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#much he fucking LOVES THEM; and now they're just HURTING him. Do they WANT him to get rid of them
mins-fins · 2 days
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OH FUCK YOU CUPID! [PREVIEW].
❝may the best man win!❞
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SYNOPSIS: where resident "cupid" zhong chenle wants to cause mayhem, and maybe start a fight too, so he sets up three of the most competitive guys he knows with none other than you. now— they are at each other's throat trying to get your attention, and also score a date with you.
PAIRING: lee jeno, lee donghyuck, & na jaemin x male!reader
GENRE: university au, romantic comedy, sort of matchmaker au??, actually theres angst too, three stubborn boys fight over a very confused one, 00z (besides renjun) going insane over a MAN
WARNINGS: swearing, explicit language, unrealistic romantic situations, childish behavior, somewhat possessive behavior, mentions of sex but no smut, mentions of drinking, an abuse of italics, lots of date crashing
WORD COUNT: 1.5k (preview) | est. 12k–15k (full fic)
NOTES: if you can forgive me for not updating for like two days, take this as my little apology 🙁 yeah so this spawned out of ANOTHER draft i began that hasn't been touched since december, but i reread it and i just sort of changed up the synopsis and love interests!! yeah anyway this is isa's multi-pairing debut, but this is also only a preview, the real thing is much more messy! i can't promise WHEN it's going to come out because i genuinely do have a lot going on.. but it is halfway done! um yeah tysm for waiting for me!! alright bye😖
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YOU HAVE NEVER BEEN CONFUSED LIKE YOU ARE NOW. when you heard a knock on your door, accompanied by the sound of two muffled voices bickering behind it, you expected it to be one of your classmates, chenle and jisung coming to ask for another stupid favor, or your lab partner coming to get extra notes for your project. you usually don't let people into your dorm after six pm, mostly because after six pm is time you spend strictly studying, and you do not need distractions when you're gonna be up all night losing sleep.
but no, none of that, you guess you aren't that good at predicting your fate.
when you open the door, rubbing your eyes, which hurt from the hours you spent staring down several biology papers, you pause at the sight before you.
there are three boys there, two of them going back and forth whilst one stands silent between them. their arguing must distract them enough that they don't notice you standing in the doorway, staring at the two of them like they're crazy.
"um".
why do you say um? maybe the general confusion of the situation is what makes your brain short circuit in that very moment, but you don't exactly have any actual words you can say. there is no reason these three very attractive guys should be at your doorstep at this time.
as quickly as you utter that word, you regret it, because the two formerly bickering guys turn their heads right towards you, gazes focused on you and only you.
suddenly, it feels like all of your senses heighten, your hands become sweaty, your breathing seems to become louder, and your face heats up to the point that your sure steam is going to start pouring out of your ears.
of course, you recognize the three at your doorstep, but the situation still doesn't click for you.
on the left is na jaemin, resident pretty boy na jaemin, the two of you had a political science together in your sophomore year, and while he did always seem to want to be more than friends, you chalked that up to his habit of looking like he's in love with all of his friends. his flirtatious words and romantic references never meant anything to you, because he's like that with every other pretty guy that goes to your school.
in the middle is lee jeno, class crush lee jeno, you know him because of a get together renjun forced the two of you to be apart of way back in your freshmen year, and while jeno is nothing short of beautiful, he's nothing like jaemin. jeno is less obvious in the romantic department, of course he has so many people falling at his feet, and you can't blame them. he's gorgeous, a true work of art, and the two of you have been told on certain occasions that you'd be a great couple, but nothing ever seemed to come out of that.
and on the right, lee donghyuck, star student lee donghyuck, always the top student, always wins the awards, you unfortunately know him the best out of the three, considering the two of you spent all summer together. it didn't go as well as you wanted it to, some things happened between the two of you that you don't feel like explaining right now. you haven't had a genuine talk since school began, both of you trying hard to erase that little summer fling away from your minds. you think he might be a little insane, much too smart for everyone's own good, but you can't look past his ethereal beauty either.
so what are these three doing on your doorstep on a school night?
before you can ask that exact question, donghyuck answers it for you.
"i'm here to take you out on a date".
you almost collapse onto the floor.
jaemin's eyebrows furrow, and he's quick to turn and glare at the older. "no you're not!"
"yes i am! i got here first!"
"you did not! and even if you did y/n doesn't want to go out with you—"
"i suggest you watch your tone, na".
you blink, dumbfounded at the news bestowed upon you. the two continue their back and forth argument, and your face only heats up more as it dawns on you that they're arguing about you, about taking you out on a date.
you don't know how you stand your ground.
"you too?" you barely manage the words, feeling as if you were about to pass out at any second, and you point your index finger at jeno, the most silent of the bunch.
he only nods. "i was hoping saturday..?"
"that makes no se— wait, you were hoping WHAT!?"
jaemin's screech is enough to make the once stone cold jeno flinch. a look of offense crosses the older lee's face, and any tranquility he had disappeared in an instant. "y/n and i are going out saturday".
"says who!?"
"says me?"
"he didn't even agree to your offer" donghyuck glares daggers at jeno, who imitates his gaze. he's pissed, and so is jeno, and so is jaemin, all three of them are pissed. "don't get so confident".
"it doesn't matter" jeno answers like it's a matter of a fact. "he likes me more than he does you".
"oh yeah?"
"yeah he does" jeno whispers as he leans closer to donghyuck, the words a taunting mantra to the younger, who looks seconds away from punching him. "he wouldn't go on a date with you even if you offered him a hundred dollars".
"you should really watch what you say".
"really? i'd love to see you even try and land a punc—"
"who sent you three here?"
your question is enough to get the two to stop arguing, and they slowly move away from each other. jeno pokes his tongue against the inside of cheek, and donghyuck just crosses his arms, an eye roll accompanying his action. jaemin gives the two a judgmental glance before focusing all of his attention on you again. "chenle".
"chenle?"
"well chenle told me—"
"chenle didn't tell you anything".
"how are you so sure? if i remember correctly, you said you weren't into y/n" jaemin grits his teeth, eyes pointed at donghyuck, who scoffs, humored by the words.
"since when? i'm the only one hear whose ever done anything with y/n, you're too busy around with other guys and jeno's too much of a coward to confess".
"please, coward? if you're so in love with y/n maybe you should've told him that instead of ghosting him, that's pretty cowardly behavior".
you watch the three begin going back and forth, absolutely speechless. why are they fighting over you? why did chenle tell them to come here? why does this have to happen right now?
"i— um, shit uh" you awkwardly chuckle, hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. "maybe we can chat about this tomorrow yeah? yeah! right, um, goodnight!"
you don't think twice before slamming the door on their faces, locking it behind you. you slide down the door and collide with the floor, face red, thoughts all over the place, and only one sentiment echoing in your mind.
you are going to murder zhong chenle.
"great job, hyuck, you scared him off".
donghyuck finds jaemin's audacity hilarious, so hilarious he even laughs. "i scared him off? if anything jeno did!"
"i didn't do anything" jeno argues, he really doesn't how the younger is speaking to him at the moment. "your just mad y/n's gonna end up going out with me instead".
"woah woah, who said that?"
"i mean.. we all know".
"whose we?" donghyuck challenges. "because, and don't take this personally, you couldn't even confess to the guy before this, what makes you think he'll want to go on a date with you?"
"you know your really getting on my nerves right now".
"okay okay you two" jaemin curses in his mind, how did he end up being the most sensible of the three? "don't start anything physical, it's y/n's choice at the end of the day.."
"which is why it's stupid of donghyuck here to think y/n wants to go anywhere with him".
donghyuck rolls his eyes again, but instead of looking at jeno this time, he looks at jaemin. "no, he's right, it's y/n's choice, and i'm gonna do everything to make sure i'm the one he's with on saturday".
"get over yourself" jeno remarks, glancing over at your door. "your not going to end up with him".
donghyuck hums, a snicker added onto it. "alright then, watch me prove you wrong".
"i'd love to see you try".
jaemin looks between the two, oh this is bad, this is very bad, but he isn't about to let them be able to take you out before him.
"may the best man win, then" jaemin gives the two overly aggressive pats on the back before turning around and walking the other way.
he doesn't care, he's getting that date.
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intotheseas · 2 days
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Hello I just discovered you and I'm in love with your writing!
Since you said that requests are open I thought I might send you my idea :)
So basically I'm all for some angst and comfort, and I'd love if you wrote a fic about GN! or F!MC who gets hurt and goes to the Undercroft to try and tend to their wounds (they're not very good at this) and basically hide the fact that they're hurt (and I mean hurt-hurt, like a giant gush in their side or something) and after dressing the wounds and hoping for the best (cause they're really bad at healing magic) Ominis walks in and meets them there, so they act normal but he still senses that something's wrong so he tries to coax it out of them, but they stick to their "everything's fine" so he gives up and just tells them to sit on the couch with him but when they move they get a sharp pain (from the big gush in their side) and basically fall to the floor with a pained whimper. Ominis quickly springs into action to help them and is all frantic about what happened and asking them but they're too hurt and so he tries to help them but since the damage is mostly on their side they're reluctant about letting him (they're flustered because they have a crush on him and they've never even kissed anyone) but he's so comforting and you know waiting for consent and basically so nice and they eventually let him help.
It can be spicy if you want, but it doesn't have to be!
Also don't feel pressured into writing it, I know that inspiration comes and goes and that you have a life of your own.
Again thank you so much and have an amazing day/night ♡♡♡
PS sorry if I made any grammatical errors, English is not my first language 😅
Hi, hi, hello! :) Your english is excellent, no need to worry! And I am so honoured you like my writing, holy crap. Thank you! Sorry this took a few days, I had do a lot of rewriting, just wasn't super happy with it. I'm still kinda unhappy with it but didn't want to keep you waiting!
You gave me permission to make it spicy and I did lol. I hope you like this. :) As a cis-female I wrote it from a F!MC POV, I'm not sure I could do a GN POV justice. I hope that's okay. I was HEAVILY inspired by the following two songs, so feel free to listen if they're to your taste! Counting, by Heavens, and Blood on the Moon by Raquet Club. Tags: hurt/comfort, blood (not sexually though), graphic depiction of injury, unprotected piv, smut, comfort, first time, first kiss, soft ominis gaunt, protective ominis gaunt, dominis (just a lil bit), biting
Summary: Sage is gathering Horklump juice in the forest when she's injured badly by a poacher. She only has one Wiggenweld on her, just enough to let her stagger back to the Undercroft. She bandages herself up and hopes for the best. When Ominis drops by and notices she's badly hurt, he breaks down her walls and convinces her to allow him to treat her. Once he's fixed her, years of unresolved sexual tension boil over. Characters are 18.
Read here on AO3 or below the break!
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Soil, lush grass, damp moss, rotting leaves. Sage’s nose fills with the scents of the forest as she pants, grips her side in agony. Stupid, fucking stupid, she thinks. She doubles over and sinks to the ground, groaning. The dirt scrapes against her cheek as she curls into herself, pain burning through her like fire. Her hands become sticky with her own blood as it seeps through the thin material of her jumper. 
So fucking stupid. She’d come to the forest to search for Horklump juice, needed to replace her low stock of Wiggenweld. Ran into a poacher, cast diffindo without thinking. They’d reflected it at her and disapparated. Her own spell slashed through her, cut her down. Now she lays in the foetal position, her blood mixing with the dirt. Sage pats her pockets, feeling for any stray vials. There's only one. She downs the Wiggenweld in one motion, tosses it aside. It’s enough to allow her to stand, to hobble to the nearest floo point. 
She stumbles out into the castle, gritting her teeth through piercing pain. Her ragged breathing and muffled groans fill the empty corridor, echo off the walls like they're mocking her. Sage staggers to the Undercroft. She needs to be alone, assess the damage. There’s no way she’s going to Nurse Blainey, no way she’ll explain why she was in the Forbidden Forest so late in the evening. Like she needs detention right now.
Stupid.
The iron bars screech as they rise, revealing the musty room that’s been a hideout for almost three years. Lurching, she makes her way to the box she keeps on the table. Fishes out a roll of bandages and lifts her jumper gingerly. It’s already soaked. “Scourgify,” she mutters, removing the worst of it. The iron tang nauseates her, or maybe it’s the blood loss. Sage roots around in the crate for a bottle. Essence of dittany, she knows there’s some in here somewhere. She pulls the bottle out, curses. There’s only two drops left in the dropper, not nearly enough to deal with this gash. Fuck it. She spreads what’s left on the deep cut, hissing as it burns into her flesh like little licks of lightning. 
The wound remains, but the bleeding seems to stop, at least. If she had any talent at healing magic she’d try it, but she knows better. The last attempt resulted in even more injury. She'd ended up in the hospital wing for a week, all over a simple splinch. No, the dittany and bandages will have to do. She glances toward the door and removes her jumper, tossing it over the crate. She wraps the bandages around her middle, snug against the throbbing gash. It’s around an inch deep, she thinks. Not severe enough to hit any major organs or arteries. 
Sage waves her wand, conjures a chair and sinks into it. Mutters “scourgify” again, cleans her jumper and pulls it over her head. The chair cushions her, needed relief as she pants from her exertion and blood loss. She’ll find a Wiggenweld in a bit, she only needs to…rest. Her head lolls over the back of the chair. 
The bars rise again, and Sage snaps to attention. It's Ominis, likely seeking some solitude after classes. His tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Shit. 
“Sage? Thought I'd find you here.” He strolls toward the back of the room and settles into a large, dark sofa. He lounges, stretching his lithe body like a cat. “How long have you been here?” 
Act normal. Sage has never been good at showing her weaknesses, not even to someone she trusts as much as Ominis. “Not long. Maybe half an hour.” Her voice trembles, and of course he notices. 
“Sage? Are you alright?” He moves his head toward her, sniffs the air. “Do I smell blood?” 
Fuck. 
“I’m fine, Omi. Only tired. I went to the forest to gather some potion ingredients. Maybe you’re smelling the dirt.” She’s breathing a little harder now, even speaking is tiring her. 
His eyes narrow. “Right, because dirt smells like blood. Are you quite sure you’re okay?” 
“I am. It's been a long day.” 
She knows he doesn’t believe her, doesn’t know what to do about it. Despite his lack of sight, Ominis is perceptive to almost a fault. It’s a fucking miracle he hasn’t caught on to how she feels. The massive crush she's had on him ever since he confronted her outside the Undercroft.
Something about the way he yelled at her that day marked her, forever changed her taste in men. Kind of fucked up, but she supposes it doesn't matter. Ominis is far kinder than his guarded exterior lets on. After they overcame their initial encounter and worked together to save Sebastian from ruining his life, he's been nothing but kind to her. Devout, even. Like she's something he wants to protect. Is that why her heart is racing? Sage hisses, holding her side. The throbbing is getting worse. 
“Sage? Come here.” It isn’t a request. 
Her legs move against her stubborn will, over to the sofa, sinking into the cushions on his left. He faces her, his brow furrowed. “You’re hurt.” It isn’t a question. 
“I…I got a scratch when I was in the forest,” she says through gritted teeth. Her breathing is heavier now, and she’s feeling woozy. She tries to shift and cries out, the pain sharp again. Sage doubles over, groaning. 
“Liar,” he says. He pulls out his wand, passes it over her. “Sage, don’t be an idiot. Let me help you, for Merlin’s sake. You know I’m good with healing magic. Why are you being so stubborn?” 
She pulls back. “It’s in an intimate spot, Omi.” 
“And? You’re hurt. What does it matter?” 
Sage pants. The room's spinning around her, vertigo slams over her like a wave. She collapses sideways, her head lands on Ominis’ lap. “Okay,” she groans. “I’m hurt.” 
He stiffens. He’s not sure where to put his hands, settles on her back. “Sage, if you don’t let me help you, we’ll need to go to Nurse Blainey. I assume you’re avoiding her for a reason. Please, can I tend to your wound? I can smell the blood from here.” His voice is urgent, bordering on begging. 
Her breaths are shallow, fast. She can’t tell if it’s from their proximity or from her injury. “It’s on my side. Here.” She guides his hand, rests it over her injury. “I wrapped it, applied a couple drops of dittany. That’s all I had other than an old Wiggenweld.” 
Ominis pauses. “Sage, I need to lift your jumper. Is that okay with you?” 
She nods, whimpers her affirmation. In for a penny, in for a pound. 
He raises her jumper up with one hand, holding his wand over her with his other. He takes great care to lift it to just below her bra, preserve her modesty. Ominis’ hands are gentle as they unwrap the bandage. He passes his wand over the gash, concern etched in his face. “Worse than I feared,” he murmurs, “but I can fix this.” Grabbing his bag, he fishes out a couple vials. “Sage, these are green, right? Wiggenweld?” 
She lifts her head, peers at them. “Yes.” 
“Drink them. Now.” Again, not a request.
She tilts the vials into her mouth, gulping down the potion. Sage hisses, feeling the dizziness evaporate. She breathes more evenly, her heart slows to a steady pace. 
Ominis runs his fingers through her hair. “Well done,” he murmurs, his voice kind. “I still need to close the cut. You’re lucky I know this spell.” His wand moves above her in a curious twirling motion, and thrice he says, “Vulnera Sanentur.”
A small gasp escapes Sage’s lips. Her skin knits together, and within seconds there’s nothing left of her stupidity except the faintest of scars. She sags, the absence of pain finally allowing her to relax.
Ominis traces his hands over her side, checking for any leftover blood or open wounds. Nothing. He breathes a sigh of relief, doesn’t remove his hands. “I don’t know how many times I’ve begged you to be more careful, Sage.” His voice trembles. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come to the Undercroft?” 
She shrugs. “I don’t know.” Her head’s still resting in his lap, and she really doesn’t want to move. His fingers are still brushing against the bare skin of her side. Slow, soothing strokes. “Thank you,” she whispers.
He pauses for a moment, then continues his light movements. “What else could I have done? Sage, I…I wish you’d remember that there are people who care a lot for you. I wish you wouldn’t be so reckless. What would I do if I lost you?” 
Her breathing is shallow again, for a different reason. I’m afraid he doesn’t care for me in the way I want him to, she thinks. She’s overcome with an urge to tell him how she feels, but how can she? They’ve danced around each other for nearly three years now, neither daring to show their full hand, their honest feelings. 
His fingers drift down the curve of her waist and she shivers against him. 
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice is low, trembles a little. Something in the air around them is shifting, becoming electric. Like every touch he leaves on her skin sends shivers racing over her skin.
Sage’s breath hitches in her throat. “No,” she whispers. 
His hand trails up her waist, over her ribs, ghosting beneath her jumper, against the bottom of her bra. “Is this too much?” 
Her breathing is shaky. “No. I…like it. You can go further, if you’d like.” She doesn’t know what’s happening, only knows she doesn’t want it to stop. The Undercroft is a different room than it was five minutes ago. The atmosphere shimmers with something unknown and dangerous, something intoxicating. 
“Sage…you shouldn't say things so casually. Don't give me the wrong idea.” He stutters out the last few words. 
A flash of bravery edges her forward. Fucking encourage him, you coward.“Maybe it isn’t the wrong idea,” she breathes. She sits up, leans toward him, rests a hand on his chest. “Maybe it hasn’t been for a long time.” 
Ominis’ breath stutters. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His hand reaches out, finds her cheek. He strokes his thumb over her lips, already parted. 
Sage leans forward, crawls toward him and presses her forehead to his. "Am I, Ominis?"
His lips sear against hers, an inferno. Her first kiss, the only one she's ever wanted. She desperately wants it to devour them both, wants to lose herself in him. She shifts over, straddles his lap. Grinds down, makes her intentions clear. "Did you know," she breathes, "that I've wanted you since you yelled at me outside of the Undercroft?"
He gasps against her lips. "Would you believe me if I said I wanted you not long after?" His hands move down over her waist, cup against her bottom.
That surprises her, but she's not about to break their kiss. "No," she says as they catch their breath. "I wouldn't. I thought you hated me at first." She whines as she feels the length of him harden below her.
"Never," he says. "I just d-didn't," he stutters as she grinds against his clothed cock, "didn't know how to handle the situation. But your voice reached straight into my heart. Then y-you never stepped from my side when Sebastian slid down the wrong path, and s-somewhere," he pants, "I fell in love with you." He grabs her arse and bucks up against her.
Her moans are soft, pleading. Need more friction. Need less clothes. She lifts her jumper over her head, tosses it aside. Rips her bra off, flings it at the wall. Ominis gasps as she raises to her knees and presses her chest against his face, hikes her skirt up and her underwear down.
"Do you want this, Ominis?"
He unzips his trousers in reply. Pulls them down along with his underclothes. "Yes," he sighs. "More than you know."
She sinks down, resumes grinding. Her slick pussy coats him in only a few strokes. For a few minutes they grind together leisurely, murmuring sweet nothings into each other's ears. "Tell me more about when you started to want me," he asks.
She laughs, dragging her lips along his neck. "Something about your passion. It was attractive, even if I was the object of your ire at the time." Sage grinds a little faster, caught in the moment. "And then it was your k-kindness, under that guarded exterior. And then it was just you."
He reaches down and teases her opening with the tip of his cock. They both whine, nearly dizzy with anticipation.
Sage bites his neck, hard. "And for years I touched myself thinking of you. Thinking of something like this happening."
A low growl rumbles in his chest. He lifts her, his hands secure under her arse, gripping it almost painfully. "Put it in." Once again, not a request. Not that she minds. She lines up the tip of his cock with her entrance and sinks down onto him.
They cry out together, and Ominis wastes no time. He holds her bottom elevated in his hands, thrusts up into her without relent. Sage gasps against his lips with every movement, feels like she might burst from the sensation. He's fucking her like every dirty thought, every metaphorical step they've ever danced around each other pours into this very moment. It's a culmination of three years of pent up desire, unsaid words.
He stops and she cries out.
"Move," he says. He spreads her onto her back, grabs her hips and bends over her. His fingers dig into the soft flesh as he thrusts into her. She throws her head back, garbling incoherencies as he angles himself above her, hits deeper than she thought possible. He nips at her neck between the sweet words that flow from his filthy mouth.
It’s too overwhelming, in the best way. And when he reaches down, fumbles around her clit and rubs his thumb in firm circles, she comes undone. Sage spills all her long-held secrets. Her breath is urgent against his ears, makes his cock even harder. “I love you, I have for a long time, I’ve wanted this for so long, you’re so fucking perfect, Omi. I love you.” 
He groans against her neck. "Sage, if you keep speaking so sweetly, I'm going to combust."
She grins, still panting. "So combust. I love you, Ominis."
With a final stuttering thrust he buries his cock deep within her, emptying not only himself but years of pent up want and need. Everything for her. "I love you too," he breathes. "I love you too."
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wrioluvr · 4 months
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『dumbass.』 slutty sub yandere x gentle himbo darling, male yandere x amab reader. pt 2
sub! yandere who likes to take advantage of your kind nature to fish for compliments. he would degrade himself in front of you, acting all self-loathing to get your attention. nothing compares to the rush he gets as you rush to comfort him, trying your best to make him feel better.
sub! yandere who gets so jealous when you're nice to anyone but him. true, that's one of the things he loves about you, but why do you have to be friendly to everyone? they're all sluts anyway, who only like you for your looks. he can't really be talking when he snuck a photo of your cock and had a dildo custom made to your size, thrusting it in and out of his tight hole whenever he's feeling especially lonely.
sub! yandere whose biggest fantasy is you fucking and spanking him until he can't walk. come to think of it, he's never really seen you angry, like ever. the idea of you upset with him is both terrifying and exciting, he doesn't want you to hate him, but also the thought of you hatefucking him is so... it's enough to make him feral. he's sure you have to have some pent up energy somewhere, he would gladly offer his body for you to abuse. he knows you would never ever consider hurting him, but one can dream, right?
"come onnn. let me give you head." he pleads, clinging onto your arm like it's a lifeline. his eyes prick with tears. much to his surprise, you're the one who gets on your knees, kneeling in front of him. "wait, what are you doing? i don't need you to please me first...." he starts to protest frantically, waving his hands about. "i thought you wanted to give me head? like...headpats?" "no, silly. head means i wanna suck your dick." "oh!" "speaking of headpats, can you pull my hair while i suck you off? like really hard, please." "i don't wanna hurt you, though-" "how many times do i have to say, you could literally murder me, and i would thank you." "...i don't think that's possible." "i'll find a way. so what i'm saying is, be as rough as you want. please." he gags on your length, relishing the feeling of it stretching the slick walls of his throat. no matter how many times he's done this, you always worry he'll hurt himself. "hey...you're okay, right?" you ask worriedly, stroking his hair. he responds by making eye contact with you, swirling his tongue around the tip of the head, eliciting a rather passionate response from you. "fuck, i'm gonna-" involuntarily, you grip his hair tighter and let out a load into his mouth. he came in his pants, too, from you merely tugging his hair a little forcefully. soft pants fill the room. this would be the perfect opportunity for them to degrade me right now, he thinks to himself. but you don't. instead, you take a tissue and dabble at the cum dripping down his chin, making sure to clean him up. he loves you and would never overstep your boundaries.... he just wishes you were a little meaner.
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angelltheninth · 1 year
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Genshin men fucking you so hard you can't walk right?
Every night then? Cause that's what its gonna be like.
Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Xiao, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone, Baizhu, Zhongli x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, aftercare, rough sex, praise, soothing kisses, cuddles
A/N: They will leave you shaking and... take care of you. Most of the time.
Kaeya almost gets hard again when you can't move your legs afterwards. You don't really have to, he kind of expected you to be tired after a few hours but he couldn't just help himself when he saw you after such a long time away.
Diluc is a little shy when he notices you can't move anymore but all his cum is flowing from between your legs. He blushes hard before he goes to get a wet towel to clean you up slowly. Fuck, you're shaking even though he's being so gentle. Are you gonna be able to work tomorrow?
Itto feels both proud of himself and bad about himself when he sees that you can't walk. He'll pick you up in his arms while you cuddle up against him, even doing that much makes you groan. All these claw marks on your thighs and back, they're gonna be on you for a while.
Xiao was ready for this, he didn't have sex with many people in his life despite how long he's been alive but he always goes all out. So he knew he was gonna fuck you into oblivion. He knows a human can't keep up with him, so of course he's ready with lots of water, snacks and he will have a warm bath ready for you in just a few minutes.
Childe can't help but gloat about it. He's touching every bruise he's left on your body, engraving them into his memory, rubbing his cock over your sensitive pussy lips to make your hips jump at him. So sensitive, he almost wants to go again. You actually have to push him away for him to back off and stop teasing you after which he will wrap his arms around your body and nuzzle his cheek against yours.
Dottore doesn't think its that bad, you should have gotten used to this by now, how roughly he fucks you. He begins to walk away and signals you to follow, only to have you fall to your knees. Oh. You actually can't walk. Huh. A new accomplishment for him. Now that he knows your limit he will try to push you to it every time until you get used to it.
Pantalone throws his cape around you to shield your shaking body from view. It was a bad idea to do this in his office after all, and to leave you in such a physical state. He kisses your forehead and whispers what a good girl you were for him back there, he will try to kiss your marks better once he gets you to bed.
Baizhu is fully prepared to take care of you once he's done fucking you silly. Any bruises you might have gotten he will rub with ointment and bandage up. The ones on your thighs he will kiss so gently that you almost start to cry from how gentle he's being right now. You can't help but sluggishly pull him into a hug when he's all done.
Zhongli gets really worried when you can't move, he thinks he really hurt you. It's actually a little bit funny when he panics over fucking you so good you can't move a muscle. You whisper to him that you'll be very sore tomorrow morning but that in your mind it was very worth it. You're one strange human woman, but he loves you anyway.
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peachypinkygloss · 8 months
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cherry — jjk
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Jungkook has a crush on you and he does everything to conquer your heart (like eating your pussy whenever and wherever he feels like it).
⚡︎ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
⚡︎ genre: friends with benefits to lovers, college au, smut
⚡︎ word count: 2.9k
⚡︎ warnings: pussy drunk jk because there's no way he wouldn't be, jk's a simp, they're kinda corny but whatever i like that about them, public sex, unprotected sex, oral (f & m), cunnilingus, handjob, overstimulation, cum eating.
a.n.: jk in a tank + hooded jacket has me acting up bruh, quick put me in jail ‼️ literally wrote this in one night send help. as always, don't thank me 💋 please, tell me if you liked it or not 🫶
"Stop..." You whine, gripping his hair in your fists. "Jungkookie!" You insist even more as you try to push his head away from the area between your legs, but Jungkook doesn't budge an inch. You squirm around and cry pathetically, but it doesn't alert him at all.
He keeps licking and slurping until no arousal is left, but more always comes out of your hole, so he continues and continues... Oh, you wonder how this man can be so hungry even after eating the whole plate he ordered. You told him to not follow you into the bathroom, but Jungkook never listens, does he?
You pull on his black locks and the only answer you receive is a disapproval grunt from him. You sob, so overwhelmed and tired, but you can't deny how good his tongue feels on your naked core.
He already got two orgasms out of you, one with his fingers patting gently your sweet spot and the other by sucking avidly on your clit. You don't remember which one came first and maybe they both happened at the same time. You don't really know.
You're so overstimulated, but his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud have you over the edge again. It hurts badly good. Does it even make sense? Whatever, it makes sense to you.
You two hooking up in a bathroom while your friends are waiting outside is bad, while having Jungkook's head between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man is good. A little too good.
You place a hand behind you on the counter, the other holding tightly his hair in your fist, not caring if you pull too harshly. If his scalp stings, it's in no comparison to the heavy pulsations in your clit.
"Jungkook, fuck," you curse, throwing your back against the wall, just beside the mirror. "God, this is too much!" You yelp and close your legs, pushing his head away from your drenched pussy.
He doesn't fight back and he peeks out from between your thighs, looking up at you. Your heart skips a beat when you see his face and how messy he looks because of you.
His lips and chin are glistening in your juices, tongue darting out to lick them clean. Some of his curls are broken, hair tousled around, and you really can tell you were pulling on them seconds ago. Just the thought that his face was buried between your legs, insanely making out with your cunt, makes your stomach clench.
How can he be so passionate about something that isn't even his? He's really trying hard to make you fall in love with him and you have to admit he's doing good so far. If dating Jungkook means receiving head everyday you might stop rejecting him and consider letting him have a chance.
But you don't feel like it right now, even though he's treating you like a real princess. Being chased is really fun, you're about to become addicted to that treatment.
"Just a little bit more, okay, baby? Just another one, let me do that, please," he begs, but in the end he always does whatever he wants to you. You rarely say no to him and his filthy mouth, and even if you would say no, you doubt he would listen.
"My clit will fall out," you sigh, so weak against his pleas. Nonetheless, you slowly pull your legs apart, revealing your core to him again, totally at the mercy of his insatiable hunger.
He looks at your crotch, pouting slightly, showing a bit of compassion. But him having pity for you doesn't mean he'll stop, oh no, not at all.
"Don't say that," he scolds, staring at your swollen clit. "It'll feel really good, I promise, baby," he coos and you can only believe him. He softly blows on your sensitive bud, making you flinch, and a smug smirk appears on his face.
"Okay..." You capitulate, gasping when his mouth finds its spot on your pussy a second time.
On the other hand, there are your nipples, hard and puffy, wanting Jungkook's attention badly. You wish he would focus on something else than your cunt, but he's stubborn and when he wants something, he has it.
You play with your nipples through the material of your dress since you decided to not wear a bra today. You pinch and pull on them, moaning sweetly as the knot at the pit of your stomach tightens with Jungkook's ministrations.
His strong and veiny hands hold up your thighs while he enters and exits your pussy with his sturdy tongue, his big nose brushing against your clit so deliciously.
You can't believe he uses his nose voluntarily, actually knowing it's doing something, unlike most men who literally have no idea what they are doing with their hands and mouth. Jungkook is so passionate about cunnilingus, you're lucky to have him, honestly.
"Close," you warn him hurriedly, scrunching your eyes shut as you feel your high approaching really soon. It's going to be intense, you sense it. It burns in your belly, it twists and it tightens, making you go crazy over Jungkook's mouth. "Fuck, Kookie, please!"
You rub your pussy in his face and he groans deeply, appreciating your enthusiasm for his incredible skills. He hears you and fastens the pace of his tongue, moving his head from side to side, his nose pressing against your clit.
Your orgasm shoots through you and you moan out your pleasure, cumming hard on Jungkook's tongue. He hums contently as your thighs shake beside his head, his hand palming your soft flesh, leaving beautiful marks behind.
You come down from your high, letting out a long sigh, totally pleased with what just happened. He licks you clean, collecting your arousal on his tongue and drinking it as if it was pure water.
He stands up when he's finished, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You look absolutely dead, which is understandable after Jungkook just forced three orgasms out of your poor body.
He looks satisfied, and you wonder if he's still hungry. He probably is, which would be insane, but what's not crazy with this man.
He doesn't waste time before he's kissing you sensually, tasting yourself on his tongue, fighting for dominance as you let him have it. After all, you're too tired to fight for anything.
Though you're exhausted, the bulge in his pants catches your attention. He presses it against you and you feel it really clearly, erected and hard just for you.
You break the kiss, trying to catch your breath as you slide off the countertop. "What do we do about that?" You purr, sneaking a hand between your two bodies and reaching his hard cock trapped in his jeans.
He hisses, grabbing your wrist as if to remove your hand, but he keeps it there, even though he's really sensitive. "We leave it as it is," he says seriously and you frown, a pout forming on your lips.
"Oh, don't be a gentleman, Kook," you reply quickly, determined to return the favour. "Let me suck your dick, please. I'll be such a good girl," you insist and he can't refuse you.
"I'm all yours, then," he grins, letting go of your wrist.
You push him against the nearest wall and you drop on your knees instantly. Your bones hitting the floor tile isn't gentle, but you'll suffer through any pain if it means sucking this pretty man's dick. Right, maybe you're a little whipped for Jungkook, but that doesn't mean anything. Or does it...?
You stroke him over his pants, feeling his length and his girth under all those pieces of clothes. You extend your arm to reach the zipper of his hooded jacket, tugging it down open. You look up at him while doing so, noticing his tongue toying with his lip piercing. He's focused on your movements, watching your hands on him as if it's a movie, wanting to remember each second of it.
You go under his white tank top, running your delicate fingers over his abs, loving the feeling of his muscles under your palm. They tense a little bit at your contact and you can't help but smile, enjoying how much Jungkook isn't indifferent to your touch at all.
"Stop playing," he breathes out, wanting you to get your hands on what's really aching right now.
"I'm sorry," you apologize in a low tone, even though you don't really feel bad for him. He gave you three orgasms one after the other without listening to your complaints, didn't he?
You finally free his cock out, this one springing out excitedly, standing tall against his stomach. Jungkook releases a breath of relief, burying his tattooed fingers in your hair by reflex. You don't mind the pulling, you love it, in fact. It tells you he's enjoying himself and it reminds you he still has control over your actions.
"You know what happens to bad girls, sweetheart," he says and it sounds like a warning. A quite exciting warning, you won't lie. "Make me proud and act good," Jungkook orders from above, your eyes up on him as you nod your head in response.
Your gaze shifts down to his hard cock, slightly curved with a vein along it. You lick your lips, now understanding the hunger Jungkook felt when he had your pussy in his face. The eagerness to please him is real.
You wrap your fingers around him, liking how stiff he feels under your palm, and put his leaking tip into the warmth of your mouth. "Ah, fuck," he curses under his breath, his head rolling back and hitting the wall behind. He closes his eyes, feeling every inch of his length that enters your mouth. "So fucking good."
As he praises you like you're nothing less than a goddess, you swallow his dick, exactly the way he likes it, the way he showed you. You breathe through your nose, Jungkook being specially big for your mouth, but you surely won't give up so soon.
You said you'll pay him back and you stick to your words. Especially after those fantastic orgasms he gave you tonight.
You palm gently his balls — which he's really sensitive to — while you start bobbing your head over him. Your eyes are quick to water and you blink to pry the tears away, unbothered if your makeup gets smudged. You hear deep moans and groans from Jungkook, telling how good you're being.
You keep your tongue flat underneath him and hollow your cheeks to maximize his pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding your head over his cock as he watches it disappear and reappear between your lips.
He's entirely coated in your spit, length glistening under the bathroom's lights as you bounce your head over him. The situation feels really filthy and the fact that you're in a restaurant, your friends probably wondering what's taking you both so long, is making everything more arousing.
Jungkook didn't even hesitate when he discreetly followed you to the toilet, locking the door before sneaking his large hands under the skirt of your dress. You've let him touch you, let him sit you down on the sink counter, let him slide your panties off. And you don't regret it.
You're even grateful he followed you because now you have to listen to his beautiful moans like it's a melody and suck his dick like it's a cherry lollipop — your favourite.
"Let me... Let me," he rasps out, swallowing to ease his dried throat. You glance up at him when you hear him begin to talk, wondering what he has to say. "Ask you out on a date," he finishes and the lopsided smile on his face has your stomach fluttering.
You pull him out with a 'pop', stroking his wet cock as you collect your thoughts. Is he really asking you out right now? As you're sucking the soul out of him?
"Aren't we already on a date?" You wonder, knowing it's not the answer he wants. You're just not totally ready to give a response to that, not even think about it. You prefer to avoid, prefer to tease.
He frowns cutely, passing his fingers through your tangled hair. He wets his pink lips and looks at you as he reflects, shaking his head. "This isn't a date," he replies. "I want to be with you, only you, baby."
He's referring to your night out with your friends, explaining a real date will be you as his only company. He sounds sure of himself, completely convinced that what he wants and needs is a date with you.
Somewhere you'd choose because he believes the place doesn't matter as long as you're happy with it. Somewhere he can learn more about you, more about your personality and the people you love. He wants to get to know you, know how much sugar you put in your coffee and know if you take your shower in the morning or at night.
He wants to know the simple and the difficult things.
Everything. He wants you to tell him everything about you because he's absolutely in love. Stupidly, drunkly in love with you.
"I want to know you," he confesses and you swear your heart just did a jump in your chest.
"You know me more than anybody else, Jungkook," you flirt, smiling as you stroke him gently, elongating the pleasure. "In every way and angle possible."
It makes him chuckle, his eyes blown out in lust. He shows his cute bunny teeth, a smile you realize you don't want to lose — yes, even when giving him a handjob.
"Let me have my chance, you won't regret it," Jungkook promises, his thumb passing over your cheek, leaving your poor heart incredulous, but still wanting to believe every single word that escapes his mouth.
You don't respond right away, a bit lost in your own thoughts. You've only said good things about Jungkook since you started hooking up and all of your girlfriends are team Jungkook since the beginning. You've even lost the count of his green flags.
Maybe you should let yourself be more vulnerable and be open with him about your feelings. You realize that all this time the one you weren't trusting with your emotions was you, not him.
"I'll fuck you right every day, you'll just have to ask," he adds on and you roll your eyes playfully, smiling at his silly words. "Even on the week-ends. Especially Sunday," he smirks, saying everything to convince you, even what seems stupid because at this point, he knows you've already fell for him.
You swallow him in a swift motion, lubricating his cock more as there was a bit less saliva left on him. You pull out and start pumping him again.
"Why Sundays?" At your question he grins even more, as if he knows his answer will please you.
"Because it's the day of the week you hate the most," he explains, biting down on his bottom lip as the knot in his stomach begins to tighten. "Gonna make it the one you love the most."
You can't help but grin back, connecting your gaze with him. You break eye-contact to tilt your head down and take him back into your mouth. He takes a hold of your hair again and his grip is rough, making your scalp burn.
You whine around him, sucking him like there's no tomorrow. He quickly comes close to his high, saying a bunch of profanity under his breath. He directs the movements of your head, making you take all of him at once, then sliding back up to just have the tip in your mouth.
"Shit, baby," he slurs out, wet curly bangs covering his forehead. His big brown eyes don't leave you, watching you like you're a living piece of art. "Gonna cum, don't stop," he announces and you doubt you'll stop with his hand behind your head, controlling each one of your moves.
You hum around him and place your hands on his strong thighs, sensing his muscles tensing up as he comes undone in you. He steadies your head over him, nose pressed down on his shaved pelvis.
He softly moans, pink lips parting to let the sounds out. He fills your mouth up with his cum, cock twitching as he spills everything he can in you.
He carefully slips out of your mouth and you don't wait to swallow everything before sticking your tongue out to prove him. He smiles, patting your head gently. "What a good girl," he compliments, satisfied with your instant obedience.
You stand up on sore legs as Jungkook stuff himself back in his pants, pulling the zipper of his jeans up. He replaces his tank top over his stomach, covering the band of his Calvin Klein boxers that peaks out.
He brings you closer to him by the waist and you giggle, playing with his silver chain he wears around his neck. "What do you say?"
You sigh, pretending like he annoys you, but your smile totally betrays you. "One date," you accept and he's about to kiss you, but you stop him before he can. "But I chose where we go... and you can't follow me to the bathroom anymore!"
Jungkook chuckles, cupping your jaw and giving you a kiss on the lips. "Deal." As you're about to go back to your table, he hands you something and your eyes widen when you see your panties. "Don't forget that, I'm the only one allowed to see what's under that pretty dress."
You take back your underwear, stepping into the holes then sliding them up your legs. "Shut up," you quickly say before exiting the bathroom, Jungkook behind you.
.
.
.
Do not ask for a part 2.
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hairmetal666 · 24 days
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Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.
He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.
He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.
They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.
"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.
"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"
He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.
"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.
"Had a show?"
"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.
Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.
"Don't--"
"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.
"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"
"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.
"Like you ever could."
Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.
"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"
Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.
Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"
The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.
--
When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.
They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.
Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.
--
In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.
Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"
"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.
"Steve."
"Robin."
They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"
"I don't want either of you to get hurt."
Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."
"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"
He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."
And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.
Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"
"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.
They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.
As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.
Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.
But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.
He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.
--
They aren't as close after that.
Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.
Until Eddie stops returning his calls.
He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.
"Steve? What are you--"
"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"
Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."
He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.
"Eddie, I--"
"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"
Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.
"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.
He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.
The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.
The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.
It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.
--
Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.
It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.
"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.
"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"
"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."
Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."
"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"
"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."
"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."
"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."
Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.
They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.
"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."
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listen to me y'all. listen. hear me out. i know the hesitating to kill the monsters with your children's face angst is spicy. i know it's tempting. don't fall for it.
phil didn't fucking hesitate for a second. he's the one who got everyone else to stop hesitating. once he logged back in, he attacked the codes immediately and shouted for everyone else to do the same. he hates the imposters and he hates them more for daring to use his children's faces. the angst isn't the idea that he would struggle to obliterate a threat to his family.
no, the angst is what happens after.
the angst is the next time tallulah needs her papa's attention when he has his airpods in and she shakes her maracas and he doesn't hear and she has to decide between asking him about the botantical garden and "it shook its maracas too much so i killed it"
the angst is the next time chayanne is feeling clingy or scared and wants to stick close to his father's side but in the back of his mind is just "it got close to me too much so i killed it"
the angst is that phil can see their fear because he knows them and he reassures him as much as he can that he would never hurt them and he would always know the real them but all of them have to live with the question of "but what if you don't"
the angst is phil giving them passwords and code phrases to memorize to prove its really them to soothe their fear of him not being able to recognize them because he solves his problems in the most straightforward, practical way he can but now they're just scared of what if the codes learn the passwords and phil explains that the passwords are just another layer of protection they're not everything and then they're right back where they started
the angst is two children huddled up together in a hotel away from the windows trying to decide if it would be better for their father to kill them by mistake or die by the hand of a monster wearing their face because he didn't think to strike first
the angst is chayanne privately asking phil the question he's trying desperately to pretend tallulah hasn't also thought of: what happens if wilbur comes back and it isn't wilbur?
the angst is phil replying with "he's my son too. i'll recognize him." and he doesn't remember everything from before the island but there's an old ache in his wing that seems to tell him that recognition may not have been enough
the angst isn't that phil hesitates. the angst is that phil doesn't. the angst is that phil loves his children too much to hesitate. the angst is that sometimes doing the best you possibly can by your children will still fuck them up so so so bad
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Like Bambi on Ice - Max Verstappen
Summary: Some people might mistake Max's protectiveness as something negative but really he just doesn't trust his accident-prone girlfriend to get more than 10 steps on her own without managing even just a minor injury.
Themes: multiple injuries for reader
No part 2 requests please
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There's really no reason for y/n to be so uncoordinated and have such bad depth perception. There's literally not explanation, doctors have tried to figure it out. Max even tried to theorise but to no avail.
Y/n just is clumsy and that clumsiness leaves with some sort of cut, bruise, scrape or sometimes more a severe injury. Usually much to Max's distress and attempt to prevent it.
Sometimes he's successful in rushing to stop he from falling, or walking into things.
You know when you try to swerve a counter and sometimes hit your ribs? Y/n managed to crack a rib doing that just last month. That made Max freak out since it happened while he was away for a race weekend and she had stayed at home.
It's healed since with plenty of rest and continuous efforts from Max to make sure she doesn't do anything to risk further injury.
Right now they're just in the hotel room, getting ready for a Sprint Saturday.
"I-ah." Y/n gasps words cut off followed by the sound of skin hitting the floor. "Ow."
Max jogs into the bathroom already knowing what's happened since she's just stepped out the shower. He finds her sitting on the floor with her legs out in front of her.
"How do I manage to fail at getting out the shower?" Y/n groans making him laugh a little as he picks her up put his hands up under her armpits. "It's tragic."
"It's not tragic. It's just the way you are." Max smiles then moving behind her and holding her waist till she's off the slippery bathroom floor and onto the much safer and softer to land on carpet of the bedroom. Though does actually keep hold of her till she turns to face him.
Her body slumping in a heavy sigh as he gently tucks her hair behind her ear.
"I love you, injuries and all." Max states earning a hum.
"I love you too, perfectionism and all." Y/n grins then sighing. "Can you help me dry me hair?"
"Of course I can, baby."
-
A mistake on Max's part was letting y/n follow him up the stairs, because as soon as he heard as squeak of the rubber sole of her shoe on the plastic step and her gasp, he managed to turn fast enough to prevent her upper body from hitting the steps but her knee cap smashes straight into the edge of a step.
"Fuck! Ah, ah ah." Y/n panics as Max rushes to pick her up and carry her to a better spot. "Ow, ow. No. It really hurts."
Tears are the first sign of y/n's injury being something that Max needs to worry. She didn't even cry when she cracked her ribs, sure he wasn't there but other people were and she just hissed, rubbed her ribs and it was only when the bruising appeared she went and got them x-rayed for damage.
"I think I'm going to be sick." Y/n gags once she's sat down, tilting her head back as she takes a few deeper breaths while Max tries to access the damage.
"We need to get you to the medical centre, just to be safe. You're bleeding quite a bit." Max sighs since the cut across her knee is pretty nasty but the blood that's dripping down her leg is definitely making it look bad. "Don't look, don't look at it."
"Well it must be pretty bad if you don't want me to look." Y/n laughs with a shaky breath earning a small sigh from the driver as he looks at the few team members around him.
"We'll get you moved." Max states really just wanting her to pick her up and get her seen to as quick as possible. "Don't look though."
"Keep looking at the ceiling. Got it." She nods with a breathy laugh that gives away she's definitely feeling the pain of her injury.
They get her to the medical centre, gaining a fair amount of attention from others in the paddock. They clean her up and find her kneecap is intact and after giving her a clean up and stern-strips to close the wound as best they can, they also give her crutches with instructions to not bend her knee too much otherwise the wound will open again.
"Max, what happened to y/n? There's like stains from her blood on the ground in the paddock. Is she ok? Everyone was so worried seeing you carry her to the medical centre."
"Ah, yeah. She's fine. She tripped going up the steps in the unit and just sliced her knee cap. But once they blood was gone it wasn't so bad. She is ok though, it was just a bit of shock." Max explains since he knew this question was coming.
"That's good, well not good but we're glad she's not managed to injury herself too bad."
-
Despite some assuming y/n's knee injury would stop her from further injury, Max knew better.
In fact her efforts to prevent further injury to her knee only led her managing to sprain her wrist using the crutches. She also managed to get stuck in-between a sliding door which had her hysterical with laughter as Max jumped to push the doors apart again.
"I wonder how many scars I have...or how many scars I've gained since we met. I feel like the paddock is a bit of a source of injury for me." Y/n comments as they sit back in Max's Monaco home.
"You might have a point." Max hums since he can't deny she is accident-prone but for some reason she's never managed to walk through the paddock without tripping, falling or bumping into someone. Sometimes all three at once, or even all three at completely different points in her walk.
It's almost impressive she can manage to injure herself so much given how short the walk to the Red Bull unit is compared to the others but if anyone could achieve so much with injury, it's y/n.
Max sighs tracing his thumb over the pink, fresh scar on her knee as she rests her legs over his lap.
"I love you." Y/n mumbles with a soft smile leaning her head against the back of the sofa.
"I love you too." Max smiles then rubbing her thigh. Oddly the part of her body with the least scaring, not the least injury but the least scaring. Just one slightly white scar of when she was younger, falling down a rocky edge into a river. A few rocks ripped up the back of her thigh pretty bad and the scars look almost like scratches. "I love every inch of you, born that way or not."
"I don't know how I got so lucky to get a man who will literally jump to protect me from myself and my horrendous co-ordination." Y/n grins shifting close enough that she can kiss him a couple times. "You are the best, and not just in F1."
"Now you are just feeding my ego."
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ioniiaa · 1 month
Text
My Darling, My Honey
Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 10)
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Part 10:
Your head felt like it was splitting, you could feel your brain pounding against the outside of your skull.
"Ah shit... everything fucking hurts...." you can barely whisper out loud due to your dried-up throat.
You clear your throat and open your eyes, to your surprise, you weren't left for dead on the street.
Instead, you see two girls hovering over you. One held your hand clasped in theirs, and the other had a spear pointed at your throat.
"Oh my gosh, you're awake! Finally!" The girl holding your hand said, leaning closer to your face. The girl with the spear and an 'X' over one of her eyes squinted at you and nudged the blonde girl back with her spear, "Who are you, and why shouldn't I kill you?"
You try to sit up, but the spear gets shoved closer to your throat before you can move. You sigh, "My name is (y/n). I don't want to hurt anyone. I just... I need help..."
Your answer earns a glare from the girl with the spear, but the blonde girl just nudges her with her elbow, "See, Vaggie? I told you!"
The blonde takes both of your hands in hers, "Hi (y/n), I'm Charlie! Charlie Morningstar and you're at the Hazbin Hotel! We aim to help rehabilitate sinners and offer them a chance at redemption to go to Heaven!"
The girl you now know whose name is Vaggie glares at you, "Are you even interested in redemption?"
You look at both of the girls, "I... I don't know. I'm not so sure but... I don't have anywhere to go and I need help finding someone.." You trail off as you start getting teary-eyed thinking about your love, Alastor.
Seeing you near tears clearly startled Chalie and Vaggie, it wasn't a response they were used to when asking sinners to stay at the hotel.
Vaggie set down the spear, deciding that you clearly weren't a threat. She could see the look in your eyes, one she knew very well- love. Meanwhile, Charlie is sniffling and getting teary-eyed right along with you, "Oh my gosh, we will do everything we can to help you find that person! Who are they, how can we help?"
You look up at the ceiling and then look at Charlie with a weak smile, "The love of my life... I miss him so dearly... I know he has to be here in Hell too." You chuckle lovingly, knowing he'd forgive you if he ever found out you said that out loud.
The floodgates were blown wide open and Charlie started sobbing and wailing, "Vaggieeeee, VAAAGGIEEEEEEE, th-they! They're looking for their LOOOOVEEEEEEEE. IT'S SO BEAUTIFULLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!"
Vaggie walked over to Charlie and scooped her up, giving you a gentle smile, "Hey... (y/n), sorry about threatening you earlier... I gotta take Miss Princess and calm her down, and then inform the other residents of a new arrival. But if you need anything, just give us a holler, okay? You're still healing so... take it easy."
You nod as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, "It's okay... No offense taken... Thank you Vaggie, and thank you Charlie, for agreeing to help me.."
All you hear as Charlie is carried away is the sounds of wailing and crying muffled sounds over the words, "SHE'S HERE FOR LOVE... WAAAHHHHHH, IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL VAGGIEEE!!!!"
You try to sit up again, this time, no spear to bar you from trying to move this time. Your body groans in protest, though it doesn't hurt nearly as much as before, but as you assess the condition of your body, you notice you have bandages all over you. They must have been treating you while you were unconscious.
"Such sweet girls... they didn't even know me, yet they saved my life.... I need to remember to thank them again later.."
Very slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and with a bit of effort, bring yourself to your feet. Hands holding yourself against the wall, you make your way over to what you assumed would become your bathroom during your stay here.
Your hands grip the sink as you look in the mirror when a small doubt enters your brain. You didn't look completely the same as you did when you were alive, which meant you had no idea if Alastor was even going to recognize you. Perhaps he even forgot about you... since it's been so many decades since you've been in Hell. Hell, you weren't sure you were even going to be able to recognize him...
"Enough of this... I'm sure he'll remember me.. he has to..." you whisper to yourself in the mirror as a crooked but tear-stained smile graces your hell-altered face.
After washing up your reddened face from all the tears, you made your way back to your bed. A deep sigh left your body as you plopped down gently on the bed.
Though you can't help but feel restless, as you sit there, just thoughts consuming your head.
In as bad of a shape as you might be, walking around even just a little bit helped you regain a little bit of strength, so you decided to make yourself decent after you had discovered that there was a change of clean clothes for you in dresser in the corner of the room.
Looking at yourself in the full body mirror on the back of the bathroom door, you smiled because it felt good to not look like a hot garbage fire- even though you could still see most of the bandages, at least you weren't all tattered and visibly bloody anymore!
Another deep sigh left your lips yet again, though this one was filled with determination. You turn the handle on the door and exit your room.
In your head, you thanked whoever built this hotel because you were so thankful that there were railings or some type of furnishing to hold onto whenever you felt yourself getting wobbly.
You didn't know where Charlie or Vaggie, or where any of the staff or other residents could be, hell, you didn't even know where the lobby was!
But on that last note, as you wandered around and regained some strength in your legs, you started to have an idea of where the lobby was located because you started to see more light and heard some voices talking.
Might as well go introduce yourself, right? No time better than the present to start making introductions, even if you still felt a little bit like shit still. You felt even shittier just laying around, you felt like if you weren't on the go constantly- you'd never make any headway on finding Alastor.
So there you were, slowly descending the stairs to the lobby when you heard Charlie call out your name, " (y/n)! Oh my gosh, you shouldn't even be up right now! Are you feeling okay??"
A weak smile creeps up on your face as you start to feel embarrassed that Charlie is fawning all over you in front of what seems to be her friends.
You chuckle, "Yeah, haha, just feeling kinda restless and thought i'd introduce myself is all!"
Charlie gently takes your hand and pulls you over to the rest of the group that had been chatting while seated on various sofas and armchairs that were centered around a coffee table- no TV's in sight, just a single radio perched on top of the mantle in this living room/lobby hybrid space.
"Guys! I am honored to introduce you to the newest guest to the Hazbin Hotel, this is (y/n)!!"
"Nice to meet cha, the name's Husk, the bartender."
"Hey there toots, bet ya look mighty fine underneath those bandages. Better not give me a run for my money as most gorgeous resident! Oh yeah, the name's Angel Dust, by the way."
"Hi, i'm Nifty! Nice to- BLEGH, you're a woman! Ew!" Nifty said before cackling as she scuttled away to stab some bugs nearby.
"Well, you already know me and Charlie," Vaggie said as she patted you on the shoulder gently.
"It looks like the only one who isn't here is Alastor. Shouldn't he be back soon?" Charlie said as she pulled out her phone to check the time.
To her, that seemed like such a mundane and normal sentence. But to you, it felt like time stopped and you froze upon hearing his name.
Alastor.
Alastor... here?
-> Part 11
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lassieposting · 5 months
Text
Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.
Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.
Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.
Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.
For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.
And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the
✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨
Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.
Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.
Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.
Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.
Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.
Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.
Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.
Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."
Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.
Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.
Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.
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love-belle · 8 months
Text
i bet you think about me !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is just them shading each other on instagram and co parenting their cat.
or
for when you know they're thinking about you. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // lando norris x fem!reader
sequel - i'll be loving you for quite some time ⋆·˚ ༘ *
warnings - language. both the reader and lando are petty bitches having a petty virtual stand-off.
author's note - hello!!!!! so sorry for the wait, i've been busy with stuff :/// i really hope u like this <3 thank u so much for reading!!! i love u <3
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, lewishamilton and 786,416 others
landonorris happier than ever.
8,927 comments
username THE CAPTION
username oh.
username no bc why did this hurt me.
username my heart can't take it what the fuck
danielricciardo unnecessary caption but alright.
-> landonorris i did not lie though???
username WHY IS THIS HAPPENING
username i haven't recovered from their breakup and now ur telling me that they ended on bad terms??????
-> username no they're fine!!!!!!! this is just lando being silly!!!!!!!!!!!!!
username no bc why THE FUCK is lando out here looking all fine while my girl y/n was seen crying in front of her mom yesterday
-> username weren't there rumours that they broke up bc y/n was committed to this relationship more than lando was????
-> username oh what the fuck
username "happier than ever" like we didn't see u and y/n all those years with eachother
maxverstappen1 👍
*liked by landonorris*
username nah bc if i was y/n i would be so hurt by this what the fuck.
-> username imagine going through a breakup after being together for more than 2 years and they post THIS after a WEEK like
lilymhe fake ass bitch
*this comment has been deleted*
username god i love lily defending her wifey
username LANDO HOW AM U SUPPOSED TO DEFEND U LIKE THIS
username no bc my heart's aching for y/n she doesn't deserve this
charles_leclerc need to talk to you real quick.
-> carlossainz55 just a friendly chat!
-> username oh they're maaaaaaad
username im a child of divorce what the fuck
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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yourusername i’ll think of something else your initial can stand for
*this post is not available*
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 789,979 others
yourusername blocking him isn't enough when i want to throw tomatoes at his head like he's a medieval criminal
8,926 comments
username PLEASE
username SOMEONE TELL ME THEY SAW Y/N'S LAST POST
-> username NO BC WHEN U TELL U MY HEART BROKE
-> username "i’ll think of something else your initial can stand for" do u want me to cry.
username bet lando feels like an asshole after seeing that post 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
-> username imagine fumbling so hard 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
lilymhe replace those tomatoes with concrete blocks and we're good!
-> yourusername alright slow down
-> username HELP
username y/n liking all the comments roasting lando but blocking all the ones who are hating on him is actually so personal to me
-> username like girl hates him but only she's allowed to do it
-> username my parents!!!!!!!!! divorced but parents nonetheless!!!!!!!!!
charles_leclerc i can arrange the tomatoes
-> carlossainz55 i can lock him in a room for you to throw tomatoes at him
-> danielricciardo i can stand by and record the whole thing for you to look back on and laugh
-> yourusername i adore each one of you wtf ☹️☹️☹️
username that prev caption hits hard knowing that lando got her a necklace with his initial 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
username THE LYRICS TOOK ME OUT OMG
username imagine breaking up with ur bf and seeing that post he posted after you posted a heartbreaking yet wistful post abt him like
-> username ngl that's gonna be my last straw
francisca.cgomes asking pierre to show it to him brb
-> yourusername LMFAOOO PLEASE
username this is so chaotic i CANNOT
username mother is mothering so hard after her breakup
-> username she broke free of the shackles 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
*liked by yourusername*
username babe it's okay me and our kids forgive u just come home ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
maxverstappen1 sending this to him
-> yourusername do it no balls
-> username pls she's so unserious i love her 😭😭😭
*liked by yourusername*
username i KNOW he looked at this post and cried
*liked by yourusername*
username me when they still post abt eachother but indirectly and with shady undertones 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😘😘😘😘😘😘😘
username i will get over a lot of things but i will never get over y/n and lando breaking up
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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landonorris pov: you're better now 🤍
7,926 comments
username pov ur a liar.
username lando it's okay honey u don't have to lie
username he said this yk like a liar
maxverstappen1 not me watching you wipe your tears right now
-> landonorris LEAVE ME ALONE
username the way i've been crying since i found out and it's not even my relationship like DAMN.
username lando how does it feel to fumble a bad bitch like y/n 🎤🎤🎤
username no bc i KNOW the drivers reallllllllly gave it to lando after they found out about the breakup
username IS THAT Y/N'S CAT
-> username they're co parenting caz 💀💀💀
-> username it's weekend with dad ig 😭😭😭
danielricciardo pov: you're a liar ❤️
-> landonorris choke ❤️
username max and daniel really calling him out on his bullshit 💀💀💀
-> username as they should
username the way i fell to the floor when the articles first came out abt their breakup
username so y/n WAS committed to this relationship more than he was
username me having a nice day and suddenly remembering the fact that lando once said that y/n was everything he had spent his life looking for and everything he thought he'd never find
-> username I WAS HAVING A NICE WHY DO U DO THIS TO ME
username "pov: you found your soulmate" hahahahahaha!!!! im fine!!!! totally not going crazy over this!!!!!
-> username do u get deja vu
carlossainz55 lies.
-> landonorris blocked.
username need them back together again for mental stability i fear
username they're actually very happy together my delusions told me!!!!!!!
username no way they're just over like that when we could SEE how much they loved eachother like
-> username the articles being all "they had different priorities" NO MF THEY KEPT SAYING HOW THEY COULDN'T WAIT FOR THEIR FUTURE TOGETHER
-> username to the person who wrote those articles, drop the addy i just wanna talk :)
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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yourusername when u know he's gonna think u every time he hears a taylor swift song and it'll make him want to CRY
7,532 comments
username the ultimate revenge
username the way i lit up whenever i see one of them posted but it's literally just them shading eachother like I CANNOT.
username LMFAOOOOO
carmenmmundt he'll listen to lover and it'll make him want to cry
-> georgerussell63 playing that the next time he walks in a room
-> yourusername thank u for ur service carmen's bf
username the way this whole thing is like a tennis match 💀💀💀
username ngl this is so entertaining
username couple weeks since they broke up and this is how their post breakup era is going
-> username when they're still so 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼
username they're just being silly!!!!!!!! just a prank y'all!!!!!!!! silly y/n and lando!!!!!!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
danielricciardo can confirm that exile was playing when i walked into his driver's room
-> yourusername HELP OMG
-> username not exile LMFAOO
username why are u so pretty
username post break up glow be hitting different ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
*liked by yourusername*
username women become 1000000x more beautiful everytime a m*n disappoints them
*liked by yourusername*
lilymhe asking alex to make all the playlists just taylor swift babe we're destroying his peace
-> yourusername OKAY SLOW DOWN FOR A MIN
username y/n telling her fans to be kind and lando straight up to ignoring everything does tell u a lot abt them tbh but some people are not ready for that conversation yet
-> username the way y/n and him were FINE after their breakup until he posted with that caption likeeeee
-> username nah bc what if.............HE WAS THE PROBLEM
-> username men need to go back to war
lewishamilton can't wait to see you next week!! roscoe misses his favourite dogsitter!!
-> yourusername missing my buddy so much 🤍🤍🤍 see you both next week!!!!!!!
username the entire grid adores her i can TELL
username this is what he deserves
username no bc i know im supposed to sad that they broke up but them posting abt each other indirectly while having the other person blocked is so hilarious
username my y/nlando heart 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
username the grid still being close to y/n is so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
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landonorris how i feel every time i hear a taylor swift song and my mind goes straight to her
7,931 comments
username NOT HIM USING HIMSELF AS MEMES
username so who's gonna tell him.
username people who follow both of them 💀💀💀💀💀
username lando...babe...
username no bc they DO shade eachother and roast eachother since they broke up but the fact that y/n tells all the ppl hating on lando to "shut the fuck up and get a fucking life" and lando straight up blocks them is so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username IT'S WHAT SHE WANTS
danielricciardo chuckles knowingly
-> landonorris WHAT DO YOU KNOW
-> danielricciardo NOTHING
-> landonorris WHAT
-> danielricciardo NOTHING OH MY GOD
username smirks
username good.
username yes cry abt it x
username the way "the 1" is literally them LIKE
-> username "it would've been fun if you could've been the one" 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
-> username CAN U HEAR ME CRYING
charles_leclerc this is interesting
-> landonorris ?
username lando being confused is sending me 😭😭😭😭😭😭
username y/n fr manifested this 💀💀💀
username IM GIGGLING THIS IS HILARIOUS
username someone send this to y/n
*liked by danielricciardo*
maxverstappen1 we get what you mean but please stop playing the 1
-> landonorris none can do sorry
username NOT LANDO PLAYING THE 1
username im so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
username y/n is chuckling rn i can feel it
lilymhe this is interesting!
-> landonorris WHAT IS
username OH MY GOD
username them shading eachother while having the other person blocked is top tier comedy i cant
username the next race is gonna be so interesting I can't wait 🗣️🗣️🗣️
username PLEASE OMG
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yourusername i bet you think about me
8,467 comments
username MOTHER
username ATE
username HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD
username step on me please.
username i KNOW he looked at this post and cried
lewishamilton as pierre taught me, slayed the house down with boots or whatever
-> yourusername LEWIS OH MY GOD
-> yourusername but thank u that means sm to me 💌
username SHE'S SO SVANAKDJDMKSJSJ
username iconic.
username taylor swift always right !!!!!!!!!!
carmenmmundt pretty pretty
-> yourusername yeah you you
username my bi awakening
-> username that's so real actually
username THIS IS PERFECT
username someone thank daniel for showing lando's post to y/n so that we could get THIS
*liked by danielricciardo*
username WOMEN
lilymhe marry me rn idc i loveeee u ur so pretty ahahahaha pls.
-> yourusername babeeeeee i love u sm we're absolutely getting married idc abt ur bf we're eloping
-> alex_albon it's not even noon yet give me a break
username carmen, lily, kika and y/n ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username YEAH I BET U THINK ABOUT ME
username he DOES think about u
username no bc if i was lando i would be in my knees screaming crying throwing up for her to take me back
-> username real like how will u explain to people that u ended up fumbling a bad bitch
francisca.cgomes GORGEOUS
-> yourusername I LOVE YOU
username "i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of u"
-> username DIDN'T SHE POST THAT WHEN SHE ANNOUNCED THEIR RELATIONSHIP
-> username lord i am not strong enough for this.
username kinda missing them together ://
-> username i miss lando panicking in the comments section everytime y/n posted like homeboy was down BAD
-> username frrrr like he was down SO bad it was almost embarassing
username I JUST GASPED OUT LOUD HOLY FUCK
charles_leclerc can confirm
*liked by yourusername*
username I NEED LANDO'S REACTION TO THIS OMG
username both of their pr personnel are having a field day with this
-> username i would not want to be either of them today 💀💀💀
username exes beefing is so entertaining i swear im here for this petty bitch fight
3K notes · View notes
kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months
Note
Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…
I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !
You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Wildflowers Grow in Ruins
(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)
Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.
Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.
A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.
Wars are exhausting. 
You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.
But waging a war against yourself… 
Now that is pure hell. 
It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.
But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.
He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.
But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.
Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.
The day has finally come to let him go.
You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.
But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.
Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 
You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.
But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.
So why is it so hard to let go?
The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 
And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.
You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.
Good. 
Good.
Great.
You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.
The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 
It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.
Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?
The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.
"I need to talk to you." 
Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.
He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.
"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 
This should be easy…
It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.
"I think we should go separate ways."
The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.
"Ok."
It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 
"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.
He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.
"Is it because of my work?" 
"No."
"What is it then?"
Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.
Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.
"Hey. Hey."
He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?
His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.
And he must hate weakness.
"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 
It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.
"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?
"What do you mean?"
He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.
"Have you found someone else?"
What the…
"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"
He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 
"I'm just…" 
Jesus, this is just humiliating. 
"I'm just not your type."
"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 
He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 
Losing you.
"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."
"It's not that. You don't understand–" 
"Try me."
"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"
"Stop right there."
The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.
"Bloody fucking hell…" 
He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 
And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"This is the reason you wanna break up?"
Ugh.
"Yes?"
His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 
But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.
"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"
"I don't know." 
"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"
"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 
"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."
He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.
"Can I touch you?"
You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.
"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.
"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…
"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"
Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.
"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.
"Then why do you think you're not my type?"
"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.
"That for sure ain't true."
"But it is."
He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.
"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 
"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"
It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.
"No…?"
"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"
"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.
"No, I don't think I will."
He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.
"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"
You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 
It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.
"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."
"Simon–"
"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"
He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 
"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."
For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?
"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.
"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."
You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.
"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."
You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.
"Then let me help you."
The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.
"You don't even let me touch you anymore."
It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.
"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."
Oh my God…
Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 
That would explain why he has avoided you too…
He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 
Jesus fucking Christ.
"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."
"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 
He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 
Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.
"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."
Oh God–
"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."
"Hmh…"
"Don't wanna live without that smile."
You don't have to. 
God, you don't have to…
"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.
"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"
"...Ok." 
He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.
"Come on. Make me believe it."
"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.
"That's my girl."
Oh fuck…
He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 
And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?
The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.
"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."
He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.
He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.
He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 
No one can fake such fervor.
You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.
"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."
You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.
"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"
"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."
He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.
"Yeah…?"
"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."
His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.
"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."
"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.
"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."
If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.
"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.
"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 
"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."
Wow… He is a bit pissed.
Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 
It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 
"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 
Whoa. 
Ok…
First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.
You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.
Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…
There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.
"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"
"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 
Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.
He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.
Oh f–
"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 
"Uh–...."
Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 
"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."
"Oh god…"
There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.
"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 
You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.
"Simon–"
His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.
"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."
You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 
You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.
"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."
He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.
"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."
The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.
"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"
"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 
"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."
Shit…
"I, I'm gonna…"
Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.
He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.
Fucking bastard…
Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 
You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.
His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 
Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.
"Jesus Christ…" 
He sounds dazed. 
Relieved. 
"Should've done this weeks ago."
You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.
"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 
"Yeah. You should have."
"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.
"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."
He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 
The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…
And love.
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dotster001 · 7 months
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Can I request overblot crew + malmal (idk if he's gonna be the one who does it so) w a mc who has the uncontrollable impulse to just. Touch things they deem pretty/cute/whatever? Like malmals horns, leonas ears and tail, idias hair, jamils little coin things in his hair, vils crown, etc?
Or funnier, things they're supposed to not touch bc common sense? Like the boiling hot liquid in the alchemy cauldron, the fireplace, broken glass, basically anything someone would have to rip their hands away from lol
A/N: I did a mix of things. As someone who wants to put dungeons and dragons dice right into my mouth, I had a lot of fun with this one 😂 I want to put my hands in jamil and Azul's hair so bad 😭
CW: injury in Azul and Idia's parts, self inflicted, cause obviously 😂
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No one was allowed to touch the roses. Well, no one but you. You like to run your fingers on the petals, tracing any visible veins, touching paint spots, and booping him on the nose if the rose hasn't dried yet.
So sweet, so soft, so innocent. He only wished that…
"Fuck!"
No matter how many times he reminded you not to, you always poked the thorns.
"Y/N," he said sternly, "the entire point of thorns on roses is that they hurt.  They are intended to protect the rose!"
"But if not for touch, why touch shaped?" You pouted.
"Sorry?"
You sighed, and stared at the rose with a sharp glare, before turning back to him with a mischievous grin. 
"If I can't play with the roses, can I play with your scepter staff thing?"
He should have known. You'd been asking to "play with it" for weeks now. And every time he'd clutched it tighter, and taken a step back. He loved you! But he didn't trust whatever it was you wanted to do with his staff.
"Please, my rose?" You gently traced the collar of his dorm uniform, pressing your free hand to his chest and  giving him the sweetest puppy dog eyes.
He sighed, and placed his scepter in your hand, and was given immediate whiplash as you started swinging it through the air like a baseball bat.
"What are you doing?!?"
"Fighting crime!"
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He felt a ticklish feeling in his half awake state. Assuming it was a fly of some sort, he flicked his ears, and attempted to drift back off. But the ticklish feeling was insistent. He opened one eye to see you scratching his ears. He groaned. He should have known. This was a common occurrence.
"Oy, Herbivore!"
Your eyes widened, and flickered to his.
"Oh! You're awake!"
"Yeah, cause there's a fly buzzing by my ear."
You looked down at your hands then pulled them away.
"Oh, sorry."
You reached out to fiddle with one of his braids, your fingers doing what he could only describe as kneading the plaits.
He gripped your wrist, and pulled you down to his level, pressing you into his chest.
"If you're gonna mess with my hair, then, quid pro quo, you should expect there to be a price."
You nuzzled into his chest and nodded, your hand snaking back into his hair as he drifted off to your gentle fingers.
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This was exactly why he had the Leech twins watch you. You always complained you didn't need a babysitter, but when left to your own devices…
"As your partner, I shouldn't have to sign a contract or pay a price for a healing potion!" You cried, clutching your burnt hand.
What had you done?
You'd touched a stove seconds after the burner was turned off.
Call it stupid curiosity.
"If there's no price, how can I ensure you won't keep making these decisions!" Azul cried, finishing the final touches of the contract he was writing.
"Decision implies I thought about it. I can't stress enough that there was no thought involved."
He glared at you, before pushing the contract over to you.
"Sign it, and I'll fix your hand."
"My hand hurts too much," you whined.
"Your non-dominant hand is the one you burned. Sign it."
You looked at the fine print before grimacing.
"This says I can't touch anything if it's an impulse touch. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"That means I can't just touch your hair anymore? I can't just come up and kiss you anymore?"
Azul groaned a massaged his temples. 
"This is a punishment. You get those privileges back in two weeks. Sign the damn contract."
You intended to glare at him, but a wave of pain hit your hand and you quickly signed it in shaky script.
"There," he pulled out a potion and gently took your hand. "Hopefully you learn something."
"I probably won't," you muttered bitterly.
"I know," he lamented.
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His heart couldn't handle it. Even asking you out had nearly sent him into the recesses of his hood for eternity. 
But ever since then, whenever you got the chance, your hands were in his hair. Usually playing with the gold medallions in his hair. But if he happened to have worn his hair down that day….oh sevens.
You'd somehow snuck up on him, and snuck your way into his lap, cupping his face and running your hands through his hair.
You were technically looking at his face, but he knew you weren't actually seeing him. You were seeing his hair.
"Y/N," he muttered, feeling his face burn, "I have to finish this homework."
"Mhmm," you muttered, as dazed as if he'd charmed you.
"Y/N!" He whines, unable to stop himself from leaning into your touch, just a little.
"Mhmm," you hummed, before unexpectedly pressing his face to your chest to allow yourself more space to play with his long hair.
He thought about speaking up. But you couldn't see his increasingly flustered expression with his face pressed to your chest. And you were warm and comforting. And your hands in his hair didn't feel too bad. Maybe he could indulge. Just for a moment.
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Crash
Vil groaned, and left the bathroom he'd been doing his makeup in, watching you stare at a shattered bottle. Was it potion, perfume, or lotion? Even you probably didn't know. You just saw a shiny, pretty bottle, and had to touch.
"I'll pay for it!" You shouted, eyes wide with fear.
He sighed, flicked his pen at the broom he'd bought not long after dating you, and watched as it magically swept up the pink shards and goop on the floor.
He then half heartedly glared at you, lazily pointing his pen in your direction.
"Don't touch another one."
You aggressively nodded, and he returned to the bathroom to finish his look.
Ten minutes later, he heard it.
Crash
He covered his mouth to hide his quiet laughter. He truly couldn't leave you alone for ten minutes. It was endearing truly. He heard the broom fall as you, he assumed, hastily moved to sweep it up, and he couldn't hold back anymore, allowing himself to release a full, joyous laugh.
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"Hold that," Idia said excitedly as he passed you the scissors he'd just been using. His new game system was here! And he'd bundled it so that it came with Star Rogue 2, which had only just come out! 
He slowly pulled it out of the box, holding his breath from excitement, and,
"Fuck!" 
He turned to look at you, and your thumb was in your mouth.
"What's wrong?" 
You pulled your thumb out, showing a cut on the finger pad. 
"Ortho!" Idia called in a panic, holding your hand and staring at the cut. In his panic, he stuck your thumb in his own mouth.
"Ew, Idia," you said, face full of disgust at your boyfriend's spit on your hand.
Ortho came over before he could respond, and pulled your hand from Idia's mouth. He immediately got to work on the cut, seeming to have been aware of the problem immediately.
"How did you do this?" Idia asked, rocking back and forth to get rid of his nervous energy.
You looked up at Ortho, then back at Idia, then back to Ortho.
"I'm embarrassed to say it when Ortho is here. He'll just give me a speech."
"I only give speeches when you need them!" Ortho said defensively.
"Which is everytime," you muttered bitterly.
"Y/N, please, I'm scared. Tell me what happened!" Idia cried, beginning to pace as Ortho wrapped a bandage around your thumb.
You stared at the floor. "Well, you handed me the scissors, and I was curious how sharp they are, so…"
Idia groaned, and Ortho immediately began his speech about scissors.
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Malleus knew he was tall, especially compared to humans. So he'd never thought much about how insistently stared up at him, eyes full of expectation.
It wasn't until he watched your cat creature's eyes do the same thing as he tied a shoelace, one day, that he realized that you wanted something. And it wasn't hard to figure out what it was.
"Are you looking at my horns? If you're so curious, you can touch them freely. But only if you are ready to see what will happen afterwards."
Little did he know that he had stumbled upon a rare breed of human, one that was unafraid of him, but to an unrealistic extent.
It was visible today, while you were on a walk together, and then you stopped walking. He paused to look back at you, but it was too late. You were climbing his body like a koala, all to reach his horns.
"If you simply asked me, I would let you touch them."
"So shiny! Must touch!"
He laughed lightly as you reached his horns, and heard you attempt to knock against them. They didn't have feeling, but he could guess from previous times this had happened that you were poking the points with a finger and running your hands up and down them.
He felt a pull on his head as your lower half lost its grip, and you helplessly dangled while holding his horns.
"Oh, my silly child of man," he laughed. "What am I going to do with you?" He flicked his pen and helped you float down, then turned to you. You were sitting in the grass and pouting.
"I wasn't done," you muttered.
He knelt in the grass with you, then lay his head on your lap, laughing again as you excitedly traced his horns, allowing himself to relax under your care.
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wednesdaysky · 6 months
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I like how Gortash is kind of a hidden foil to the theme of "breaking free from those who abuse you" and "perpetuating the cycle of abuse" that runs throughout all of BG3.
He was hurt very badly. What did he learn from it? That you're ultimately alone, nobody is going to come save you, the only person on your side is yourself. He didn't have a Tav/anyone else to come help him, or if he did, he refused to let their words get through to him. He dragged himself out of literal hell -- from there decided he was going to make the entire world pay for what was done to him. From there never grew up from the kind of simple fantasy a child would come up with, I'll be better than you, nyah nyah. From there did an Ascended Astarion and did live his own worst life.
His parents had power over him but decided they'd rather have money than another mouth to feed? Fuck them, Enver could earn more money than they ever had. Raphael had power over him and lived a life of luxury while treating his slaves to all the horrors of life amongst devils? Fuck him, Enver could accumulate more luxury than even a devil would ever have, even steal his coveted toy. He was smart, he could outwit them, he could be worse than them if needed and leave them all crying in the dust at his success.
And then he did whatever was necessary, the way his own family had done what was necessary, no matter how dirty. Went on to beg, borrow, and steal his way to the good life with no sleazy stone unturned. Seducing people to steal from them? Who cares, if they don't notice he's doing it then they're idiots and deserve to be taken for a ride. Weapons dealing? Barely a crime at all, if he wasn't doing it someone else would. Selling slaves? Who cares, it was done to him and he got out, anybody who can't is just a weakling. Selling Karlach in specific? Betraying those who trust you to make a quick buck is just good business, he had it done to him and he's fine. Playing with people's souls and lives in the most horrific fashion possible? Whatever, it's not his soul and they're not worth that much anyway, devils literally spend them as currency.
Hitch your wagon to somebody more powerful than you, use their influence to gain more power over others, then step on them to climb your way up the ladder -- that's the way you get what you want out of life. It's no surprise that he threw in his lot with Bane. Sure, he's technically got a new master holding authority over his head (though with as arrogant and self-aggrandizing as he is, I can picture him even thinking "I already outfoxed two powerful devils, I'm about to rule the world, so...what's a single god really?"), but all these stupid mortals underneath him? Now they have to do whatever he wants. It's childish petty revenge taken to the utmost logical extreme possible. Everybody he ever hated, everybody who ever wronged him, everybody who might want to wrong him, they have no choice but to bow and scrape forever and it's the best kind of vengeance against the world to be able to hold that over them. Just consider what he does to his parents. He could've just killed them. Instead his wrath comes in the form of making them watch his success while trapping them in an unending hell they can never escape for as long as they live. The same fate they would have abandoned him to if things had gone differently.
So much of this is told through text notes and little side details that it's easy to miss, but I love that one of our main villains is somebody who suffered in a very similar way to some of the main cast members and his response to that wasn't trying to become better than what was done to him, it was to aim himself straight toward way, way worse.
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sunsetsimon · 5 months
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simon 'ghost' riley x reader
mentions of ptsd, abuse, torture, touch aversion, nightmares
always remember, you are loved and cared for. reach out if you need help, i am always here to provide resources. you are not alone, do not go through this alone.
─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────
☼ jealousy. it wasn't a feeling that simon felt often, and not in the ways most people experienced it, he could care less about any materialistic items. his jealousy would stir in his stomach when he saw people doing to them - normal things. a hug goodbye, holding hands, it was all foreign to him.
he's used to a playful punch from soap or a pat on the shoulder from price, but he never initiates. when you first get together, he's uncomfortable with physical affection and will often unintentionally shut you down. your hand will reach for his but he doesn't move, not even noticing you attempting to touch him. he won't hug you before he leaves, only giving a nod and heading out.
he knows it hurts you but it's hard.
slowly he works on it, giving a loving squeeze and reaching for your hand, but it's a long process before it becomes an unconscious habit.
☼ simon doesn't sleep much to begin with, but when it gets bad, he starts to have nightmares almost every night. they're intense, seeming to last forever, as if he'd lived days in the dream. his sleepy mumbling will turn into physical reactions, his body starting to twitch, fists clenching so hard his knuckles turn white. gasping awake he shoots up, his hand immediately on his gun and ready for combat. he's sweaty, heart beating so fast it seemed like it'd jump out of his chest.
"you okay, si?" you whisper from beside him, snapping him back to reality. simon takes a deep breath, setting his pistol back down on the nightstand, unable to speak. immediately you recognize it was another nightmare, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his back. his head drops into his hands, needing to take time to relearn what his reality is; he's home, he's with you.
but fuck, why doesn't it feel that way then? why is he haunted every time he closes his eyes?
"'m so tired," he mumbles, fighting back tears of frustration and pain, trying not to question what he did to deserve this hell he calls his own mind.
"i know si... i wish i could take it all away," you attempt to comfort him, but know that nothing you do could help him right now, he just needs time. he gives your arm a pat before standing up, leaving to take time for himself. you hear his footsteps trail down the stairs and a door open, simon deciding to retreat to the garage for the next few hours until he feels okay again.
☼ he wouldn’t ever tell you what actually happened to him, just making vague comments here and there when the opportunity arises. he's scared to talk about it, not wanting to remember anything or try to process it.
your soft fingers trail along the pale scars littered across his skin, wondering what must've happened to him, all the pain he's been through. you stop at a small one on his left wrist, "how'd you get this one?"
"my dad was a piece of shit," and he leaves it at that. you don't push any further, accepting the curt answer with a nod. you softly kiss the scar, beautiful eyes flickering to his. it's things like this that slowly heal him, and instead of thinking of the pain that came with each scar, he thinks of your lips kissing each one as if that'd make it all better. you make it all better.
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bonny-kookoo · 5 months
Text
Jungkook
𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 🔞 | Oneshot
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"Does he even pay you?"
Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, friends with benefits situation, major angst, mentions of sex work, smoking, smut, god so much filth, Dom!Jungkook, big dick JK but what's new, did I mention angst?, protected sex, multiple rounds, multiple positions, a brief thighjob, so many feelings
Length: 7k+ words
There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Oneshot.
♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥
"How does it feel to be a celebrity and ending up with me?" You wonder at him over the music, making him frown before he shakes his head, pulling you in by your hands he's holding.
"What're you talking about babe?" He argues softly, letting go of your hands to hold your waist now. "I've got the prettiest girl at my side, in my opinion. Can't complain whatsoever." He tells you into your ear, voice raised a bit and slightly raspy from his last smoking break.
You just shrug, enjoying the music when some people approach you, talking to Jungkook about something you don't listen in on, even though he's still holding you close. It's none of your business, you really don't want to get too involved with his work and everything around it, but it's clear that he likes to do exactly that.
Jungkook wants you around all the time. Doesn't matter if it fits the scene and situation, if he can invite you or bring you along, he will.
Fans don't know your connection to him. They constantly battle it out in comment sections that you're just a translator, nothing else, that you're staff so of course you have to travel alongside him. And just how they can seem to connect everything to dating if it fits their 'ship' they've got inside their minds, they're also talented in finding thousands of (sometimes frankly ridiculous) reasons as to why it cannot possibly be true either.
While before, someone wearing the same jewelry as Jungkook was a confirmation of a relationship, with you its just pure coincidence. You're an adult woman, you can choose whatever necklace or ring you want, that doesn't mean you're dating him. You're wearing the same t-shirt he wore just a day ago? Maybe you just own the same, or he was nice enough to lend it to you for one reason or the other. Seen near his hotel room? Well of course, you're staff!
The truth is, that you're not even staff at all- but you're also not dating him.
Jungkook has become awfully… comfortable in his trust that fans will brush off every rumor floating around. It's why he's shamelessly grabbing your tits from behind right now just for the fun of it, lips kissing your neck as you slap them off to hold your waist instead. "They'll call it AI-generated or something." He laughs, but you can't shake off the feeling of doubt about that. "And there's no one here filming anyways. It's a private VIP zone, so relax baby." He chuckles, swaying you with him to the beat.
He's right that this is a secluded zone- but that's never stopped anything ever before, did it. One random Instagram live where you're both seen in the background and it's over. For both of you.
"Let's go back to the hotel though. I'm horny as fuck." He laughs, making you roll your eyes with red cheeks to go with.
Jungkook is a shameless person- he doesn't see anything wrong with the things he says or does if they're not hurting anybody. He's got his own opinions and he stands by them, only ever shifting his stance if there's undeniable evidence of him being wrong shown to him. And he also enjoys the more physical aspects of love.
Jungkook enjoys sex to its fullest.
He used to sleep around quite often, his charm and also wealth and status enough to make the act of finding someone willing fairly easy. Most wouldn't be believed anyways if they openly said he'd slept with them- he made sure they never took pictures or god forbid videos, and he also never stayed the night, most of the time preferred the security of his own home where he could politely tell them to leave after the deed was done, his reasoning always having to do something with his work.
'I'm sorry, I got called up to the studio.'
'Fuck I forgot I had a flight early morning tomorrow.'
'I'm really sorry, ah this is awkward, but my manager just told me to a live now, and I can't have you being seen.'
You knew he did this. You were staff at some point, after all, even if not hired by his company but rather outsourced during a particularly demanding schedule and many other employees sick due to a viral infection going around in the office building.
You'd been just another victim of his. But somehow, he ended up biting down too hard- making him taste blood, Primal hunger awakened at the mind-blowing experience he'd had, an odd need to keep you just for himself having blossomed from it all. You were a keeper, you still are- and while it's not really love, it's good enough for him. Close enough.
He reminds you, regularly, that it's not love, with how he never claims to love you, avoids the topic altogether, always tells others you're just very close even when it's obvious just like tonight that you're a little too close to just be something casual. But he enjoys your presence nonetheless. Like a dear friend, just with some deeper layers to it.
Some staff call you his personal prostitute. And in a way, you do sometimes feel like that.
Jungkook is that kind of man who could have sex first thing in the morning. Doesn't even have to wake up fully- if you touch him just a bit, he'll come to life in an instant, if he's not sporting a boner already. He enjoys the exhaustion he feels afterwards, always pushes you past your first and second O, keeps his own saved up for the very last stretch all the time. He draws it out to high heavens, has trouble calling it quits.
Shower sex he's mastered, knows exactly where to step and what position to get into to make it as safe as possible. He loves having you on his large sofa, leather easy to clean after you're both done. Sixty-nine is his favorite dinner for two, though he has to admit that lately, he's been enjoying the more closer positions a lot more. Spooning from behind, lotus, you name it- you've become more than just an outlet for him.
He doesn't know what they call you behind his back. What your unofficial status is. They'd never admit that to him, because why would they? No one wants to get on his bad side if they don't have to.
He's on his phone, free hand on your thigh as you both sit in the back of the car that's driving him back to his hotel. He's gonna get out first, make his way inside, while you'll get in later from the back entrance to not raise any suspicion. It's normal. Routine. You've mastered it by now.
"I'll see you in ten." He winks before he makes his way out the car, rushing past some fans who've found out his location, bodyguards already there to guide him inside the lobby.
"Does he pay you?" The driver chuckles, and you shake your head. "Damn." The elderly man clicks his tongue. "Go find yourself an actual man, dear." He tells you as he parks behind the hotel, watching you move, your phone vibrating in your pocket, before it stops suddenly. "You know what they call you, right?"
"I know." You admit quietly.
"And you're okay with that? You're too sweet to let yourself be used like that. Have some self-worth." The man tells you with a kind tone. "I've seen you around long enough to know that you're kind, and a nice person. Trust me, you can and will find a proper man to love you right. But this?" He shakes his head. "You know he just wants you because you've become routine."
"I know." You repeat again, sighing a little.
"You're not what they say you are. You're just a little soft at heart, hm?" The old guy smiles over his shoulder, watching you unbundled your seatbelt. "Trust me, he won't be sad if you call it quits. I've worked for guys like this for more than thirty years- they'll just jump to the next." He explains, and you smile to yourself, before you nod towards the man. "Never mess with entertainers, sweetheart. They'll always break your heart." he offers.
"I know." You say once more, before you exit the car, and get on your way to Jungkook's hotel room.
You don't officially share one, but he still keeps you around for most of the night. You leave whenever he has to do a livestream or if he wants to go to bed, and you come back if he wants you to- but most nights you sleep alone, because he deems it too intimate for you to stay.
Apparently, sleeping in the same bed is more intimate than spitting on your cunt. Interesting.
When you knock on the door, Jungkook opens. Something's off, you notice it right away, but you don't dwell on it, don't answer. It's none of your business, and he won't tell you anyways, so what's the point in just further inducing his bad mood.
It's quiet as he moves around, since he doesn't talk to you, and you don't know what to say. You wait for him to make his move, and when he doesn't, you get up to grab your sweater you forgot in his room earlier, just to have him stand behind you, hands on your hips. "I didn't forget about you." He chuckles, and you let the fabric slip out of your fingers and back onto the floor as he kisses the crook of your neck.
Maybe jungkook is indeed using you. But you've started to use him just as much, if only to even out the odds, and make yourself feel more than just cheap company.
He slips out of his shirt. You raise your arms to help him take off yours, your naked skin at this point almost a requirement for him every time he takes you. He used to be satisfied with just fucking you somewhere quiet quick and simple to quench his thirst, but over the course of time now nearing an entire year, he's become more and more hungry. Like he wants to crawl underneath your skin at some point, the Idol constantly pushes himself more and more inside your body, not just in a sexual sense. He buys you clothes he thinks will look good on you, has a playlist just for when you're at his place filled with somber lovesongs more about heartbreak than anything else. He claims he didn't look up the lyrics, but you know he's lying. He knows a lot more english than he admits, just so he can pull the 'I don't understand' card whenever he's asked a question he doesn't want to answer.
He lets you wear his clothes without much comment by now, has gifted you jewelry he's worn and liked, laughs any mention of that being 'such a sweet gesture' off if anyone around him mentions it. He's not your boyfriend, but he surely is starting to act like it- maybe the lines are blurring for him just as much as they do for you?
People around you have started betting. On when he's gonna have another one, when you'll be 'swapped out' for something else, or at what point he's gonna make it official that you're indeed more than just nightly company. You don't await that day. It's never gonna come anyways.
"Turn around." He commands, and you do, because that's the easiest way to get where you want to be down the line. Head empty, no thoughts left, fucked stupid by a man who keeps you around for just your body and the familiarity you provide. You don't really mind any longer, long having stopped caring about emotions that are fruitless, bound to rot and die because Jungkook won't ever nurture anything you'd try and plant in his heart. He doesn't want it, and doesn't need it either- if he wants to feel loved, he just has to show his face to his millions of fans always on edge for more content. That's where he gets his love from. Maybe you're just there to feed other desires he can't have fulfilled like that.
He licks his lips as he gazes over your naked upper body, bra long undone by his hands on your back, fingers trained in the routine by now. You remember the surprise he'd shown you when you'd worn one with the clasp up front, face so soft and round for just a second that it felt like you'd just slipped into a dream- but his hunger had quickly returned, because Jungkook is a beast never satisfied. He craves more and more, constantly aims for absolute euphoria, never soft, never gentle.
Jungkook bites. He claims, grips, holds and pushes- he's aware over the physical strength he holds over you, and plays around with the fact almost every night. From tugging on your leg to pushing your head down whenever you decide to please him with your mouth instead for once. Something about the way you swallow around him and swirl your tongue always makes him feral, thighs trembling as the muscles spasm beneath the skin from the force of his orgasm. Maybe that's why he keeps you around. Because you can keep up.
His own shirt is shed, and his hands make quick work of his belt before he helps you out of your pants as well. He'd told you he didn't want to use the bed tonight, because asking for new sheets is always awkward, but he does it anyways- picks you up just to let you fall onto the bed, crawling over you. "What do you want?" You ask out of breath, but he just tilts his head in familiar habit, until it shakes no.
"Don't know yet." He answers. This is new.
Usually he always has a fixed scene set out, knows how he wants to take you right away, but this time he visibly seems unsure where to start. Almost like the first time.
He spits in his hand, doesn't bother taking off the rings, fingers working you up like it's second nature. He knows where to place them, how to move and what patterns to choose- and you don't bother thinking about the possible reason for it. Probably to get you wet and ready quick so he can get to the actual act itself, or maybe he just finds some sort of personal satisfaction from it. You're not sure- and neither do you really want to ask.
You're a little cold, but he'll warm you up soon. Hopefully you won't get sick like last time. Will he find someone else to fuck if you're unavailable?
Who knows. He surely has a lot to choose from, if he so much as asked.
He's got a question on his mind, but visibly contemplates on asking it. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, tongue playing with the twin piercings placed there for a second, before he leans in, kisses you. This is one of those things he does that are just outright cruel to you. His kisses full of fever and want feel so burning hot that you're sure you're marked by them for life. Like a signature he's inked underneath your skin almost he claims you again and again like this, with his tongue teasing yours, mouths open and ready to steal each other's breath.
He surely takes yours hostage, every time- and that's probably the smallest crime he commits.
"Have you eaten today?" He asks, and it catches you off guard, eyes opening again, painfully tugged back into reality where he lets his sticky hand run over your abdomen, just to settle on your hipbone. "Your stomach keeps growling." He teases, and you come crashing down. Of course. He'd never actually remember to ask that out of the blue if it wasn't for something reminding him about it.
"Not really." You respond, adjusting your position a little bit, legs trying to pull him closer. "Doesn't matter." You say, and he hums, leaning down again to mouth at your neck- probably marking his territory again, a joke made on a constant whenever you turn up with the blooming bruises on your skin, their origin more than obvious.
"Hm." He hums, almost dissatisfied, but you don't bother to think about it. He moves to lean off the side of the bed, pulling his suitcase closer to get himself a condom, opening the package easily before he rolls it over his length. He seems oddly soft tonight, in more ways than one. Is he still exhausted from the shooting? Could be. He never wants to admit himself that he has to take breaks, thinks that his body can just magically manifest strength from nothing but pure thought, and it used to irritate you, because you felt responsible, in a way. But that was when you still saw more in this than there actually was- nowadays, it's his business, not yours. He's got nutritionists and personal trainers who get paid for taking care of him. It's not your job.
What is your job, really?
Well, you're most certainly not working under his company any longer, and neither have you returned to your original agency either- simply because Jungkook's management deemed you too much of a danger in your position, after the idol had let it slip that you two were having sex on a regular basis. So you just signed an NDA, got paid for your silence, now earning a living by writing books. Modern fantasy novels, where the daydreams you once had can actually become reality, and your hopes and wishes can be dreamed of by other people who have the same.
It's good money. A hobby you cherish.
Jungkook has never asked you what you work as nowadays. He doesn't even visit your apartment, has never seen it before, and he doesn't know if you have family either. He just takes you as his, lets you live alongside him and entertains you whenever he's in the mood for it. And you let him, because these days, he's all you've got. There's not much else you can do than write all day at home or accompany him on his overseas schedules.
You're not sure why he always drags you along, when back home, he won't even call you for days. Maybe he doesn't have to? Maybe his bed at home is always warm. But if that's the case, why not take them on a trip once in a while? Does he have designated women for specific occasions?
Then who will the woman be he chooses to show to the public one day? Number three in his harem?
You can't even truly blame him. As someone he grew up in this industry, his view on the world is warped, shifted, not the same colors as yours. He doesn't feel the same worth in a simple banknote that you do, he can't understand the struggle of missing the bus or having to face an empty fridge.
"Sit up, baby." He tells you, chuckles when you struggle a little to do so- compared to him, flying around all the time actually does take a toll on you. And the petname doesn't make it any better in this moment, as his hands reach out to hold you steady, helping your legs over his thighs, before he guides the head of his cock into you. He wants you close tonight it seems like. Hopefully he keeps holding you, because you're not very energetic this time. "I've got you." He says, and you nod, resting your arms around his neck, hands faintly touching the skin of his back. "Are you cold?" He wonders.
"A bit." You respond. He's probably noticed your icy fingertips.
"I'll warm you up." He purrs, and you nod. You know he will. He always does- always hot hearted in everything he does, even in this. He holds you close, hands on your behind helping you move, your hips rolling a bit too slow for his liking, but he overlooks it for once. You're not sure what's up with him tonight. This isn't him. "You tired, baby?" He wonders, and you nod.
"Sorry." You tell him, but he shakes his head, moves to lay you down, knees pressed into the soft hotel bed mattress as he thrusts his hips forwards.
"It's alright." He brushes it off. "Flight was long as hell." He muses, lazily moving himself. You're enjoying this, even if it's odd for him to behave this way. "Wanna come over for breakfast tomorrow morning?" He asks, and you shake your head.
"Can't." You sigh, arms now moving to lay above your head, eyes closed in bliss. "I fly out back home at 8 tomorrow." You remind him, and you can't see the way his brows lower, face darkening as he realizes he didn't know that. You usually fly back after him. Why are you going home sooner this time?
"Why?" He huffs out, hands grabbing your legs as he pulls your thighs over his, pushing himself deeper now. "You always fly after me." He almost growls.
"I dunno.." You slur. "Management said." You just respond. Why does he seem so irritated by this? It's not a huge deal at all if you fly back sooner or later. He's not gonna call you up back home anyways, so why does it bother him so much.
"Management can go fuck themselves." He argues. "You fly after me. I'll book the flight myself if I have to." he demands practically, slight irritation causing him to have his energy boil up, position adjusted as he becomes more restless, balls smacking loudly against you cunt, pace a lot more ruthless now.
You're finally reaching it. Your head becomes fuzzy.
You don't notice Jungkook becoming almost.. satisfied from that sight of your tension finally leaving. You're nothing but whimpers of pleasure as he slips out of you, hands tugging and pushing your legs and body to have you on your side, the taller Idol now laying down on his side behind you to spoon you, dragging the head of his length through your soaked and slicked up folds. one hand holds up your thigh, helps in opening you up, though you're pretty much gaping from his girth stretching you out moments prior. His lips find your shoulder, your neck, as he pushes himself back inside with the help of your hands-
who suddenly do something new as well, tugging the condom from his cock, making him gasp out in sensitivity. "What're you doing?" He grows.
"IUD." You tell him. "Please-" You beg, and yet again he moves as if awakened from slumber, pushing you halfway on your stomach as he pushes the now bare head of his cock back inside you. This is most certainly new, and he knows for a fact, that he's never going back again.
"Fuck.." He almost laughs, leaning over you now, body covering yours as he just pushes himself in for a good moment, humming a sound of pleasure into your neck as he lets himself relish in the new sensation. "Ah-" He sighs out, before he clenches his jaw, thrusting hard as if to make sure your body will remember him for days to come.
It will. Sadly.
"God, fuck-!" He groans out, holding onto your body now, having turned you onto your side, hand reaching out adjust your arm so he can see your face. Your lips are parted, eyes closed in bliss, and he can't help but have his hand smack down onto your behind that's moving in a way that's way too inviting. He does it a second time, slap clearly heard as he smirks at the way you clench around his cock currently rearranging your insides. He moves your leg to rest over his shoulder, reaching even deeper, hand underneath your belly button pressing where he can faintly feel himself move.
No one can blame him for being absolutely obsessed with your body.
He can feel the way you begin to tighten, thighs shaking a little as you come undone, his hands moving your legs again to close them once more, holding them up, slipping out of your clenching cunt to push his cock right between your soft and wet thighs. it's enough for a moment, though you reach out to touch the tip poking through almost teasingly, making him laugh as he suddenly sighs out, groaning as he spills over your stomach and up your chest. You're breathing heavily, and don't notice you start to shiver, as he parts from you to turn on the light in the bathroom to clean up.
Aftercare is not really his thing- and you've come to accept that.
When you sit up, you stretch your arms in front of you, muscles slowly regaining strength as you wait for Jungkook to finish up, toilet flushing before he emerges again, shamelessly walking without underwear, gaze following you as you walk past him to use the bathroom yourself.
The moment you re-emerge to grab your clothes, he's sitting on the edge of the bed with his boxers back on, phone in his hand. "I booked the flight for you. Tomorrow at 12:30." He tells you as you slip back into your underwear, not bothering with the bra as you search for where he'd thrown your shirt. "Here." He offers- and you slip the garment on with a thanks, only noticing afterwards that that's not yours at all, oversized fabric reaching almost to your knees. "Cute." He comments way too quiet to be meant to be heard, so you don't mention it at all.
"Why is the flight-thing so important?" You wonder, slipping into your socks as he moves around to find the hotel room service menu.
"Because you always fly back after me." He repeats again, clearing his throat.
"…you already said that." You mumble to yourself, but he clearly hears you.
"Fuck alright, god damnit!" He whines in complaint, rolling his eyes. "If you were to fly back earlier, you'll run right into all the paparazzi and shit waiting for me. That's why you're meant to fly back later- so they're gone by the time you arrive." He explains, and you're stunned in the spot you're standing, watching him a bit confused.
So that's the reason?
"It's not like they know." You say, unsure why he's so adamant about it.
"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "I'm not having them jump you for whatever reason they might have." He denies, before he sits down in the seat near the window which blinds are shut. "Now what do you wanna eat?" He asks, and you shake your head.
"I'll eat something tomorrow morning." You deny, and he slumps back in his seat, eyes closed and tongue pushed against his cheek.
"What do you want to fucking eat, babe." He repeats, making sure to pronounce the petname before he looks at you with frustration.
"Nothing." You respond. "Are we done?" You ask him, and he shakes his head, setting the menu down before he crosses his arms.
"No." He denies. "What to they call you?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's getting at, shaking your head with brows furrowed in confusion.
"What're you talking about?" You ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"What do they call you?" He repeats. "I heard what you talked about in the car when I left."
"How?" You ask baffled.
"Telepathy." He jokes without humor, before he scoffs to himself. "I called you to actually ask you if you wanted to eat something- but you must've accidentally accepted the call without looking, because I clearly listened in on a convo I wasn't supposed to hear." He explains. "Either way, I want an answer. What. Do. They. Call. You." He demands, and you sigh.
"Why does it matter?" You argue, searching for your leggings in the room- finding them over the armrest of the chair he's currently sitting in. "I'm your personal prostitute, just without the pay." You tell him, and it takes him a second to realize that that's your answer.
Suddenly, he wants you out the room.
Not because he doesn't want you here any longer, but because the guilt is eating him alive with ever second he has to look at you. Because the more he think about it, the more it becomes obvious to him that this really must look like just that to everyone. After all, he's just taking you with him apparently for sex, and he's become so comfortable in it that he didn't think about it any longer. It's what you want too, right?
Jungkook has never really learned how to convey his emotions properly. He doesn't know what it's like to fall in love, has no idea what to look out for. He likes spending time with you, and enjoys the sex to the point that he's been monogamous with only you for the past year or so. It's nice to be in a relationship, even though he knows this one isn't normal. It's still okay, because down the line, you understand each other. He likes you, he just doesn't want people to use that against him or you at some point- so he keeps your status to himself. No one needs to know you're a couple. Only you and him. Because.. you know that, right?
"You know that's not what you are to me, right?" He asks, and you shrug.
"Does it matter?" You ask. "It's none of my business who I am to you, or whoever you screw apart from me." You say.
"What?" He asks, crossed arms unraveling. "I'm not fucking anyone but you." He says.
"Cool." You say.
"Cool? That's it?" He argues. "How can you be so calm about everyone else telling you I'm apparently cheating on you?" He worries, and you're yet again confused.
"What're you talking about?" You ask. "That's got nothing to do with cheating." You say.
"No no no no whoa there. Stop for a second." He holds his hands out as if to soothe a raging crowd of people, looking at the carpet. "You- you do know we're in a relationship, right?" He asks you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know. "Oh my fucking god are you kidding me…" He complains into his hands, covering his face in frustration.
"How the hell was I supposed to know?" You say, now with your own arms crossed. "Jungkook, you rarely even talk to me when we're back home. You only take me with you when you've got something up overseas, you constantly tell people we're just friends, you've never even asked me out in the first place!" You argue.
"We've been fucking each other for almost a year, I thought it was obvious I liked you?!" He whines, looking at you with what you realize are tears brimming on his waterline. Why is he so emotional now? "Have you- did you see anyone other than me?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head.
"No." You deny.
"Okay. Fuck- okay." He takes a deep breath, swallows down his panic. "I like you. I don't- I've got no clue if it's love or not because I don't know, alright? But I like you, a lot, to the point where I want us to be something permanent." He tries to explain. "Just us. You and me." He underlines, and you shrug.
"Jungkook, it's not that easy." You sigh. "If this has been what you think a relationship is like, then we won't work out."
"Alright, then what do you need me to do?" He argues, not letting go. "God- fuck, tell me what do I have to do to make you stay?" He asks, voice cracking.
"Jungkook, calm down-" You start, but he shakes his head, swallows thickly, bottom lip quivering for just a second before he licks over it, pulls it in between his teeth.
"I can't-! Not when it sounds like you're gonna leave me-" He worries.
"I'm not, don't worry. I'll stay. Just.. breathe for a second, alright?" You ask, getting up to walk closer, pushing his shoulders back to force him out of his slumped over position. "Hey- okay?" You ask, and he instead pulls you closer, sits you onto his lap, before he clings onto you, resting his forehead in your shoulder. "Why do you never reach out to me when we're home? You're confusing me." You gently tell him, and he shrugs.
"I'm scared they'll see you." He sniffles. "If they do- they'll tear you apart." He sighs. "When we're out here, like this- I can just.. claim you're staff, whatever. But at home- I can't.. I don't know how to protect you." He shakes his head.
"You should've told me." You sigh, leaning into him. "I was hurt, you know?" You tell him.
"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He apologizes, pulls you just a bit closer. "I don't know what to do." He whines.
"What if you just visit me instead?" You offer. "They don't know where I live. And my windows are all mirrored so no one can look inside." You tell him.
"…since when?" he asks, leaning away from you a little so that you can finally see his face again, eyes red, a stray tear escaping him that you wipe off.
"Since a few months ago? Jungkook you don't even know my apartment in the first place. You've never visited me at all, ever!" You laugh, and he sighs.
"I know, and I.. always wanted to, you know, visit you.. spend time with you but.." He runs a hand over his face.
"You're okay. We talked about it now." You nod, an action he copies. "I'll come back tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast together, okay?" You ask, but he shakes his head.
"No, you gotta stay." He denies. "I don't care if you don't like that, but I need you close tonight." He says.
"Never said I don't." You say. "You just seemed uncomfortable with it." You wonder.
"Because I snore!" He whines, throwing his head back. "I snore, I move a lot, I might cling to you at night or I sweat, or whatever the fuck- I'm not as perfect as I'm made out to be." He complains.
"Jungkook sorry, but what the fuck." You laugh, and he can't help but smile at the sight and sound of you happy. "You can fart and burp like whatever, and I'd still stay. You're human, I'm not perfect either!" You explain, but he shakes his head, leaning forwards to kiss your already blossoming bruises on your neck.
"No, you are." He says. "You're absolutely perfect." He argues.
"Not really." You deny.
"Stop arguing." He complains, squeezes your waist a bit.
"What're you gonna do about it?" You tease, and he looks up at you with a heated gaze.
"Get me nice n' hard and I'll show you." He responds, making you giggle with eyes rolling, as you lean back to tug him out of his underwear, a hiss leaving him. "Fuck, baby your hands are icy!" He laughs, leaning back to hold your legs so you don't slip off of his thighs.
"That's cause it's cold in here!" You joke back, warming your hands up on his already heated length, skin already flushed and swelling as the blood rushes back. His hands travel beneath the shirt you wear, softly grabbing at the flesh of your chest, making you get up to shed your underwear and get back onto his lap.
"Think you can ride me on this thing?" He asks, talking about the seat he's sitting in. "Kinda tired right now, won't lie."
"Huh, making me do all the work now?" You raise your brows. "And here I thought you wanted to take us seriously.." You sigh, attempting to joke- but he clearly doesn't take it as such, face becoming serious again.
"Lift your hips a little." He demands, and you do so- unsure what he's trying to do, before he spits into his hand once more, feeling you up between your legs to check if you're ready. You are- quickly slicking up at the thought of him, and he guides his length inside of you again, stretching you out once more, but this time, it's not just sex.
He refuses to move. He just helps you settle on his lap, but holds onto your hips, keeping you from moving. "Jungkook-" You whine, but he shakes his head, and pulls your face closer to kiss you.
"No, I wanna stay like this for a bit." He denies.
"But I thought we wanted to eat something later?" You ask, making him roll his eyes.
"I'm trying to be romantic here." He complains.
"By putting your dick inside me?" You ask.
"Well I don't know what else to do!" He whines. "I.. I don't really know how else to properly express.." He falls deep into thought for a second or two, before he finally says it. "I don't know how else to make sure you can.."
"..feel how much I love you."
You're quiet for a good while, watching how he rather looks at your neck than at you in particular, avoiding eye contact as he continues to move his hands back to your sides underneath your shirt. "Jungkook…" You mumble, and he cringes.
"Don't-" He sighs, clicks his tongue in irritation. "-don't pity me or something-" He begins.
"No no no I'm not pitying you I just-" You cut him off, now your hands holding his cheeks to force him to look at you. Because you just realized something in the things he's said earlier. "Remember how you said.. you want me to fly back after you?" You ask, and he nods.
"Yeah." He answers, his way warmer palms now taking yours from his face, holding them in his. "Of course."
"That's.. something that also shows that you care about me." You say. "Because, you didn't say that you were worried about someone spotting me and putting your career on the line- but that you were worried about me being in danger." You remind him, and he nods. "Or how you noticed my stomach growling, and wondered if I ate today." You giggle.
"I already wondered if you didn't- cause I didn't see you eat anything." He shrugs.
"See?" You hum towards him, running your hand through his hair. "That shows you care, too." You say.
"But I want you to feel it." He complains stubbornly. "I want you to.. feel the same as I do when I'm around you." He offers.
"Horny?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes, throwing his head back.
"That too-" He laughs. "But mostly.. just, I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard to explain. It's like chest constricts when I'm not around you. Whenever I'm home, I miss you so bad that I sometimes go to sleep early just to avoid giving in and calling you. I have to distract myself just to not think about you- and yet I still do, almost all the time." He sighs, tucking your hair behind your ears. "When I wake up.." He hums, hands moving to your shoulders. "When I do my morning routine.." He explains, letting his fingers travel over the length of your arms. "When I work out.." He continues. "When I go to bed. It doesn't matter at all." He shakes his head.
"You know you don't have to make up something just to make me stay, right?" You ask him, and at that, his eyes immediately snap back up to you, panic returning.
"I'm not." He denies instantly. "I'm really not-" he urges. "-how can I prove it?" He worries.
"You.. listen, it's not something that you can just clear up in a moment." You sigh. "It's gonna take time. We're basically starting from scratch here." You explain, and he nods.
"Do you.. should we stop then?" He asks, glancing between your bodies for a second. "Until you believe me?" He wonders, and you shrug, before you shake your head.
"No." You deny. "I'd miss you too much-" You tell him, before you adjust your legs, arms around his neck. "-And you'd probably go insane without sex." You tease.
"Not without sex." He denies, watching how you begin to move your hips, letting him slip out until just the very tip remains inside you. "But without you." He clarifies. "It's not sex I want- that's a… I don't know. It's the closeness I feel, you know?" He sighs when you sink back down. "I just like touching you.. being inside you.." He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he leans back into the seat while your hands settle on his shoulders to keep you balanced, pace slow but fast enough to intensify the pleasure you both feel. "Just like that.." He sighs out in bliss.
"I have a really nice couch, you know?" You hum towards him, making him smile while his hands find your waist. "My bed is really big too.." You tell him, and he opens his eyes a little at that.
"Big enough for two?" He wonders, and you shrug.
"Guess we have to find out." You tease, and he nods, hands moving from your waist to your hips before one of them finds your heat between your legs where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.
"Is the couch sturdy?" He wonders, fingers playing with your clit now, making the muscles in your thighs twitch.
"Ah- yes!" You whine, picking up your pace.
"Hm, gonna fuck you on it then." He chuckles. "Stress-test it." He jokes, and you whimper as you come undone, your slick now coating his own legs, strings of the sticky fluid keeping you both connected, wet sounds echoing off the walls of the hotel room. "Break it." He growls, heels on the ground helping him in shifting his hips upwards into you, catching you off guard, your orgasm washing over you in a wave threatening to drown you.
You're shaking, but you still move, needing to feel him reach his high as well, and he does find his own release, spilling whatever he's got left to give, holding you close, kissing whatever skin he can reach from how you're hugging him now, breathing slowly easing again.
And he keeps you like this, uncaring of the food since it's by now too late to order any roomservice anyways.
And for the first time, he actually sleeps next to you, in the same bed-
promising himself to do everything he can to keep you this close, for now and as long as you'll have him.
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