promises we were too young to fully understand. And then the letters stopped. The news came. Clara told me what she learned.

Sergeant James Barnes: Killed In Action.

I read the letter so many times that I have it memorized. I think about it often.

I never stopped loving him. Not for a moment.

But I learned to grieve him. To build something out of the pieces he left behind. I had to. My son needed me to.

And then today — today, the world tilts again.

We turn the corner into the medical wing, and I feel it before I see it, that sudden pull in my chest. A weight, a breath caught sideways in my ribs.

I freeze.

James tugs on my arm. “Mama?”

He follows my gaze, then goes quiet.

At the end of the hallway stands a man I once thought I’d never see again. Older. Sharper. His hair pulled back, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the room like he’s ready for a fight.

He's similar, but at the same time, so different. His muscles are much larger than I remember. His arm, once flesh, now glimmers under the building lights.

Then he sees us.

And everything stops.

“Y/N?”

The voice is different, rougher, like gravel, but it shakes something loose in my soul.

My lips tremble. “Bucky?”

He stares, stunned. Like I’ve just stepped out of one of his dreams -or nightmares. His eyes shift, flickering to the child standing at my side.

I see the moment he realizes. His eyes widen in disbelief. His lips part, like he wants to say something but can't quite find the words.

His knees nearly give out.

James blinks up at him, head tilting in that curious, unfiltered way only a child can manage. “Mama, who’s that?”

My throat closes.

I kneel beside him, one hand on his back, the other over my heart.

“That’s your dad, sweetheart.”

Bucky makes a sound, something like a gasp, something broken.

“I knew,” he whispers. “I never forgot. You told me, and I—they told me you were taken, gone. Most likely dead.. That the baby was likely-”

“I thought you were dead,” I say, standing slowly, my hand reaching out. “They told me you were gone.”

“I was.” He steps closer. “They took me, Y/N. I didn’t even remember my own name for decades. But you-our baby...” His voice breaks. “You were real. The only thing that felt real.”

Tears blur my vision. “I kept him safe. I promised you I would.”

“I promised I’d come back,” he whispers, voice thick. “I didn’t know it would take seventy years.”

James moves closer, eyes wide and searching. “You wrote letters to Mommy,” he says solemnly, like it’s the most important fact in the world. He remembers my stories.

Bucky kneels in front of him, tentative. “Yeah, buddy. I did.”

James holds out his hand.

Bucky stares at it like it’s holy, then gently wraps his fingers around it, so tender, so careful.

I watch them-my son and the man I thought I’d lost forever, and something inside me begins to stitch itself back together.

“I didn’t expect this,” Bucky murmurs, looking up at me with tear-glassed eyes. “But I want it. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

“I already have,” I whisper. “I told you before, Bucky. I want you in our lives.”

And for the first time in seventy years, we’re not just surviving.

We’re starting over.

Together.

Our little family

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tpwk-formula1 · 9 months ago

Note

OK, BIG order here! Lando Norris (frat Lando if you're up for it), gluten-free, red sauce, artichokes, cilantro, sausage, sweet tea, lemonade (reader giving), pink lemonade, and no aftercare. In my mind, this is a college scenario and y/n absolutely can't stand Lando, cuz he's a cocky player who gets all the girls, but he somehow wins her over, and when he gets her, he absolutely dominates and humiliates her. Sorry, I just want to think about Lando completely owning me and being so arrogant about it lol

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Gluten free Enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex artichokes "Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut" cilanto "stop crying and fucking take it" sausage "better not waste a drop" sweet tea dumbification lemonade body worship (reading giving) pink lemonade degrading kink

TW - MEAN Lando, degrading (like a lot), slight mention of dumbification, rough sex, face fucking, multi orgasms, cum swallow, spitting into mouth (once at very end), NOT PROOF READ

WC 2600+

AN - Okay so I am writing this more in USA ideas of fraternity and sorority as that is all I know about.

Y/N POV

"Literally go away Lando," I rolled my eyes at the boy in front of me. Lando and I had met on our first day of freshman year where he proudly told me he had never been told no by a girl before. From that moment on I hated him. I always seemed to find him on campus with his tongue down another girl's throat. It has never been the same girl more than once or twice really playing into his Playboy persona. Now in our senior year of university, he was still trying to get with me.

"Y/N just give me a chance. I'll have you cumming on my cock within minutes," Lando replied back still following me through the sorority house that he happily invited himself into. No one bat an eye as he was the president of our "brother" fraternity and being the president of the sorority it wasn't all that weird to see us talking.

"Lando, I have no issues cumming with literally anyone else," I reply back before walking into my room hoping to close the door in his face. I could hear Lando scuff softly at the lie I had just told. Lando had other plans because instead of staying on the other side of the door like I had hoped, he was pushing his way into my room before closing the door and locking it with a soft click.

"Get out," I tell him trying to make my way to the door to unlock it and open it but he quickly moves in front of me blocking the door before he roughly grabs my hips and turns me around so my back is pressed against the door and we where now facing each other face to face.

"Lando, please stop," I whisper not trusting my voice to stay stable if I talk any louder.

"Y/N come on. We have been going at each other's throats for years. Just one night. Let me destroy every wall you have built between us for the past four years in one night. Let me fuck you, please," Lando replied back not making any movement just staring into my eyes waiting for an answer.

"Why?" I ask with a raised brow. I had thought after our freshman year Lando would drop the idea of getting into my pants but as the years went on and the rejection kept coming for Lando it only made him more persistent. I won't lie and say I haven't been curious. I had heard the whispers of how big his dick was, how good he fucked, and the biggest rumor of all how deliciously mean he was.

"Y/N be real with me. You're the president of the top soroity on campus, your father is the dean of the school, and you're still the only girl to reject me. You're the girl every single guy on campus wants. You have won every battle between us but today, I need to finish this war. I need you to let me fuck you," Lando replied back essentially begging to let him in. I knew if right here and right now I told Lando no he would walk out and go back to his house but the part of me that has been getting weaker recently wants him to stay and wants to put the rumors to rest.

"One night? That's all this is," I reply back and the second the words leave my mouth Lando is on me like prey.

His hand was instantly tangled into my hair and pulling me in for a heated and rough kiss. Teeth clattering against each other and tongues fighting for dominance. It was rough and messy but god did it make my knees grow weak with need.

I think Lando and I both knew one day it would come to this. I would finally break and let him ravish my body like it had been his for the taking all along, and truthfully I think it has been his all along.

"Get on you fucking knees now," Lando pulled back saying while pushing my head down. I instantly drop to my knees looking up at Lando almost waiting for him to tell me what to do next.

"I hear some of the brothers talk about how good you are with your mouth. It's like you intentionally let them fuck you so they can talk about it letting me know all about the things I've been missing out on for the past four years. So don't be fucking dense with me, out that mouth of your to use," Lando snapped at me when I didn't do anything. I was instantly clawing at the fly of his jeans trying to get it zipped as quick as possible not wanting to piss him off more than I had previously.

When his pants were unbuttoned and zipped down I softly tugged them down his legs where Lando finally helped by kicking them off the rest of the way discarding them somewhere across my room.

"It's big," I whisper while keeping my eyes trained on the hard bulge under his briefs. While I still can't fully see just how big he is I can tell he's fucking massive he is because the tight white briefs leave far too little to the imagination.

"I'm sorry what was that? I need you to speak up a bit more," Lando says with a smirk written all over his face. It was clear he had heard me but enjoyed the praise far too much.

"I said it's smaller than I expected," I replied back with false confidence. Something in Lando snapped in that moment because one second I was on my knees getting ready to suck Lando off and the next I was being dragged by my hair towards my bed where he roughly through me onto it before positioning me so my head was hanging off the side of the bed upside down.

I was dizzy from how quickly the mood had shifted from two rivals arguing and bickering to me being upside down waiting to get my face fucked by said rival.

Lando made quick work of pulling his briefs down before he roughly shoved his massive cock into my mouth. Lando gave me hardly any time to adjust to his length that was filling my throat leaving me a gagging mess under him.

When Lando starts thrusting into my mouth I can feel his balls starting to slap my nose making this moment all that more embasrrassing. How I had ended up with Lando fucking Norris's cock shoved down my throat and his balls hitting my face will always amaze me.

Suddenly I feel Lando lean down slightly making the angle all the more rough before he was tugging at my tight tank top pulling it up to expose my lacey bra too him. I could feel his big hands gripping and pulling at my tits all the while still fucking my face in such a brutal pace I could barely breath.

While one final rough thrust down my throat he holds himself there for a few seconds cutting off my airflow completely before he roughly pulls out and steps back to see me slightly rolling to my side gasping for air and coughing from the brutal attack.

"God, you're such a fucking whore. Took that so well," Lando says with a smirk before shoving two fingers down my throat to watch me gag again. I can feel Lando whiggle his fingers around slightly making me gag more before he rough pulls them out to watch me struggle for fresh air again.

"You know, I'm happy to know that your mouth isn't just good for talking," Lando says before roughly taking a handful of my hair and turning me around slightly so my head was no longer dangling off the bed but rather my legs where dangling.

I was still fully dressed but that didn't last long as Lando completely pulled my shorts and thong down in one go before pulling off my tank top so roughly he ripped it slightly. I feel Lando reach under me before unclipping my bra and roughly pulling it off my body. I had gone from completely clothed to naked as the day I was born within 30 seconds or so.

I watched as Lando fulled his shirt off leaving me to gawk as the tanned 6 pack he was sporting. While I had spent my years trying to avoid him I still had eyes and could see how hot he was.

"See something you like," Lando asks with a smirk making me wanna roll my eyes but I reframe not wanting to piss him off.

"Ya," I just whisper back too embarrassed to admit the thoughts I was thinking. Cursing myself for making him wait all these years when I could've had him all along.

"God, you're a fucking whore. I haven't even touched you are you're already starting to soak your sheets," Lando announced making me trail my trail my eyes down where I can't see much but I could tell how soaked I was just by the way my pussy lips where coated.

"Lando fucking do something," I snap not having the patience to be stared at like I was some kind of artifact on display.

"Hm, I wanna hear why you want it so bad all the sudden. For years you were adiment I would never bed you but here you are begging for it," Lando replied while slowly running his fingers up my thighs and stomach where he landed on my left nipple which he took between his fingers and gave it a tug making me moan at the pleasurable pain.

"Lando, please I just need you to fuck me," I reply with a face still covered in tears and spit and I hadn't had a chance to wipe it off.

"You beg like a proper slut you know, but I still wanna know why," Lando replies still teasing my nipples having moved his attention to my right one now.

"Fuck you, you're fucking hot. You're one of the hottest guys here, I want you to fuck me and ruin me for anyone else," I finally submit to Lando being too weak to continue to try and fight.

"Oh, so all along you've been wanting it. God, you really are a slut," Lando mutters before finally slipping into my tight pussy with so much for I'm left gasping for air.

"God you're so fucking tight. Tighter than I would've thought given everything I've hear," Lando groans once he had filled me completely. He gives me just a few seconds to gather myself before he start thrusting his hips.

"Oh fuck, Lando," I whine and moan out not really sure how to act. I had been fucked before but I have never quite been fucked like this.

I can feel Lando's pace picking up in speed and roughness leaving me gasping for air. He was getting to a point where he was being so rough it was making tears well up in my eyes.

"Stop crying and fucking take it" Lando groans when he sees the tears starting too form.

"Too much," I gasp before digging my nails into Lando's chest making him hiss in slight pain.

"It's not too much, you can fucking handle it. I can feel your pussy clenching around my cock wanting more," Lando says while delivering slow yet painfully pleasurable thursts hitting my G-spot each time.

"Lando I'm close," I whisper knowing if I talked any loud I would stutter given how much pleasure was coursing through my body.

"Do what all good sluts are for and cum," Lando says while picking up his pace sending me into a blissful land where all I can think about in the orgasm that is leaving me shaking on Lando's cock,.

"Oh, fuck," I whine starting to come down from my orgasm but not fully being able to as Lando is still sending brutal thrusts keeping me overstimulated yet still edging towards another orgasm.

"God, you just fucking came and you're already clenching for another," Lando teases out clearly being able to read my body far better than he should be able to.

"Fu-ck n-o Lan," I'm whining and trying to get away but not being able to form full sentences as the pleasure is mounting far too quick.

"Awe did I turn you into a dumb whore norm," Lando says with a smirk before sending down a rough slap right on my clit throwing me straight into another orgasm. I just scream, thankful that none of the other girls were home.

"No," I whisper coming down from my orgasm while Lando is slowing his thrust slightly.

"can't" I whine.

"Speak up and use your fucking words," Lando says clearly getting fed up with the dumb slut under him.

"I can't cum again," I finally force out a sentence once I've come down from the orgasm mostly.

Lando pulls his cock out without saying anything. He leans over placing a soft kiss on my lips throwing me off slightly before he's roughly gripping onto my hair and hauling me off the bed and back onto my knees.

"You know what to do," Is all Lando tells me while he watches me slowly grip onto his dick which is absolutely soaked in my pussy juices before bringing my mouth to his cock.

"Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut," Lando says while I start bobbing my head on his dick making sure to take him as deep as I can without gagging too much.

Lando grips the back of my head before he starts to face fuck me. I can feel the tears streaking my face, my spit rolling down my chin and all I can hear is the sound of my gagging and Lando's groaning ringing out through the room and if I'm being honest, I have never been more turned on in my life.

Lando finally releases the grip he has on the back of my head letting me do all the work now. I was thankful as it was becoming increasingly more difficult to breathe.

I pull my mouth off of Lando's cock making sure to keep jerking him off, while looking up at him. He was already staring down at me watching me like a hawk.

"Thank you, Lando," I whisper softly.

"For what," Lando groans clearly getting close to blowing his load so I slow it down slightly wanting him to cum in my mouth.

"Fucking me so good," I whisper while trailing kisses around the lower part of his toned abs and into his trimmed pubes before taking Lando back into my mouth and bobbing my head so rough that I am consistently hitting my gag reflex.

I feel Lando starting to tense letting me know he was close before he gave one final rough thrust into my mouth and held my head there before unleashing his massive load into my mouth and right down my throat.

"Better not waste a drop" Lando groans when he pulls out of my mouth watching me as I swallow his cum. When I'm done swallowing I open my mouth and stick out my tongue showing him I had swallowed it all. Lando just leans down slightly before spitting right into my mouth and walking away to find his clothes.

Once Lando was fully dressed I was already comfortably in bed too exhausted to do anything but melt into my pillow.

"We will do this again," Lando says matter a factly before placing a kiss on my forehead and then lips and walking out of my room presumably to go back to his house.

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k1ngpin42 · 1 year ago

Text

Abby being insecure about how needy she is ;)

Warnings: Not proof read at all 😭 I wrote this while sick at like 3am so sorry for this monstrosity. Pretty intense sexual references, some fluff if you can call it that.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Abby breathes out apologetically, bringing one of her large hands to the soft flesh on your face. You cock your head, smiling at her softly. Your wide eyes bring a smile of her own to Abby’s face as she makes the comparison to a deer in headlights in her mind.

“I just…” Abby explains, letting out a deep breath. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I mean I- feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You were stunned by her words. In fact, you were stunned by the whole situation. Abby; without her cocky fucking facade about her, the fact Abby would think she’s taking advantage of you.

You had wanted this from the start, so if in any plane of reality she was somehow taking advantage of you, you’d let her, 100 times over.

“What are you talking about? You know I love our sex…”

“I’m objectifying you.” Abby tries, and you let out a laugh in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve tried not to think about it, but I can’t. It makes me feel so selfish I can barely say it.”

“Say what, Abby? I’m so confused-“

“I want to have sex with you. Every minute of every day. I think about you when you’re on assignments, I dream about you when you’re sleeping elsewhere, I want to fuck you senseless in front of everyone I- Jesus what am I saying? What am I doing, even? But it’s true I just…whether you’re wearing tight jeans, short skirts, long dresses, even a fucking hoodie I want to tear it off and do so many things to you. Maybe…maybe we should break up, this shouldn’t be normal, it isn’t-“ You stop her by planting a soft kiss on her lips.

Abbys gaze softened and her shoulders slouch back into place.

“Just calm down Abby….I love our sex. Fucking love it.”

“But-“ You shake your head, quickly preventing her doubts from festering.

“Love…we’re in a relationship….if you didn’t feel passionate for me there wouldn’t be much of one, would there? Now just look at the place around us. This place was once used for actual football…by people who lived in a world with an abundance of simple pleasures. We live in a world where pleasure is so much rarer, it’s no surprise that you revel in what we have…what you can give me….especially since you’re a soldier. Always so…tense.” She listens to your explanation intently and nods, hesitantly.

“I still feel…you know….” You look at her with a comforting smile, but it was still clear to her you weren’t a mind reader.

“I know that I love being around you…hugging you…kissing you…I could probably survive without the sex but I still feel like I’m using you somehow…I mean we’ve…” she clears her throat, now wondering why the word ‘sex' suddenly felt like poison in her throat.

“Had sex at least twice a day every day that we’ve been together. I mean that one Saturday I-“ She pauses and you both blush remembering it.

“You were still limping by Monday….” She concludes. You can’t help but laugh at her babbling.

“Abigail Anderson…this is emotional stuff, you know you should write this down…ooh maybe you can try poetry?” She shuts the idea down with a playful hit to your shoulder.

“Ow.” You laugh. Your smile fades a little and you close the gap between you guys, leaning into her ear.

“You think you’re the only one who craves it every day? I know you don’t want to hurt me but when you’re rough holy fuck….the marks you leave on my body…it’s stupid and embarrassing but I get off to them….” Her eyes widen.

“What? You never said-“

“Well because I thought it was toxic at the time-“

“Hey you said this stuff was normal!”

“It is!” You exclaim back, playfully. You both laugh and you kiss her deeply. She leans back onto her bed and you fall onto her lap, kissing her fully again.

“Hm, so what other shit do you want to tell me, then?” She asked, playing with your hair. You just smirk at her.

“To be honest…I think I’ve had enough talking for one afternoon wouldn’t you agree my little sex addict?” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re so annoying.” Abby replies, unbuckling her belt.

#abby anderson #tlou2 #ellie williams #abby tlou #abby x fem reader #sub abby

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samsno1 · 3 months ago

Note

you should write jealous sam!!

Gut Feeling

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

the gif is not exactly accurate since the fic passes after the first lucifer shenenigans but i wanted to use it. also, sorry that it took so long to write this request, ive been struggling for a while with writing but here it is, better late than never i guess

Summary: Falling in love with his brother's best friend is good, Sam could keep it secret and stay close to her at the same time but jealousy eats at him slowly because her and Dean seem way too close for his liking

Warnings: just fluff, kind of hurt/comfort, jealousy (duh), sam wants to kill dean, dean is flirty and reader jokingly flirts back, sam's got it bad, hinted bisexual sam because idc what anyone says this man ain't straight, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

wc: 4.3k

enjoy!

Sam wouldn’t call himself a jealous man, especially of those who weren’t romantically related to him. He had his insecurities but, if any woman or man was willing to be with him, even knowing everything that he did, — and does — he didn’t think they would feel the need to betray him. Besides, Sam wasn’t cocky, but he knew he was above average in the ranking of looks, he had been more than assured of that by both men and women throughout his life. Even so, Sam still was Sam, the one who constantly put himself down, the one who constantly didn’t feel enough and the one that constantly stared at you like a predator eyeing a prey everytime you were too giggly with his brother.

You had come into the Winchester’s lives while Sam was away at college, meeting Dean and his father, John, first. It took a few weeks for you to find out through a fight between Dean and John that Sam existed and that he was Dean’s younger brother. You had questioned Dean at the time while comforting him after the heated argument why he hadn’t told you about Sam and he said it was a sensitive subject. You had assumed Sam died — thank God you were wrong — but he was studying Law at Stanford. You were shocked at that, usually hunters that grew in the life didn’t even care about education, much less were capable of getting into a renewed University such as Stanford. Dean told you about how Sam always hated hunting, complained about constantly moving, had straight A’s in whatever schools he went to and, as soon as he got the invitation letter, he left.

You could see Dean missed his brother, just talking about Sam made him show this nostalgic look, like he was talking about a distant memory. A few months later you finally met Sam while you looked for John — who had disappeared in a hunt. He wasn’t what you expected — usually you picture the younger brother shorter and you didn’t stop making fun of Dean for days after that. Sam was smart with quick thinking and incredible deducing skills, finding out about the Woman in White was easier than you thought it would be.

At the end of the hunt, you said your goodbyes to Sam. You could see the bitterness surrounding Dean when he couldn’t convince Sam to keep hunting with him and your hand rubbed his back discreetly for comfort.

Imagine your surprise when you hear Sam scream in horror as fire spreads through his home. Dean didn’t think twice before going in, soon coming back out with Sam, who was crying his heart out as he put up a battle against his brother while Dean pulled him away from the fire. He screamed a girl’s name — Jess, his girlfriend — and you soon understood what happened.

Ever since then it was you, Sam and Dean against the world, literally. You were there when their father died selling his soul to save Dean, you were there when Sam died and tried to convince Dean not to sell his soul for him and do the same his father did — when you thought you finally persuaded him he sneaked out when you were sleeping and made a deal —, you were there when Dean went to hell and back and met the Angel Castiel, when Sam was addicted to demon blood, when the brothers wouldn’t stop fighting, when Lucifer was freed and everything the boys had gone through up until now.

Throughout these years, Sam grew enchanted by you. At first, he didn’t think much of you, he thought you were dating Dean and when he questioned you about it you made a fake gag sound, dramatizing your motions by putting a hand to your stomach and curving your spine forward. You got a chuckle out of Sam and rolling eyes out of Dean. On a more serious note, you clarified to him that you and Dean were nothing more than close friends and that you had been there for Dean when he needed you, and Dean, for you.

You had developed somewhat of a close relationship with the brothers as the years passed and they were your rock. When your parents died on a hunt of their own you were inconsolable and Sam and Dean were there to help you grieve. When you wouldn’t get out of bed for days it was Sam who brought you breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dean would distract you by telling you stories about 80s drummers and rock bands. They comforted you through the whole thing and you couldn’t be more grateful. When you thanked them they said it was the bare minimum they could’ve done for you since, according to them, you had been there for them through the toughest shit.

Sam never thought he would secretly fall for you, so secretly that not even he noticed. He doesn’t know when it began but he remembers when your smiles got brighter and your eyes shinier as he swam through the color in them. Your laugh got sweeter and your gestures had more meaning — at least in Sam’s eyes they did.

He would catch himself stealing glances from afar, learning the littlest of things about you just so he could impress you, yearning to be closer to you, not just physically but emotionally. He would read your favorite books and watch your favorite movies just to have something to talk to you about and he loved when you shot that confused yet shocked look at him when he mentioned your favorite media. Your eyebrows first furrowed as you looked at him then your eyes widened and a smile opened up in your face — oh, your smile — as you started talking about all the things that you liked in said book or film. It was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever laid his eyes on.

After Jess, he didn’t think he would feel this way ever again. Of course his deceased girlfriend still crossed his mind until this day, it was hard to forget someone like that, especially with such a horrific death. Especially someone Sam loved. But you were there, in his mind, from when he woke up until he fell asleep, maybe even in his dreams. You were easy to love, your personality was incredible, your looks were capable of taking people’s breath away easily and, being a hunter, your strength was more than impressive, mentally and physically.

But Sam didn’t want to love you, he felt guilty for loving you. He had his fair share of terrible experiences with romantic partners and he would never forgive himself if something ever happened to you — much how he doesn’t forgive himself from what happened to Jess. So he swallowed those feelings down and kept them hidden as well as he could. Even now that you are sitting close to Dean in the booth, his arm over your shoulder as you look through the diner menu. Dean’s thumb caressed your shoulder and Sam felt sick to his stomach.

“I think I’m going to get a chicken burger with fries, it’s cheap and looks good” You said as your finger ran through the page, looking between the prices and the food itself. Being a hunter on the road didn’t allow you to waste much so you always went for the cheapest looking thing on the menu but that still looked decent enough to eat. “Sam”

That brought him back to reality, your gentle voice making him look at you. He hummed as an answer to his name being called.

“There’s some good options of salads here, do you want to take a look?” You said with a small smile, offering him the menu. Dean piped up and brought the menu back to himself.

“Wait, Sweetheart, I didn’t even choose what I want” He complained and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t already sure of what you want. Bacon cheeseburger with fries, extra bacon”

Dean shot you a wide grin. “You know me too well…Okay Sam, dive in” He said to his brother as he closed the menu and handed it to him.

Sam’s blood was boiling. Sweetheart? You know me too well? He was going to kill Dean as soon as he got the chance. He grabbed the menu from him with a fake smile and a weak thanks then looked at you. His face softened. “I’ll look through it, thank you”

“The Cobb Salad seems good, if I was in the mood for salad, I’d go for that one” You said, pointing the dish out on the page. This type of salad had bacon in it. “If you don’t want the bacon, ask them to take it off…or give it to me” You said with a mischievous smile and a playful wink in his direction. Sam chuckled as he gently shook his head.

“I think I’ll try but just because you were convincing” He said. You put a hand to your heart and straightened your spine, filling your lungs with air as would someone who was — sarcastically — proud of themselves.

“I have awesome taste, you won’t regret it Sammy” You teased with the nickname on purpose but Sam didn’t care. It was odd that the only person he somewhat enjoyed calling him that was you. Sam didn’t have many nicknames — Moose didn’t count — so you feeling comfortable enough to call him by any kind of affectionate or teasing name showed him that you were comfortable around him and that felt greater than ever. He knew that if he asked you to seriously stop calling him ‘Sammy’ you would stop, you never made him feel uncomfortable or ignored in any way, you would listen to him.

—

You and Sam were still eating when Dean said he needed to go to the bathroom, after he inhaled his hamburger as if it was nothing. Sam was looking through some stuff on his computer, probably looking for suspicious news that gave away the interference of a supernatural being. You noticed he seemed off, biting the inside of his cheeks constantly, his eyebrows furrowed for minutes on end and you could hear his foot bouncing anxiously under the table. You put your burger down and cleaned your hands and mouth with a paper towel, analyzing Sam’s behavior a little further. Honestly, you were staring. Clearly staring.

“Do I have something in my face?” Sam said without taking his eyes away from the computer screen.

“I don’t know, but you definitely have something up your ass” You replied, raising your eyebrows provocatively. That made Sam look at you with a shocked look and that’s when you noticed he had something on his mind. On a normal day Sam would’ve laughed at you instead of giving you the stink eye. “What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed “Nothing’s wrong”

“Bullshit”

“What do you know?” Sam seemingly snapped and you shut your mouth for a couple seconds.

“You” You said, playing with one of the fries on your plate, not looking at him anymore. You took Sam’s silence as a hint for you to continue “I know you, and I sense that something’s wrong. C’mon Sam we’ve been friends for years, do you really think I don’t see it when you’re not fine? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine but don’t belittle me like that” The conversation seemed to end there as you went back to eating your burger. Sam was still looking at you, his finger tapping the table. He let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Friends. That was exactly what was wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just– I’ve been stressing over the last case…” (lie) “...And it’s bothering me how long it took us to solve it…” (complete lie, Sam was in love with you and absolutely jealous of his brother) “...But otherwise I’m fine, I didn’t want to snap like that” (well, there’s the first truth of that sentence). Sam was wondering if you would believe him, you could read him well and if you really looked into it you would be able to see he wasn’t being truthful.

You swallowed the single bite you took of the burger and untensed your shoulders, letting down your defensiveness. “Sam…” You gently called, putting down your food. You cleaned your hands and fingers on a paper towel, wiping away the grease off of them and placed one of your hands over Sam’s fidgeting one on the table. Sam froze. “...You’re too hard on yourself. C’mon, we were able to find and burn that ghost with only the death that you saw on the paper that led us to finding the case, nobody else died, we are all okay and that spirit is now free.” You gave his unmoving hand a gentle squeeze then patted it twice, letting it go. “Don’t stress over it”

People tend to say that, for those who are in love, anything that their loved one does makes them feel euphoric, or feel it a hundred times stronger, deeper. Sam’s heart ringing in his ears showed that this was, in fact, very true. It was stupid, love was really a sickness that ate you from the inside out.

He felt bad for lying to you because he knew you’d always try your best to help him through anything, he could count on you with his life but there was no way he was admitting to you that he was upset because you decided to sit beside Dean at the diner table instead of him. Or because you directed more of your smiles to his brother, that you brushed your hand against his shoulder while you laughed at his jokes, or maybe because Dean always spoke to you in a flirty manner — like he would to a bartender or waitress he wanted to take back to his motel room — and you egged him on, flirting back. Sam would always ignore it because one, you weren’t even his, two, you knew Dean for longer and three, neither you nor his brother knew about his crush on you. To sum it up, if Dean really wanted to try anything with you, Sam had no right to stop him — but he could still be silently angry about it.

And that’s what he was doing. Dean was back from the bathroom and sat beside you again, reaching his hand to steal one of your fries from your plate. Much like Dean, you were overprotective of your food so you almost instantly dragged your plate away from him and pushed him through his chest to stay far from you.

“Hey! You already ate a whole entire burger and fries!” You argued.

“Oh c’mon Sweetheart-” Stop calling her that “-just one fry, please” Dean begged like a child and you shook your head.

“No, stop that, I’m hungry” You firmly replied and, even though he had a frown on his face, Dean backed off with a laugh.

“Alright but I’ll make you pay for this later” He said wiggling his eyebrows, a mischievous smirk on his lips, his words dripping innuendo. You looked at him, already used to his constant dirtiness.

“Mhm, come right on sweetie” You replied, the double meaning in your words as clear as day. Sam could puke. Actually, he would if he stayed there for another minute.

“You guys are disgusting, I’m going to the car” Sam said, closing his laptop and getting up from the booth as quickly as he could, not even looking back as he pushed the glass door of the diner to get out, the bells above it ringing loudly.

You looked at him through the window as he walked to the Impala in long, angry strides. You turned to face Dean with furrowed eyebrows and clear confusion on your face as you could faintly hear the passenger door of Baby being aggressively slammed. Dean looked just as confused and slightly bitter since he saw the way his car shook with the strength his brother just applied on the old door.

“Was it something I said?” You asked Dean, your eyes still looking in the overall direction of where the Impala was parked. You went through your past conversation, it was nothing out of the ordinary, this was usually the setting of when you three were together, Sam focused on something else while you and Dean talked or joked with each other, it was never an issue and, if it was, it was never voiced as one before.

Dean sighed “He’s probably just having one of his temper tantrums, he’ll be back to normal in a few hours”

You hummed unconvinced but didn’t press the issue further. After you finished eating and paid the bill, you left the diner with Dean by your side and Sam was staring out the passenger window at the both of you with that sinking feeling in his gut again. He was biting his nails — a habit he tried for years to overcome but never succeeded — and his knee bounced up and down as if he was trying to drain all his anger through the bottom of his feet (it wasn’t working).

Though muffled through the closed window of the Impala, he could hear your sweet laugh as you approached the backdoor, probably directed at a stupid commentary or joke his brother made. He sighed just as you opened the door and sat down right behind him.

“Okay, I surrender, Ramble On is definitely much superior to The Rain Song, happy now Winchester?”

“Not when you don’t sound sincere about it! It is much better” Dean replied and Sam’s eyes accompanied his movements as he sat on the driver’s seat and started the car.

This is what Sam disliked the most, you had so much in common with Dean it made him sick. From music taste to food you were almost the same and he hated it. Of course that compared to his brother you had your particularities, and it’s not like you hadn’t gotten some mannerisms from Sam himself but when you put them on a scale of comparison, guess who won.

“Yeah, yeah, I agree” You sarcastically said but a smile was on your face, one that Sam saw shining through the rearview mirror. The same way he saw your eyes darting to his through said reflection.

You placed a hand over the one from which he was biting his nails to make him stop. Sam turned to you — a weird sideways position that kind of hurt his back — and you leaned towards the front seat, closer to him.

“Stop” You demanded, looking straight into his eyes. Sam had this expression of a kid that got caught doing something wrong and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. You nodded at him, as if to ask if he understood and Sam nodded back, making you smile sweetly at him, retreating back to your seat.

–

Okay, what the fuck.

Right now, you were back at the bunker and Dean had gone to isolate himself in his cave since you guys didn’t have anything to do, nothing to hunt, nothing to kill, not even chores to do because you ate out, so no dishes were dirty — a rare occurrence — and you were sitting across from Sam, staring at him, trying to read his mind about what was going on.

He told you he was fine but the way he was treating you told you otherwise. Ever since he stormed off from the diner he was short and dry with you, something that never happened, not even when you did something stupid during a hunt and he got mad at you for it. Usually in those times he scolded you, yelled at you and spoke his mind.

Of course Sam shutting out wasn’t something you were foreign to, he did it quite often and it was one of his behaviors you always tried to work your way around because you knew how hard it could be to talk about your own problems without feeling extremely vulnerable. And Sam Winchester hated being vulnerable. He hated having to rely on others or speaking up about how he was feeling and you understood that, he had to be strong and independent or whatever his sick father put in his mind that he had to be. But, even though you understood, you wouldn’t take shit from Sam Winchester.

You looked at him one more time, he was biting his nails again. You sighed and got up from your chair, circling around the table until you stood right beside him, who still didn’t look at you, so you decided to take drastic measures. You grabbed his cheeks, turned his face to you and pretended to analyse the patient, putting the back of your hand on his forehead, looking into his eyes to see if the pupils were blown out or not…Sam was in shock, his eyes were wide and he was paralysed. When you started to try and pry open his mouth he gripped both your wrists to make you stop.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Trying to figure out what’s wrong with you” You replied and Sam closed his eyes, sighing.

“I already told you that–”

“And I don’t believe you, Sam” You interrupted, a scowl on your face “What is it, huh? Are you under some spell? Did you eat something that made your stomach upset? Did you get cockblocked last–”

“No, no! Stop it! It’s nothing like that– God why are you like this?” Sam said, looking down slightly, his hair partially covering his face. Your wrists were still grasped in his hands, his rough hands contrasting with the gentleness in which he held them. His thumb caressed your skin unconsciously.

“Oh so I am the problem? What did I do Sam?” You rose your defenses, his words making you feel partially upset, partially angry. You hated making Sam sad or mad and you especially hated when he didn’t say anything about it to you.

“Why do you keep flirting with Dean like that, huh? Why do you laugh so much at his jokes?” He asks, getting up from his chair and staring down at you. “And in front of me too? Don’t you know how that makes me feel? Seeing you all over Dean and him all over you while I just stare from the sidelines?!” He snaps, letting go of your wrists, yet, you’re too stunned to even move. His breathing is quicker after his rant and yours just stopped in pure shock, was Sam–

“Jealous? You’re…jealous?” You asked, almost whispering. Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out besides a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing just how stupid this sounded when he said it out loud and he wanted to dig a hole on the ground — his grave.

“I’m not– I mean– I just–” He tried to make something up when he heard a low giggle, his eyes closing in on your hand over your mouth as you stifled a laugh behind it. Sam’s face felt warm suddenly and he avoided booking at you entirely for a moment.

“Oh, Sam…” You said, residue of laughter still on your words as you shook your head.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know this is weird and we are just friends so let’s just forget about it and–”

“Hey, hey, slow down pretty boy, who said I wanted to forget it?” You stopped him, one of your eyebrows raising as he turned to look at you, a confused expression adorning his features.

“What?”

You reached your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him down slightly, his back curving. Your faces were inches from each other, which made him hold his breath.

“Who says I don’t like you either Sammy?” You whisper, your minty breath invading his lungs, intoxicating his whole being with the smell of you, so close, so kissable, so beautiful. He didn’t know what to do besides hesitantly put his hands over your waist and squeeze lightly, to make sure you’re there, to make sure he’s not dreaming…he doesn’t know but he wanted to make sure of something.

“Do you?” He whispers back, his eyes looking down at your lips then at your eyes again. You smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, just a tiny peck, and pulled back again.

“Do I?” You asked, faking confusion and Sam mumbled something intelligible as he pulled you in again for a proper kiss, one of his hands crawling up your back and holding the back of your neck gently. He pulls back for a second and looks at you to guarantee you’re fine with this but you pull him back to your mouth again before he can ask anything.

His tongue teases your bottom lip and you happily let him in, a groan escaping his throat. He tastes the hint of toothpaste in your mouth and he feels in heaven — when he dies, he wants this exact moment to be his heaven, he'll make Castiel convince someone of this. All the worries, all the anxiety, all the jealousy went away because you were his. The thought made goosebumps spread over his skin.

Sam put his hands behind your thighs and propped you up on the table.

“You don’t know how long…” He breathed out, his hands roaming over your body like you were some fragile sculpture. “How much…I dreamed of this, of you.”

You gave him a peck. “Make your dreams come true Sam, I’m right here, I’m yours”

#supernatural #sam winchester #writers on tumblr #jared padalecki #spn #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester x female reader #spnfandom #polly's stuff

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roxoxoxoxy · 3 months ago

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Includes: Minor pet play, cunnilingus, Sub!Anton with Dom!reader

Very self indulgent, Also my first time writing smut✋🏼

Multiple typos and no sense of grammar, I refuse to proof read more than once.

Anton had never pegged himself as the type of guy who'd be into getting dommed, truthfully he hadn't thought about his sexual preferences that much. He knew he liked it when women were direct with him about what they wanted, he's way too shy to ask upfront, but aside from that he always filled the more "Dominant" role during sex...that is until he met you.

He isn't really sure how he ended up here, in your room, on the floor. He's completely naked and his torso is tied up with shibari, it isn't restricting any of his limbs so he can move freely, it's just there for the aesthetics. Since they "accentuate his sexy muscles" as you'd put it. The shibari is by far the least embarrassing thing you've got him wearing, he's supporting a collar, no not a choker, a fucking dog collar, and on top of that you made him wear dog ears.

Well, he likes to think you "made him" but if Anton is being honest with himself, he knows exactly how he ended up here. He's here because he wants to be, because he craves this....craves you.

What makes this situation even more humiliating is that he's the only one naked, you took off your coat and unbuttoned a few buttons on your top but aside from that you were completely clothed. You've got this shit eating grin on your face, face full of glee, you know he's wrapped around your little finger and if he wasn't so in love with you he'd say you were full of yourself.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of you staring at him with that hungry look in your eyes, you say something.

"Crawl to me. like a good dog." Anton's eyes widen at your words, He looks offended you would even suggest that.

"Just because I put this on for you doesn't mean I'm actually gonna-" Anton trails off as he sees you get up from your position on the bed, closing the distance between you two. Before he can say anything he feels a sharp sting across his cheek....you slapped him, you actually fucking slapped him. His breath hitches in his throat and he closes his eyes, instinctively savoring the stinging feeling on his cheek.

"Aw did that turn you on? That must be embarrassing" His cheeks are red as he looks down at his cock, he's dripping precum onto your floor and he's hard as a rock. The humiliation just turns him on more.

"Fuck- okay fine I am. i just-...." He looks up at you, his eyes pleading. "what do you want me to do?"

You sit back down on the bed, using your hand to beckon him over. He reluctantly starts crawling towards you, his ears and cheeks burning from embarrassment as he tries to ignore how much this is turning him on.

He looks up at you with a sad attempt at a glare, it hardly feels threatening when he's wearing dog ears and crawling around.

".....I could get you a tail too, like with a butt plug-"

"No." He says cutting you off

You laugh at how serious he looks. "okay okay fine, one thing at a time"

You pull up your skirt, pulling down your panties, smiling at how his eyes immediately glue themself to in-between your thighs. You hook one of your legs above his shoulder as he comes closer, his face resting against your lower thigh.

"Go on. Be good for me" Anton doesn't need to be told twice, his lips attaching themselves to your inner thigh, eagerly kissing their way up. His hands find their way to your hips, eagerly pulling you closer, you consider reprimanding him for not asking permission but it's hard to tell him no when he looks so wanting.

His lips finally find your cunt, he leaves a small peck on your clit before he's diving in, his face buried between your legs. Despite his earlier protests Anton seems to have no reservations about acting like a dog now, he laps you up like a mutt eating his first meal in days. You decide not to comment, your words would get stuck in your throat if you tried.

You reach down to tug at his hair, pulling him towards where you need him, he's being too messy. Thankfully he gets the message, taking a deep breath before his tongue is being pushed inside you and he's angling his nose right against your clit. You moan at the feeling, your brain feels all fuzzy from the pleasure.

He uses his hands to guide you to grind against his face, he moans into your pussy making you wrap your thighs around his face. It ends with you half riding his face as you cum all over it, using your hand that isn't occupied with pulling his hair to cover your moans.

Anton pulls back, the bottom half of his face is wet from eating you out and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes look unfocused and hazy while his lips are swollen pink, he looks gorgeous. You instinctively reach down to help him get off too only to find that he already came,...from eating you out.

"....You're really into this, huh?"

"Shut up."

Puppy boy Anton, my beloved. Had this idea floating around in my head for a while, not sure if I executed it well but I had fun writing it.

#“Never pegged himself” hahah #anton x reader #anton x you #anton x y/n #anton smut #anton scenarios #anton imagines #Sub Anton #Anton Riize #Riize Anton #Riize x reader #Riize smut #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize hard thoughts #Riize hard hours #anton hard hours #anton hard thoughts

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papervenom · 3 days ago

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cedric diggory and all the ways he quietly loves you... (a habits list, and probably not the last one i’ll make)

hi! omg this is my first headcanon (blurb?? one-shot??) whatever it is I've had so much fun writing it!!! it’s been a busy few days and I promise that I’m still working on the next chapter but i wanted to get this out because it made me so soft 🥹 thank you so much to the sweet soul who requested this, it genuinely filled my heart up putting it together. here are some of the little things cedric diggory does when he’s in love with you. habits, quirks, tiny rituals. the kind of stuff that piles up over time and makes you realize just how much someone sees you. feel free to imagine them as canon in the insatiable universe (because honestly, they are)

★ he always waits outside your classes — and outside the entrance of your common room in the mornings!! even if you’re running late, even if he’s drenched from practice. he’ll lean against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds, and the moment you appear? he lights up like you’re the only person who exists.

☆ he compliments you so genuinely it makes your chest ache — not just your looks, though he tells you you’re beautiful constantly, like he’s never gotten over the sight of you. one afternoon, you’re mid-ramble about something completely ridiculous (a dream you had, a weird bug you saw, whatever) and he’s just staring, all soft-eyed and smitten. then, without even thinking, he says, “i swear, i could listen to you forever. doesn’t even matter what you’re on about. your voice is my favorite sound.” it’s so simple, so achingly sincere, you forget how to breathe for a second.

★ he kisses your forehead twice — always twice. even if he’s in a rush, even if your friends are around and it’ll definitely earn you a round of teasing. one kiss for hello, one just because. it’s instinct at this point, something he does without thinking. soft and automatic, like he’s pressing a little promise into your skin. two smooches, always.

☆ he tidies up for you when you’re not looking — he doesn’t say anything, just stacks the piles books you left out in the library, folds your laundry into neat little piles, quills tucked back into their case. he never mentions it. just blushes when you catch him in the act. “you always do it for me,” he mumbles, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

★ he keeps little pieces of you tucked away like they’re lucky charms — a hair tie, a scribbled note, your lip balm, the lighter you left in his pocket. once, it was a folded napkin with your lipstick mark on it. you don’t even know half the things he’s saved. he just likes having bits of you close, like tiny proofs that you’re real and his.

☆ he whispers that he loves you when he’s half asleep — you’re beside him reading, trying not to wake him, but his hand finds your waist and his eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep. “i love you,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with drowsiness, before pressing a slow, sleepy kiss to your shoulder. then he’s out again, like he just needed to say it, like it couldn’t wait.

★ he’s quietly obsessed with touching you — not in a flashy or obnoxious way, just enough that everyone knows you’re his. sometimes, when he sees you after a long day, or just when he’s overwhelmed with how much he’s missed you, he lifts you up in a tight hug the same way he did the first time he saw you at the yule ball, like the rest of the world falls away and it’s just you. he wraps his arms around you so tight it knocks the breath from your lungs, sways you a little like he can’t believe you’re real. in the hallways, he threads his fingers through yours like it’s second nature. under tables, it’s his hand on your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles it’s never excessive. never overdone. it’s just cedric — quietly, constantly marking the fact that you’re his favorite person in any room.

☆ he talks about you like you’re already his family — he’ll say “we” when making plans. tells his mum about your favorite meals so she can make them whenever you visit. he’s already talking about bringing you to christmas next year. and when he’s home visiting, his parents hear about you constantly. stories about what you did that made him laugh, how you did on your last assignment, just proudly gushing about you. back at school, you slip into most conversations with his friends even when he doesn’t realize it. “(Y/N) said that yesterday,” he’ll murmur, or “she actually read that book, said it was brilliant.” he thinks he’s being casual, but he’s so transparent. the boys tease him constantly, but he just grins and shrugs because he can’t help it. you’re always on his mind. always the first thing he wants to talk about. it’s like loving you changed his whole vocabulary.

★ he pays attention to everything — how you take your tea, the way you hum when you’re deep in thought, how you always tap your quill twice before writing. he catalogs you like he’s afraid of forgetting all the little things, the soft details, the throwaway comments. he picks things up for you without you asking. if you mention needing more ink, he’s already got your favorite shade tucked into his bag. if you say you liked the apple tarts at breakfast, he starts sneaking one into his pocket every morning. he reads whatever you’re reading, too. your favorite books, old essays, reading assignments. he reads it all just so he can talk to you about them. it’s not performative. it’s not a show. he’s just genuinely curious. about you, your thoughts, your world. he wants to know everything you know.

☆ he’s always calling you sweet nicknames — darling, dove, love, baby, sweetheart, flower, angel. he cycles through them like he’s trying to find the one that suits you best. once, you teased him for it and he just shrugged, grinning. “you’re too many lovely things to choose just one.”

★ he seeks you out at parties — if you’re not arriving together, you can bet he’s scanning the room the second he walks in. it doesn’t matter who he’s talking to, or what kind of crowd he’s in the middle of. the moment he spots you, he’s weaving through the noise like nothing else matters. “there you are,” he always says, smiling like the night couldn’t properly begin until he found you. sometimes he’ll kiss your cheek without thinking, or slip his hand into yours so casually it makes your heart skip a beat. it’s like his whole body sighs in relief just from being near you again.

☆ he stares when he thinks you’re not looking — you’ve caught him across the room, in the mirror, from your periphery, just watching you with this enamored look in his eyes. and then you both just… laugh. quiet, giddy little giggles like neither of you can help it. it’s your thing now, that shared glance that says we’ve done this before. because you have. that first night at the feast, evenings at the library when you were strangers across the room, something magnetic pulling your eyes back to each other again and again. like you already knew. like you were remembering, not meeting.

★ he listens so intently it makes you nervous — like he’s absorbing every word, every shift in your tone, every pause you take to catch your breath. his grey eyes soften when you speak, stormy but warm, like they’re made to reflect you. when you tell stories, he watches your mouth more than he should, totally entranced, smiling a little when you get excited and trip over your words. when you cry, he doesn’t rush to fix it. he just holds your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and listens. not because he’s waiting to respond, because he wants to understand. because whatever hurts you, he wants to carry some of it too.

☆ he mouths “i love you” when he’s too far to say it — from the field during a match, where his hair’s a mess and his cheeks are flushed and he finds you in the crowd like it’s second nature. across the great hall, when he’s seated too far to reach you but can’t stop looking anyway. through the library shelves, when you catch each other in passing and he just stops, smiles, and mouths it, soft and sure, like it’s a secret just for you. it’s quiet. subtle. not meant for anyone else. but he says it like a promise, every single time. and you always say it back, even if it’s just in your smile.

★ he tucks your hair behind your ear when you're nervous — gently, like he's grounding you with the smallest touch. he knows you get anxious sometimes, knows the signs without needing to be told: the way your fingers fidget, your breathing shifts, how you stare a little too hard at nothing. so he leans in close and murmurs, “you’re okay. you’ve got this. i’ve got you.” his voice is soft, steady, certain. like a lifeline. even if you don’t believe it yet, he always does. and he’ll keep saying it until you do.

☆ he still gets flustered when you call him handsome — every single time. you’ll say it offhandedly, in the hallway, at breakfast, when he’s stretching before a match, and without fail, he ducks his head with a shy little smile, ears going pink. “you’re just saying that,” he’ll mumble, but he can’t quite stop the way his mouth curves or how he reaches for your hand after. sometimes he tries to play it cool, but he always ends up grinning like you’ve made his whole day. and the truth is, you have.

★ he gets visibly sulky when you’re upset — he wears your emotions like weather. if someone’s rude to you, if your insecurities start creeping in, if you just look a little too quiet for too long… he notices. he goes broody and still, tight-jawed, barely blinking as he mutters, “who do I have to kill?” and even if you laugh, he means it just enough to make your heart flutter and your anger soften. later, when things calm down, he pulls you in without a word, tucks you against him like he can shield you from the world. “you shouldn’t ever have to feel like this,” he murmurs into your hair. and you believe him, because somehow, with him, it feels true.

☆ he touches you absentmindedly when he’s studying — parchment spread out, ink smudged on his fingers, brow furrowed in focus. but even then, his body finds yours. his thumb draws slow circles on your thigh. your pinkies are hooked beneath the table like a quiet promise. his foot nudges yours every so often, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t drifted too far. he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it half the time, but you do. and it always makes your chest feel full. like even when he’s buried in notes and diagrams, you’re still the grounding point. always his center of gravity.