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sturnskiss · 11 days

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pretty voice ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: you’re a singer and your tour has made its way to boston where your boyfriend and his brothers attend your show. matt is sure to let you know how well you did after the show

warnings: smut duhhhh, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap his willy!!), p in v, throat fucking, dumbification, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, swearing, creampie, use of “y/n”, probably more that i can’t think of! :)

authors note: fair warning, this is my first time publishing smut, so don’t have insanely high expectations! i’ve written it before but never shared so keep that in mind. however, i can assure you this isn’t completely horrible and i did my best to make it seem realistic but hot at the same time :) hope ya like it!

you had been counting down the days until your sold out world tour made its way to boston, massachusetts. your boyfriend, matt, and his brothers were set to attend the show which made you feel slightly uneasy.

the triplets have never seen you perform live, which is what makes this show so special. you wanted matt to know you were good at what you do. so, you paced around your dressing room doing vocal warmups and eating tablespoons of honey to help your throat.

a stage worker knocked on your door twice before coming in and attaching your mic pack to the back of your dress. tonight, you wore a black strapless mini dress from versace that had hearts of many colors scattered across. you paired this with knee high black boots, which your friends referred to as your “stripper shoes”. you fixed your hair, spraying some dry shampoo on your roots and mentally said a prayer before walking out of the dressing room.

you received your cue to enter the stage, walking up 4 steps before you were greeted with hundreds of screaming teenage girls. you forgot about needing to impress matt.

that was, until, you locked eyes with him. he was standing on the second floor of the venue, the balcony, resting against the railing. watching you so intently, mouthing the lyrics to your songs. nick was singing along to all the songs he knew, while chris just knew the popular songs. but matt knew almost all of your songs. he was your biggest fan. and you were his. most times, you would be spotted attending the triplet’s shows when your schedules aligned. you’d stand backstage, just barely out of the crowds sight. all decked out in blue attire to support your boy, and even the things the rest of the world couldn’t see were blue, too. but matt got to see them after the show. your blue bra and matching blue panties; it drove matt crazy how he got to see you like that after the show, especially if he was the one winning that night.

the show came to an end and you said your goodbyes to the boston crowd, exiting the stage. you walked into a lounge area where the triplets were, along with members of your team. you were swarmed with the usual compliments: “you sounded so good” or “you look great” and you were grateful for them, but tonight they didn’t matter. the only person who’s input you cared about was matt.

he approached you, draping his arms around your neck and you wrapped yours around his waist. he whispered in your ear, “you did so good. ‘m so proud of you.”

you blushed at this, pulling away from the hug. “thanks,” you gushed.

since your next show wasn’t until saturday, you had two days to kill here in boston. you were going to stay with the triplets until you had to get back on your tour bus and depart from matt, so you had to make it count.

matt drove you all home, you took chris’ place in the passenger seat, still in your performance outfit. the drive home was filled with conversation about the concert; what their favorite part was, what songs they liked, etc. and while you were a decently known singer, you never felt famous. until now. matt made you feel famous, like you are on top of the world. you have everything you’ve ever wanted; friends that support you, a successful singing career, and a hot boyfriend. what more could a girl ask for?

you walked through the door barefoot, matt holding your unusually heavy boots. he sets them on the floor by the door as you make a run for the couch, laying down and sighing. while it may be just a simple couch, it feels pretty damn good after wearing “stripper shoes” and prancing around on a stage for an hour and a half.

nick and chris go to their own rooms, knowing you and matt need alone time after not seeing each other for a couple weeks. matt joins you on the couch, he lifts your head up and places it on his lap. his legs were your pillow and the only thing missing was a blanket, still in your tiny dress.

“you cold?” he asks, almost as if he can your mind.

you smile, “how’d you know?”

he reaches to his side and grabs a big blue blanket and tosses it over you, it’s big enough that it covers your whole body.

matt lightly strokes your hair as you lay there in the comfortable silence.

the way your head rests is so close to his dick and he can’t help it if it slowly is getting harder, which it is. you tease him, nuzzling your head deeper into his lap, a.k.a. his dick, which causes him to speak up.

“the fuck are you doing?” he laughs.

you play it off, “just getting comfy!”

“yeah, comfy my ass.” he rolls his eyes playfully.

you press a small kiss to his clothed bulge, he’s wearing baggy jeans and his dick still stands out. he sighs, not complaining.

“you gonna do this right here? in the living room?” he questions.

“mhm..” you hummed. he helped you unbutton his jeans, his black calvin kleins peaking out through the zipper of his jeans. he pulled his boxers down, revealing his dick. he was packing a very pleasant 8 inches that wasn’t too shabby in girth either.

you licked the tip first, then you licked from shaft to tip. matt closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. he placed his hands on the back of your head, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“voice sounded so good tonight, y/n,” he breathed. “bet it would still sound good if i fucked your throat.”

he pushes your head down all the way to his pelvis, feeling you gag against his cock. he thrusts into your mouth, the wet sounds like music to his ears.

as he fucked your throat, you felt tears forming in your eyes. you hollowed out your cheeks and looked up at him with doe eyes, laying on your stomach on the couch. you admired the way his eyes fluttered shut everytime he hit the back of your throat, how he’d let out small breathy moans.

“fuck,” he whispers, pulling away. he pulls his boxers down farther so his thighs are exposed. you climb on top of hip and he rolls your tight dress up to your waist, pulling your panties to the side.

“easy access, huh?” he remarks.

you whine, “put it in already…”

his dick enters you and he wastes no time slamming you down on it, his hands firmly gripping your hips. “want it so bad, yeah? you want it so bad?” he taunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down fast.

you are shocked with the speed he did that, not able to form a full sentence. “i- uhm- mhm,” you mumble.

“use that pretty voice of yours, y/n. such a pretty voice… let me hear it,” he rasped.

you bounced on his dick, the couch shaking. “mmmmm, i love your dick so much,” you moaned.

matt smirked, “there’s that pretty voice. so, so pretty.” he continued helping you bounce on his dick, his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

he pulled the top of your dress down, revealing your bra-less tits. now your dress was basically like a belt, just covering your waist. your boobs bounced perfectly in front of his face, he was mesmerized.

you brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it and pulling it when he’d hit your g-spot.

you let out a moan that was almost melodic, matt moaning after. “love hearing you moan on my dick.” he spoke. he gripped your hips tighter, slamming you down harder onto his dick every time.

“i’m gonna- oh god!” you whined.

“do it.” matt instructed. “cum for me.”

you nodded, babbling incoherently as you came undone on top of him. his right hand left your hip and found it’s way to your clit, rubbing you through the orgasm.

“fucked ya dumb, huh? damn,” he said.

you hummed in response, and once your orgasm passed you started bouncing again, desperate for more.

matt turned you around and pushed you onto the couch, in missionary now. now he can pound into you way easier, which is what you’re trying to ask for but you’re unable to speak.

“i— oh—“ you try.

matt smirks, “words, baby.”

this fucker, you thought. there are no thoughts inside your head other than how good his dick feels inside you, there’s no way you can speak.

“oh god… so, umph,” you sobbed as he thrusted into you with an insane amount of force. “so good,”

his thumb found its way to your clit again, rubbing it fast. your eyes rolled back as another orgasm approaches you.

“uhhh- uh—“ you babble. your brain is mush at this point, you don’t notice the bulge in your stomach. but matt does, as his hand leaves your clit and presses on the bulge his dick makes in your tummy with every thrust.

“look at that,” he says proudly. you squirm beneath him, cumming yet for the second time.

his thrusts don’t slow down, and neither do the tears running down your pink cheeks.

“can i cum inside you?” he asks as if you can even answer him. you let out a bunch of moans in response.

you let out a bunch of moans, “i’m gonna take that as a yes.” matt groans before thrusting into you once more. you lay on the couch with your dress still pulled over your pussy and your breasts pulled out.

matt stands up and pulls his boxers and pants up. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he picks you up and carries you to his room. he lays you down in his bed, his silk bedsheets feeling good on your overheated skin.

you’re exhausted, you feel like you melt into his bed. you’re on the verge of sleep but you’re startled when you hear either chris or nick’s bedroom door open.

you lift your head up, and matt opens the door to see what is going on. matt laughs and closes the door.

“what’s he doing?” you ask sleepily.

“nicks wiping the couch down,” matt giggles.

you hear nick through the walls, “i’m gonna fucking cry. never do that shit again.” he whines.

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #how tf do i even tag this

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djarincore · 4 months

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i picture you when you are all alone

TAGS: smut, just a man thinkin' about his lovely girlfriend, unedited I'm tired, minors I'm begging you DNI, WC: 595

A/N: thank you to sleep token for fueling me. I think about this line and song too much <333

PART 2

To say Simon thought about you often when he was away would be an understatement—he thought of you always.

He thought of the sweet, sweet girl—his girl—who was waiting for him to come home. Who would take him in with open arms. The girl who loved him so deeply, despite how fucked up and flawed he was.

And when he closed his eyes at night—in a tiny bunk, bruised and battered, thousands of miles away from home—he thought of you, bare and splayed out on your shared bed. So perfect and all his.

You'd be needy, desperate. It's been too many nights alone, without his cock filling you properly. Your fingers would dance over the hem of your panties, thighs rubbing together as you debated on whether or not to touch yourself. It wouldn't be the same, of course. Nothing would satisfy you the way Simon could.

You'd pull your lower lip between your teeth and glance to his side of the bed. It's cold and empty; his scent still lingers on the pillow. You'd take the pillow in your arms and inhale deeply, gripping the cool fabric, pretending it was his shirt. You'd pretend the soft cushion was hard muscle beneath your fingertips.

One hand would slip into your panties. When your finger brushes against your clit, you whimper. It really was too long since you last felt him. You miss his calloused hands, roughly tracing your figure.

If he were there, he'd start at your neck, smirking at the way you swallow when his thumb traces your throat. Then, he'd path his way down your breast, playing with your nipples until you were whining for something more. He'd move on soon, following the curves of your body, until finally ending on your cunt.

Your fingers would work pathetically, trying to replicate his movements, but even they aren't enough. You would try slipping one finger into your dripping pussy, then two, pushing your fingers slowly and working towards a climax.

Two of your fingers don't work, though. They're not as thick or long as his. They don't reach in you the same way. Your fingers can't press that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl and back arch.

Your fingers grip his pillow in frustration and your legs spread wider. Another, you think. And a third finger forces its way into your tight cunt. Still, nowhere near what he could do for you.

You'd stay like that—riding your own fingers, wishing it were him—until you met the crest of your pleasure. Your mouth would drop open as your breath picked up. Your cunt would pulse around your fingers, greedily trying to suck them back in. And you'd come with his name on your lips.

He thought of you in bed, panting. The rise and fall of your chest. Your fingers, covered in your release, slip from your panties.

He let out a breath. God, he wanted to taste you. He wished it was him in that bed with you—his fingers, his cock, all bringing you over the edge over and over again.

When his burner phone began to ring in his pocket, a knowing smirk crossed his face. When he dug the phone out and answered, without having to look at the caller ID, it was you on the other end.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, almost breathless. It was early where you were.

“Yes, love?”

He could hear you shift and wet your lips. “I had a dream about you…”

“Really?” He chuckled, “Because I was just thinkin’ about you too.”

#ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #ghost imagine #ghost scenario #simon riley x you

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shujohajohaminnie · 2 months

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Be louder for me

Genre: Smut

Content: 18+ Minors dni

Word Count: 1714

Summary: During a late night at the studio, things get heated, will the rest of the members find out.

A/N: I read through it but there could be a couple of things I missed

Afab!reader, Profanity, Pet names, Raw Sex, Public sex, Cunnilingus

It was late, you were starting to doze off. You were hoping that Chan meant it when he said five minutes. He had already told both Han and Changbin to go back to the dorm, it was extremely late. Even for them. “Channie how much longer” You whined failing to hold your head in your hands. He had practiced his part of the song so many times you couldn’t keep track. “Alright… I’m ready to record now” he nodded with a smile. “How long is that gonna take” You groaned pushing the red button to connect you to the sound booth. “About ten minutes… then we can go home” “Promise?” “No” “Ugh” You placed your head on the table trying to gather the strength. “Okay to record press the green button on the board”.You lifted your head looking at the board in front of you. What Chris failed to mention was just how many green buttons there were on this board. “This one?” “No the one on the top” “This one?” “To the left” “This one?” “Okay down one” “This one?” “Yup that's the one baby” He smiled sending you a thumbs up. How could you stay mad at him, he was just so cute.

“Cut” You pressed the blue button to stop the recording. “Scrap it” he waved off, running his hands over his face. You turned to the computer, taking the clip he just recorded and deleting it. He was frustrated, and rightfully so, this just wasn’t working the way he wanted it to. It was nothing you were doing, but him. He couldn’t hit the note like he thought he could. He was coming in too late and cutting off too early. “Honey you’re tired we should get you to bed” You yawned taking a sip of the energy drink you were sharing with Chan. It wasn’t doing its job, because with every sip you were feeling more and more tired. “I know” he groaned throwing his head back” “Let me try one more time” He groaned rubbing his face awake. You pressed the record button then pressed the voice button. “You want more monster?” “Yeah let me see if it’ll work” You nodded, grabbing the can and walking over to the booth. You opened the door and handed it to Chan. He reached, but not for the beverage. He took your wrist pulling you closer. Planting a kiss on your lips. “Chris” You gasped, you almost dropped the drink. The last time someone spilled anything in the booth you didn’t hear the end of it from-. “Let's put this down… before we get yelled at by Seungmin again” He whispered, taking the can from your hand and placing it on the side table that was in the booth. He turned back to you, placing a hand on your waist and pushing you against the wall. His plush lips placing butterfly kisses on your jawline, and down to your neck.

“Chris… what if someone hears us” “It’s soundproof baby… we could be as loud as we want” He smirked kneeling in front of you. Maybe it was the tiredness talking but you really wanted to test that theory. “What if someone see’s us” “Its four in the morning honey… who in their right minds is going to be here at this time” He was right. You really couldn’t be as loud as you wanted to in your daily lives. No with the boys constantly at the dorm, and your elderly neighbors complaining about everything you did back in your apartment. He pulled both your sweatpants and underwear down slowly. Taking them completely off and helping your leg onto his shoulder. Oh were you excited for him to hear just how good he made you feel. He kissed up your thigh closer and closer to you sopping pussy. How could you not be horny. Producer Chan was your weakness. You loved the way he spoke when he was in producer mode. So professional, so concentrated, so hot. He placed a single kiss on your clit before he began to suck and swirl his tongue around it.

“Oh my-” You moaned, grabbing his hair. Hearing your filthy moans turning him on quicker than anything. He’s been wanting to hear you so badly lately, already getting a little taste after one evening that he got the dorm for himself. He wanted more, he needed more. "That noise...keep making it." He encouraged bringing his fingers to your entrance not wasting any time to sink them into you. “Oh fuck” You moaned loudly throwing your head back against the soundproof wall. “Fuck CHRIS”. You only ever called him Chris on two separate occasions one, when you were angry with him or wanted him to understand how serious you were about a situation. Two, when you both were having sex and he was making you feel really good. You call him Chan and Channie, all day it wasn’t anything special anymore. Someone could say it could be confusing for him when you do it, but it wasn’t because it was all in the way you said it. One way you would say it in a stern serious voice in the other- “Chris” You moaned loudly tightening around his fingers as you felt that all so familiar feeling in your lower stomach.

“You gonna cum baby? You want to cum on daddy’s face?” He groaned roughly on your pussy, you bit you lip and nodded, he couldn’t see you. Not with his head buried into your heat, oh but he knew you. “Use your words my pretty girl” “Yes” You moaned out loudly tugging on his hair to keep him there in between you legs, but really he had no intention of moving. “Yes what… you wanna cum on daddy’s face and fingers” “Yes yes” You whined nodding you head. “Then cum for me… cum for me baby” He says, speeding up the rate in which his fingers dove in and out of your pussy, his tongue swirling around and sucking on your clit faster as well. You moaned loudly arching your back off the wall. Not a second later your were cumming on his fingers and face. “FUCK CHRIS” You scream feeling your legs shake subtly, threatening to give in right undereath you. Chris toke note of this and stood up quickly pulling down his pants and boxers. He pulled you closer and grabbed you by your hips picking you up.

You wrapped your legs around him and kissed his plump lips. “So wet for me baby” He whispered against your lips causing chills to run down your spine. You gasped feeling the tip of his hard cock rub against your clit and entrance. “You ready for me baby?” He whispered against your lips looking into your eyes hungrily. You bit your lip and nodded. “Yes” You whispered looking down. “Good girl” He smirked pushing into you, your mouth dropped open and you threw your head back giving him the opportunity to kiss your neck, and he took it. Placing messy kisses on your neck as you stretched around him. He held you still knowing you needed some time to adjust to him. You always did. You bite your lip out of habit. He shook his head looking at you. “No baby, don’t bite your pretty lips, I want to hear you, wanna hear how good I’m making you feel”

“Chris” You breathe out moving your hips against him. He knew you were ready, so he pulled out slowly and slid back in. “Fuckkkkkkk” He groans his eyes rolling back in pleasure. “You feel so good around me baby. So tight baby”.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. “Fuck Chris feels so good… s-so big” You cry out kissing his neck sucking his soft supple skin. “Marking me baby… want everyone know i’m yours” Chan grunts picking up the pace slamming into you. “Yes” “Yes what baby” “Yes… youre mine” “I’m yours baby… and your mine… my pretty girl” He whispers his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you faster and harder, surely leaving marks to remind you of your sinful actions tomorrow.

“Ah oh my God CHRIS” You scream tightening around his cock. He groans leaning his head back. “Fuck princess you gonna cum… you gonna cum for daddy” “Yes” “Cum baby… cum around daddy’s fat cock” “Chris FUCK!”

Han sighed a smile on his face, for the first time in a while he slept really well, and all thanks to Chan releasing him early. As soon as he got back to the dorm he skipped his nighttime routine immediately laying in bed. The second his head hit the pillow he knocked out. He was definitely well-rested. Changbin walked in behind him with two coffees in hand. It was just going to be them too for now. Chan asked them to come in an hour before so they could go over the vocals and see if there was anything that needed adjusting. “Bin look at this” Jisung laughed seeing the length of the audio recorded last night. “He always does that… he always forgets to cut it off” Changbin laughed sitting down next to him. “Let's get just his part and cut the rest yeah?” Han nodded pushing the play button” “Ahh oh my God CHRIS” They both turned to look at each other in shock, it couldn’t be. Oh but it was, an audio recording of the two of you having sex. Having sex in the booth everyone had to use. “Gross” Changbin immediately paused it

“Dude” Han sighed running his hand over his face. “I know were gonna have to move studios again” “Not that… he didn’t record his part… he’s not coming in till later, we’re going to be behind” “That's what your worried about” “Yes… I don’t want to stay late… I value my sleep thank you very much”

#skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz x you #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz fake texts #stray kids texts #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader

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norrizzandpia · 5 months

Note

this is about oscar? part 3 but its freak by doja cat 🙏🏻

I fear y/n has released an entire album this time lol @golden-flora

The Album (OP81)

Summary: She’s done singles, one song at a time about her and Oscar’s sex life, but, now, she’s ready for a whole album.

Warnings: dirtiest one of the series, sexual discussions, Oscar being cocky

Note: THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI SERIES IS HERE EVERYONE!!!! Hope you like it, i added some new things. First, as you know, y/n releases an album here, but, also, at the end, instead of smau, it’s just a regular story abt them on a podcast 🤭

y/nnn Oscar, the album, out tonight with a track list of Freak, Agora Hills, Dick, and Pussy Poppin 🤭

Comments:

Mclarensgirly SHE NAMED THE WHOLE THING OSCAR IM FUCKING CRYING

F1fan2023 using a photo McLaren took is cray

- y/nnn say it with me everyone: he looks hot!

- Mclarensgirly he looks hot!

- ln4andop81 he looks hot!

- f1fan81 he looks hot!

landonorris plz. plz don’t release it. I’ve never felt terror like this in my entire life after seeing that track list

- y/nnn don’t you put your life on the line every weekend to drive a car?

- landonorris yes.

oscarpiastri anyone want to come to the listening party?

- Danielricciardo no.

- landonorris absolutely fucking not

- logansargeant YOU THINK IM GOING TO BE LISTENING TO THESE???

- y/nnn y’all are some fake ass bitches

oscarpiastri haha have fun everyone!!!

- ln4andop81 mans is enjoying himself

- oscarpiastri more than enjoying myself

- landonorris like I’ll literally kill you

—

TWITTER

Mclarensgirly i would just like to say that this is the man all those songs are about

- ln4andop81 i mean she did say “tied him down to my queen bed” in freak so that pic does fit the sub allegations

- f1fan2023 she also said “love it when he hit and smack too” in agora hills

- Mclarensgirly also said “hold me down, when a hole need dick”

- f1fan81 also said “he want a quickie, let him lick me, then I started gasping. The way his tongue be going crazy, you wouldn’t imagine. I let him stick me, hair got frizzy, I might let him crash it”

- Mclarensgirly also said “He put that woo all down my throat until i started coughing.”

- ln4andop81 OKAY OKAY I GET IT 😭

- ln4andop81 but also like… lets talk abt it

- Mclarensgirly IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

- f1fan2023 “he like it when i bend it over and i arch my back. He tap me on my shoulders, i said ‘yeah, i like that’” YOURE KIDDING.

- ln4andop81 i envision that in my head at night

- Mclarensgirly oh?

- ln4andop81 moving on! “Pull the panties to the side, watch a movie and make it two. We just finished number one, but I’m ready for round two” YUM.MY.

- F1fan81 sometimes i wonder if I’m jealous of Oscar or jealous of y/n

- Mclarensgirly real.

- ln4andop81 we also need to talk about Dick bc she literally goes “i met the boy in the 6, but measurements wasn’t a six” UHHHHHHH

- f1fan2023 it baffles me that he’s packing that seriously

- ln4andop81 nothing baffles me when it comes to that boy now that y/n sang “When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up” BRUHHHH THATS FUCKING HOT AS SHIT

- Mclarensgirly “Skirt up, fuck in the backseat. Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me. Got me like ‘yeehow’, ride it like a horsey. Kinda like seesaw, up and down on the D, give it to him” McLaren’s kicking and crying rn bc they know they cant take their car back from Oscar after y/n confirmed they christened it

- f1fan2023 okay okay but can we talk about “suck a little dick in the bathroom” in agora hills (slay song btw i ate that shit up)

- ln4andop81 YEAH BC IM GOING TO NEED SOME MORE INFO THAN THAT. WHEN. WHERE. WHAT.

- F1fan81 i bet your ass it was in the mtc

- ln4andop81 or in the Australian Grand Prix paddock remember when no one could find him after the face was over and all he said he was with y/n? SHE HAD TO HAVE BEEN GIVING HIM CELEBRATORY HEAD

- Mclarensgirly honestly? They prob did it in both

- oscarpiastri mhm

—

Oscar and Y/n sat next to each other on the soft sofa of the studio. They giggled with the podcast host as she said their introduction.

“Breaking the internet right now with their sex life, Oscar Piastri and Y/n Y/l/n! Hi, guys, welcome.” Samantha, the host, spoke to them.

Y/n and Oscar mumbled pleasantries, their legs squished together even with all the space to Y/n’s left. The woman was quick to getting into the topic of conversation, having already discussed boundaries with the couple before the cameras started rolling.

“So, Y/n, you’ve just released a small album that focuses mostly on Oscar and the things you two get up to in the bedroom. Were you ever nervous to share these songs with the world?”

Y/n nodded, “At first, yeah, all the way back when we started with 34+35, but it got easier once I saw the overwhelming support for it. I think the best part about releasing them is seeing the jokes that the fans make about Oscar and that side of him.”

Samantha smiled, “That leads me to my next question, Oscar, were you ever nervous to have people know about that side of you? Seeing as it was such a shocker.”

He laughed as he adjusted his position, throwing an arm around his girlfriend, “Um, well, I didn’t think it was that shocking. We didn’t expect people to go haywire over hearing that I lean more towards the dominant side. We kind of assumed people inferred that.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped, “Really?! Oh! I’ll be honest, I was quite surprised when I heard it.”

Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know, I guess the way Oscar is in front of cameras is drastically different from how he actually is. He’s still very soft spoken and quiet, but a bit more outgoing.”

Samantha nodded as she glanced over her next question, “Oscar, what’s your favorite song off this album?”

“Oh, I am so ready for this. Agora Hills.” He answered immediately, smiling proudly at the others in the room.

Y/n turned to look at him, “Really?! Why?!”

His head leaned from side to side, “Just, it’s more romantic? I mean, you talk about tying the knot alongside the sex stuff.”

Y/n and Samantha laugh at his comment, Samantha agreeing, “No, I see what you’re saying. Y/n, you do say you want to show him off multiple times throughout the song.”

“Because I do!” She exclaimed, leaning into her boyfriend lovingly.

He kissed her temple, listening intently to Samantha.

“Your interactions with the fans are hilarious. Do you guys look forward to fucking with them?”

“Hell yeah!” Oscar exclaimed, “Once I caught wind of the fact that they didn’t think I did shit in the bedroom, I became very obnoxious when rubbing what happens between Y/n and I in their faces.”

Y/n cooed jokingly, “Aw, Osc, was your masculinity damaged?”

He rolled his eyes at her, laughing at her dig and pushing her away softly. They came back together, though.

“Before we move on from this subject, I want to ask Y/n, was the over six inches comment really true?” Samantha eyed her as Y/n glanced beside her at Oscar, silently asking him if she could do what he knew she wanted to do.

He nodded at her, shaking his head lightly as she said, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

Silence passed as she raised her hands and aimed them around nine inches apart. Winking suggestively at the camera, the women in the room gasped.

“IS THAT NINE INCHES?!” Samantha screamed, causing all of them to fall into a fit of giggles.

Y/n brought the microphone to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, yeah, it is.”

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris #oscar piasstri #oscar pia #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #daniel ricciardo #logan sargeant

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azullumi · 18 days

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“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.”

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

#honkai aventurine #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai fluff #honkai imagines #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr #azul.writes

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undiscovered-horizon · 6 months

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Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you.

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.

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jihyoruri · 25 days

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CHANEL GIRLFRIENDS kim minji x fem!reader

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ yn of lesserafim and minji of new jeans, both are ambassadors of the worldwide known luxury brand chanel, they’re also known as the chanel girlfriends.

a series of short oneshots and compilations that convinced the world that the “chanel girlfriends” are definitely not just two girls who are friends.

PARING — kim minji x lsrfm!reader

minji pulling a reverse card on yn for five minutes 987k views

previous. masterlist. next

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ clip one

"I honestly don't know why filming tiktoks is taken so seriously," yn remarked to the camera as she strolled through the bustling halls of hybe. "filming behind-the-scenes for it seems a bit dramatic, don't you think?" she chuckled, her playful demeanor momentarily halted when her manager shot her a scolding glare

"I think you guys will be happy with who I'm doing this trend with," yn continued, her tone laced with mischief. "on weverse, I mentioned seeing natty and julie from kiss of life do this, and I wanted to try it too, but not with my boring members," she teased, fully aware that her bandmates would likely come for her for the comment later. "so, I asked who you wanted me to do this with, and I'm fulfilling your wishes."

as yn continued her walk, the oldest member of new jeans came into view, waiting for her with a warm smile. yn reciprocated the smile as she introduced minji to the camera, the latter waving in acknowledgment.

“minji will be doing this with me.” yn smiles as the girl waved at the camera.

"this might take a while since I fluster minji a lot," yn remarked to the camera, earning a playful scowl from minji. "anything I do, she will mess up."

“what are you even talking about.” she says yn’s pushing yn’s shoulder lightly, rolling her eyes when yn dramatically throws herself back, “that’s not true.”

after bickering, the girls set up the phone before filming, the audio of the song played and they start, minji points her fingers towards yn keeping her gaze on the girl waiting for her to dance but all yn does is turn away.

“don’t look at me!” she says covering her face and walking away only to be pulled back by minji, “why were you looking so intensely?!”

"I have to look at you, I need to face you, that's part of the trend," minji explained, trying to coax yn’s hands away from her face, chuckling at yn’s visible fluster as she backed away.

"I need to go on a walk," yn declared, feeling overwhelmed by the situation as she dramatically tried to exit.

“what?! no come on let’s do this.”

it took them five times to get in right all thanks to yn, but hey it was worth it in the end the fans loved the video.

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ clip two

yn, completely immersed in the music and the interaction with her fans, spun around in her chair with enthusiasm, belting out the lyrics, the room echoed with her joyous singing as she twirled, lost in the moment.

unbeknownst to her, the door creaked open, revealing minji's arrival. With a mischievous grin, minji grabbed the arm of yn’s spinning chair, abruptly halting its motion and causing yn to let out an unexpected scream of surprise.

"you scared me!" yn exclaimed, hand pressed against her chest as she shot minji a playful glare, though her heart was still racing from the sudden interruption.

minji chuckled at yn’s reaction, unfazed by the accusation. "all I did was stop your chair," she retorted casually, shrugging off yn’s accusation of sneaking up on her.

"no, you snuck up on me!" yn insisted, turning back to face her live audience, who were now buzzing with excitement at minji's unexpected appearance. "she's so obsessed with me that she couldn't wait until after the live to see me."

a blush crept onto minji's cheeks momentarily before she scoffed in disbelief. "what are you even saying at this point?"

"I'm saying you're obsessed," yn teased, continuing to ramble and poke fun at minji, who tried her best to maintain her composure despite the girl's relentless banter. with a sigh, minji glanced at the comments scrolling by, standing behind yn’s chair and wrapping her arms around yn’s shoulders from behind, resting her chin on yn’s head.

"why'd you stop talking?" minji asked, unable to see yn’s face directly since she was now positioned behind her.see.

"you're being touchy,"yn responded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she tried to regain her focus, flustered by minji's unexpected affectionate gesture.

🎸★ ͘ ⴰ clip three

minji smiled when yn sat beside her waving to the live, “I came to visit!” yn exclaims.

“it’s been a while since yn has been with me on live right?” minji says while the fans on live comment about how long they’ve been waiting for yn and minji to do a live again.

“you guys better be grateful I’m here.” yn says pointing at the live, “chaewon unnie almost didn’t let me go because it’s our day off.” in reality that wasn’t the reason chaewon almost forced yn home at all, as soon as she heard that yn was going to hang out with a certain new jeans member she flipped, especially after last time.

minji sent yn and alarmed look before reading the comments, “yn tell us about meeting jennie in paris.”

yn’s face lit up and she immediately got into the details of meeting the blackpink member and like always once you get yn to talk about something it’s hard to stop her.

minji, fully engrossed in yn’s storytelling, suddenly noticed how the girl was slightly not in the frame. without missing a beat, she smoothly adjusted, tugging YN's chair closer with a casual, nonchalant gesture, ensuring the girl was perfectly within the frame.

yn paused for a second, obviously feeling slightly flustered by the action.

"what?" minji inquired innocently, her gaze fixed on yn, unwavering and intense.

all yn did was shake her head and get back into her story, while yn was talking to the live, it was like she could feel minji’s gaze on her causing yn to fidget uncomfortably in her seat. finally, unable to ignore the scrutiny, yn turned to meet minji's gaze, only to find the other girl still staring back with slight intensity.

the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, yn quickly averted her gaze, focusing once again on the live broadcast. "stop that!" she blurted out, hoping to distract herself from the overwhelming feeling of minji’s stare.

#new jeans x reader #kim minji x reader #kim minji #minji x reader #minji #minji new jeans #lesserafim #girl group imagines #new jeans #new jeans imagines

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patrophthia · 8 months

Note

hi babes!!!, I saw your 1K follower event!! ( CONGRATS BTW!!! ), and I was wondering if I could get a fic based off of promise or bewitched by laufey for Theodore nott!!, I don’t really care which song you pick I literally love them both sooooo much!!, I was also wondering if you could make reader like a sunshine personality!, you don’t have too dew about it!!, only do it if you wanna!! <33, anyways that’s it please and thank you!, once again congratulations!!!!🫶🏻🤍,

( made this pink so it matches your theme! )

thank you sweetheart!!! for making it pink and everything and yes i love writing sunshine!readers and love love laufey,,, i went with bewitched bc promise makes me bawl my eyes out but here it is!!

you’ve bewitched me | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff, new relationships!!, domestic fluff, it’s so sweet your teeth will rot, reader is mentioned to be shorter than theo

part of my 1k celebration event !

Theodore Nott is well aware of magic and Wizardry alike, he knows of charms and potions like the back of his hand. He knows the effect it might have on a person, how long it can last, and how it tastes —trust him on this, he’s had people slip love potions in his pumpkin juice countless of times before (he tried reaching out to the Professors for assistance but Snape only ended up putting students who looked at Theodore too weirdly into detention, didn’t really work though, seeing as he got slipped another potion a week later).

But, since he knows it oh so well then why was he having the hardest time trying to come up with why he feels so drawn to you? Why he so incredibly desires you? And why does he miss you so much even when you’re still here, next to him, as you’re bidding him goodbye?

You’re smiling at him, and it’s soft; it’s so sweet, you’re so sweet to him, it hurts his heart. He doesn’t want to let you go, and neither do you. But it’s getting late, and he knows you have an early class tomorrow —so does he. Your hands are in his; the both of you standing in front of your common room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say lowly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping painting. You’re caring, and Theo loves it. You’re good to the people around you, you’re good to him; and he wonders if you’ve casted a spell on his heart and head to make him think so highly of you. “Breakfast?”

“Mhmm,” he hums first, nodding. “Breakfast,” he repeats after you, his hand not loosening its grip on yours. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“You will,” you murmur. “Oh! And before I forget,” you say, slipping off your (well, technically his) jacket of your shoulders. “Thank you for this.”

You nudge it over to him and Theodore doesn’t make any move to take it. “Keep it,” he says, the position of the jacket is awkward —uncomfortable even, laying between your joint hands as it fell pathetically to the floor. He’s not letting go of you anytime soon, and neither is he accepting his jacket back either. “It looks better on you.”

“But it’s yours,” you tell him and he’s stubborn, still not accepting it, “and if I keep it then it won’t smell like you anymore.”

He tries to think straight, to stand his ground on how the jacket is yours now; but when your reason is so so (what’s the word?) endearing, how could he ever say no to you?

So he finally lets go of your hand, picking the jacket up and tossing it over his shoulder as he hopes that you don’t notice just how badly he’s falling for you, how he’s practically falling apart as he stands before you right then and there.

And when you smile at him, even brighter this time, with you going on your tippy toes as you did so. “Goodnight, Theo,” you say first, then you kissed him, so quick and so chaste that he barely get to savor you before pulling away. And when you tell him: “I promise to dream of you.”

He can’t help but press his lips back onto yours, one, two, three, more times before finally letting you go.

It’s when he watches you leave when he finally understands why he feels so completely drawn to you. You’ve bewitched him; through and through, and he could only hope that your curse will not wear off anytime soon.

— from bee: theodore nott makes me SICK to stomach,,, i want him so bad

#theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fluff #theo nott x reader #🧳: my writing #🍰: 1k with patro!

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forlix · 7 months

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

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atinysuh · 6 months

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ateez and their favorite sex positions + explained

yunho, jongho: reverse cowgirl - ok hear me out, imagine yunho guiding the movements of your ass with his huge hand as you bounce on his dick while you look back over your shoulders to watch his expressions. he thinks its so hot to watch you performing on top of him that you almost can see the sparkles on his eyes. he usually let you ride him like this when he knows you had a long ass day at work or college or both and you need to take the stress out of you, so he offers his dick for you to do whatever you want because he just wanna make you feel good. on the other side… jongho also LOVES this position since he can watch your curves. his favorite body part on you is your thighs and the tattoos on it so every time he has the chance to see them bouncing on his cock he’ll take it. he’ll just relax his head on his hands and bite his lips while enjoying his girl. and you also love his thick thighs so you two are even. phew… he’s so fucking hot.

yeosang, mingi: you on top - yeosang loves leaving love bites on your neck and squeezing your waist while you ride him. out of all the girls he has dated in his life you’re definitely the only one who knows how to ride him RIGHT. because let’s be honest, my man’s got a big dick and you can take 100% of him and that’s one of the numerous reasons he fell in love with you at the first place. you kinda got the sauce. he also loves to feel your sweet vanilla cherry scent, he thinks is very sexy, so be careful because sometimes he can get drunk of you! he just place his face in the crook of your neck as you ride him and closes his eyes and stays there guiding your hips, like yunho, but in this case by the waist. okay and mingi… well, mingi is something else. he completely loves sucking on your nipples when you’re on top of him, hands on your ass spanking every now and then to remind you he’s the only one in the world who can bottom you out like that. he kinda asserts some dominance without even noticing and you can’t help it but call out his name every time you go up and down his dick. also, has a huge size kink.

san: BACKSHOTS - 6 words. on the way by jhené aiko. this song is SO choi san coded, every time i hear that “booty clapping from the backshots while we watch porn on the laptop” verse san’s the first person that comes to my mind. we all know he loves a big thick curvy ass that he can spank whenever he pleases. also “inhale the smoke while you stroke inside it” makes me literally malfunction since my biggest guilty pleasure is san getting high and passing the blunt to you while he breaks your back. if i could dedicate one song to one man it would be on the way to san because oh my god i could spend hours talking about this topic but imma stop before i pass out.

seonghwa: face off - we all know seonghwa’s the romantic type… but also the freak type. he likes it when you two are seated at the end of the bed or on the couch or even on the kitchen chair and have you like this, on top of him, facing him. as i said, when you’re fucking in the kitchen, for example, he usually put his elbow on the table behind him and expect you to ride his dick but sometimes it can get a little bit hard for you to keep a steady pace in this position so he loses his patience and quickly switch positions. you’re now laying on the kitchen counter. we also know he’s a worshipper, so he’ll make you feel so loved in his arms even tho he’s fucking the soul out of you. well, love and affection is something you’ll always receive when it comes to having a relationship with seonghwa whether is fwb, a date, a one night stand or a marriage… but he’ll also fuck you HARD and when i say hard i MEAN IT because we’re talking about a fucking aries here and as an aries myself i know exactly what goes on on his mind when it comes to sex.

hongjoong: missionary - still talking about zodiac signs, for those who don’t know, hongjoong’s a scorpio and girl let me tell you about scorpios… ma’am they are another type of freak, like, they literally invented freak, to me they are sex gods. and even tho this is a common sex position doesn’t mean hongjoong will make it ordinary. he’s very possessive so he wants to make sure that you know you’re HIS and his only and he does that by pinning both of your wrists with one hand while he chokes your neck with the other. sex with him is always pleasurable, he’ll satisfy you 200% of the time, overwhelm you even. but you can’t never get enough of him. also, he likes to hear it when you say that your pussy is his for him to please and your body is his for him to touch and that you belong to him. his moto is saying that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you because he couldn’t stand the thought of somebody else touching your body. i love hongjoong so much.

wooyoung: spoon - OK… i see wooyoung fucking you in a spoon position and it can be any type, with your leg up, down, kissing your neck, grabbing your breasts, chocking you, biting your lobe teasing you, but as long as it is in a spoon position. ooooh he loves the way you bite your bottom lip and do that crying expression with your eyebrows when you tell him to slow down and he just gives you a sassy smirk and says nothing but starts fucking you ROUGHER. you can barely open your eyes to look at his hungry eyes looking back at you because it’s rolling with pleasure. all you can do is whine and not even when he cums he’ll stop, he likes overstimulating you AND him.

#ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop smut #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez san #ateez yunho #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #ateez seonghwa #ateez yeosang #ateez hongjoong #ateez wooyoung #kpop scenarios

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senseichaos · 2 months

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long time listener, first time caller

saw the piss thing and… do you do pissing inside? alastor cockwarming on the radio show, having to let out some tension, not wanting to get up and move to do it… maybe even lucifer on his thrown… just a thought 🫣

this is so good! Thank you for the req!

IMAGINE

(ik I use this gif all the time.. leave me alone)

PISS WARNING ⚠️

Sometimes when Alastor does his radio show, having you nestled on his cock is the best to get out his most confident work. And he loves the way you squirm. He'd always end up having to use his tentacles or some sort of magic restraint to refrain you from moving.

This time around however, he had forgotten to do one of the most important things before sitting you on his cock.

Go to the toilet.

It wasn't a big deal, really. He could probably hold it, and he didn't need to go that badly. However as he was talking about some recent news in hell, an idea popped into his tar black mind.

"And we have some acid rain scheduled for this afternoon! Make sure you get inside, or the cannibals will eat your body after it's rotted in the rain. Or I may eat you myself! I have been hankering for some sinner meat recently.." Alastor says, reciting the last thing on his news list for the broadcast.

"Any how, let's get some music playing shall we?" Alastor says the name and creator of the song before tuning his voice out, turning off his mic so he can organize the next part of his script.

Yet as he moves, he can't help but feel his bladder clench.

"Ngh.. Alastor, how much longer..?" You ask with a pathetic whimper, trying to wiggle your hips. Alastor's tentacles tighten around your thighs as this, ensuring you won't try to shift again.

Chuckling, Alastor smooths your hair back, giving you a dark look that causes goosebumps across your bare skin.

"Hm, well I do have to urinate..." He says, looking off into the distance in a sort of thoughtful way. Your face brightens, thinking he may end his show early and go to the bathroom... Then he'd fuck you silly, just how you like it.

"Really? Well then end the show!" You say, tugging on his coat. Though Alastor captures your wrists, placing them onto his shoulders.

"Now now, that wasn't what I was implying at all, fawn,"

Your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Stay still for me, hm?"

He presses his hands to your hips, pushing them down so your body's are completely connected at his cock. You shriek to yourself, realizing what he's about to do. Now you weren't going to object, no no, in your own way you were more excited than anything.

"Ah!"

Before you know it, with a sadistic gaze Alastor begins releasing his piss into your hole. You cry out, clasping your hands over your mouth as you lean back against the end of his desk. You can feel it all, warm and hot as it fills you to the brim. It tickles you in ways you can hardly imagine, making you see a myriad of twinkling stars as the liquid starts to seep from your full cunt.

And it just keeps coming, his cock twitching inside of you as it releases its last few spurts of urine into you. Alastor's pants are warm and soaked with his piss, but he doesn't make a move to take you off of his cock. Instead he just keeps you there, continuing his radio show whilst pretending that nothing happened at all.

"Alastor," you begin as he puts on another song. He hums in response. "You're all soaked.." You whine, pressing your hands to his soft and slimy tentacles.

He chuckles, pinching your cheek and watching you flinch. "Just how I like it, dirty. Now hush or I won't fornicate this full cunt with my seed, hm?"

You obey without a thought.

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #smut #hazbin smut #alastor smut

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madschiavelique · 9 months

Text

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : miguel didn't like very much the way you left him all horny for you in the toilets during the unexpected mission, so once the anomalies have all been maintained, he decides to teach you proper manners

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, lots of tension, soft!dom miguel, quick boob job, cunnilingus, "it's too big", pnv sex, miguel teaches reader magic words, so much kissing i swear, no use of Y/N, biting, mention of scars (from fights, miguel's) - let me know if i forgot any !! word count : 7,7k

note : i'm sorry i took SO LONG writing this baby, but here it is (and not yet proofread but i couldn't wait hehehe). the end is corny i AM SORRY but it was already long and this is to keep a pretty open. thank u all so much for ur support !! we passed the 400 subscribers today and i'm literally jumping to the ceiling of happiness. this is the last part of the 4shot, i hope you liked it <33 i was super inspired by Shameless by The Weeknd (one of my favourite songs hehehe). enough of me talking, love u guys !!

the previous parts : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf @readingfan @cheezit-luv3rr @scaleniusrm @cowboyharrryy

Miguel hadn't followed you, so you decided to lure the creature back by calling out to it:

"You're really terrible at hide-and-seek, you know that?”

Suddenly, it turned towards you and charged at you as you leapt into the air to keep it at bay, at least long enough for Miguel to finish... what he had to do. The sound of his breathless voice replayed in your head, the heat in your cheeks rising. You propelled yourself silently up to a floor above, observing the behaviour of the dough.

The feel of his fangs on the skin of your neck, his tender kisses on your cheeks, the hard feel of his erection against your thigh as his claws pressed into the skin of it...

"Oh my god you're going to be the end of him!" exclaimed a small voice beside you.

The anomaly turned towards it at the same time as you: Lyla.

"Lyla?" you choked out, swivelling your head just in time to avoid the anomaly that had climbed extraordinarily nimbly to your floor.

"His pulse quickened, his body heat increased and his muscles contracted amazingly hard!" she chirped as you mimed shutting up or lowering her voice, but she wasn't listening and you started darting from floor to floor as she continued "You've got him completely wrapped around your finger! No pun intended."

"Please Lyla, keep it down!" you begged her, feeling like a huge red tomato as you blushed and above all hoping not to be chased away by this abomination.

"Oopsie," she smiled, placing a hand over her mouth.

The anomaly swung a ball of paste at you, and you narrowly avoided it as it crashed and exploded with power, splattering you as it went, a large drop smearing across your suit.

"I didn't know you had access to... all this," you muttered breathlessly as you ran down a corridor to get away from the unspeakable thing. "It doesn't matter... Yes, it does matter actually, how come?"

"Don't be angry, you've just given me what little fun I'm allowed to have," she said with a pout, "you know, programme life isn't always fun."

Out of breath, you let out a sigh that relaxed your shoulders with its depth. You shook your head for a moment.

"Well, we'll talk about it later, can you identify this for me?" you asked breathlessly, silently, as you spooned some of the substance and held it up to a small metal support on your watch, which lit up when you dropped a little on it.

"My pleasure, sugar," she said with a quick clap. "Hmm, that looks like a basic bread dough mixture to me. Flour, water, salt, yeast, not forgetting the anomaly gene, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"It's true that I'm bursting with laughter," you say, putting both hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath. You looked at her for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek, hesitating before asking, "Is Miguel... Done?"

"Yep, he's on his way," she said, giving you an amused wink, and you couldn't help but let a little laugh slip from your nose.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat so the anomaly could hear, "I'm going to lure this thing towards the exit!" You could hear the oily, slimy sounds coming in your direction, turning to Lyla one last time to ask: "Make sure you send Miguel my location, okay?" you said as you started to trot off.

"Already done!" she replied, blowing you a kiss which she pressed onto her hand before disappearing in a cloud of pixels.

You ran on, stammering aloud to keep the beast at your heels: " Come this way! You know, I think you'd really like rock, I've got two friends who play really well, I think you'd love to meet them!"

The pile rumbled behind you. You leapt into the air, grabbing the glass dome and hanging upside down, standing with your arms crossed over your chest.

"No, really, I think you'd like it. Oh well! You've got a head that could listen to metal, plus you've got exactly the right mouth shape to sing it, you know."

It was rumbling from the ground, right underneath you.

Then, just above you, you felt a tap on the thin glass roof, and when you looked up, you saw Miguel. It was a funny sight, the way you were standing made it look like you were reflecting yourselves in a mirror.

"Oh, hi there," you smiled behind your mask, taking on a slight intonation as if you hadn't been the cause of his delay. "Did everything go well?"

He let out a desperate sigh, the red glasses on his suit narrowing, before simply saying:

"Something unexpected came up, it was very... frustrating. But I'll wait."

I'll wait. The very word made you gulp.

"Observations?" he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the anomaly just below you.

"It's dough, we'd just have to find something to bake it with," you suggested.

Outside there was a loud bang: the lorry Gwen and Hobie had been chasing had started to roll over, and the anomaly, just as alert as you and Miguel, leapt towards the first bay window to get out.

Gwen and Hobie seemed to have managed to deal with their anomaly, the truck was completely dented, sideways, and luckily for you, the oil from the truck was starting to spread on the ground. You got out, Miguel following to examine the situation. All it needed was a spark...

"I'll try to coat it with a bit of oil, find a lighter, a box of matches, whatever," he warned, before dashing off towards the pile of dough.

You looked around, and there, as luck would have it, was a convenience store. You leapt towards it. Managing to light a lighter with your costume on would be complicated, so you managed to find a box of matches, rushing towards the street again.

Miguel kept jumping up and down to coat the anomaly, and when he finally saw you coming, he shouted: "Light it up.

So you grabbed a match, struck it against the side of the box and threw it into the oil. You stepped aside and ran further to avoid taking any damage from the fire. It immediately licked at the anomaly, which let out horrible, high-pitched screams as the paste on its body cooked and smoked, turning golden and thinning little by little.

And so, you launched the multidimensional cell that had been given to you, and finally imprisoned the anomaly.

"I think 'the more the merrier' is a phrase I like less and less," said Gwen as you catalogued the anomalies.

"Are you kidding me? This was so much fun," said Peter. "It was like doing MMA!"

"Speak for yourself, we took care of the Magic Bus driver," Hobie huffed.

"I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud of our muffin," you agreed.

"You have to admit it smelled good," confirmed Pavitr.

Everything had gone well, Gwen had finished her exam period and you were all filling in your reports. Everything was going well, and everyone was pretty relaxed, except maybe you.

It was a pretty nasty trick you played on Miguel, leaving him like that, so close to the climax, and then leaving. And somewhere in there, you feared and waited impatiently for what was to come.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. He seemed to be concentrating, but sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, insistent. You found him incredibly calm, and maybe it was just because he hid it well, but just to see him lose a little of that control, you managed to brush past him for a moment when no one was looking, your knuckles deliberately brushing his thigh before joining the others. Pretending to be interested in their conversation, you couldn't help but glance over at Miguel.

Death stare was probably the closest you could come to defining the look he was giving you at that moment, and a shiver of dread ran down your spine as you swallowed. He seemed to chew the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

You weren't going to get out of this alive, or entirely.

"Well, I don't know about you, but the lack of sleep knocked me out, so I'm going to bed, see you later!" said Gwen before leaving.

"Same here, see ya," said Hobie.

And successively, the only ones left were Peter, Miguel and you.

He waited patiently, with you beside him, until Peter had finished his report and, like all the others before him, had gone to sleep. The seconds seemed to stretch out painfully, every movement and possibility accentuated by the wait. Miguel seemed tense, and you had no idea whether Peter could feel it from his side too, but you could feel your skin tingling with anticipation.

Every moment, every second tickled your mind and body like tiny needles, Miguel's gaze resting insistently on yours.

"Well, that's not all, but I think we've all got better things to do than hang around making a report," Peter yawned. "Good night, sleep well."

Oh, it won't be sleep.

He then waved goodbye one last time, turning his back to you as he headed for the exit. Miguel turned to look at you, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back to look at you from an even higher angle.

The footsteps echoed around the room, fading away little by little as Miguel's eyes turned red, yours watching them and stifling a gasp. He took a single step closer, no more, but it was enough to intimidate you and for you to take a step backwards.

It was when the door finally closed behind Peter that he grabbed you powerfully around the waist and pinned you down on one of the desks, causing you to squeal in surprise as you widened your eyes for a moment, blinking frantically. In less time than it took to say 'empanada' Miguel had you completely under control, immobilising you faster than poison and more powerfully than a pair of handcuffs.

His nose wrinkled slightly.

"Did you enjoy your little act?" he asked, his tone extraordinarily calm, which made him all the more menacing. "Leaving me like that without finishing what you'd started?"

Your heart was racing, and suddenly just meeting his gaze seemed too powerful to maintain eye contact, so you turned your head to the side. Was it simply because you were embarrassed by your own little prank, or was it just that the intensity of his eyes on yours was too much? But Miguel wasn't going to have it any other way, so with one of his hands he grabbed your jaw and redirected it so that you were facing him.

"It's very rude not to look into someone's eyes when they're talking to you, you know that," he whispered, moving a little closer. "We're going to have to correct that, and teach you polite forms of address."

And you couldn't argue with that, because right now it wasn't a choice you had to make.

"Speaking of politeness, I realise that you haven't used any magic words so far for our little encounters," he said, his thumb pressing and digging into the skin of your cheek.

He moved a little closer, tilting his head to one side as you felt his nose brush against yours, moving a little closer still to feel his lips brush against yours, the simple touch of them sending little electric currents of excitement through you...

But nothing, he just grazed his lips against yours, not moving any further, but not backing away either. Your breaths collided softly, his eyes still fixed on yours with insistence.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice composed and contained, as you tried to free yourself a little from the hold his hand had on your jaw, to no avail.

His lips, so close to yours and yet so far away, gave you electrifying sensations, but you wanted more. You wanted the two of you to kiss, for your lips to become one again, for you to be able to offer him the body's 'I love you'.

So you tried to move a little closer, meeting his lips to satisfy your desire, no, your need. But he pulled back slightly, causing you to sigh in disappointment. No, you'd have to tell him.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice small but audible, as if you were pouring your desire into his plump lips.

A smile, the stretch of his lips pulling them a little further away from yours.

"Where," the question sounding more like a command.

His thumb eased a little in its pressure and caressed the skin of your cheek for a moment before sliding across your chin, settling just below your bottom lip.

"There," you replied, your desperation for more contact growing stronger by the second as the only thought on your mind was his kisses.

You wanted to taste that rainy, woody flavour on his lips again, and feel them assault your body with kisses.

"Only there?" he questioned, provoking your cravings even more as your impatience was felt almost painfully.

It didn't seem fair, he seemed to possess incredible composure and cold-blood as your veins pulsed through your body like lava flowing from the volcano of your heart.

The little game Miguel was playing with you almost felt like a little revenge. Could you blame him? He wanted all this as much as you did, but he liked balance, he liked things to be even, and he was making you pay for the advance you'd dared to take from him.

His thumb pressed against your plump lip, his skin barely brushing against it, and it felt like a thread sticking out with no way of pulling on it.

"Yes- No!" you moaned, feeling like a child who was denied a sweet treat, unable to hide your longing for more as his touch confused you, "everywhere."

His lips were parted, as close as ever, his warm breath spilling over yours. His thumb had moved up the curve of your lips to press against the volume of her, his eyes fixed on it.

"I didn't hear that properly," he said, his eyes returning to yours.

Their carmine colour reflected your face: eyebrows slanted back, eyes almost watery, his thumb resting on your lips as he continued to caress it mathematically to elicit a reaction from you.

You tried to squirm away for a moment, but Miguel's hand on your waist held you in place with incredible ease.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously your attempt was in vain, he hadn't started hand-to-hand training the day before like you had, he'd been an ace at physical power and combat for much longer, so of course he could immobilise you in less than no time and much less delicately if the mood took him.

His lips brushed yours a little closer, and you could almost feel them completely. But this tiny glimpse of heaven wasn't granted to you, and you whimpered for a moment before finally just saying:

"Kiss me," you whined, "please."

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"Mira que buena."

He finally kissed you, and it was like you had taken cotton candy in your mouth and as it melted you could feel all the little crystals of sugar that were hidden by the fluffiness of the sweet, a moan of relief vibrating from your lips against his lips.

Millions of tiny sparkles crackled under your skin, rising to the surface like champagne bubbles as Miguel cupped your face and kissed you. He took your lips as if you were holding the air that allowed him to breathe, his hand going round your side to slip under your back, pressing against your pelvis to bring it close to his.

He bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, his half-closed eyes looking into yours again. His hand came to caress your cheekbone gently, with a tenderness that was almost unlike anything he had ever offered you before.

"Tell me more about these desires you mentioned.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you suddenly felt your face heat up fiercely, as if you were leaning over the hearth of a fireplace, its fire licking your face and your being from afar. You swallowed, formulating out loud your desires, all those thoughts you'd had about him even after your meeting at the Conditioning Centre and what had happened in the cabin, seemed difficult.

"Come on, don't be scared," he murmured before leaning over to kiss your forehead gently, offering you soft, sweet words to help you get the burning out of your soul.

All those thoughts you'd had, those warm nights during that week when you'd imagined the feel of his fingers, his lips, the sweet words that interested you as he searched inside you to expose you to him emotionally, all of them could be said, especially the one that was vibrating immensely inside you at the moment.

"I want... I want you to..."

You had the impression that the words you were about to say would be like throwing a tiny stone into still water, like stepping on ice and feeling it crack, like throwing alcohol into the fireplace that was warming you up.

The hand that was resting on your cheek ran down your neck, brushing your chest as it slid to your hip and slid all the way down to your thigh, stopping in its descent at that very spot, his hand gripping it.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming vibrating against the skin of your cheek and tickling you.

You bit the inside of your lip, your teeth pressing into your flesh and trapping some of the wet skin against your bottom teeth. You released this clutch with a gasp as your voice dropped to a whisper when you whispered :

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, an eyebrow raised, his proud grin stretching across his cheek as his lip parted wide enough to reveal his fangs. He came to kiss your cheek, his soft lips caressing it as his lashes offered you butterfly kisses.

His grip on your thigh softened, his thumb making circular movements against your covered skin as a warm cloud began to form in your lower belly.

"Say that again," he said, his breath landing on your neck as his thumb began to move slightly up your inner thigh.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the simple sensation of his fingers on your body caressed you sublimely, a sigh of ease slipping from your lips. Miguel then took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your jaw, laying a trail of kisses that mixed sweetness and hunger, kissing and biting your skin. He lowered his lips a little further down your neck and kissed you lazily, the coolness of his lips meeting the fire burning at the back of your head. His lips reached a sensitive corner, causing you to let out a moan.

You moistened your lips, your cheeks burning as Miguel's fingers traced the sensitive skin of your thigh and his other hand rested on the small of your back, close to the cloud of heat.

And he expected you, with all these delicious distractions, to be able to string a sentence together properly and clearly. So you tried to speak louder, swallowing before saying:

"I want you to fuck me."

His lips came away from your neck, just brushing your ear before coming back to face you. The red of his eyes was deep, hungry, but above all attentive to your every move, which made him even more intimidating. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel them moving close to your skin as he spoke.

"There must be something with my hear because I can't hear properly what you said," he said, his tone a little less contained than he had managed to convey before, less composed, "say it louder."

His fingers continued their trajectory, very close to you, to where your desires came from, the knot in your lower abdomen tightening even though he never reached the spot. So this was the intense despair he'd felt earlier? The pain of his desire overcoming his thought and logic in the simple hope that he would be touched to turn the pain into sweetness?

You tried to move your hips a little, in the simple hope that he might go further, touch you, but he steadied you in an instant with his hand on your back, making you let out a little cry of longing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze meeting his for a moment, and you saw it in the reflection of his eyes: the breadth of your desire spreading through your whole body.

You breathed in, gathering your strength and thoughts to say, "I want you to-"

His hand went up your back to the nape of your neck and traced up and down your spine, your body undulating uncontrollably as you concluded with a strangled sigh:

"Fuck me, please."

His carmine eyes watched you through his long black lashes, a proud sneer stretching his lips, your request seemed to have pleased him greatly.

If you had something to ask him, you might as well ask him politely. He tilted his head to one side, the light illuminating his jaw over his massive shoulder, it was so sharp it could have cut glass. Did he have any idea of the hold he had over you?

"Muy bien, bien hecho, muñeca," he murmured before kissing you again, gently.

His kiss was demanding, hungry, eager for your lips to be captured by his. Your hands, until now too afraid to touch anything or attempt any gesture, were tempted by the need to touch him in turn. They came to rest on his face, cupping it as he devoured your mouth relentlessly, his kiss a mixture of thirst, craving and the occasional sensation of his canines scratching your skin.

His thumb had moved up to your groin, deliberately avoiding and brushing very close to the part you'd been dreaming of him touching. Both his hands were now on your hips, gripping them to draw them to his.

And the electrifying sensation of his erection meeting in a single touch the excitement of your cunt that had grown inside you caused you both to moan together.

Your hand snaked through his hair, his sighs of comfort rushing into the depths of your body, blowing on the already burning fire inside you making it blaze and shine. His pelvis had begun to undulate against yours, the friction he was exerting against your covered flesh, against your throbbing clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

"Coño," he let out between kisses, one of his hands gripping your hip a little tighter to pull you closer to him and hold you in place while the other moved up your body like ivy on a statue, pressing against the back of your neck so that you were even closer. He wanted to eliminate any space between you, and you wanted it just as much, arching your body to his touch.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate, from passionate to hungry, and from hungry to needing more. Your tongues exchanged a waltz, and the next moment Miguel was back at your neck as your hand rested on his hip.

You needed more closeness, more of everything, but less clothing. He pulled you in again, straightening you up so that you ended up sitting on the desk, both your mouths still dancing.

He placed both hands firmly under your thighs, ready to lift you up.

"Hang on," he whispered between two kisses.

Without missing a beat you wrapped your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he lifted you with incredible ease, heading for a door at the back of the room: Miguel's quarters.

To avoid being bothered by anything during his precious, absent sleep, Miguel didn't belong to any of the dormitories, sleeping in secluded quarters. One of his hands came up to grip one of your buttocks, grasping it with his full hand and kneading it, a little hum of pleasure vibrating from your lips against his as you nibbled on it. You kissed his cheek, tracing his jaw with your wet skin.

As he depixelised his hand from his suit and placed it on the digital recognition pad, you gently kissed his neck, a rumble rising in his throat, a mixture of threat and plea for patience. But how could you still be patient? It was impossible, you were each other's tinder box and lighter.

As soon as the airlock opened, he came to kiss you dangerously, not tiring for a moment of the sensation of your lips caught between his. He walked quickly and eagerly, his erratic breathing colliding with your warm skin.

You rounded a corner, and the familiar sensation of a mattress under your back met you almost brutally. You were out of breath, lying back, looking at Miguel.

He stood there, looking down at you. His hair was dishevelled from the passage of your hands, his eyes shining like two rubies in the half-light, watching you hungrily. He towered over you, dominating you with his size and power. You shuddered, because at the moment he looked like a predator facing the prey he was about to devour.

He chuckled, moving closer as he put one knee on the mattress, one of his hands coming to rest beside your head, leaning gently over you, crawling up to spread your thighs as his face came level with yours.

And it was with the sensitivity that only lips possess that he whispered to you:

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," his mouth hungrily came to reclaim yours, his other hand sliding up your waist to reach your hip and hold it in place as he consumed you.

You were in his grip, entranced, trapped in the web of desire he had woven in your mind, every thread of which you touched bringing the spider back to its prey.

His hand came up to your head and nestled under the nape of your neck, looking for the zip to take off your suit. You helped him, pressing a little harder against his lips in your kisses as you raised your head to help him pull it off.

He found it, and you could feel with what composure he was pulling it. You knew perfectly well that if it had only been up to him, your suit would have been ripped to shreds and it would have been impossible to reassemble it properly and put it back together in one piece. But he was holding back, with difficulty.

The sensation of all those little metal teeth coming loose against your back and letting your abundantly heated skin breathe sent tingles through each of your ribs and down your spine, your back arching all the more at the sensation. Maybe having absolutely nothing under your costume could be complicated in certain situations, but it had never been as practical or as pleasant as it was right now. And Miguel seemed to agree.

His hand came to pull at the fabric, exposing your shoulder, and feeling his fingers run over it made you shiver. He continued to pull gently, your chest meeting the cool air until your breasts were bare.

He broke away from your lips for a moment, watching your skin like a flame and its enchanted dance. And you were burning, your whole body aflame with his touch, his kisses, his eyes. You couldn't undress him on your side, his costume knew no beginning or end other than pixels, and you found that profoundly unfair.

Then, very gently, his hand came to hover over your skin. It barely grazed, not even touching it, passing over the roundness of your shoulder, following your collarbone up to your cheek. He placed his hand on it, and it was as if your body was a diamond, every facet of which was illuminated by the light from his hand.

"Tan linda," he whispered, nestling back into the crook of your neck, kissing the warm, tender skin there. His kisses trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin from time to time to reveal violet and pink flowers.

You hummed with delight under his touch, your body lighting up and glowing a little more with every touch of his lips against your skin. They came to rest between the valley of your breasts, his red eyes meeting yours as, while one of his hands pulled a little harder on the part of your suit that was still in place, his own suit began to depixel as he straightened up to face you.

Lips parted, you watched his body reveal itself, his tanned torso sculpted like a god. But above all, you couldn't help letting your eyes wander along the countless scars that marked his body.

Various shapes were mixed in, cuts, burns, strange, sinuous lines, all marking the traces of past dangers. And he had survived them all.

Gently, your hand came to rest on his cheek, pressing against your touch and kissing your palm as you let your fingers move down his torso. You let your fingertips trace a scar, caressing it gently, Miguel's breath shuddering against your skin for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat as his bare hand grazed the skin of one of your tits, his thumb gently tracing the bouncing skin. His lips moved down the ridge of your breasts, kissing the soft, tender skin of it.

He looked into your eyes as he stuck out his tongue and ran it over your nipple slowly, the warmth of his saliva and the roughness of his muscle sending all sorts of little stars into your body.

It was as if your flesh was bare soil, and with his hands he brought forth flowers of many colours and intoxicating scents that enchanted you, making you drunk with his touch and the colours he painted under your skin.

His tongue traced the separation between your skin and your nipple, his hand resting on the other, pressing it gently between his large fingers. Then he kissed it gently, sucking lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. And as the moans multiplied between your lips, he stopped, a smile stretching his lips as his hand dripped down your waist and clutched the rest of your costume.

As he pulled it off, in a slow motion, he kissed his way down your belly, letting buds of caress blossom on your body. Reaching below your navel, he exchanged a glance with you, seeking approval.

As a simple response, you raised your hips, and he gently pulled the rest of the costume down, his bare fingers brushing your buttocks and thighs as he pulled until you were covered by nothing but your panties.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other settled on your waist, lazily tracing your skin until it reached your groin, stopping there, drawing indescribable patterns as the fire in your lower belly heated up.

He stayed there, eyes riveted on yours, his other hand moving slightly up your inner thighs but not reaching your core either. The tingles it sent through your being were delicious, but you were getting impatient. Your pussy was almost starting to ache from the lack of touch and contact.

"Lower..." you murmured, your desires taking possession of your body, your reason silenced.

He tilted his head to one side, and the same words you'd said to him earlier in the bathroom came back to you:

"Say that again."

A grunt of frustration rattled against your teeth. Your own cards had just been used against you in your own game, and you had no say in the matter. His fingers continued to draw as if nothing had happened, sometimes reaching for half a second a little lower than where they were staying. You needed more.

"Touch me lower," you said, looking into his red eyes, which raised an eyebrow as if to say 'aren't you forgetting something?', so you punctuated your sentence with a little "please."

He smiled, dark, his tongue passing over his canine and his lip as he ran his fingers between your skin and the elastic of your panties, pulling the latter so that only the air, his hands and his warm breath covered you.

His fingers returned to your now naked groin, and he gently traced your skin, finally coming to touch your cunt, a sigh of respite taking hold of your chest as he gently passed a single finger between your lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed, raising his fingers to the height of his head, observing the sticky substance that glued to his skin, "would you look at that." Evidence of your arousal was placed before your eyes, "Am I the reason you're so wet ?"

Your head tucked into your shoulders, your cheeks heating intensely as he smiled wider.

"Tengo suerte," he murmured as his finger returned to your entrance, coating itself in more of your wetness as his thumb settled on your clit, making slow, hypnotic circular movements that tightened the knot in your lower abdomen.

Your hands clutched the sheets as you drew in a shaky breath, but he reached down and guided one of them to his hair, which you grabbed without hesitation.

"Like it when I touch you there?" he asked, echoing the words you had said to him in the cabin.

"Mhm," you agreed, unable to formulate a coherent sentence, inhaling more air as he pushed in his first finger.

His hands were big, his fingers thick, and he manipulated them all to perfection. His finger was streching you out, undulating to awaken exceptional sensations in you.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his tone composed and almost teasing in the way he asked you things.

"Good," you assented as he inserted a second finger, causing you to gasp out a moan, your eyelids closing of their own accord.

His fingers worked you out, curving up to touch the spot that made you see stars.

"Keeps your eyes on me," he whispered as his head lowered against your cunt, his hot breath falling against your damp skin, "I want you to see me."

With difficulty you complied, and he brought his tongue against your pussy, a moan of pleasure rising from your throat. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking your clit made your whole body burn.

Your hand gripped his hair more firmly, needing something to anchor it so that you didn't succumb entirely to all your vices. Miguel groaned at this gesture, and the sensation of his vibrant voice on your sensitive skin almost made you come in an instant.

Your pelvis moved of its own accord, and Miguel immediately grabbed it to immobilise you, his fingers and tongue working together to make you moan even more.

The sight reminded you immensely of the bullet incident: his eyes reddened, his tongue and lips resting on you while your fingers were knotted in his hair.

You were beginning to feel as if you were flying away, but it was at that precise moment that Miguel stopped, pulling his fingers out and his mouth away. You whimpered, a whiney complaint filling your mouth as you laid your head back in disappointment on the pillow, Miguel moving up to your face.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd know what it feels like."

The torment was unbearable, and you bit your lips for fear that, on the instant, you might send an insult into his face.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "did I make you mad?"

His tone seemed almost condescending, addressing you as if you were a child. He brought his face close to yours, his eyes falling on your lips.

"Want me to fuck you, querida?" he questioned, his lips brushing yours "want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, simply nodding in response as his simple words managed to make your hair stand on end.

"Use your words," he said simply.

"Yes," you said, beginning to learn from his lessons, trying to find more strength in your voice, "fuck me, please."

He nodded, proud.

"Good," he said, bringing his two fingers, still covered with yourself, close to your lips, "open up."

Timidly, you parted your lips.

"Wider," he ordered in a calm voice.

You obeyed, and soon felt his moist fingers on your tongue. You licked them, his eyes watching with great interest. They were thick and having them both in your mouth wasn't easy, but by relaxing your jaw you eventually managed to suck them off properly, your eyes returning to his, feverish with desire.

Without further ado, he removed his fingers from your mouth and came to kiss your lips, hungry. The entre-met you had offered him wasn't enough, and he was fasting from it to be able to taste all the other parts of you that were still untouched by his lips.

His naked erection pressed against your cunt, and your hips undulated against the sensation as you let out an excited moan against his lips, your walls closing in on nothing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he splayed his hand across your lower back, undoing the kiss to press his forehead against yours. He adjusted his cock in front of your entrance, coating himself in your juices, and just by that gesture and the memory of your hands, you knew it would be too much.

"Miguel it's," you breathed softly against him, "it's too big. I'll never-" but he cut you off.

"I'm sure you can take it, muñeca," he murmured softly, kissing your cheek.

He returned to kiss your lips, then asked before doing anything else:

"Ready?"

You inhaled softly, your eyes plunging into the red of his, before murmuring against his lips:

"Ready."

He nodded, coming to kiss you chastely before lining up his cock and thrusting in. A moan slipped from your lips, he was big, way too big.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing your temple, "you're tense cariño, breathe through your nose."

So you followed his instructions, trying to relax as much as possible as your nails on his back began to dig into his flesh. Your breath was coming in shaky gasps, your teeth sinking into your lip as Miguel whispered:

"You're doing so well," his hands gently caressing your arched back and thigh.

His voice relaxed you, your breathing a little more settled as he thrust deeper, stretching you out. He kissed your forehead tenderly, brushing the tiny tear from the corner of your eye with his lips.

"Just like that," he groaned, finally managing to fill you completely, "look at you taking me so well.

He kissed your lips gently, caressing the skin of your side. He kissed your cheek, then the side of your neck, sucking in one more mark.

Full, that's how you felt. He stretched you out fully, filling every inch of your being, meeting the warm cloud as he kissed you to contrast the sensation. And soon enough, you relaxed a little more.

"Are you ready for me to move?" he murmured, his thumb resting on your cheek.

As a simple response, breathing softly, you moved your hips on him. He smiled, kissing your lips softly as he pulled back slightly to push into you again, a shaky breath mingling with a moan that he swallowed from your lips.

His tongue came to meet yours, curling around it, sucking it between his lips tenderly as he took a slow rhythm to get you used to him.

He sprinkled kisses across your face, sloppy ones running over your warm naked skin, inevitably coming back to your neck, nibbling lightly. He traced your collarbone with his lips, running along it until he reached your shoulder, where the rounded skin was bitten and a moan was torn from your lips.

His hand came to take your arm, kissing the skin gently as he raised it, straightening slightly to manipulate and kiss it better.

His lips came to linger on the inner skin of your arms, depositing his lips gently as he traced that softened area, his pelvis taking on a slightly faster rhythm.

After the little treatment he'd given you, you weren't going to last long, so you let yourself be carried and touched by his adoring lips.

His tongue traced the skin on the inside of your wrist, his teeth grazing the separation between your hand and it. He came to kiss your palm, then delicately placed his lips on each of your knuckles before pressing it against his cheek.

Your thumb caressed it, and he surrendered to your touch. He then guided it to the side of your head, his fingers nestling in the crack of yours until your hands were intertwined.

"Qué guapa," he breathed.

His rhythm quickened, and you could feel the knot in your belly gradually tightening as Miguel's thrusting in and out of you became sublime, and the sounds you were making multiplied as he hit all the right spots.

Your fingers tightened on Miguel's hand as your other reached down his back to grip his arm, squeezing hard as you felt you were going to come.

"Miguel," you sobbed as he returned to kiss your lips, "I'm close."

It was a miracle you managed to get those few words right. The hand that wasn't intertwined with yours came to cup your face before moving down your body to grab your hip, a deep sigh escaping from his throat.

And you felt his canine gently bite your lip as the knot burst in your lower belly and a moan echoed in your throat. It was like a bolt of lightning striking against metal, spreading out in a powerful electric shock in your entire body as the pleasure beat like a second heart. Miguel's voice growled against your skin as you closed around him spasmodically, your nails clawing at his arm.

You twitched, Miguel kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, your lips. You were slowly coming down from your clouds, the sensations you had gradually fading.

"Tan buena..." he whispered, close to your lips, "but I'm not done with you yet.”

His fingers loosened from yours as he grabbed your arms with both hands to pull you against him and straighten you up. He was sitting, still inside you, making you sit on top of him, facing him.

One of his hands grabbed one of your buttocks, guiding you to move back and forth on him, while his other was on your back, caressing it.

He came to attack your lips again, the sound of your two bodies meeting clapping in the air as you felt completely disorientated by the pleasure. The speed with which he entered you was exceptional, and the sensations he triggered were even more so.

His lips moved over the back of your neck, then settled on your shoulder, his breathing becoming more and more jerky.

You tilted your head back, your voice interspersed with the feeling of him pounding you, the heat in your belly not entirely gone and tightening again.

Then the hand that had been resting on your back slipped between your two bodies and caressed your clit, your breath catching as you felt the cloud spread once more to the small of your back.

Miguel's voice grew less hushed as his rhythm quickened, his fingers working your clit with speed as you felt the climax building up again.

And all at once, you felt his fangs penetrate your beloved as he gave a powerful thrust, and you both came. The earth stopped spinning as you felt like you'd been sent miles above the clouds, both your bodies warm against each other, both of you breathless.

Everything seemed soft, floating, an inner peace had taken hold of both of you as you came down from this peak of pleasure.

He held you against him gently, running his tongue over the two slits he'd made in your skin. He pulled out of you, placing you so gently and carefully on the mattress that it was as if he had a spider's web in his hands.

You snuggled up to him, and he pulled the blanket over you as he kissed you again.

You felt safe here, cuddled in his huge arms that wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body with pure adoration and softness.

You kissed his chest, on one of his scars, and he breathed a profound sigh.

"How did you know?" he whispered.

The end of his question never came, but it was simple: how did you know I wanted to be kissed here? Probably no one had ever touched him this way, here, like that.

"There's nothing like tenderness to soothe the scars." you smiled.

He breathed out, his eyes had returned to their natural brown. He pressed you a little closer to him, his eyes locked in yours. Blue words are the ones you say with your eyes, when your lips are too tired.

"Maybe we'll have to find a name for this pseudo-friendship?" he smiled, the little chat you'd had on the first mission coming back to you as you smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Why when we already have two letters?" you replied, placing your hand on his cheek, kissing your palm as his hand caressed your waist.

"Two letters?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," you confirmed, your voice becoming a whisper, "us."

He gave you a candid, sincere smile before kissing your lips softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we could make a great us, muñeca."

Us, two letters, a whole world.

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