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talkdutchtome · 1 month

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"Let me take care of you" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . smut )

summary . . . after a disastrous race, you take care of max the best way you know how )

warning . . . smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple play, use of petnames, sub!max, very soft dom!reader, traumatized maxie, not proofread )

word count . . . 2800 words )

a/n . . . this actually ended up a lot more emotional than i intended it to be but i hope everyone likes it anyway. i don't know if my smut writing is getting better or worse tbh. any and all feedback is always appricated <3 )

Max was a perfectionist; anyone could see that. He also had a desire to win like nobody else. He never let up. It didn’t matter to him if it was a title deciding race or a completely meaningless one, he needed to win. It had been instilled in him for as long as he could remember; second place is first loser after all. So naturally, when his brakes failed, and his car very literally caught fire in the Australian Grand Prix causing him to have to retire three laps into the race; you knew he was not going to take it well.

You were watching along in the garage, and the only thing you could think about as his smoking car pulled up to the pits was how hard on himself he was going to be. The fact that it was through no fault of his own was irrelevant. He had just handed a win to Ferrari, and that made his blood boil.

In typical Max fashion, you barely saw him after he retired too. He gave you a quick hug as he reached the garage but after that it was straight back to business. He made his way to the pit wall and immediately began discussing with Christian and GP what exactly happened and how do they fix it for Japan. He sent you a text that he was going to stay late at the track with the mechanics so that you should just head back to the hotel.

Truthfully, Max was avoiding you. You had only been dating Max for a couple of months, and so far you had only seen him dominate on track. And whilst you were concerned that that he would be beating himself up for disappointing himself or the team, he was busy focusing on how he had disappointed you. You had taken time out of your busy university schedule to travel to the other side of the world to see him race, and he had to retire three laps in. He was used to people living through him, taking his wins as theirs. He had never considered that all you cared about that he was safe and didn’t get hurt.

So, you went to the hotel and waited for him; or at least you tried to. Tiredness and jet lag eventually started to catch up to you, and you had just started to drift off to sleep when you heard the door open. Looking up greet Max, you could see immediately how heavy the weight he bore on his shoulders hung.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked him sleep in your voice still evident. Max just hung his head and walked into the bathroom. He half expected you to berate him. To question him on exactly what went wrong and what he’s going to do to fix it.

“Maxie?” You asked again, as he came in from the bathroom and made his way to his side of the bed, his eyes routed to the floor. This time he just grunted at you in response before getting into bed and turning away from you. He did not have the energy to be told everything he did wrong and why - he had already had that from his dad.

“Please talk to me Maxie, I’m worried.” You pleaded at him, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him. You wanted that more than anything, but you sensed that he maybe didn’t feel the same.

“What do you want Y/N?” He finally spoke, his voice cracking.

“Are you okay? I know that was tough result to take but it’s only once race. We both know you’ll be back better than ever for the next one.”

To your words, Max just grunted again. And this time you couldn’t help but reach over to hold him. Wrapping one of your arms around his waist and the other coming up to brush through his hair. You waited cautiously for him to pull away. A moment passed and he began to move, your heart sank; he clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near you right now. But instead of moving away, he just turned around, bringing himself closer to you, resting his head on your chest.

“I just hate to let the team down” he spoke, his voice no more than a whisper, like he wasn’t 100% convinced if he should be saying anything.

“But baby you didn’t let them down, you did nothing wrong. There was an issue with the car that isn’t your fault.” You gazed down at his face, your hands smoothing through his hair.

“I could have done something. Maybe I pushed the brakes too much. Maybe I went too hard. All I know is that I let the team down. I let my dad down. I let you down. You cam-“ He started to ramble, but you had heard enough.

“Whoa Max baby slow down. I can’t speak for the team or your dad, but you certainly did not let me down. All that matters to me is that you didn’t get hurt. I was so worried; you were literally driving a car that was on fire. You could have been hurt.”

As the words left your mouth, he looked up at you. Almost as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. When his eyes met yours and he realized you were being sincere, he hugged tighter into you.

“I love you Y/N” he spoke and before you could say anything, you felt him bring his mouth to your neck. Leaving hot open-mouthed kisses from your collarbone up to until he met your mouth. His lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. His hands found your hair and his teeth nipped at your lips. He quickly found himself getting lost in you and you weren’t too far behind. But when his hands wandered towards the bottom of your pajama top, you had to pull away.

“Wait, Maxie. Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve had a rough day, are you sure you want to do this. We could just go to sleep if you’d prefer.” You didn’t want him to feel like this was something he needed to do.

But when his lips once again found your neck, it was clear you had your answer. “Please” he mumbled against your skin “I just want to forget” between each word he left a kiss on your neck, before beginning to nibble against that one spot on your neck that he knew always sent you completely insane. He left deep purple marks all down your neck and you couldn’t help but let a moan slip through your lips.

You were about to completely cave into his touch before you had an idea, and before you could overthink whether it was a good idea, you swung your legs over him until you had him pinned underneath you, your legs either side of his. A smirk plastered across your face

Max looked completely taken aback at your action, but the second you leant down to kiss him, your lips just slightly brushing against his; he was starstruck and could feel himself growing harder by the second, which only deepened your smirk.

“Let me take care of you baby” you whispered in his ear before beginning to grind your core against him. The whimper that left Max’s lips took you both by surprise but, taking that as confirmation that he wanted you to take control; you attached your lips to his neck, trailing kisses down his chest until you reached the waistband of his underwear. It was clear from the way that his hard dick strained against the cloth that Max was enjoying this new side of you, and you could be lying if you said it didn’t give you a bit of a confidence boost.

You started to tease him, placing warm kisses over his underwear, but when you hear him try and fail to beg you to touch him, it becomes clear that maybe today isn’t the day to tease him. So, you hook your fingers around his waistband and release him from the tight confines of the cloth. Immediately, your mouth found his cock, your lips wrapping around his tip. Max’s moans filled the air as he came apart like putty in your hands. The way that your tongue swirled around him made him go crazy. He reached out his hands to grab your hair in a makeshift pony, but you dodged him. Max honestly thought he was going to cry when you took your mouth off him.

“No baby, I told you I was going to take care of you, you just sit back and let me do everything” you told him before quickly placing a kiss on his lips before reattaching your mouth to Max’s throbbing dick and bringing your hand to the part of it that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Max felt lightheaded; it’s not like you hadn’t given him a blowjob before, but never like this. He couldn’t ever remember being this turned on before. He had never even considered letting you take control, letting you take care of him so intently before; but now that he was experiencing it – he kicked himself for waiting so long.

The sounds coming from your boyfriend were music to your ears and only encouraged you to make him feel better and better. You could feel yourself getting wetter, completely desperate to feel him inside of you; but today was about Max, you’d happily wait longer for your own pleasure to take care of him. You began taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, earning more moans from Max. You had never heard him be so vocal before. Things got even better for him when you hallowed your cheeks and brought your hand up to his balls, massaging them in your hands as you worked his dick in your mouth. When his tip hit the very back of your throat and you gagged around him, he was so loud you were just slightly concerned that whoever was in the room next door would be up for a rude awakening.

“Oh, fuck baby, oh my god. I’m so close” Max just about managed to get out between moans, promoting you to once again let go of his dick. For a second Max looked at you with puppy dog eyes, silently begging you to take him back in your mouth. But as soon as you stood up and very slowly pulled your pajama shorts down, he realized that there were better things to come.

“Do you want me to ride you, Maxie?” you asked him breathlessly earning another groan from the man lying on the bed.

“Fuck, yes. Please please ride me I need to be inside of you more than anything” Max’s voice was weak; it was becoming all too much for him. And when you finally rid yourself of your pajama top, Max started to see stars. Your tits were his weakness, and you knew that all too well. All he wanted was to take them in his mouth, to suck and bite on your nipples. So, when you straddled him once again, that's exactly what he did. You thought about stopping him again, reminding him that tonight was about him and his pleasure; but when you caught sight of his eyes – usually so bright and sparkling. Now they were so dark, so filled with lust and desperation, you didn’t have the heart to deprive him of one of his favorite things to do.

You leant down to kiss him again, and the taste of his own precum on your tongue made him groan feverishly against your lips. Unable to wait anymore, you finally lowered yourself onto his dick. Now it was your turn to let out a string of moans and profanity. The way that he stretched you out was a feeling that you could never grow old of. After a beat to get used to having him inside of you, you began to bounce on top of him, pumping his dick in and out of your tight desperate pussy.

“Oh my god Maxie you feel so good, your huge dick sends me so crazy” You moan out, completely cock drunk. “You fuck me so good, god nobody makes me feel like you can” Your praise made Max moan louder than ever and then he simply couldn’t help himself anymore; he brought his hands up to your hips and began thrusting hard into you. You wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him to let you take care of him – but when he rammed his cock into g-spot you physically couldn’t ask him to stop doing something that felt so good.

“I love you so much Y/N baby” Max croaked out, bringing his mouth back to your tits and his hand down to your clit. Him touching you for the first time tonight meant it was now time for you to see stars. His expert hands rubbing against your clit brought you closer and closer to release and you could tell from the way that Max’s thrusts became deeper and harder that he wasn’t far behind you.

Wanting to finish what you had started; you placed your hands on his chest – signaling him to stop for a second. Max did so very reluctantly, but when you started to bounce on his dick again his eyes rolled back into his head. After each bounce you grinded yourself down on him, desperate to get him as deep as you possibly could. Your climax was getting closer and closer and soon you felt like you were ready to burst.

“I’m going to cum on your dick okay baby? You just make me feel so good I can’t help myself.” you told the man beneath you breathlessly, prompting Max to resume rubbing circles into your clit.

“Please do. Please cum all over my cock I need that so much” Max croaked out and with that you fell over the edge. A wave of pleasure washed over you and you screamed out for Max. It felt so good you thought you were going to pass out, completely taken over by the pleasure that Max’s hard dick had given you. For a few moments, you simply had to still yourself to let yourself recover.

Once you had ridden out the last of your orgasm, you were ready to go again; ready to make Max feel as good as you possibly could. You began grinding down onto him, squeezing yourself against him. After feeling you cumming all over him, Max knew he wouldn’t need long before he was right behind you.

“Fuck Y/N I’m really close, get off and I’ll finish in your mouth” Max just about got out between moans. When you didn’t get off and instead began bouncing faster and harder, Max really thought he might just die.

“Cum inside of me Maxie please, I need your cum fucked so deep inside me”

“Fuck really?”

“Yeah, i need it so bad.”

“Oh my god Y/N, you’ll be the fucking death of me”

The second those words left his mouth, he fell apart. A string of profanity left his lips, and you could feel his dick pulse inside of you as he painted the insides of you white with his cum. Max couldn’t believe how good it felt, sex with you was always great but that was on another level, he couldn’t remember ever feeling that good before.

“I love you so much Y/N”

He gently slipped himself out of you and you collapsed next to him on the bed. Exhausted wasn’t the word for how tired you felt after that. And apparently that was true for Max as well as in the time that it took you to waddle to the toilet to clean yourself up, he had managed to fall asleep. You couldn’t blame him of course; even before that it had been a very long tiering day for him. So, as quietly as you could, you got ready for bed and slipped yourself into bed next to him.

Looking at the very peaceful sleeping man next to you, you couldn’t help but snuggle down close to him. Placing a kiss on his temple before assuming the big spoon position that you know he loves so much from you. Your movement causing him to ever so slightly stir awake.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” he spoke so softly you almost missed it before falling right back into a very peaceful sleep. You couldn’t help but feel so lucky to have a man like him cuddled close to you.

“Sleep well Maxie, I love you more than anything.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x oc #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 smut

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paused-waterfall · 9 months

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I want to talk about how the qsmp federation dinner blended canon and non-canon "storylines", and just how effective that was for engaging Philza "the fourth wall is for other people and I'll sneak away mid-lore" Minecraft: Those who don't watch Philza streams might not know, but cc!Phil identifying when his eggs are not his eggs is a regular occurrence. He knows when Chayanne's admin is portraying Cucurucho, and when Tallulah's admin is subbing in to play Chayanne. Phil keeps track of which admin is which as a means of judging what scenarios are safe for them. He knows what skills he's taught them and even some of the hardware limitations they're working with. So when someone else steps in to play them, its a risk, because it means he doesn't know how his kids are going to act.

Philza takes about a minute and a half to call out "Tallulah" as not his egg. But if you watch closely, you can see that it took him less than 15 seconds to identify that the wrong person was playing her. Early in the dinner (4:52:50 on Phil's stream), Philza noticed and pointed out to his chat that the chef was lagging in a way that Tallulah normally lags. When "Tallulah" shows up to the dinner, there's a moment when he looks away from her-- he's not scanning for threats, he's checking that the chef was still around. And then giving a knowing look straight to camera. For a bit after that, he keeps looking back at the chef and talking to "Tallulah" like she's real. Because what cc!Phil hasn't decided at that point is whether or not this is canon. He knows the admins have to switch around for practical reasons, which have never been canon before.

But it's already a risk. This might be q!Tallulah, but it definitely isn't the Tallulah that cc!Phil knows how to predict and protect. All of the earnest, half-in-character conversations between Phil and Tallulah's admin about how they both want to keep her safe and how best to accomplish that are suddenly for naught, because the wrong person is on the other side of that screen.

While most of the characters and audience got to doubt reality when the eggs transformed, the same sort of process happened for cc!Phil and his chat as soon as the eggs showed up. What we were doubting was the line between canon and non-canon, but it tapped into much the same emotions while overriding the tongue-in-cheek approach to canon that normally holds sway in Phil's streams.

It's just so cool to see storytellers embrace the limitations of the medium to enhance the story they're telling like this. What a fun stream that was!

#philza #qsmp #qsmp dinner #not!eggs #tallulah #⏸️

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hazelplaysgames · 2 years

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tagging them all doesn’t really add up to much when lag causes some incorrect reporting on that.

#video #splat series #splatoon 2 #neo sloshing machine #6/3/22 #it's only like. a half second lag yes! but for a mini splatling that's a lot.

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hedgehog-moss · 11 months

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Welcome everyone, please join us on Baby Poldine’s First Hike! This is going to be a long post because lots of nothings happened :)

Our short-term goal was making it all the way to the torrent without Poldine getting so stressed about being away from her family that we had to turn back.

Our long-term goal: finally having a picnic-carrying llama to accompany us on hikes, which isn’t something I’ve been able to achieve with Pampe because she’s Pampe, nor with Mama Pampy because she’s the matriarch and dislikes leaving her herd behind. (Is there a collective noun? a misdemeanour of llamas? or is it just herd?)

Emotional support cats were recruited to make things less stressful for Poldine. I had to interrupt their afternoon nap on the couch and carry them to the pasture one after the other, and they just lay there looking a bit bewildered, like can we resume our nap or...? But once they saw us dragging Poldine away into the woods they all got curious and followed.

The llamas were a bit suspicious of these shenanigans and started retreating when I carried the second cat outside, so I sent my friend to the greenhouse to get some strawberries, which immediately brought the llamas back.

Although Poldine took one bite of her strawberry and then refused to eat any more of it, because she’s still a baby who only likes familiar foods. (Her grandma volunteered to eat the rest of the half-bitten strawberry.)

One thing we discovered about Pampoldine as we started the hike is that she gets very worried about being a lone llama when we stand still, but she looks reassured as soon as we resume walking. I think us walking decidedly while holding her rope makes her feel like she has a confident leader, while seeing us stop for any reason makes her panic like oh my god, you have no idea what you’re doing and which way to go, do you?

She occasionally tried to rebel and go back in the direction of her pasture, and in these moments all we had to do was grab the nearest cat and toss it in front of her. She would immediately pounce, enchanted, to try and kiss it; the cat would dart away like no thanks!! and Poldine would follow, and off we went again.

Another thing we discovered about Poldine is that she is a compulsive cheek-kisser when stressed. As long as there is someone to nuzzle, the situation can’t be completely hopeless. So we had to accept a lot of kisses.

As you can see, we made it to the torrent! It took a bit of patient coaxing to get her to go in the water (I think she was wary of stepping on the round slippery pebbles) but once she went in she looked intrigued and delighted. She was stomping her little feet to make splashes, and wading about, we actually had trouble convincing her to leave!

For some reason she was more reluctant to follow us on the way back. Maybe once all the excitement of splashing in the stream died down, she suddenly remembered that she was alone far from her pasture and family and got stressed again. We once again tried the method that consists in throwing cats in front of us every now and then, like leaving a trail of bread crumbs behind you except the opposite and with cats. (Note that the cats had the option to flee from this disgraceful treatment any time.) Merricat and Mascarille were talented bait, often leading the way of their own initiative, but Morille complicated things by being a big baby who’d stop dead and start screaming whenever she came across any amount of water. Then we had to carry her across so she wouldn’t get her paws wet.

Pictured below: me, a llama, two cats, then a rivulet (where the mossy rocks are) and Morille lagging behind and screaming pitifully, waiting for a kind soul to carry her.

We made it to the pine area of the woods and Poldine started walking a lot more cheerfully, and sniffing the air with an eager little nose, which was strange because we were still quite far from her pasture so it wasn’t home or other llamas she could smell. We wondered if perhaps she enjoyed the smell of pine resin (it does smell wonderful on warm days!), but then we left the pine woods and entered the hazel woods and she was looking even happier and walking even faster, and then we realised. We were being followed and had been for a while.

Look at her smug little face. (It turns out she escaped because I forgot to tell my friend one of the pasture gates has a latch with an anti-Pampe dual safety system.) Ah, well, it wouldn’t be a proper llama post without Pampérigouste showing up somewhere she’s not supposed to be. She was being so discreet stalking us from afar behind a curtain of trees, we wondered if she’d been following us from the beginning. I hope not, because this small torrent ends up in the Atlantic Ocean and nothing good can come from Pampe discovering how to reach other continents.

Pampe stayed with Poldine long enough to make it look like she’d escaped out of concern for her daughter and not to find out where running water is so she can one day sail to freedom, then she left to have more adventures by herself, completely indifferent to Poldine’s little “mummy, stay :( ” baby goat cries.

Morille and Mascarille also deserted us (it looked like Pampe had promised them a more exciting hike) but thankfully we hadn’t run out of cats, and were able to go home at a decent pace thanks to Merricat, professional llama bait.

All things considered it was a very successful hike! I’m glad Poldine enjoyed the water—now I want to take her to the spots that have a series of little waterfalls, see what she’d make of them :) Or even to the deeper pool you can swim in, who knows, maybe she’ll dive in! Throwing a cat in the water to encourage her would help a lot but I probably won’t do that. They’re very helpful cats who didn’t complain about being tossed ahead like petanque balls to show Poldine the way, but I don’t want to push my luck.

(I regrettably don’t have a picture of this but sometimes when I stopped walking, Poldine would rest her head on my shoulder like “...well? are we lost?” with her little bunny ears tapping the side of my head inquisitively and it was really cute.)

#crawling along #sorry for how small some of the photos are but tumblr decided there were too many #tumblr's not wrong but what am i supposed to do. /delete/ a picture of poldine kissing someone??#and i can't start posting things in several instalments i need to limit myself #else i'd start making posts like Poldine's Hike: Volume VIII

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loaksbitch · 1 year

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jake sully is angry okay? furious from your stupid actions that almost got you killed and he makes sure you won’t do it again by fucking your brains out and teaching you a lesson — wc 1.2k ( this one was requested )

warnings (18+) - angry sex, rough sex, p in v, p penetration, clit stimulation, licking, jake calling you “forever my girl” UGH, doggy-ish, jake is pissed LIKE PISSED, dom!jake, overstimulation if you squint, degrading turns to praising, crying, oc is overwhelmed and sensitive, jake panics that he dicked your soul down. i think that’s it but lmk what i missed

“fück your brains out” — jake sully (⨳)

you’re pressed down to the rocky ground, skin itchy due to the strong and rough grass pressing to your skin.

but that wasn’t the case, the real itch was between your legs where jake has his balls plunged deep into your tight cunt

“jake,” you mewled, knees hurting from being all in fours for half an hour now. jake was squatting behind you while roughly thrusting and knocking your breath out.

“i fuckin’ told you to wait for me in the village, didn’t i?” he was breathing hard, one hand holding onto your tail and pulling your hips to fuck him back. your jaw hurts from being wide open and you scream when jake coils your tail into his palm and pulls you.

“answer me you filthy minx.” he hissed and you only helplessly cried out.

“not gonna talk?” he chuckles, pretty much annoyed with your bratty self. “alright, imma fuck your brains out so you’ll start to talk.”

you feel jakes hand that was holding onto your tail come to your waist instead, then you’re suddenly pulled up from the ground and fully knelt while he grips under your breast tight.

“you almost died not listening to me.” he says, pressing your petite body to his gigantic self. jake huffs in pain just thinking how the sky people almost shot you. “i was trying to hel– ngh!” your words are cut off

pain and pleasure strikes in you when jake fully bottoms out before pulling almost fully out which his tip only ghosts your opening. “help? that’s how you fucking help, princess?”

it’s not surprising how jake is scolding you in the middle of sex, after all it’s jake sully you’re talking about.

you’re too silent with forming words, only hiccups and cries leaving your dry lips. but you’re very thankful when jakes other hand turns your face to his to his and lean to give your dry lips a bold lick

he doesn’t miss how your inside tightens around his fat cock and grits his teeth.

“do it again.” he demands before giving your lips another bold lick, “fuck” he growls when your pussy swallows him and grips onto him tight.

“you haven’t answered me, pretty girl.” his dark voice causes your heart to tremble in fear and excitement.

“you to-told me! you told me!” you gasp when he palms your breast, tweaking your nipple with the ough pads of his long fingers. “and what did you do? disobeyed me.” his hand wrapped under your breast pulls you close to him more

your back pressed to his sweaty chest.

“what happens when you disobey me, baby?” your eyes roll into your head when he bites to your flattened ear, a long moan leaving your lips. jake groans when you don’t answer him.

“are you fuckin’ lagging on me now?”

he is suddenly pulling out from your tight soaked cunt and pushing you down to the ground.

“i get punished, when i don’t obey i get punished.” you quickly say, afraid you’ve pissed your mate but it was already so late. jake sully was beyond pissed.

he doesn’t even give you a second to get comfortable as he drapps himself on you, trapping your body when you’re still laid on your side. “open your legs, put your left on my shoulder.” his cold voice orders.

on eywa, he’s gonna fuck your brains out.

you silently obey, slowly bringing your left leg to his shoulder. “you’re so slow.” he was now tugging your leg to his shoulder while he straddled the other one. there is no way out now.

“JAKE!” you scream as he parts your swollen and sensitive fold with his long fingers before pushing his girth-y tip to your tight opening. “jesus, you’re so tight.”

you try to buckle your knees when the pleasure hits you but jake grips onto your ankle and yanks it back to his shoulder. you’re literally spread for him and he happily looks down where you two are connected and how your cunt openly sucks him in

“you know why you’re getting punished?” you nod before telling him your fault.

“good girl, shit, tighten on me again.” he loves how your pussy clamps on his cock, your gummy walls holding him tight like it’s his original home and cave.

“you’re gonna cum?” he kinda got why you’re not vocal anymore right now. jake literally made you cum three times in a row and he knows how your throat is sore from screaming.

“fuuuuck” he curses when you keep squeezing him.

“you’re gonna cum for me? gonna cum for your jake?” you’re desperately nodding, too tired to even mutter a word. the way your body twitches makes jakes heart swell. “i’ve got you princess.” he leans down, bending your left leg which helps him sink deeper.

the new position helps him stimulate himself as well, one of his strong arm hold you close while the other brushes the strand of your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “my girl, forever my girl.” he was now comforting you

“jake,” you call for him, your hands reaching out for him. “i’m here, right here.” he smiles down at you, “it hurts, i can’t.” you’re shaking your head as tears freely sprang out of your eyes.

“yes you can,” he frowns before sneaking his hand between your bodies and meeting your warm clit with his rough pad of his thumb. “yes you can give me the last one baby, i know you can.”

you whine, pushing him away and crying. “i’m sorry, i won’t do it again.” you apologize for your actions that almost cost you your own life. “i’ll forgive you once you cum for me, yeah?

you gulp down your sob down and winch when your throat hurts.

“you’re so good fr’me, my girl.” his sweet praises while his cock penetrating you and his thumb flicking your clit was your last push to burst and milk your nectar all over him.

“that’s it, give it to me all” your eyes are screwed shut, overstimulation winning and having you whine for a billionth time. “almost there yeah? i’m gon— fuck!” jakes pupil dilated from the sudden sting of pleasure.

he wasn’t expecting it this soon, yes he felt his balls tight, heavy and painfully stimulated. but never once he thought he would be cumming right unexpectedly. “oh fuck, oh fuck.” he laughs when finally back to his sense

his vision gets clear and he looks down at your state, you’re almost gone. your eyelids barely open while your chest heaves up and down fast. “princess, you okay there?” he really did fuck your brains out.

jake panics for a second when you don’t answer him and lean close to you, hand gripping your jaw and turning you to face him. “baby, answer me.” surely jake knew his heart was gonna stop if you hadn’t smiled at him and blinked.

he was almost convinced he fucked your soul out and not your mind.

“what the fuck, you scared me.” your soft giggles make him laugh and he places your leg down to the ground. “don’t ever do that again, i thought i got your soul dicked down.” you burst out laughing with your energy left.

“jake!” you keep laughing when his words keep repeating in your mind. “c’mon let’s get you home and all cleaned, mhm?” he helps you up, both of you smiling foolishly.

“and please don’t ever go against what i tell you, i almost lost you.” you hum, obviously unconvinced.

ok so i love how this turned out, low key becoming a fan of my own works lmfao— thank you for reading! like + reblogs are super appreciated i love each and every one of you sm!

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theemporium · 6 months

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It was meant to be a cute date day out on the yacht during summer break.

You had dedicated a week of the summer break to spend in Monaco, to just relax and spend time with each other without the concerns of flying anywhere around the world (though you knew your boyfriends would have probably booked a few getaways for you to ‘surprise’ you with in the following week). And it had been perfect.

You had spent some time with friends you missed during the first half of the season. You shared a few meals with the Leclerc family. You basked around your shared apartment and enjoyed being lazy after such a hectic schedule for the last few months.

It was Charles’ idea to take the yacht out on the water, and you and Lando had eagerly agreed.

Charles just didn’t really think it through. Between the hectic schedules, jet lag and hangovers that hit their bodies a little harder than not sometimes, it was rare to find moments to fully indulge in you and Lando without having some sort of stressor over your heads.

Whether it was late nights with the risk of missing early morning meetings, or the fans spotting you as you stumble around a club together. Whether it was exhaustion taking over your bodies through work and travel, or even just one of you not being in the mood. It was harder than people assumed to just sleep with your two partners.

And it seemed like the weeks had built up for the Monegasque.

His thoughts were anything but innocent when the three of you boarded the boat, waiting until you were a few minutes away from the dock before you shedded off some layers. His mind was spinning when Lando pulled his shirt off, the low-rise swimming trunks giving him the perfect view of his tanned torso, chiselled abs and v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of the trunks. His head was going to explode when you pulled your cover-up off, exposing a little red bikini number he had never seen you wear before as you pranced around the boat without a care in the world.

Charles Leclerc was losing his damn mind, and it was purely his partners’ faults.

It took an hour before either you or Lando noticed how touchy and clingy Charles was. It wasn’t something completely out of the ordinary for Charles’ hands to linger or for him to place a few chaste kisses here and there—but this was something else.

You noticed the way his fingers would always trace along the waistband of Lando’s trunks whenever he was within arms length. You noticed the way his gaze would always drop to his stomach and wander lower. You noticed the way his fingers playfully tugged on the strings of your bikini top. You noticed the way his focus always seemed to be on your lips whenever you spoke to him.

You noticed the bulge in his swimming trunks, but he wasn’t doing much to hide it either.

“Is this what you wanted, Charlie? Wanted to see our pretty girl on her knees?”

Charles let out a groan as his head fell back against Lando’s shoulders, his hands reaching back to hold the boy close to him as he tried not to come in seconds. Because he could have. He could have done so far too easily and he didn’t really want to deal with the embarrassment of it. Nor did he ever want this moment to end.

“Look at her,” Lando murmured, his voice a little breathless as his eyes locked on you. “She’s so good for you. Fucking lucky too.”

“Wanna be good for both of you,” you murmured, the fabric of your bikini top abandoned somewhere by one of the deck chairs as you squeezed your tits together. You leaned forward, bouncing up and down as your tits enveloped Charles’ sensitive cock.

“You’re so good, cherie,” Charles mumbled breathlessly, his chin tucked against his chest as he looked down at you. He bit down on his lower lip, a muffled moan leaving his lips as he watched the way his cock slid between your tits, the way your tongue darted out to tease his tip, the way your eyes never left his. “Feel so fuckin’ good too.”

“She always looks pretty with your cock,” Lando murmured, trying not to sound too whiny but Charles read right through him as he turned his head, his lips pressing against the Brit’s in seconds. “Mphm.”

“Don’t be jealous, mon cher,” Charles murmured as his tongue darted out to tease the Brit who whimpered in response. “M’gonna take care of you too.”

“Yeah?” Lando whispered, blinking a little dazed.

“Yeah,” Charles groaned as his hand reached back to tangle his fingers into Lando’s curls, keeping his lips close as he playfully nudged their noses together. “Need you to be a good boy for me too, gonna need you to clean up the mess I make on her tits, okay?”

Lando whined, nodding his head.

“Mes amours,” Charles groaned proudly before kissing Lando senseless, letting his other hand gently caress your head as you continued to squeeze his cock between your tits until he blew his load all over you.

857 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 1 year

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Hi Jade 🫶🏻 I have a drabble request if you’re still taking them: Jungkook gets home from tour and is just the clingiest, cutest, softest bf 🙏🏻

yo this idea has me weak 🥲 i hope you like this!

Judging by the clattering in your kitchen, your jet-lagged boyfriend had finally emerged from his seemingly endless slumber.

You’d been awake for four hours, and out of bed for three. It took longer than expected to carefully untangle yourself from the knot of his limbs, but he slept through your escape. And Bam’s excitement at having an awake parent to play with. And the unavoidable clang of pots and pans as you cooked a breakfast now finally in the hands of its intended recipient - at 2:00 in the afternoon.

You heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled out of the kitchen. His movements were incredibly slow as he padded up the hall to join you in the living room, like all the sleep he’d gotten hadn’t recharged his battery. Also audible was the faint crunch of newly toasted bread, which tugged the corner of your mouth into an involuntary smile.

Jungkook always needed a snack to hold him over until he brought his actual meal to a table. After all, he might waste away in the few moments it would take to make himself a place. You always joked that his stomach was a bottomless pit, but he maintained that he only ate this much when you were the one cooking. And when you scrunched your nose at his flattery, he’d kiss it until your cheeks turned into roses. Then he’d kiss those, too.

Laying on the couch with your legs stretched out across the cushions, your head rested on a plush, velveteen pillow. The heels of your hands were anchored against your chest as you propped up this week’s novel. You had to peek over the top of it to see Jungkook appear in the doorway.

Bleary eyes squinted against sunlight as he looked for you. The hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up over his hair, but you knew without looking that it was sticking up in every possible direction - which always confounded you due to how deeply he slept. Immovable, powered off completely. His shoulders still carried the weight of his exhaustion; and his cheeks puffed out as he attempted to chew what you assumed was - at minimum - half his slice of toast.

Of all the versions of him, this one was a hard-fought favorite of yours: the silly, sleepy, soft Jungkook. The one that stirred the butterflies in your stomach just by existing, too out-of-it to notice the effect he had on you.

He groaned as he bent over to put his plate on the coffee table. You expected him to take his usual spot at the end of the couch and pull your legs over his lap like he always did. This time, he deviated from the pattern. Not waiting long enough for you to set your book down, he wiggled his head between its bottom and your chest, and then let the weight of his body slump down on top of yours.

You giggled as he slid his hands underneath you and wrapped you up in his arms. With his chest pressed against yours, you could feel his deep, contented sigh as it left him. No longer accessible, you closed your book with an unseen smile and tossed it gently to the rug below. You couldn’t see how it landed, but you hoped it was graceful.

“You left,” He mumbled sadly with his face tucked under your chin. He breathed slowly through his nose; every warm exhale tickled the bare skin of your neck.

Your now-free hands settled into a familiar routine. One rested on his back; the muscles of which, you noted, had become much more defined since he left for tour ten weeks earlier. The other hand pulled back his hood in order to thread fingers through his soft - albeit messy - tresses. Fingernails scratching gently over his scalp, you chuckled, “You had your leg draped over me, pressing into my bladder. When I came back from the bathroom, you were spread out over the mattress like a sleep-deprived starfish.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” He cooed, squeezing you tighter. “The second-worst part about leaving is having to sleep alone. I forget how to share, and then you have to deal with the consequences.”

“Second worst?”

“The only thing worse than going to sleep without you is being awake without you,” he explained it casually, as if it wouldn’t make your heart do somersaults.

But it did, because this soft, sleepy man was yours - he was home - and he said things like that just as easily as breathing.

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minastras · 2 months

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we fell apart when the sky was orange (and now every sunset reminds me of you) // beomgyu

Two long years after he broke your heart, Choi Beomgyu remains your first and only love. Unfortunately he’s now also your colleague, and you’re not sure if you ever really got over him.

at a glance: gender neutral reader, exes to lovers, office au, angst, fluff, ft. enhypen’s heeseung, itzy’s ryujin, and p1harmony’s keeho

words: 6.5k

warnings: swearing

notes: happy valentine's day!! i'm like an hour late but shh hope u enjoy <3

——————————

Your one-and-a-half year long relationship with Choi Beomgyu, the first serious relationship either of you had ever had, ended abruptly during a lovely evening in the East Coast Gardens. You’d gone there together with some of your friends for a picnic and to watch the sunset, celebrating finishing your second year of university.

At some point, you and Beomgyu left the rest of the group to take a walk along the beach. The sky was tinted that showstopping blend of pink and orange only seen at dawn and dusk, and he was holding your hand.

“We have to break up,” he blurted out, letting go.

When you two walked together, it was typical for neither of you to speak for long stretches of time. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected him to break the silence with, but it surely wasn’t that.

“What?”

“We have to break up,” he repeated, barely even looking you in the eye. His voice was flat, but his jaw was so tight he was slurring all of his words. “It’s, uh, it’s been real.”

The glow of the sunset, as breathtaking as it was, faded into the background for you. “It’s been real?” you echoed in disbelief, your mind still lagging ten paces behind your mouth. “Gyu, you can’t be serious. What happened?”

He took a step back from you. “Nothing happened. We just aren’t right for each other.”

“But- but we’re in love,” you protested, hating how childish you sounded. Maybe you were. Maybe it was your juvenile foolishness that had convinced you he meant it when he said ‘I love you too’, as if the ‘too’ tacked on at the end wasn’t a clear enough sign he just said it to agree with you.

You couldn’t remember what happened after that — what he’d said in response, if anything, whether you’d stormed off first or if he’d left you there in the sand, if you had cried. All you remembered was the heartwrenching drive home, shoved in the backseat next to a friend you’d long since lost touch with, periodically tipping your head back so your tears wouldn’t spill over.

——————————

Two years later, everything worked out in the end. You’d like to think so, at least, because you and your best friend Ryujin had just graduated from university at the top of your cohort. With your grades, you both easily secured jobs at the biggest accounting firm in the country as recruits in their prestigious Graduate Talent Programme. It was your first day on the job, and you were about to meet the other GTs.

“No way,” Ryujin muttered.

“What?” you asked, but as the question was leaving your mouth you saw what she was pointing at. Or, more accurately, who.

Beomgyu saw you at almost the exact same moment you did. He locked eyes with you too quickly for you to have pretended not to see him, so you stood rooted in place as he made his way over to you. The expression on his face was unreadable.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted. You couldn’t recall the last time you heard your name come out of his mouth. Even though the office was stuffed with people more important than you two, people you should’ve been introducing yourself to, you saw and heard and felt no one but him.

“Hi, Beomgyu,” you returned, his name heavy on your tongue.

He rocked back on the heels of his black dress shoes — so opposite to the sneakers he used to wear everyday back when you dated, the white ones you had given him for his birthday four years ago and he refused to replace despite them just about falling apart — and put his hands in his pockets.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said. You sensed a degree of wariness creeping into his tone now. He looked exactly the same, barring his slightly shorter hair with his icy grey highlights taken out.

“Yeah, what are the odds?” you asked, making casual conversation as if you couldn’t hear that same wariness in your own words.

He wore a crisp white button down, starched impeccably into perfect plains that wrapped around his broad torso, a thin black tie, and black slacks. He’d clearly gotten better at tying ties. You remembered struggling through the How to Tie a Windsor Knot WikiHow article with him before one of his job interviews, both of you flailing around helplessly for nearly an hour before you succeeded.

He nodded to someone standing behind you, prompting you to turn around. “Nice you’ve got Ryujin with you. Heeseung got in too, if you remember him.”

You did. When you and Beomgyu were still together he often told you about Heeseung, an old friend from high school he gamed with online. You wondered what he had told Heeseung about your breakup.

Thankfully, someone else called for everyone’s attention right then, and you booked it to the other corner of the room.

“Good morning everyone! I’d like to introduce our brand new GTP recruits. GTs, if you would please come to the front.”

You and the four other GTs awkwardly shuffled forward, and you ended up standing right beside Beomgyu. The universe hated you; that was the only explanation. Ryujin was too busy stifling her laughter to feel sorry for you.

“Joining our auditing team are Shin Ryujin, Lee Heeseung, and Yoon Keeho. Joining our advisory team are Y/N and Choi Beomgyu. Please give them all a warm welcome!”

The rest of the office clapped politely while your world crumbled around you (fine, you were being hyperbolic). Of all the people on the planet you could’ve been paired with, it just had to be him.

He still smelt the same, wearing the same cologne he’d worn when you were together. The same cologne which clung to your bedsheets for weeks after you broke up.

You closed your eyes for a split second, looking down so no one would notice, and took a deep breath. Then, you raised your head again, turned to Beomgyu, and held out your hand.

“I look forward to working with you,” you said with a polite smile.

He raised an eyebrow but shook your hand anyway.

——————————

Your new team lead whisked you and Beomgyu around from office to office, throwing more information at you than any normal person would be able to process, giving you no room to breathe — let alone talk to the man who’d broken your heart two years ago and was apparently not over you, either.

Clearly, not talking to him didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about him.

Perhaps he was thinking about you too, because you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of your eye when he thought you were distracted. But your interactions with each other were limited to curt, perfunctory statements and uncomfortable glances.

After clock-off, your new colleague Keeho suggested all the GTs go out for drinks. He claimed it was so you’d get to know each other better, but it was clear he just wanted drama. You were at the bar ordering another mocktail when Beomgyu pulled out the barstool next to yours.

“Make that two, please,” he told the bartender, sitting down. Neither of you said a word. You snuck a glance at him to find him already looking at you, so you turned away and stared straight ahead.

Were you over him?

Truthfully, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t tell the difference between being hung up on an ex and grieving someone who’d been such a pivotal part of your life. Maybe it was the whole ‘you never really get over your first love’ thing other people talked about.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You winced, bracing yourself for awkwardness. “Hey.”

“So, uh, you look-” he hesitated, cutting himself off, “How’ve you been?”

“Good… good. You?” You were starting to regret ordering a non-alcoholic drink, because he was just as pretty as you remembered and it was doing your head in.

Ryujin always said you needed to date again, that you’d never move on unless you put yourself back out there. To your credit, you did try. But you ran all your attempts at dating into the ground with all the same flaws of yours that had ended things between you and Beomgyu two years ago.

“Good…” He paused again, and then straightened his back and put his hands on the bar counter, open and declarative. “Can we not do this? Can we just start over?” he asked.

“Start over?” you echoed.

“What happened between us happened so long ago. We don’t need to dredge all that back up again,” he said.

The bartender returned with your identical drinks and, before you could say anything, Beomgyu handed over his credit card. He waved away your surprised gratitude, raised his glass, and held the other one out to you.

Maybe to another person, someone who knew him less well than you did, he’d seem cool and confident. But you could see a tentativeness in his eyes, a slight shake that told you he was worried you wouldn’t respond well, that you wouldn’t take the olive branch in his hand.

You let out a small laugh, the group chat revelation from this morning still rattling about in your head, and tapped the rim of your glass against his.

“Sure, Gyu. Let’s start over.”

——————————

You and Ryujin spent the entire night and most of the next morning’s commute to the office debating what ‘start over’ meant. She thought it meant going back to the courtship stage (whatever that was), and you thought it meant erasing yours and Beomgyu’s history entirely and beginning anew. As strangers.

“But he isn’t over you!” she protested, drawing ire from the elderly couple sitting in front of you on the train.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you mumbled. “Nothing’s going to happen between us. We literally didn’t say a word to each other yesterday at work.”

Ryujin shook her head. “You’re wrong. There’s something there. I don’t know what, but there’s something.”

Nearly a whole week passed before you began to admit she was right, when even you could no longer bury your head in the sand and pretend you didn’t see it. You kept telling yourself you were content with carrying on your ostrich roleplay for as long as humanly possible, but it was starting to grate on you.

Every year, the GTP recruits were expected to put together a proposal paper and presentation on what they felt the company could improve. The deadline was in two months — how were any of you supposed to be familiar enough with the company by then to make policy recommendations?

“Our team lead keeps saying the company needs ‘fresh eyes’,” Keeho said during your first meeting for the project a week later, already careening off topic. “She stares right into my soul whenever she says ‘fresh eyes’. It’s fucking creepy.”

“It is creepy,” Heeseung agreed, twirling his pen between his fingers.

“Do we all have our notes ready?” Ryujin asked, wrangling the meeting back on track.

Beomgyu helpfully gathered up each of your notes and passed the stack over to you. You were friendly now after that night at the bar, but there was so much tension between you two that even your team lead pointed it out.

“You’re in charge of this, right?” Beomgyu asked. You had volunteered to do the boring work of collating all of your ideas and suggestions into a draft skeleton outline for the proposal paper.

“I’ll help you,” Keeho offered, smiling at you from across the table. “I’m happy to do the auditing parts.”

Beomgyu folded his arms and leant back in his chair. “They can manage.”

You had to stop going giddy every time you saw him in a shirt and tie.

“Actually, help would be useful,” you said to Keeho, ignoring Beomgyu not because you were annoyed, but because you didn’t know what to make of his interjection. Unbeknownst to you, Beomgyu scowled.

——————————

You and Keeho had arranged to work on the report after lunch that day. Beomgyu wasn’t keeping tabs on you or anything, he just made sure to remind you that you had a 3pm advisory meeting with him the same afternoon. Yes, that was the only reason he cared about what you did with your time.

And the only reason he was hovering around by Keeho’s office cubicle was to make sure you weren’t late for the meeting. Not because you were there. Not because you were with Keeho. Not because you and Keeho kept laughing and playfully pushing each other. What could possibly be that funny, anyway?

“Can I help you?” Keeho asked Beomgyu, finally noticing his presence.

Beomgyu ignored him and looked straight at you, tapping his watch. “Let’s go. It’s 2.50.”

“Ah, already?” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, gathering your things up from Keeho’s desk. “Sorry, Keeho. I’ll finish it tonight.”

Keeho smirked as his gaze shifted from you to Beomgyu and then back to you, before he let out a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll take it from here.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You scrambled to your feet to follow Beomgyu to the lift lobby.

The meeting room was just three floors above you, and as soon as Beomgyu led you into the lifts he braced for you to ask him why he was in such a rush. It only took a minute to get there. But you didn’t; maybe you would have a couple of years ago.

——————————

Beomgyu waited until you and him were alone in the office — an hour or so after the end of the work day — when he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“There’s so much weird sexual tension between you and Keeho,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual. To both his amazement and relief, you didn’t seem to notice.

Your lips twitched, like you were about to reveal something but quickly decided against it. Beomgyu remembered when he was able to read you like an open book, but those days were now long gone and he couldn’t tell what you were thinking anymore.

“He’s hot. And tall. And he seems nice,” Beomgyu continued, unsure what he was trying to accomplish.

“I don’t really date anymore,” you blurted out, seeming to regret saying that almost immediately.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, now regaining your composure. “I… I don’t think I’d be a good partner. For anyone.”

It was Beomgyu’s turn to falter. He watched you carefully as the realisation started to sink in. The walls of the now quiet office felt like they were closing in on him. You’d blamed yourself for the breakup. He’d made you think you were too broken for love.

“Oh, god, did I do that to you?” he asked, so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

“…It was a long time ago,” you replied after what seemed like forever, a non-answer if ever there was one, glancing up from the desk and flashing him a tight-lipped smile. It didn’t even get anywhere near your eyes. “We don’t have to get into it. I’m sorry I brought it up. Like you said, we should just start over.”

He swallowed his pride and shook his head firmly. “No, I was wrong. We should talk about it. I don’t want to leave things unsaid.”

The version of him that had broken up with you would never have said that. That version of him refused to even admit when he had a headache. That version of him dumped you because he couldn’t handle you ‘always needing to talk about feelings.’ It was hard for him to stomach that fact, even all these years later.

“I don’t know- I had so many issues and I expected you to be my answer to all of them. I just figured that if even a guy like you couldn’t stand me, I was beyond redemption,” you shrugged.

Once, during a particularly hectic exam season back in university, you had completely shut yourself off from him, all your friends, even Ryujin. You didn’t talk to anyone for a week. You didn’t leave your room. You didn’t answer any of his texts or calls. He knew your parents were fighting and your rent had gone up past what you could afford and you were struggling to pass your classes. There was nothing more he wanted than to drive over to your place and hold you, to tell you everything was going to be fine, but you refused to let him.

“Do you still think that?” he asked, his throat feeling exceptionally tight.

“Maybe. I’m not sure,” you admitted.

Even back then he knew why you refused, although he wasn’t ready to admit it at the time. Whenever you did try to open up to him he would shut down, so eventually you stopped trying.

Your phone alarm went off before he could think of a response, a generic default ringtone. It used to be a recording of him quacking like a duck, because for some reason you found that hilarious and he liked doing it to cheer you up.

“I should go. My train’s coming,” you told him.

He blinked, blindsided. “Oh- okay.”

You packed your bag and stood up, walking to the lift lobby and pressing the button. Then, in a fraction of a second, you dropped the facade.

“Don’t take what I said too seriously, Gyu,” you assured him. “I’m alright now. I’m in a good place.”

He stared at your eyes, trying to decipher them, but you seemed to be telling the truth. After a second or two, he pulled his shoulders back and nodded. There was still a weight on his chest.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he smiled.

The lift doors behind you opened, and you smiled back. The weight lifted.

“See you tomorrow, Gyu.”

——————————

The GTs were meeting before the work day officially started to discuss the progress you and Keeho had made yesterday. You and Ryujin got on the train an hour earlier than usual.

“Are you gonna say yes?” she asked, after you told her Keeho had asked you out on a date yesterday. She had a slice of buttered toast in her mouth in flagrant disregard of the ‘no eating’ sign right behind her.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, dragging out your last word like a whiny child. You only acted like this in front of Ryujin. “I should, right? He’s nice.”

“I don’t think you should date people on the basis of niceness. I think you should date them based on whether you actually like them,” she said, never being one to sugarcoat the truth for you, before her eyes widened in realisation. “Don’t tell me it’s because of Beomgyu.”

“It’s not,” you said, and she gave you a knowing look. “Well, it’s not not. What if I’m broken?”

Your conversation with Beomgyu hadn’t left your head since yesterday. You were still bewildered that he’d insisted on talking to you about your breakup; it was so unlike him. Or at least the version of him you remembered.

“I don’t understand how you can take him breaking up with you the way he did as an indictment on you and not him,” Ryujin said. “He always acted like you were some big emotional burden when most of the time you were just a bit sad and needed a hug. And he couldn’t even handle that.”

——————————

Beomgyu, Heeseung, and Keeho were all already in the meeting room when you and Ryujin showed up, even though you were five minutes early yourselves.

“Keeho brought doughnuts,” Heeseung announced instead of saying ‘good morning’, pointing to the box on the table. Ryujin grinned and skipped over to the box to grab one.

“Y/N, do you want Oreo or cinnamon?” Keeho asked, checking to see which flavours were left.

Beomgyu looked up from his phone and said nonchalantly, “Y/N doesn’t like eating in the morning.” The statement was addressed to Keeho, but he looked right at you as he said it.

You stared back at him. He remembered, but of course he did, because you used to watch him eat breakfast while only nursing a giant thermos of coffee every morning. He always nagged you about not skipping ‘the most important meal of the day’, and you always insisted that that was a myth. (For the record, you were right.)

“Uh- yeah. I’m good, thanks,” you stammered after far too long a pause.

Keeho cocked an eyebrow, looking between you and Beomgyu like he had yesterday with a slight smile on his face, before taking the last cinnamon doughnut for himself.

Five minutes before nine, you wrapped up your meeting. Beomgyu and Keeho offered to stay and reset the meeting room while the rest of you hurried to your desks, until you realised you’d left your phone behind and circled back to get it. Right as you reached for the door handle, you heard something that made you freeze.

“Y/N told me you asked them out.” Beomgyu’s voice was barely muffled by the closed door.

Peeking through the tiny window of the door, you saw Keeho shrug. “I did. But I’m not holding my breath.”

“Why? They think you’re hot,” Beomgyu said.

You were so going to kill him. That little-

Keeho laughed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m doomed by the narrative.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Beomgyu asked. That was the man you recognised, defensive and immediately assuming intent to offend. You heard them walking towards the door and scrambled to hide behind the wall around the corner, holding your breath.

“Relax, man,” Keeho chuckled, opening the door. The two men walked right past you, not noticing you. “I’m just saying you should go for it.”

Beomgyu frowned. “What?”

“Yeah. No regrets, right?”

——————————

Beomgyu was acting differently with you now. He was smiling more, joking around more. You were trying not to think about it too much — you didn’t know what it meant, and, more worryingly, you didn’t know what you wanted it to mean.

You two stayed late one Friday night to work on a presentation deck, being the only people left in the office by 8pm. You ordered kimbap and fried chicken and ate dinner together at his cubicle, balancing paper plates on your knees while he typed and you peered over his shoulder.

“This feels familiar,” Beomgyu mused, turning around to look at you. You must’ve looked like a deer in the headlights to him, because you instantly forgot whatever you were about to say when he smiled at you.

In university you had spent many a night in his apartment sitting beside him at his desk, watching him game with Heeseung (whom you only knew at that point as a disembodied voice that lived in Beomgyu’s headset). You were usually snacking on something and you’d feed him whatever it was while he was playing.

“So, did you say yes to Keeho?” Beomgyu asked, sounding flippant, but you could tell he’d been waiting for the right time to ask you that for a while.

“No, he- that’s weird,” you frowned, after you pushed the ground floor button and it failed to light up. Then, the entire lift rattled. “That’s weirder.”

He reached over your shoulder to push the button again, his hair brushing against the back of your neck. Once more, it didn’t light up. But you were worrying about other things, namely how broad his button up made his shoulders look and how good he smelt.

“Answer my question,” he pressed, all while repeatedly poking the button like an impatient toddler.

You would’ve laughed, if not for how close he was standing to you making it impossible for you to think straight. “We decided against it- are we actually stuck in here?”

It was silent for a few seconds as you looked at each other, confused. And then he began to panic.

“No, we can’t be,” he insisted, jabbing his finger at the lift button over and over so hard you thought he’d break his knuckle. His eyes were wide and his breathing was shallow and fast.

“Gyu-”

He cut you off with a loud wail and slapped his hands onto his head, throwing his back against the wall behind him and sliding down it dramatically. You bit back a laugh, the feeling of his body right by yours a second ago now a distant memory.

“We’re trapped! We’re gonna die!” he shrieked, his voice amplified by the tightness of the space you were in. The lift rattled once more.

You stifled a laugh. “Dude, chill.”

It had been nearly four years since your first date, but you still remembered it vividly. He’d brought you to a night carnival, and one of the first attractions on the itinerary was the haunted house. He confessed to you months after you started dating that it was all part of his grand plan to make you fall in love with him: that you would get scared and cling onto his bicep and he’d heroically protect you.

The actual experience went like this. You and him made it about a fifth of the way through the haunted house — with you taking the lead and him screaming bloody murder the entire time — before he tapped out and you turned back. Upon shamefully emerging from the haunted house’s entrance like a couple of quitter chickens, he sank to the floor with his head in his hands, exactly as he was right now. Of course now he was in a button up, tie, slacks, and dress shoes rather than a university sweatshirt and jeans, but the pose was nearly identical.

“I’m too young to die! But I’m too old to get on the news for dying young!” he babbled. Maybe he was delirious from the stress of the job. Ignoring the meltdown unfolding by your feet, you dialled the emergency number above the lift door and gave the man on the other end of the line your lift’s reference number.

“The maintenance guy will be here in a few minutes,” you relayed, hanging up the phone.

He took his head out of his hands and stopped screaming. “Oh. I might have overreacted.”

You laughed, joining him on the floor on the opposite side of the lift. “You think?”

It was silent for a while, save for a few odd creaks from the lift here and there. He had his legs stretched out in front of him and they looked about a billion miles long. You couldn’t really look at him too much without your heart feeling weird.

“Hey,” he started, kicking your shoe to get your attention. “What happened with Keeho?”

He was still on that.

“Nothing. We decided it wasn’t a good idea,” you answered, pausing for a moment to mull over whether you should admit to the conversation you had eavesdropped on last week. You choose to keep your mouth shut.

Beomgyu stayed silent for so long that you got over your refusal to make eye contact and looked up to see if something was wrong. He was frowning. The lift was so small and quiet you swore you could hear your own heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know? Us. How we ended,” he said, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. “I was always shutting you down when you needed to be comforted. I even said you had too many issues.”

You winced at his last sentence, words that still stung nearly three years after he’d first uttered them to you. He must have seen it on your face, because he closed his eyes and looked away.

“Maybe we both met the right person at the wrong time,” you offered, trailing off as he silently got up from his spot opposite you and sat down next to you instead. If he moved even a millimetre closer, his shoulder would’ve touched yours. You held your breath and turned to him, your face so close to his that you could count his eyelashes.

“Yeah, maybe.” He held your gaze, unwavering.

The lift rattled even louder this time, but although you jumped he didn’t even flinch. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips. You used to rest your head on his shoulder when you two sat next to each other like this, whether it was on his sofa or at a restaurant. It was your ‘thing’.

He leaned in, and you found yourself drawn towards him. There was something magnetic about him that seemed to pull you forward, a compulsion of sorts. He used to taste like the pomegranate lip balm you kept in your pocket that he constantly nicked because he was too lazy to buy his own. You wondered if he’d bought one for himself after you split up. His nose brushed against yours and your eyes fluttered shut.

BANG!

You jumped apart, exchanging alarmed glances at the deafening metallic clang of the lift door.

“Maintenance! You guys okay in there?”

Beomgyu recovered from the shock before you did and sputtered out an, “All good!” But he was looking only at you. Beside him you were frozen, certain you could still feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

“Stand back from the doors!” the maintenance man continued.

You scrambled to your feet first, straightening your jacket and grabbing your bag. Your face felt like it was on fire. After (in your estimation) about a billion hours, the lift doors finally parted to reveal a beaming maintenance man.

“Thank you so much, sir. Have a good night,” you rushed out, mumbling a goodbye to Beomgyu without turning to look at him. He didn’t get a chance to return the pleasantry before you were gone.

——————————

Neither of you spoke of the lift incident after that night. You acted like nothing had ever happened, and Beomgyu seemed more than happy to go along with your charade.

Your team lead had invited you both to tag along to a meeting with another company’s headquarters; neither of you had any direct involvement in the project, but he’d asked you to prepare a short presentation on your suggestions for the project anyway. It would be a good experience for you, hence why you agreed to it, but now you were starting to question your judgement.

“Are you nervous?” Beomgyu asked you under his breath as you walked down the corridor side by side to the conference room.

“Is it obvious?” you asked. Your thumb drive loaded with presentation slides was burning a hole in your pocket. Your palms were sweating, but you didn’t want to say that out loud. He’d just start rapping Eminem’s Lose Yourself at you and ruin your focus.

Truth be told, you didn’t really know why he was here — he wasn’t giving a presentation and had nothing to do with the project.

“It’s obvious to me,” he answered.

If you read into that even a little, you inferred he meant that he knew you better than other people did, that he saw more of you than they did. If you read into your own relief when he told you this morning he was coming for the meeting, you inferred having him with you made you feel more secure.

You needed to stop reading into things.

But how could you, when he checked where the air conditioning vents in the meeting room were the second he walked in so he could get you both seats far away from them, knowing you got cold easily? And how could you, when he swapped your chair with his own on instinct to give you the one without any broken wheels?

After the meeting ended, you took the train back home with him. It was a two hour ride.

“You did great,” he praised, leading the way to an empty train carriage. As he walked, he slipped his fingers under his navy blue tie, loosening the knot and popping open the top button of his shirt. You tried not to stare.

“Thanks.” You sat down in the window seat, and he took the one beside you. His shoulder touched yours. Were train seats always this narrow?

There was a part of you that wished Ryujin were here to knock some sense into you and/or crush your delusions before they became too well fleshed out, but she was starting to warm to Beomgyu more and more these days. She was even encouraging you to talk to him. Ryujin? Encouraging you to talk to Beomgyu? Maybe you’d fallen into the matrix.

——————————

“I’m on my way home. How was work?”

You hadn’t dreamt about Beomgyu in a long time, but your dreamscape’s recreation of his voice still remained accurate. Warm and melodic, with a smooth lilt that made anything he said sound poetic.

“It was alright. Are you with Y/N?”

Heeseung’s voice. Hm. Dreaming about Heeseung was weird, but not entirely out of the question. You’d gotten to know him pretty well-

“Shh, man. They’re sleeping right beside me.”

At that, you finally woke up. Your head was resting on Beomgyu’s shoulder instead of the window pane, somehow having found its way to him while you were asleep. Perhaps he’d shifted you there himself, like he used to do whenever you dozed off on the wall of yours and his favourite study booth in the back of the university library.

He didn’t notice you were awake. You kept your eyes shut and remained perfectly still.

“Have you guys talked?” Heeseung asked on the other end of the phone.

“No. What am I supposed to say? Sorry I almost kissed you, I think I’m still in love with you?” Beomgyu said quietly.

“Yeah. Literally.”

“I can’t do that, man.”

“Why not? The universe gave you a second chance. No regrets, right?”

Beomgyu was silent for a few seconds.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at home.”

He hung up without giving Heeseung a chance to reply, and you felt him shifting around as he slipped his phone into his pocket.

Still. Not that he fell in love with you again, but that he never stopped. He was still in love with you.

His hair brushed the side of your face when he turned to you and called your name softly.

“Y/N, wake up.”

You’d never been a particularly good actor, but you pretended to wake up as best as you could and hoped he didn’t see through you.

“Look,” he said quietly, even though there was no one else around, pointing out the window.

The sun was just beginning to set, glowing a brilliant warm orange and glazing the clouds around it in red and yellow. Pink streaks spanned across the sky and through the window into the train carriage.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

When you turned back around, Beomgyu was watching you instead of the sunset. He looked away immediately, clearing his throat and shifting around in his seat. You wondered if he was thinking of the same thing you were.

“Sorry I woke you. I didn’t want you to miss the sunset,” he mumbled. His hands sat folded awkwardly in his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Still. Still?

You could count on one hand the number of times in your life you’d been well and truly speechless; this was one of them.

He seemed to mistake your silence for something else — you didn’t know what — because he turned away and dropped his gaze apologetically.

“Hey, about the other day,” he said, trailing off, “I’m sorry I made things weird.”

You weren’t going to lose him again. You’d had enough heartbreak.

“You didn’t,” you rushed out, placing your hand over his. The movement was sudden and uncoordinated, an impulsive lunge forward rather than a measured and gentle reach. “I wish I hadn’t run away like that.”

Beomgyu’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly in shock. You didn’t know if your words or your actions had caused that.

“Really?” His voice was all breath and no depth.

The melting light of the sunset behind you poured into the train carriage through the window, lying across his face in ribbons of gold that made his skin glow. The hue was almost indescribable, the type of colour only found during sunsets, and the colour you associated only with Choi Beomgyu.

His fingers curled up to lace themselves with yours, and you felt a coldness on your skin that gave you a jolt. It was a ring. Plain, thin, silver.

You bought him matching rings for your six month anniversary, thick patterned silver ones with intricate carvings and twisted rope trimmings. They were cheap costume jewellery — you lost your job around then and that was all you could afford — and they stained your fingers green after a few days.

You gave up and wore your ring on a chain around your neck instead, but he wore his on his index finger every day, all the way to the end. You used to call him 1% Shrek.

He squeezed your hand.

Now or never.

“I don’t want to… I don’t think I can pretend I’m not in love with you anymore,” you admitted, your heart battering against your rib cage like it was trying to burst out of your chest.

Beomgyu’s grip on your hand tightened. “Me neither,” he whispered.

You looked at him, at the softness in his brown eyes and the gentle slope of his nose. He had made all the first moves in the past. He asked you out on the first date, he initiated your first kiss, he introduced you to his friends and family first. You were done with waiting for him to lead the way.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

All his nerves appeared to melt away. He grinned cockily, the exact same grin he donned right before he was about to do something annoying.

“Kissing on public transport is so passé,” he said with a dramatic sigh, even though you were the only people on the train. “We aren’t horny students anymore, we’re grown adults with serious jobs-”

“There’s a juice box sticking out of your bag,” you pointed out, suppressing a laugh.

He moved towards you, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. Like your muscles had held onto the memory of his touch all these years, you leant into the familiar warmth of his palm.

“You make a compelling argument,” he muttered, before bringing his lips to yours.

Peppermint. He used peppermint lip balm now.

When was the last time you’d kissed? You couldn’t remember. But you remembered how it felt — the way his lips slotted perfectly between yours, his curve of his hand on your face, the angle of his shoulder exactly where you always held onto him.

When you separated, he pressed a final quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. That was his trademark; he never kissed you without doing that.

“I can’t believe you came back to me,” he said. The diffuse amber of the sunset glazed over his face, making his eyes sparkle. Something about the way he looked at you slowed your heart rate, made you feel sedated.

You ran your thumb over the ring on his index finger, now warmed from the heat of your locked hands.

“Always.”

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

#tomorrow x together #txt #choi beomgyu #txt beomgyu #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu au

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ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

Love to think that Anakin purposefully lets you land hits on him during training so that he can go back to his rooms and press and poke his bruises you’d give him. He’d imagine it was you, and it gets him so rock hard

-el (@anakin-skywalker-always)

i had to take a deep breath after i read this... i wanna beat the shit out of him <333

obvious cw for impact play/masochism, don't read if it'll bother you

this post is 18+, minors dni.

you notice that after the first couple of times that you spar by chance, he ends up standing conveniently next to you in your saber class from then on. he tries to play it off as just having found a seat/corner that he really likes and maybe you believe it, maybe you don't, but what he's really after is to get you to beat the crap out of him. he finds out that this is so enticing after only your first session together, because you were partnered together by chance and he'd stayed up a little too late watching a holoshow and after three tries obi-wan probably gave up on telling him to get some sleep. so he's tired and a little grouchy (he's absolutely pissy) but the one thing he's a master at over all else is dueling, right? he flourishes in his saber classes, he steps up to it with a liiiiittle too much confidence, and it only takes one second late for his sleep-lagged brain to register your foot heading for his face until your heel is ramming into his jaw and he's knocked to the floor.

you're not thirteen anymore, you're either older padawans or already knights, so no one monitors your matches too closely. you won't be reprimanded for kicking him rather than swinging your saber, because this class is less about learning the different forms of dueling and more about honing your sparring skills to fight in actual battles. your move had been totally fair, and if he'd just gone to bed on time, he'd have seen it coming and been able to block it, but now he's knocked on his ass with a searing pain in his jaw, wide eyes, and a feeling he should not be experiencing now of all times below the belt. he stares back up at you, and at first, he's pissed. how dare you beat him at his best game, how dare you fight dirty and knock The Chosen One on his butt in front of the entire class? but then he watches your sly smirk as you stare down at him, your saber still ignited as you hold it by your side, and he fully registers what that misplaced sensation is down below, and oh maker he thinks you're so fucking hot.

he's a little slow to get back up on his feet, and he's ridiculously grateful for the loose jedi garb that hides his predicament from you. he nods once, trying not to let it show on his face that he'd actually liked getting k.o'd by you, and gears up for another fight.

he doesn't want to seem too obvious, but he wants to test his theory again. so he lets you win roughly half of your matches, and the other half, he uses the rest of his quickly dwindling energy to overpower you. he has a fleeting thought that you might also be taking pity on him for having such an off day and you might be letting him win, but that bruises his ego too much and that's about the only part of him he doesn't want you to bruise, so he pushes the thought away.

he's careful to avoid your saber, but you quickly catch on that hand-to-hand combat is what usually trips him up, and you're very generous with the punches and kicks you throw his way. every time his body makes rushed contact with the mat below him, whether it be his shoulder slamming against it when you knock his feet out from under him, or his nose cracking against it and leaving behind a dull ache, he lets the pain spread through his body, letting it rush straight south to his embarrassingly stiff cock. he feels so juvenile, popping a boner in class, but he wrestles it down as much as possible before your session is up. he relishes the surprisingly arousing feel of your knuckles smashing against his face or arm, and kriff it feels so good when you knee him just above the dick, somewhere on the left side of his waist. Like you know he's achingly hard beneath his flowy tunics, like you're teasing him.

he passes up the opportunity to eat after the session is dismissed, and rushes straight back to his quarters. he locks himself in the bathroom and sees a bruise quickly forming at his jaw where you'd initially kicked him. peeling away the layers of his robes, he finds several more aching splotches across his tanned skin, a sight that makes him greedy for more. he tentatively pushes his fingers into one on his side and though his instinct is to get away from the pain, his fingers press relentlessly into him as his cock twitches in his briefs. he moans, he audibly and uncontrollably moans at that first contact, feeling the memory resurface of your elbow jamming into his skin and staining it black and blue.

he gets off three times in the bathroom before his next engagement. three times. he tugs on his cock with embarrassing desperation as he uses his other hand to aggravate the painful marks you'd left all over his body, each persistent push of his digits against a bruise flooding shameful heat and pain through him. he cums on his hand, then his stomach, and by the third orgasm he slumps against the wall and zones out while staring at a bruise you'd left on his thigh. he cleans up and gets himself re-dressed, but the bruise on his jaw is still tantalizingly visible. he inspects it, turns his face to the side while his eyes track it in the mirror. his mind conjures up the most delicious image of your mouth latched onto the mark, sucking and biting and making it worse, so much worse. he wants you to make him worse, he wants you to pummel him into the ground and then bite at all of his bumps and bruises until he's blacking out from the pain. his exhausted dick threatens to jump in his briefs at the image so he pushes it down, if only to be on time for his next class or meeting or meditation or whatever else he's got planned for the day. he does, however, revisit the image in his quarters later that night, where he again receives shamefully less sleep than he should. this time, though, he's not taken by a holodrama, he's enamored with the thought of you beating him up further, and he formulates a shoddy, half-baked plan to get you to knock him around some more.

he spends the next few sparring sessions as your partner, once again pretending he's losing to you a fair amount of times. you grow to be friends, if you weren't already, and you even touch the bruise on his jaw before it fades completely. you brush your fingers over it softly, apologetically, like you're trying not to hurt him, when all he really wants you to do is slap the mark, slam your hand against his face so that it gets worse, not better.

after those few sparring sessions, whoever's officially supervising you realizes that you two are always together. he doesn't want either of you to fall into a rhythm of each other's fighting styles, doesn't want things to be predictable or easy, so he bans you from being partnered for a while. he tells you both to find new partners, and while you shoot him a sympathetic smile, anakin's busy glaring holes into the back of the master's head when he walks away. he feels that rush of anger again, like he had when you'd first knocked him over, but this time of course it doesn't fade to pleasure. it burns white hot through his body, how dare they take you away from him? how dare they try to separate you? and he almost feels bad for taking that anger out on the poor man he'd had to partner with. he doesn't feel the need to fake a loss with the guy, and he pulls victories in every single match that they have together, just like he used to before he discovered his penchant for pain. for your pain, for your violence.

he uses this as an excuse, though. to ask you to spar with him outside of your classes. he pitches this sob story about how everyone else in the class isn't as good as you are, and how you're the only one he can't consistently beat. how you two should start sparring on the side, to keep each other on your toes. and of course you agree, because you're friends with him now, and you're somewhat ego-boosted by the thought of being too good at sparring for anakin skywalker to beat.

private sparring sessions are so much better, anakin finds. there's no audience, no one to marvel at how he so easily drops to the mat after a punch from you. no one to call your attention over to them, even for a second. it's just the two of you, and you always lose track of time and spar for hours. it means that anakin leaves your sparring sessions a lot more broken and bruised than he typically did from your classes, which only means more late nights relentlessly jacking himself off while pressing his hand against the marks.

when he does it he snaps his eyes shut, imagining it's your hand. he likes seeing the bruises, but he likes imagining that you're the one aggravating them even more, so he screws his eyes shut and pokes at the spots until they scream with pain. his other hand is busy beating his dick, slicked with his own spit but well-smeared with precum now, as he drives his fingers against his own sore spots envisioning you tormenting him further. his breathing comes hot and heavy and panted as he does it, aching chest convulsing as he spits the foulest stream of huttese curses he can fathom. his teeth are clenched and his fist is too, accidentally squeezing his poor abused red-tipped cock too hard and only hurting himself further. there’s something so carnal and feral and lustful about the thought of you doing it on purpose, you bursting blood beneath his skin and hitting him, staining his skin with the residue of your want for him. he gets off every night, multiple times a night to the vision of you sneering at him, slapping his sore spots and biting at them until he's in agony. he truly doesn't know why his brain has crosswired pleasure and pain, but he'll let you beat the shit out of him any day, if it means he gets to fuck his fist later and pretend you're the one poking and prodding at his bruises until he cums hard.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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upon-a-starry-night · 19 days

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.30

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

The plane ride home gives you plenty of time to think. You use up half of the time trying to come up with what you’ll say to Nat if you ever see her again. So far all you’ve come up with is-

‘ Hey! guess what? I figured out it was you I was talking to the whole time- oh and also I’m in love with you!’ and you’re pretty sure that’s a bit too much to throw at her all at once.

So you use the other half of the time to sign the hundreds of petitions that people from all over the world have created to fight against your government's stupid decision. It’s a rare moment where people are coming together to agree on one unanimous decision and it’s kind of beautiful.

There’s been people protesting outside of courthouses and social media’s blowing up with reasons why the Avengers should be dropped of all their charges.

When your mom dropped you off at the airport you promised her you would tell her everything that’s been going on once you finished your business and she gave you a stern look that said ‘you better’ before ushering you to your gate.

After a lot of contemplation, you decided you would drop off your bags at your apartment and then head to the police station to file a report about your stalking. It had been peaceful being in your hometown but now that you were back home you didn’t want to spend every day living in fear of the people following you.

After that, you would head to Avengers Tower. You didn’t know if they’d believe you even with all the proof you’ve gathered but it was worth a shot. At worst, they’d kick you out. At best, they’d let you in to wait for Nat or send her some sort of coded message to tell her you were waiting for her.

You’re not sure if she’d come back just for that reason but if she at least knew you were waiting for her maybe the guilt would urge her to come back and at the very least, apologize in person.

You’re a little disoriented from the jet lag when you touch down, nearly falling asleep in the Taxi to your apartment when you jolt awake at the sound of people yelling and cars honking. Out the window, there’s a large crowd of people with signs heading in one direction and you’re thankful you’re not in it.

Your cab driver apologizes for the traffic delay, telling you that apparently there was some kind of big meeting going on at the courthouse and everyone was making a big fuss about it. You figure the news about the meeting must have dropped while you were on the plane and make a mental note to check for updates once you set your bags down.

Despite it still being around noon, exhaustion weighs heavy on your bones from the chaos of the last few days and you’re more than ready for a nap as you make your way to your apartment door. It’s only when you’re a few inches away that you stop in your tracks. The sound of voices coming from inside your apartment.

Your whole body lights up with fear as you try to make out their conversation. From what you can tell it’s two male voices and you can’t help but assume it’s the people who’ve been stalking you this past month. Their conversation is muffled but you can just make out a few of the words being said-

“Come on —---- Are you really going to —---------- at her own apartment?” Voice number 1 sounds a little exasperated and you hope you can use that to your advantage if they try to attack.

“I just want to talk to her —---” The second voice is deeper and sends a chill down your spine. What were you doing? You should be running away.

You attempt to make a silent getaway just as your next-door neighbor arrives and you plead to the gods she doesn’t acknowledge you but she’s always been more talkative than you’d sometimes like.

“Oh hey Y/n! Back from your trip?” She smiles at you as she unlocks her door and the voices inside your apartment still. Shit. Think fast, Y/n.

“Yeah but uh- I… think I forgot a bag in the taxi, would you mind watching this one for me real quick?” You all but shove your luggage at her and barely acknowledge her startled ‘Oh sure!’ before you’re booking it back out of the building.

Your heart is pounding and you’re not sure what to do about two grown men in your apartment but you know they heard you talk and you have to get away from them as soon as possible.

Your body’s on autopilot and before you know it you’re practically speed walking in the direction of the police station. At least now you could report them for breaking and entering and stalking. Maybe the police will take you more seriously then.

Halfway to the police station, you have the displeasure of noticing one of the Suv's from before is tailing you again. You don’t know if it’s the men from your apartment or someone else but your anxiety spikes when they speed up and you quickly turn down a random alley as they get closer.

Much to your surprise and relief, they drive past you like you aren’t even there and it leaves you wondering if maybe you really were being paranoid.

Still shaken up about the men who broke in, you decide it’s best if you still hurry to the police station so they have time to dust for fingerprints and maybe move you into witness protection. (you know that’s only an FBI thing but it makes you feel better to think about it).

Despite the threat of the SUV being gone, you’re still checking over your shoulder every few minutes to make sure no one is following you. It’s for that reason that you don’t even notice it when you bump into a large crowd of people.

You’re immediately uncomfortable, your PTSD with crowds snapping into effect and making you go rigid with anxiety. You can’t move your body as people shout and shove you in every direction. You must have accidentally stumbled into the crowd of protesters at the courthouse.

For a brief moment you think ‘at least it’ll be harder to track me in here’ but then someone steps on your foot and you flinch back, accidentally bumping into someone else who shoves you off of them in agitation. You turn to apologize but they’re already gone so you decide to try and focus on getting out.

You duck and weave through bodies but the occasional shoulder check has you feeling like you’re still stuck in the middle of the madness.

Finally, you think you’ve found the exit as you push through the sea of people and you lurch towards open air only to be grabbed back by a man in a black suit and sunglasses.

His grip is tight and you cry out in pain at the feeling when a voice yells at him above the rest of the crowd.

“Let her go!” The voice is commanding and whoever it is must be important because the mafia/agent-looking guy immediately lets you go. You rub your tender arm and wonder if it’s going to bruise when you notice the rowdy crowd has gone suspiciously quiet.

You wonder if they’re all just as intimidated by the voice as the guy in the suit was when you look up and make eye contact with your savior.

A pair of strikingly familiar green eyes stare back at you with surprise.

Pt.31

A/n: only a few more chapters left- how we feeling? ~ Starry

---Taglist--

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