#how was i supposed to feel like a kid when i was locked up for the past 2 years? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saetoru · 6 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, ��all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics.#geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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soobnny · 4 months

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stolen kisses with stray kids — established relationship, extreme fluff, some might be suggestive ? (2.0k words)

moments they steal a kiss & where they do it

chan. during movie night when everyone’s asleep

it’s a little scandalous, they way he reaches for your lips while his friends are asleep during one of your movie nights.

it’s around 2am, and the only reason you’re still awake is because chan’s being extra clingy with the way he squeezes your waist, running his cold hand under your shirt.

how can anyone expect him to fall asleep though? not when you’re so close to him, and he can smell your shampoo, and feel your steady breathing.

“sleepy.” you mumble, grabbing the ends of your shared blanket that jisung had stolen most of hours ago. chan had to excuse himself midway through your third movie to get you a new one.

“hmm.” he hums in response, nuzzling his nose against your hair, hands planting themselves on your bare waist. “is my baby sleepy?”

“mhm.” chan can’t help but grin down at you, disentangling his head from your hair for a moment to look at you—your sleepy smile and drooping eyes. how could he not press his lips on yours when you’re looking at him like that?

it feels like a shot of espresso, and he would’ve gone in for another one had you not fallen asleep, head buried in his neck and arms gripping his shirt.

minho. at the dance practice room while waiting for everyone else to arrive

minho’s arms are immediately locked around your torso the minute you walk into your university’s dance practice room. your boyfriend had rented it out for the evening with his friends to practice their final project, and you’d come with dinner and your support.

“5 minutes.” he whispers with a sinister grin, and you’re about to question what he meant when he goes straight in for your lips. ah, five minutes before his friends get here.

his lips aren’t shy at all. you can feel him growing more desperate as seconds pass, and you don’t know what’s gotten into your boyfriend for him to be kissing you like this, but you don’t exactly have any complaints.

minho kisses up your jaw, pulling your hips closer to his before planting his lips back on yours. and you have to admit, it’s a little attractive to catch a glimpse of the way he’s holding you and the way he’s kissing you from the dance studio’s big fucking mirror.

you don’t even realize how much time had passed. everything felt like a blur with the way your boyfriend was kissing you. but before you know it, there are knocks on the door and minho is breathing heavily against your neck.

he presses one last final kiss on your lips before he’s pulling away from the tight grip he’d placed you in earlier. it’s impressive, the way he immediately switches to a more composed version of himself—unlocking the doors and welcoming his friends inside. the smile on his face is gone, and it makes your face heat up to think that they have no idea what had happened just five minutes before they walked into the studio.

changbin. in the gym room against the lockers

“babe, i have the water bottle you’d left—oh!”

changbin gives you no warning when he kisses you against the lockers of his condominium’s gym. you suppose it’s because he’s the only one there. despite his appearance, your boyfriend is usually shy when it comes to public displays of affection.

it doesn’t help that he has a very visible afterglow after his workout session, sheen of sweat on his arms and forehead, and it really is hard to look away—well, it would’ve been hard if you weren’t so preoccupied with the way he was kissing you. it’s slow, and very very hot because it’s so uncharacteristic of your boyfriend to be kissing you like this where anyone could walk in on you. he lets his lips linger for a little longer than your usual kisses, completely taking away your breath.

when he pulls away, he’s still staring at your lips, and you can see a soft smile playing on his. he sends you another peck on the lips before he’s grabbing at the water bottle in your hand.

“thanks baby.” he downs the water in one chug, arms flexing and playing into the fabric of the top he’s wearing. you’re still against the lockers, where he’d pushed you against earlier, and his free arm is still locking you in place. you feel akin to a schoolgirl, with her crush so close.

the thought of him kissing you again like this has you mentally kicking your feet.

hyunjin. in the art studio’s closet where they keep the supplies

he kisses you in the university’s art studio closet—where they keep the supplies. you’d only meant to help hyunjin clean up, but you find yourself locked between his arms with his lips on yours. maybe it’s something about how your boyfriend is much more romantic when he’s in his artist’s mindset, but he refuses to pull away.

you don’t know he’d spent hours prior trying to paint even just a fraction of how he feels about you on the canvas. you were only able to catch a glimpse of vivid colors, the same that’s staining his hands and clinging to his skin.

hyunjin only pulls away when he accidentally knocks down a stool in the cramped space, pulling away and shyly crinkling his nose. it’s a direct contrast to how rough he’d been, hands roaming every possible inch of your face and neck and waist.

when you step outside, you catch your reflection in the studio’s big studio. the sight makes your cheeks heat up embarrassingly, and hyunjin has to apologize for caking your face with the paint that had been on his hands prior to stealing your lips in that closet.

jisung. at the dorm room while his roommate is away

can someone really blame him? you just looked so kissable with your pouty lips and your furrowed eyebrows. when you’d finally succumbed to studying for the night, jisung wastes no time, catching your lips in his.

he’d give anything to continue pressing his lips into yours for the entirety of his life.

and if not for the rest of his life, then at least for a couple more hours while the sun is still up — and while felix (his roommate) is very much not in their dorm yet.

jisung smiles at you when you pull away—that dumb smile he always gives you when he’s not quite done kissing you yet. he has his hands firmly planted on your hips, and his legs are outstretched so you’re comfortable on his lap.

you have a feeling you’ll leave his dorm with a flushed face and swollen lips. you hope felix isn’t on his way home anytime soon.

felix. while baking seungmin’s birthday cake, everytime jisung exits the kitchen

in his dorm’s mini kitchen while the three of you with jisung bake seungmin’s birthday cake. he only ever does it when his roommate is too distracted with other things like what he should get the younger boy—would a gag gift of a stuffed penis be enough to torment seungmin? you can hear him clearly from the living room, calling out to ask you for advice, but felix stands firm on wanting to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

“felix, stop! jisung might walk in on us.” though you’re telling him to stop, it’s a little hard to convince your boyfriend when you’re giggling and kissing him back.

who could blame felix though? how can he not kiss you when there’s frosting on your lips from decorating the cake? and what better way to clean it than kissing it off?

he has you lifted up on the counter, stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs. you’d shiver once in a while, it can’t be helped when the boy’s running his cold hands up and down your bare skin, hiking your shirt up just a little bit.

and he’s mastered the art of excuses at this point, always having something to say when jisung walks into the kitchen and suspiciously eyes the both of you because why are your lips the same color as the extra frosting.

though, on his hundredth attempt at secretly kissing you, jisung walks right in and immediately screams “my eyes!” as he runs away with his palms covering his eyes.

seungmin. against the bookshelves of the library

“kiss me.” it feels wrong coming out of his lips. your goody two shoes, straight a’s boyfriend, whispering for you to kiss him in the library.

seungmin’s taking advantage of the fact that nobody ever stays at the university’s library past 12am, not when exam seasons are far off. he had dragged you here earlier, something about a project, and with nothing better to do, you’d thought you would accompany him.

you’d expected him to bury his face in his laptop as usual, square glasses on his concentrated face. you didn’t expect to be making out with him against the bookshelves of the library—somewhere by the anatomy section, you don’t even remember anymore.

it’s like he prepared for this too, knowing exactly where you won’t be caught. he has you between his arms, and he ghosts your face terribly close to his.

it really isn’t difficult to admit that seungmin is wildly attractive like this. while you loved your nerdy boyfriend, something about him with his messy hair and his eyeglasses discarded has you breathing erratically.

his lips immediately catch yours when you lean forward to kiss him. it’s a little messy, but you give into it, and into his tongue that’s swiping on your bottom lip. you don’t know what had warranted this, but it definitely isn’t unwelcomed.

you only pull away when you hear the librarian surveying the lines of shelves, noticing that you and seungmin had been gone a little too long. it really isn’t that hard to find a book.

when you come back to your corner table, seungmin doesn’t say anything. his glasses are back on his frame, but it’s hard to miss his smirk and the way he’s running his tongue over his lips once in a while.

jeongin. under the school’s staircase in between class

jeongin loves to steal kisses in between classes. he’d kiss you anywhere, behind your department’s building, inside an empty classroom, anywhere with no prying eyes.

today, it’s under your school’s staircase. he kisses you sweetly, almost romantic. the kind of kiss that tells you he misses you despite it only being a few hours since you last saw each other.

he kisses you over and over in between quiet conversation about how your class went—how was that quiz you had? was it a boring one? he loves listening to you talk, and he loves interrupting you once in a while to place a short peck on your lips. it’s usually when you say your ‘w’s or any letter that puckers your lips up.

similarly, you ask him questions about his class—was his teacher a little less shitty today? did he finish that group project he’d spent many late hours on? what’s on his mind and why is he looking at you like that?

“you.” he says with a smug smile, and it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. you stare at each other for a while, but jeongin can only go so long without your lips on his so he grabs your chin with his fingers and pulls you gently to place his lips on yours one last time.

the last kisses always last longer, when he knows he’s running out of time, and your next class is looming around the corner. and your boyfriend always knows how to make it count.

“see you on your next break, babe.”

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bayjaruchel · 6 months

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Underneath The Strobe Light

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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

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You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

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norrizzandpia · 10 days

Note

this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!

Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)

Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.

Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol

Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx

If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.

“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.

Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”

Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”

When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.

Unknown Number

Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…

Y/n

Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.

The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.

Unknown Number

WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?

Unknown Number

YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN

Unknown Number

If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit

Unknown Number

LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE

Unknown Number

Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder

Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.

Y/n

You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!

His response was immediate.

Unknown Number

Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?

Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.

Y/n

*Image Attached*

Y/n

I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.

The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.

Unknown Number

Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.

Unknown Number

You are very pretty tho

Y/n giggled,

Y/n

Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.

Unknown Number

Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.

Y/n

How do I know this for sure?

Unknown Number

Trust me?

Y/n

Okay, ig. What’s your name?

The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.

“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.

However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.

Unknown Number

Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?

Y/n

I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)

Y/n

Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny

🏎️

The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.

Bob!

Good morning :)

Bob!

Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?

Y/n

Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.

Bob!

GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n

Y/n

Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol

Y/n

I live in London! What about you?

Bob!

Monaco

Y/n

Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?

Bob!

NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho

Y/n

Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.

Bob!

😭

Y/n

No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces

Bob!

Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.

Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.

Y/n

Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.

Bob!

Ok! text me when you’re free?

Y/n

yesss

—

There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.

Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.

Bob!

Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!

Y/n

sry, i just got home.

Bob!

Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??

Y/n

yeah

Bob!

Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you

Y/n

that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?

Bob!

you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times

Y/n

thats love fr

Y/n

but yeah its been a long day

Bob!

oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?

Y/n

Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.

Bob!

Talk to me about it then <3

Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.

Y/n

it’s ok. Thank you tho bob

Bob!

Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?

Y/n

no one?

Bob!

you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.

Y/n

We barely know each other.

Bob!

Do i look like i care?

She laughs and types,

Y/n

Bob, I don’t even know what you look like

Bob!

We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything

Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.

Y/n

People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.

Bob!

I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.

There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.

Y/n

Thank you. That means a lot.

Bob!

Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.

Y/n

When were you experiencing it?

Bob!

A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.

Y/n

You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.

Bob!

There’s not much to tell, Y/n.

Y/n

You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?

Bob!

I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

Y/n

VAGUE

Bob!

Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs

Her eyes twinkle,

Y/n

Haha yeah right brotha

Y/n

That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.

Bob!

Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.

Y/n

You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?

Bob!

If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha

She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.

“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.

She breathes, “Bob?”

There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.

“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”

He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”

“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”

Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.

Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.

“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.

Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”

She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”

The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.

Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.

🏎️

“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.

“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.

Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”

Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”

Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.

Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”

Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.

“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.

Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”

“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.

Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”

Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”

Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.

“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.

“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.

Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”

He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”

She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.

Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”

Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”

“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.

Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”

Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”

Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”

As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”

Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.

—

Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.

“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.

Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”

Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”

Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.

Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.

🏎️

There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.

Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.

“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?

But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.

Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.

A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.

Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.

This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.

Robert Dancing does not exist.

🏎️

Unknown

Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?

Y/n

Everything is fine.

Unknown

Can I call you now?

Y/n

I’m busy.

Unknown

It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?

Unknown

Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?

Y/n

Stop messaging me.

Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.

Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”

She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”

Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.

“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.

Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”

A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”

A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.

“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.

He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”

She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, I-”

She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”

A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”

Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.

He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.

What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”

With that, she hangs up the phone.

—

Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.

No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.

A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”

Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.

“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.

Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”

Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.

Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.

—

It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.

The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.

From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.

Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.

She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.

Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”

The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”

Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”

He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.

Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.

Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.

With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.

🏎️

The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.

She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.

He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”

It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.

When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.

“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”

The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.

The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.

The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.

He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”

Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”

He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.

Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He lifts his head slowly, “What?”

At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”

A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.

He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.

“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.

She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”

Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”

“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.

Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”

She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”

He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”

Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.

At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”

He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”

Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”

He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.

Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”

Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”

🏎️

The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.

Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.

So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.

“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.

A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”

Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.

When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.

Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.

He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.

He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”

He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.

The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.

Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.

She doesn’t know who he is.

He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.

“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.

Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.

“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.

“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.

“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.

Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”

What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.

“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.

She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.

“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.

“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”

Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”

Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”

Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”

Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.

“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.

He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”

Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”

His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”

She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”

Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.

🏎️

Y/n

Can you stop blowing up my phone

Bob <3

Why????? I’m bored baby

Y/n

im at work girly

Bob <3

girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me

Y/n

I think you might be obsessed with me

Bob <3

i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?

Y/n

girl

She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.

“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.

She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”

“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.

Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”

Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”

Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”

Lando hums, “An hour?”

“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”

Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”

She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”

He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”

“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.

He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She’d never get tired of saying it.

1K notes · View notes

mvth3r · 23 days

Text

daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.

5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words

a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm

one.

daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.

his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.

he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.

the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”

daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”

you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”

you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.

you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.

two.

daryl was distracted.

this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.

the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.

earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.

and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.

the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.

“daryl, what do you think?”

glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.

“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”

hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”

your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-

no.

daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”

glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.

daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.

before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”

hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”

three.

the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.

instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.

it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.

he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.

while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.

maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.

maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.

maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.

the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.

“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”

oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.

carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”

daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.

he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.

daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.

you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.

“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.

by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.

“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"

maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”

“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.

carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.

now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.

he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.

“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.

daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”

with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.

daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.

you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.

he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.

“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.

you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.

four.

having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.

as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.

deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.

well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.

he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.

daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.

but this.. this was just for him.

your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.

you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.

you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.

“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.

your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.

your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”

and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.

you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.

daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.

soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.

“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”

“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.

daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.

but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.

he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.

no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.

five.

daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.

the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.

“—harder! put more pressure on it!”

daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.

“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”

and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.

he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.

daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.

as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.

—

this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.

without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.

the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.

“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”

he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.

“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.

your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.

daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.

a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”

“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.

“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.

oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.

plus one.

to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.

you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.

it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.

regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.

eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.

“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.

“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”

carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”

you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.

your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.

it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.

they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.

and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.

and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.

even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.

they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.

they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.

they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.

daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.

your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.

you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.

you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”

daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.

just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd imagine #daryl x reader

1K notes · View notes

fcthots · 5 months

Note

Drunk sex with jay?he's the one drunk btw

I got carried away...

This is one of the longest things I've ever written

He is such a horny drunk. It's been established for years at this point. He achieves something. He's proud of himself. He gets drunk. His face gets flushed. He gets flirty. He gets horny. All a part of the routine. You've talked about it. You've discussed it. You've accepted it.

And you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the flirting at least a little.

He'd started drinking an hour ago. He's had his eyes locked on yours since then. He's watched your every step and hasn't stopped smiling.

You know he's watching you. You're standing with him in the kitchen. He's sitting on one of the metal barstool chairs he picked out a few months ago at some old furniture store. He's solidly drunk now. His steps waver when he tries to walk and he slurs his words when he speaks. He smile still doesn't drop.

He's been chattering most of the time, talking about nothing. Also flirting. So much flirting. But he's been silently staring at you for the last 3 minutes, a record.

He rests his chin in his hand. "I wanna taste you."

You drop the remote you were holding. He snickers. Loudly.

You let out a huff and bend over the grab the remote, blushing furiously. While you grab the remote from the floor, he soundlessly moves behind you. You're not entirely sure how he pulled it off in his drunken state. You don’t notice until you stand back up and his hands find your waist, pushing their way up under your shirt and tracing patterns into your skin. "Sounds like you like my idea. C'mon." He draws out the last syllable slightly. He turns you around, removing one hand to place it on your chin and tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes are hooded and dark. "Please?" His voice is gruff and slightly deeper than it usually is. How are you supposed to resist him?

He can see the surrender in your eyes ands smile brightens. You let out a breath. "You sure?"

He doesn't respond, just presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. He's no longer so drunk that he can't walk, but you still don't trust him to walk backwards to the couch the way he'd usually lead you during a kiss, so you walk yourself backward to the kitchen table. It breaks off the kiss when you sit, but Jason is quick to go to his knees to follow you. His mouth doesn't stay on yours for too much longer, it makes its way to your neck and you can feel him leave hickeys that surely won't be gone by tomorrow. His hands find their way back under your shirt to your hips and waist, pulling your body flush with his. They move and latch onto the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it, but he can't bring himself to move his mouth away from your neck. You do it for him. Faster than the flash, kid flash, or impulse could move, you lean slightly back and away to lift your shirt off your head. You toss the shirt across the room and you can faintly hear the fabric hit the ground as Jason's mouth returns to your neck.

But this time, it doesn’t stay in that one place for two long. How mouth moves to your finally freed collarbones and licks a hot strip up the middle of them. His eyes lock with yours and your skin feels warm and electric. His hands move up your body and try to make their way to your chest before he gets annoyed at the fabric there.

"Ugh!" His tone is annoyed and you can't help but let out a breath of a laugh. "Take it all off. Everything. Now."

"Bossy." But you're doing exactly what he says and you know he can see the excitement in your eyes. You think about making a remark about the clothing (What? can't figure out how to get it off?), but ultimately decide that getting the clothes off as fast as humanly possible is more pressing. His hands have to move away from your waist when it's time for the pants to go and you immediately miss the warmth of his touch. It isn't gone for long, though. The moment your underwear drops, his mouth is on your tits. He draws a nipple to his mouth and you can feel his tongue move against it. Your hands find their way into his hair as he moans and pushes the rest of his body against yours. You feel his teeth graze you and you let out a brief gasp. His fingers dip into your hipbones and he doubles his efforts.

He doesn’t want to spend too long on just one, though. He always says they both "deserve equal attention" (usually right after he says something like "mine. All fuckin mine,") but well his mouth is a little busy right now. His hands trail down to your thighs, moving up and down. They squeeze intermittently as he bares down on your tit. You try to rub your thighs together, to get some sort of friction, but his hands roughly push them apart and hold them in place.

You tug his hair back, moving his face away and making him look at you. His eyes are half lidded, dazed. There's not a damn thought in his brain other than you. He whines and it short circuits your brain. You were about to say something, but he beats you to it.

"Need you. Need to taste you. Please."

"Thought you'd never ask."

His head moves back to your chest, but this time it trails down. His open mouth kisses are quick and sloppy. He follows your skin as it moves with your quickening breaths. His hands move back up your thighs and this time they trail all the way to your hips. He licks a final stripe up your stomach as he jerks you to the edge of the table.

He moves his hands again, this time around the outer side of your knees. He briefly kisses his way up your thigh. You're both breathing loud and heavily by the time he hooks the knee over his shoulder. Then he moves his mouth the other thigh, moving his mouth along it the same way he did the previous one. And again when he finally makes all the way to your inner thigh, he backs his head up, smiles at you, and hooks that knee over his shoulder.

He lays down one last kiss before he looks back up at you again and says, "Sorry, ma. Can't wait any more."

His arms loop around your thighs to keep you in place and he wastes no further time. He licks a wet stripe up your cunt and you let out an unholy moan. His lips wrap around your clit and suck and your brain shuts off. Your eyes slide closed against your will, despite how fucking good he looks between your legs. The only thing you can do is feel what he's doing to you, and by the looks of it, he's in the same boat. You swear you don't know what he's doing with his tongue, but fuck it feels good.

You think he might be more drunk on you than the alcohol at this point, but regardless you notice he hasn't remembered to breathe since he started devouring you. You try to tug him by his hair but his neck remains stiff and he moans into your cunt (and fuck if that is't distracting). "Baby." You tug his scalp again, this time with force. He gasps when you pull him away. You make eye contact and his eyes are a fucking sight. His pupils are blown wide, but more important his mouth and chin are coated in your slick. He licks his lips and you almost lose it at the sight. "Don't forget to breathe."

He seemingly can't wait any longer because he talks on his way back to your cunt. "Yes ma'am." Your brain shuts off for the next two minutes. You suspect he might be tracing his name into you, but you're not complaining, especially when it feels like that. His fingers dig into your skin as you let out a stream of curses.

He backs away to catch his breath and had you been in any sort of state to, you might have made a remark about him remembering all on his own this time, but you're too thoroughly wrecked to let out anything other than a high pitched whine.

He breathes a laugh. "You sound like me. Tsk tsk tsk. I guess I've been rubbing off on you too much lately." You forget how much of a cocky bastard he can be. Apparently he's finished his meal, because he moves your knees off his shoulder and rises from his knees. There are red marks where his fingers were pressed into you. "C'mon. Get up. I'm gonna need you to ride me. Let's go. Let's go make you drunk on my cock, baby"

Time to find out if you can still walk.

#this is the equivalent of my YouTuber apology video for being gone for so long *brings out ukulele*#jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood #red hood x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x afab!reader #smut #saph’s love letters #saph’s thots

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idyllcy · 5 months

Text

i've never had somebody, so I don't know how to love

word count: 8.45k

warnings: children (idk), smut, reader has a kid?, fem reader, spoilers

summary: "I shall come back for you." "I shall wait."

Jinshi swears he just wanted a bite. One bite.

He just wanted a taste. That was all. It's called chocolate, Maomao had told him. He was supposed to save a little for you to taste when he got back to your chambers, but he supposes he ate too much, because by the time he arrives in your room, he's warm and flushed, and the only thing on his mind is folding you in half on the mattress. His poor mind.

"My love! Welcome back." You grin, opening your arms for him as he sinks into your touch. His skin is flush against yours as he mumbles something, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he lets his hands roam. You squirm under his touch as you try and ask him about his day.

"Maomao made me chocolate," He whispers, tugging at the string around your garment. "When I asked her for an aphrodisiac..."

"Mhm?" You hum, running your hand through his hair to pull off the hair tie. "Why would you need one?"

"I felt bad," He bites your collarbone, sucking gently as he slides the dress down your body. "I have not been paying attention to you all that much these days."

"I told you it was fine, and that I would be fine by myself." You tilt your head back for him to kiss up your neck.

He doesn't answer, hand crawling to the back of your head and kissing you instead. You lean back to comply, tilting your head as you taste the chocolate on his lips, humming in content as his tongue explores your mouth and you get to taste the sugar. You whimper as his fingers brush your bare chest, the fabric pooling around your hips as he fondles your boobs, lips still slotted against yours as you moan into his mouth, mind fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. You whimper when he pulls away to pull his own robes, skin pale under the moonlight as your eyes drink in the color of his skin and the curves of his muscles.

"Staring?"

"Mhm." You mumble. "You are beautiful, my love."

"As are you, beloved." He takes your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles delicately and turning over to your palm to swipe at it with his tongue, eyes locked on yours as he hums. "I may touch you, yes?"

"Yes." You whisper. "Of course."

He goes back to your skin, lips pressed to the plush of your chest as he bites and such, fingers digging into your waist as he holds you still, the chill of the winter night brushing against your back as you squirm from his touch. You wonder how much longer he will pretend to still like you and convince himself that he needs you. Though, as his lashes flutter against your skin as he pulls from your chest with a pop, you feel it's not too far away.

Each time he sleeps with you, there is less love in his hands than before.

This time, he only holds you like this because of the chocolate presented by the maid, and it makes your heart sour when he stares up at you, eyes sick with affection, affection that you're sure would dry out for you one day— affection that haunts your life an uncanny amount. Yet, you sink into his touch as he kneels to slide the rest of the fabric off of you, parting your legs to slide a finger in and pleasure you, lips latched to your clit as it was with your nipple, and you gasp sharply, a ghost of a moan slipping past your lips.

You wonder if he's going to do this with Maomao one day—

You whimper as he slides a second finger into you with ease, mind fuzzy and empty as you glance down at Jinshi, tears blurring your vision as he fucks you on his fingers with practiced precision, quickly sending you into a blurry high, mind fuzzy as you clench around his fingers with your first orgasm of the night. Though, it isn't enough for him, his fingers still sliding in and out of you, even when your eyes blur over and tears fall from the lack of time you get to breathe. His name breaks past your lips in shattered syllables, tears staining the silk of the pillow as you stare down at him, lips puffy and cheeks red.

Jinshi shushes you instead, pressing a kiss to your clit as one of his hands holds your thighs open, the bottom of his chin wet with your slick, and he hums gently, vibrations brushing against your clit as you jolt. The combination with his fingers becomes too much, and you cream around his fingers again, splashing his face with your cum as he laps at it, eyes half-lidded as he does. He stays there until you're whimpering for him to leave you be, tears in the corner of your eyes. He licks the cum off his fingers as he reaches to wipe your tears, leaning forward to kiss them away as your bottom lip quivers.

"Jinshi, my love." You whimper as he lifts one of your legs to rest the ankle on his shoulder.

"Yes, beloved?"

"Please don't leave in the morning." You whisper, arching your back and closing your eyes as he fits himself into you slowly. He's such a good stretch. It makes you sad to think that he would leave you one day. He waits for you to adjust, hand warm on your thigh as you whimper, shifting your hips to adjust to his size. You let a breath out when it doesn't burn, and Jinshi takes it as a sign to start moving, the roll of his hips deliberate to nudge your sweet spots that have you seeing stars, and you hold a strand of his hair between your fingers as he leans forward, dark hair caging the two of you in as you gasp with each thrust, heart hammering in your chest and making you ditzy. You cry his name in broken sobs, a mix of overstimulation and your own heartbreak making the tears indistinguishable to you.

He reaches to wipe your tears as he makes love to you, concern all over his face, and the flush on his cheeks just tears your heart to pieces. He's only here because he had the chocolate. He doesn't visit you during the day anymore, and he only ever comes when he needs to borrow your wisdom— something he doesn't need anymore. something he has Maomao for now. The thought shatters your heart as it twists and turns in your stomach, the tears becoming too much for you to process as your mind blurs over and you let Jinshi do whatever with you. Maybe that would be your last use to him. To be a shell of what you used to be and let him do whatever with you. Maybe that would be replaced one day as well.

One day, you wouldn't even be worth dirt to him.

The thought makes your mind spin as your rationality slips, and you don't notice the way Jinshi slows down to check on you, fingers brushing your cheek as he legs your leg down. You press your hips flush against his, shaking your head as he pries for why you are crying. It is a worthless reason— it is a hopeless case. You quietly beg him to continue, hoping he would let you keep it to yourself.

"Beloved, I can't do that." He reaches to brush your hair to the side as you flinch, and you stare into his eyes as he stares down at you with the same pain in his eyes, and it kills you. He shouldn't look at you like this. You shouldn't be capable of hurting him. You reach to smoothen out the wrinkle on his skin, mumbling about how he would get wrinkles, and he leans into your touch, eyes glossing over with the same kind of hurt that was all over your face when he was missing. His voice strains as he begs you to tell him. To be honest.

"I can fix it." He chokes out.

"Don't leave in the morning." You whisper.

"You know I can't do that." He breaks.

"Then I can't tell you." You crumble. "If you'd like to stop, then you may—"

His hands fly down to hold your waist down into the bed, eyes wide out of some fear, some fear that you would despise him somehow.

"You have to give me time."

"I've given you almost a month. We've been distant for ages." You cry. "Hurry up and fulfill your marital duties so I can give you a son and you can leave me for the one you really want."

"I don't want her!"

"You don't show that!" You sob. "Just..." You sink into the bed, blinking to get the tears out. "may the heavens let us have a son so you can move on."

"I don't want to move on." He whispers, tears falling on your bare skin as he refuses to look you in the eye. "I love you. You are my beloved. The sun and moon may break and shatter, and the winds could blow in the wrong direction, but it could not stop my love for you. Why do you insist I will leave you?"

You go quiet, turning your head to the side as he gets frustrated.

"Fine. You've always been this way anyway." He picks up the pace again, giving you no time to breathe between his thrusts, and you gasp and throw your head back as he uses you like you wanted him to. It frustrates him to end that you just refused to talk to him, but who was he to ask? Who was he to ask you whether or not you would be honest with him? The most emotion you had ever shown was when he bedded you anyway. Why does it matter what you do? The love you had been so adamant to show when you first got married had gone stale anyway.

Jinshi lets you cum one last time before flooding you with his own seed, bent over your body, his hair imitating bars to cage you in as he hangs his head to catch his breath. You, you, you. You, his first love. You, the love of his life. You, the very wife that he had sworn he would cherish. You who refused to marry into a higher level family and had chosen. You who had gone distant because he had... it was his fault, huh? His issue. He had neglected to spend time with you since the arrival of Maomao. No wonder you were so sad.

He pulls out of you and covers you in a blanket, fetching a maid to help you wash off as he redresses himself.

"Will you... stay?" The maid is the one to ask, and Jinshi shakes his head.

"I must clear something up. Let the madam know I will stay next time."

The next nine months pass in a blur. You bear a son to Jinshi, handing him off to the wet nurse, and you move to another residence in the name of recuperating. Jinshi doesn't pay you a visit once. You wonder if it's because he is busy with palace affairs, but you do not touch upon it. You request the emperor to send you to another residence after recuperation without letting Jinshi know, and the old man lets you go. He knows. The whole palace knows. You have become nothing more than a mockery since your husband flounders around with some new maiden he found, and you are let go. You promise your child will serve the emperor well one day with the care of the maids. The emperor laughs and tells you to focus on yourself.

Thus, your son becomes playmates with the young princess, and you disappear from the records of the imperial palace.

The life the emperor had bestowed upon you is restful and serene. The spring residence is quiet and calm with the other concubines, and you are treated as the empress mother would be. There are no conspiracies and you sit down to enjoy tea with all the ladies, quickly forgetting the life you had to bear before. The maids write to you regarding your son under an alias, and you learn that his first word is neither mother nor father, but grandfather. You smile sadly at the letters each time you receive them, and you are never once paid a visit to your residence.

You wonder if you should have taken your son with you in another life.

Maybe in another life, Jinshi had continued to treasure you.

Then, he comes to visit, and you watch from the street as he carries your son with Maomao, getting asked if the young boy was theirs. You observe to see what kind of an answer he has for the kind merchant. You don't know what force compels you to listen, but you do, going quiet as you stare at the apple in your hand. You shouldn't care, but considering the way Jinshi was carrying your son, he must have learned a lot from the maids.

"Ah, she is not my wife." Jinshi's voice resembles silk as always. "My wife is in recuperation after having our son. Childbirth had taken a toll on her."

You have never been so glad that your son had resembled Jinshi so much.

You pull the veil over your head further, and you slip the woman a copper wen, rushing off with the apples you picked. You pass behind Jinshi with haste, wondering if he would recognize your perfume or such. It doesn't bother you. It shouldn't bother you. You had erased all signs of your existence from the palace forever, so even if he were to recognize the scent, he could simply think it of a maid from the spring residence. It didn't matter. It was years, so even if—

A gust of wind blows your hair as the veil is knocked off, and your son calls.

"Niang!"

You make a run for it.

The palace maids had been showing him the art of you. Of course they had. There was no way that you could have forgotten what they wrote to you. Your heart races in your chest as you make it into the palace walls, and you hide from the footsteps that have been chasing after you. Your heart burns in your chest as you catch your breath, eyes wide as you try your best to remain silent to stay still, and you watch as a maid asks what Jinshi is doing on the residence's grounds with your son. He apologizes and lies that his son had wandered off into the court, and you let a breath out when you no longer hear footsteps. You don't want to face him. You can't. You refuse to.

"So? What was that about? Miss?" The maid raises a brow at your figure between the residence buildings.

"Uh..." You smile awkwardly. "Expect to never see me again. Let's pack up and m—"

"I thought it was you." Jinshi speaks up from behind you, and you turn to look away.

"I am afraid I do not know you, kind sir." You turn to face the maid, nodding.

"Beloved." His voice goes weak. "I understand if you wish not to see me, but at least look at our son."

You stop, not moving.

"I won't... do anything. I promise."

You grimace, setting the bitterness in your chest as you open your arms for your son, eyes weary and tired as look at him. You refuse to look up at Jinshi. You refuse to look at the man who had ruined your life and thrown you away during your pregnancy. Yet, you look at your son, a copy of the man you had loved, and you unconsciously put yourself on the verge of tears.

"No frown." Your son reaches for the furrows between your brows. "Niang, smile."

You muster up a sad smile for him, heart crumbling and crinkling in your chest. It feels like paper. The guilt you had so desperately tucked away in your heart shatters you in the worst of ways, and you smile at your son, holding his head to your chest as you carry him off. Jinshi follows behind you, neither of you speaking up as your son falls asleep on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you walk around the residence.

"Where are you staying?" You speak up, stopping to stare at Jinshi.

For the first time in forever, Jinshi gets to stare into your eyes again, and his heart crumbles and cracks as he holds his demeanor, trying his best to pretend that it would be fine. You left him because of his own shortcomings. He has no right to beg for you to return without showing that he had improved as a person. So, he stares into your eyes instead, letting the silence pass as he opens his mouth to speak. Right. You... probably moved on and no longer cared for him. The emperor had granted the two of you to live separately, after all.

"The resting quarters in the city center." He stares into your eyes as he talks, hoping you could see the affection in his eyes that he had refused to let go of.

You stare back at him, eyes cold as the winter snow— it hurts him in a way, but he supposes it was deserved for leaving you all alone. You open your mouth to speak, but your son wakes in your arms, blinking slowly as he shifts to stare at you.

"Niang?" Your son wipes his eyes.

"Would you like to go home with diedie?" You ask your son, hand on the back of his head. He's much heavier than when you first had him, but it makes no difference to you. Your son is your son. The day you pass away is the day you would no longer hold him in your arms.

"Will niang go missing again if I do?"

"You have such a big vocabulary." You praise, lips curled into a smile as you press a kiss to his forehead. "Niang has to stay here. Niang promised yeye to stay here."

Jinshi opens his arms for your son, and he clings onto you instead, pouting. "Then I stay with niang."

"What about Maomao auntie?" You hum, raising a brow at him.

"Mm, I like niang better." He clings onto the fabric around your chest, and you give in.

"You will have to return to yeye with diedie when diedie leaves, though." You stroke his hair. "Alright?"

"What if diedie never leaves?"

Your eyes trail to Jinshi, eyes hardening as you warn him not to stay. "That won't happen, er."

"What if you come back with diedie?"

Some sort of weird hope blooms in Jinshi's chest at your son's words. Maybe your son could convince you.

"That would mean breaking yeye's promise, so no to that as well." You press a kiss to his forehead. "Shall we get you rested?"

He nods, leaning back onto your chest, and you wave for a maid.

"Prepare a room for my guests as well." You nod. "Eunuch Jinshi, please let Maomao know to stay at the spring residence for the duration of your stay."

"I thought you hated her."

"I hate you, not her." You turn to stare at him.

"And me?" He points at himself, pout on his lips.

"Prepare a room in the north." You hum.

"...Are you cursing me with feng shui?"

You stick your tongue out at him.

"And for the young one in your arms?" The maid inquires, peering at the eerie similarity between Jinshi and the boy.

"He shall stay with me."

The maid understands, escorting Jinshi away as you continue about your evening with your son, setting him on your bed as you sit next to him to continue embroidering. At night, when you are sure he is resting, you get out of your room, requesting the maids for some rice wine, and you settle in your garden, staring at the stars as you drink. You blink slowly, trying to recall what constellations were visible to the naked eye. You don't remember. Maybe the liquor is getting to you.

"Drinking?" Jinshi stands next to you as you lay on the ground, and you raise a brow at him.

"You shouldn't be allowed here." You hum. "I'll call the guard—"

"Wait." He holds a hand over your mouth, holding you down, and you lick his palm. "Don't scream."

You stare at him as he removes his hand, and you open your mouth to scream before he holds his hand over your mouth again, eyes wide.

"Don't."

"Depends what you want to do to me."

"Nothing bad." He whispers. "I just want to talk. I promise."

You let him remove his hand and sit up, offering him a drink. He goes quiet, drinking it in one sip as he frowns. You sit in the silence, only the wind to whisper your worries, and you don't bother reacting. Perhaps he just needed a drink and wanted to use talking as an excuse.

He finally speaks up, voice wavering.

"Why did you leave?"

"Why wouldn't I? I gave you a son, didn't I?"

"No, why did you..." He hides his face in his hands. "You didn't tell me."

"You didn't come to see me once during my pregnancy. What courtesy did I owe you?" You click your tongue uncomfortably.

"I had Maomao prescribe you medicine to keep the baby healthy—"

"You did not come see me. Maomao is not you." You stare at him. "And you can not expect to make it up by taking care of our son. It is your paternal duty to spend time with your own blood. So if you expect—"

"I don't." He mumbles. "I don't expect you to come back to me because I'm forming a bond with our son. I thought maybe... you would come back if our son asked you to."

"I promised your father I would not step foot back into the imperial palace."

"I will bring you back and bear the blame." He whispers. "As long as you come back to me."

"Not happening." You stand up. "Feel free to finish the rest of the mijiu."

"Belo—"

You don't let him finish, walking off.

You are not his beloved anymore. You are his partner-in-law, but you are not his beloved. You are the woman he left behind at her weakest and caused to spiral. You are the woman who supposedly mattered to him enough to wed you, but not enough to stay with you after the introduction of someone new. You are not his beloved simply because that was not how one treats their beloved.

You wake up the next morning to your son out of bed and dressed with Jinshi in the room. You raise a brow at him, questioning what he was doing in your room, but he points at your son, who had been on the ground playing with the toys the maids had prepared. You blink at him, smiling when he tells you good morning sweetly. Jinshi smiles gently at the way you smile at your son, and he continues playing, a smile on his face.

"So? Did the court ladies find out?"

"What?"

"That you can have kids."

"They think he's child that the emperor took in." Jinshi mumbles. "Of course, the palace maids assume I am called diedie because I took him in as soon as I found out, not because he is my son."

"Perhaps they believe he looks like you so the heavens assigned you as his father. Do they know I am the mother?"

"No. The palace maids who assisted with your birth were all executed per the emperor's orders."

"Ah." You hum. "How old is he this year?"

"Five. Do you not know your own son's name?" Jinshi stares down at you almost pitifully.

You turn to stare at Jinshi. "I named him. Of course I do."

"Why do you not call him by name?"

"Jingui." You hum, reaching your hand out for your son as he smiles.

"Yes, niang?" He holds your finger in his free hand.

"Did the maids tell you niang named you?"

"After luxury." He smiles, hugging you. "I love you, niang."

"I love you too, er." You mumble, squeezing him. "Niang's sorry I couldn't watch you grow up."

"It's okay," He whispers back. "Guigui is glad niang is here now."

You let him play again, eyes on him as Jinshi continues staring at you.

"What do you want?"

"Return to the imperial court with me."

"I'd rather die." You grumble. "I promised Agong that I would not return in exchange for residence here. I was a laughingstock there. I do not wish to return."

"You will not be. We can—"

"It doesn't matter." You hum. "You are Gui's father. I am not his mother."

"You are his mother."

"In birth." You stand up, Jinshi catching you as you stumble. You thank him with a nod, continuing. "He only needs his capable father."

"And his mother." Jinshi insists, not letting go of your wrist. "He needs his mother. The maids can not replace you for all of his life, especially since he has met you now."

"He does not need me. He may want me, but he does not need me." You hum. "He is capable of existing without his mother."

"That is not true." Jinshi slides his fingers down to your palm, hurt all over his face. "He needs you. Both he and I need you."

You shake your hand free from his. "Then you should have shown your need earlier."

Jinshi fiddles with his fingers, pout on his lips as you raise a brow incredulously at him. You ignore it, calling for a maid instead to change into the day's garments.

"Do you need—"

"I will stab you." You warn. "Out."

"What about our son? Jingui, don't you want your diedie to stay with you?"

Jingui blinks at Jinshi, and he looks at you before standing up and dusting off his robes, taking Jinshi's hand as he leads him outside of the room.

"The maids said not to watch a woman get dressed to respect her privacy." Jingui waves at you as he steps outside of the room, and you laugh at Jinshi's baffled expression. You stick your tongue out at him, lips curled into a smile as the door shuts.

He looks betrayed.

You wonder what kind of parenting the maids did to end up with Jinshi, but you don't ask. You let the maids dress you for the day, and you yawn as you step out of the room, ruffling Jingui's hair as you walk off. He trails behind you, holding your hand as

"Are you not going out with me?"

"Back to work." You hum. "I manage the estate now, you know? Lotssss of paperwork."

"Like diedie?"

"Kind of." You hum. "Diedie does more than niang, though."

"If you leave, does that mean you will have no more work?" He looks up at you.

"I can't do that. You will have to have yeye send someone else to manage the estate." You hum, pulling the doors to your study open. "Bring some snacks."

The maids nod.

"Oh, and you." You point at Jinshi. "Out."

He feigns offense, raising a brow. "What did I do?"

You open your mouth to start listing, and he grumbles. "I get it."

You smile. "Don't you have errands to run with Maomao?"

"She's looking for medicine."

"You should help her out." You hum. "The wilderness out here is quite scary. You wouldn't want someone to hurt her."

Jinshi hangs his head as he steps out of the room.

The day passes without fret, and you watch as the sun sets and you wash up for bed, the heat in the bath gentle against your skin as you take a bath by yourself. Jinshi stays with Jingui to help him wash up, and you tell the servants to stay out of the bath while you wash up. Jinshi leaves first with Jingui, and you leave last, nodding at the servants as they all rush in to wash up.

"I wanna go with niang." Jingui reaches for you as you carry him, lips curled upward.

"Hear that?"

"But diedie spends so much more time with you!" He feigns hurt.

"Exactly!" Jingui sticks his tongue out, and you laugh, cheeks warm. "I have to leave niang soon!"

"I'll take you to bed with niang." You smile. "Hear that, Jinshi? He's niang's boy."

Jinshi pouts, faking annoyance.

You tuck Jingui in for bed first, looking over a book as you stroke his hair, and a branch snaps outside of your window as your hand flies to the sword on the wall.

You whistle for the hawk to yell, sliding out one of the swords for decoration as you hold your weight against the intruder, and you watch as his eyes dart to your son. He disregards you as he aims for Jingui, and you slide your blade to his stomach, kicking him. He lands on the ground with a thud, and you hold your sword above his neck, forcing him down. Your weight isn't enough, and he throws you off of him as you throw your sword at him. It's not sharp enough. It won't cut him.

You throw yourself at him instead, his blade grazing your face as your hands wrap around his throat, your hair a mess as it falls around him, and you hold down until his face turns purple and he no longer thrashes against your grip.

At this point, you expect the maids to rush in. Instead, the first one to come is Jinshi, his thumb brushing the wound on your face as he checks your body in panic.

"Beloved, are you alright?"

"Jingui is fine." You hum, trying to pull your face from his hands.

He tightens his grip instead, staring into your eyes. "You. You're hurt."

"It's fine." You try again as the maids rush in, and you have the guards pull him to the prison. Jinshi doesn't move once, hands still on your face, only trailing down to your shoulders when you crane your neck to talk to the guards and maids.

"Will you be alright, madam?"

"I'll be fine. It's no—"

"Bring me ointment." He tells the maid. "At least let me do that much for you."

The maid looks at you for confirmation, and you nod.

"Get off of me." You push him gently, standing up as he lands on his butt. "Pretending to be worried now? You didn't bother when we were still married."

"We are married." Jinshi whispers, getting up to hold your face in his hands again. "Come on. Let me treat the wound before it turns into a scar."

"Wouldn't that be better? Then I would be uglier." You tilt your head as he takes the ointment from the maid. His fingers brush over your cheek as he leans in to take a look at you properly, and you look to the side as he applies the ointment. Now that you look at it, his face is awfully close to yours. You take note of the blush on his face as he does, and his fingers are cool against your cheek as he applies the medicine. You don't give him a reaction, and he sighs.

"Beloved, you will never be ugly to me." He mumbles, leaning in further, breath mixing with yours, and you stare at him through your lashes, wondering if he would do something.

"Diedie, are you kissing niang?"

You pull away from Jinshi abruptly, and Jinshi looks to the side, face red.

"You're awake?" You get up to hold Jingui, and he rubs his eyes.

"Niang, are you hurt?"

"It was just an intruder. No worries, er." You smile. Jingui reaches for your cheek, trying to touch the wound as Jinshi holds his wrist gently.

"Mommy has medicine on. You're going to rub it off." He hums, taking Jingui from your arms instead. "Die will hold you instead."

"Can we sleep together?"

Jinshi freezes up, blinking at you as you freeze up too, blinking slowly at Jingui.

"Can we?" He pouts.

"I'll keep watch." Jinshi nods. "Maybe another time. Niang is still mad at Diedie."

"You can rest with diedie for the night. Niang has to clean up after the mess." You hum, kissing his cheek. "Niang will go find you in the morning."

"I can clean up." Jinshi frowns.

"It'll be fine." You hum. "The heavenly emperor assigned me to this residence, so I shall fulfill his will."

"He is my father. He would not mind if I were to help my own wife—"

"There's no need." You smile firmly. "Keep your hands clean of my dirt."

You shut the door behind you as you follow the maids to your office, and Jinshi presses his lips to your son's head, resting your son's head on his shoulder as he hums.

"Um, Sir." One of the maids whispers. "If I may... the mistress has a bed in her office. Perhaps the boy could rest there?"

"You think so?" He chuckles. "I'll keep watch for the night. Please lead me there."

He wanders through the residence, the red poles dark in the night, even with the lanterns lit. The floor is crafted of white, and the intricacies of stone along the pillars are dusted gold, and he wonders how much of it had been brought back to life by you. It eats him alive, even with your son in his arms, he wonders if you had worked out to be able to carry your son one day, even if he were too old to be carried.

The stars twinkle in the distance, and he lets himself smile.

"Mistress? May the child borrow your bed?"

"Meimei," You grumble. "I thought I told you to check on them, not bring them to me."

"The boy missed you."

You sigh. "Come in."

"I shall guard." Jinshi nods.

"You may rest as well." You hum. "I shall be heading to the prison tomorrow. I just need to send the hawk."

Jinshi watches as you attach the note to the hawk, and he gets up to hold your face again. "Why not leave Jingui to Meimei? I'll fetch Maomao to see if there's a better ointment for your face to prevent scarring."

"I told you, I am not bothered by such trivial matters."

"It matters to me." He mumbles. "Tomorrow."

"I must interrogate the criminal tomorrow."

"Then right now."

"You do not dare to wake her up for something so minuscule." You glare at him. "Rest with Xiaogui today. I shall call for the two of you tomorrow after dealing with the assassin."

"You must rest well." Jinshi mumbles, kissing your forehead gently. "Please."

You grimace at the kiss. "Very well."

You interrogate the assassin in the morning, sighing when he reveals the target was your son. It must have been a jealous consort or something. You wonder if she thought he would be next in line for the throne since the emperor let the boy call him Grandpa. The consort is some low-ranking one in the main palace, and you don't bother sparing him any mercy, telling the guards to kill him and send his head as a warning. That ought to teach her.

"The eunuch and boy are looking for you."

"Send them to my tea room. I'll see them there."

"Mistress, would you like a change of clothes?" Another maid asks.

"No need." You mumble. "It's fine to go like this."

"What tea shall I prepare?"

"Honey ginger." You hum. "And some cookies for the child."

They nod as you open the door to the room.

"Niang!" Jingui runs up to hug you, and you hum.

"Did you sleep well?"

He nods. You let Jinshi carry him as you work on the papers, and you speak up after Jingui gets drowsy. Perhaps he had been living in a life of assassinations and you were not aware. It would make you feel most awful if he was.

"Are they common?"

Jinshi raises a brow.

"The assassins."

Jinshi shakes his head. "Not in the imperial palace. The emperor has the most security for him compared to anyone."

"I see." You mumble. "How about Maomao? Surely people try poisoning her because she is close to you?"

"She is immune to poisons."

"Right." Your lips quirk up. "I'll send her with a gift this time. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

Jinshi raises a brow, significantly worried. "Not a poison, right?"

"No promises." You grin.

Jinshi spends the rest of his time trying to spend more time with you and your son, desperation practically reeking off his skin as he sticks to you like a lost puppy without an owner, and the maids start gossiping with you about the potential marriage partner. You snort, telling them that there was no reason he would want a woman who had been used before. You avoid telling them the truth out of an unknown fear. You don't know what stops you. Perhaps you are still worried that he loves Maomao and is only doing this for his blood. Maybe he isn't being honest with you.

It takes a week for him to get to visit you at night, and another week for him to be allowed in your chambers. Maomao reminds him that he can only spare a week here per the emperor's orders, but he pays no mind. He is sure that the heavenly emperor would not mind him spending more time with you. He's sure the old man knew it. After all, he had given him a knowing smile when he had told him to travel with his son and Maomao. It made him feel as though the emperor were up to something. Perhaps he had known Jinshi would see you here.

It is the third week that he had stayed past his welcome when he sits down for a drink with you.

"Play with me." He holds the board with him. "I miss playing wuziqi with you."

"Hm. What do I get if I win?" You reach for the white, placing it down in the center.

"Whatever you want."

"I haven't played in a long time." You hum. "Your turn."

"May we have a heart to heart talk?"

"Be my guest." You hum.

"Why did you leave?"

"You took an interest in Maomao." You hum, placing another bead down. "And I ran away before you could divorce me."

"I did not wish to divorce you." He frowns.

"The whole palace was talking about it, and the emperor did not stop me, so I decided to leave." You shrug.

"I took Maomao in because I wished that she would prescribe some medicine for fertility."

"We had a son, no?"

"We did, but I had been taking medicine prior to that prescribed by her."

"You wanted her for her wisdom just like you wanted me for mine." You hum. "It was a fear, or maybe I just saw myself in her. She is my age, after all."

"Our age." Jinshi reminds. "We are all the same age."

"I suppose." You shrug. "But it felt like I was replaced."

"You were not."

"There was no way to confirm. Not when you had been trying to shove honey down her throat, anyway." You hum. "Four."

He clicks his tongue, stopping you. "What do I get if I win?"

"I suppose you get to bed me." You mumble. "Assuming you haven't bedded Maomao."

"I have not." He clenches his jaw. "I have not touched another woman in years. I am not as so much of a degenerate as to bed women who are not my wife."

"Who knows." You hum. "Four."

"I am not able to bed women there, anyway. After all, I am an eunuch."

"Except I heard Maomao found out you were not one."

"Ah." He freezes up, stopping your newly formed row of four. "That much was an accident. I suppose I saw fragments of you in her."

"Perhaps you had just found her beautiful." You hum. "I most certainly did. She is quite smart, drawing freckles on her face to hide her radiance."

"I found her beautiful, but only because she had reminded me of the plum blossoms on the day I met you." He smiles. "I win."

"What would you like?"

"Let me bed you, please." He whispers. "My wife. My beloved. Let me bed you."

"You must be desperate for some touch." You take off your outer robe, letting the maids know to retire for the night. "Very well."

"You may say no." He whispers, forehead pressed to yours, eyes genuine as he looks at you. "I am not forcing you."

"I don't care if you are using me for your own pleasure." You mumble. "I have not been bedded in the same amount of time."

"Heavens, that burns me more than it should." He wastes no time in undressing, lips pressed to yours as he leads you to the bed, caging your body in as he leans over you, a leg pressed between yours, lips moving against yours messily as his yearning crashes into your body like a wave, his hands tugging at your robes desperately, freeing your skin from the silk and fabric, lips latching to your collarbone to suck, biting all to desperately, rutting into you as he were some rabid dog, his body craving yours as though you were some drug he could not live without.

His fingers slip past your folds as he had done before all the times he had slept with you, bone of his wrist brushing your clit as he slides a finger in with ease, his mouth moving up to your neck, sucking gently as he listens to the way your breath hitches and you whimper when his fingers brush your sweet spot, and he continues, fingers pressing hard as you squeak, sucking you as he pants, desperate to remember your scent for the next handful of months he would no longer be able to see you during. When you quiver around his fingers and flutter, he slides his fingers out, licking them as he pushes you onto the bed, lining himself up, staring down at you for one last promise of consent.

"We can stop." He whispers.

"No."

And that's all Jinshi needs.

Jinshi presses your hips down into the mattress, hips moving against yours as he fucks you, desperation all over his fingers, lips attached to your neck as he sucks, his own breathy ragged as he spends his own stamina satisfying you, passion bleeding past his fingers as his body consumes you, desperate to make up the lost time with you from before. At this point, he disregards how many passing maids will hear his own moans, too focused on the way your skin felt between his fingers and too focused on the way your head was thrown back in a bliss he hadn't seen you wear before.

He wondered how many years you went without being bedded.

Well, not that it mattered. He had probably gone the same amount of time without bedding someone. How could he? The guilt would have eaten him alive from the inside out. So, he channels all his lost years into you instead, groaning when you cum around him again, eyes teary and cheeks puffy, your lips red from his kissing earlier. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your words become incoherent, slurred as he moves a hand down to play with your clit. You squeal as he does, squirming under his touch as he continues to hold you down.

"I love you." He whispers, tears in the corner of his eyes as you can barely hear him.

"I love you." He repeats, with his chest this time, tears splattering onto your chest as he whimpers.

"I love you so much." He gasps as his thumb speeds up on your clit, making you gasp sharply at his confession, your head spinning.

You gush around him again as he finally feels himself reach a high, heart racing against his ribcage as he groans, crashing into you as he pumps you full, resting his head on your collar as you both catch your breaths, and Jinshi feels himself get hard in you again, his shoulders tensing as he does. He can't. He's going to break you, and you're never going to talk to him ever again. He's going to ruin you like he did years ago, and the universe is going to punish him by taking you away again—

"More." You whimper. "Until you've had your fill."

"I'm going to break you." He whispers.

"I'm sure Jingui wouldn't mind having a sibling..." You whisper back.

Jinshi's pupils dilate as he starts again, and you yelp as he goes without warning, a mix of your cum and his making a squelch with each thrust of his. It's lewd. It sounds like the most sinful thing in the world, yet Jinshi thinks of it as music to his ears, all too focused on pleasing you and getting rid of his pent-up lust, your body finally under his as he's waited all these years. He thinks of it as some kind of blessing, to be able to consume your sense as wholly as he used to, only this time sure that you weren't crying because of something he did. He still had lots of making up to do for you, but he supposes this is a start.

You gush around him another time, crying over how it hurt, but still no safe word. He laughs something between a chuckle and scorn, thrilled at the way that you looked like that under him. The maids had been whispering about how you had never bedded anyone once despite your status as supposedly single in the residence, and it made his head spin with possessiveness at the thought that you had still been loyal despite how much he hurt you. He would make it up, he promised. He would stay until the morning this time, and you would get to wake up in his arms like you used to.

The thought makes his hips stutter into yours as you're flooded with warmth a second time, your moan depraved as you feel him fill you again, the white from the sex staining the sheets and your thighs, and you both catch your breath this time, and Jinshi rests his forehead on yours, heavy breaths slipping past his lips as he stares into your eyes, hand moving to brush the hair from your face as you stare at him through glassy eyes.

"I'll be here when you wake up." He whispers. "I'll be here in the morning."

You close your eyes, nodding to the best of your ability.

"I'll kill you if you aren't."

He laughs, rolling over to rest on his back, fingers intertwined with yours as he rolls to his side to look at you.

"You're sticky." You grimace.

"And?" He hums. "So are you."

"We need a bath." You grumble. "I should call a maid to clean me up."

"That will be tomorrow's problem, beloved." He hums, lips curling upward. "Lay with me, my dear."

"If you insist, my love."

You help Maomao and Jinshi pack up their things to go, sending small gifts for the journey with them, and you laugh when Maomao thanks you profusely for the fritillaria unibracteata, and you wave it off as nothing big, a smile on your lips. She promises you that she'll owe you one the next time you need something from her, and you chuckle as she gets onto the carriage with Jingui. Your son gives you one last kiss before getting on as well, and only Jinshi stays behind and refuses to let you go, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as he talks to you.

"Will you... return?"

You shake your head, lips curled into a smile. "Unless you would like to stay?"

"Would you let me?"

"No. I would let Jingui stay, though." You smile at your son peeking at you through the window.

"You would met Jingui stay?" He gasps.

"Yeye would not be happy." Jinshi reminds. "We will return to pick niang up, alright?"

"I will tell yeye to let you come with Jingui next time." Your son stares into your eyes, eerily serious, and you smile.

"Tell yeye I said hi."

Jingui motions for you to come over instead, pressing his lips to your cheek through the window as you laugh, lips curled into a smile as you give him one back. He giggles, reaching his hand out the window to hold yours, and Jinshi shakes his head at his son. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, making Maomao gag in the carriage. He takes your other hand and presses your knuckles to his lips, a smile on his face as he hums against them.

"I shall return for you."

"I shall be waiting."

Jinshi lets go of your fingers, not without one more kiss to your lips, lifting his sleeve to hide the two of you from your son and Maomao as he does. You roll your eyes once he pulls away, and you nod at them as they leave. You stay in place until the carriage is long gone, and you hum, heading back to work with the maids to manage the estate.

When spring comes the next year, the wound on your cheek is gone, a golden carriage arrives, and you laugh as Jingui jumps out of it into your arms, much bigger, smile much brighter. Jinshi steps out next, offering you a hand to pull you up as he introduces the new manager of the estate. Maomao grins at you, whispering about the trade, and you let her know there are farms upon farms of medicine in the land, only for her to grin cheekily at you. You suppose she has her much wanted freedom now.

"Shall we go?" Jinshi offers his hand to help you up as Jingui holds his hand out for you on the carriage, and you smile.

"We shall."

And finally, you are home.

#jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries x reader #jinshi #GUHHH #reader insert #it's almost 2 weh #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto #bro this was supposed to be about chocolate why did it end up like this HOW DID WE. GET HERE #☾.nsfw #☾.fics

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qatarsprint2023 · 3 months

Note

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

#f1 #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #comfort #sick #fluff #qatarsprint2023 #reader grew up on a farm #us gp 2023

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augustinewrites · 1 year

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does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭

“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can.

“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before.

“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.

“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place.

“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.

“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”

“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.”

with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head.

“satoru, please don’t freak out—”

he freaks out.

he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”

you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“what grade curse was it?”

“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”

“you’re only grade one. why would they—”

“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”

“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently.

“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.”

“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”

“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”

“well when you come home hurt, yeah!”

he regrets it as soon as he says it.

and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“hey…”

he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.

_____

freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.

“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.”

“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket.

he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him.

“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.”

(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)

“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”

wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat.

“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.”

“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”

“ah. about that….”

_____

“alright, dinner’s served!”

you the kids exchange a look.

megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”

“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”

“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.

tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.

“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”

“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk angst #keeping up with the fushigojos #keeping up with the fushigojos: extended cut!

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allfearstofallto · 1 month

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Wow I loved your latest child piece, do you think he would try desperately to make his sons like him? Give them gifts and go fishing together with his oldest son? I mean he can see that the kid is terrified of him but he tries to reassure him but to no avail. I think he would let his anger out on some of his poor Fatui men or on his missions whenever these moments happen to him. That’s so angsty how Childe loves his family but they only see him as the monster they think he is.

Y'all I actually really do like writing for yandere Childe's family!! The angst is so fucking good!!

But since I can't keep up with the nameless kids, the older boy is Adonis and the younger one is Damon

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Reader has children, mentions of previous abuse

“You look so cute all bundled up like that, my sweet,” you praised your older son, even patting his head and squeezing his cheeks the way you knew he liked. Yet nothing you were doing could lift the dark cloud that was over him, the fear in his eyes was paralyzing and he was gripping the hem of your dress so tightly, you thought he'd rip it if he were made to let go.

“P-pl-please don't send me away, mommy,” Little Adonis whimpered through tears and you felt your heart shatter. Orange hair framing his face, you brushed it to the side. You hated just how much they looked like their father, his genes so strong they were like little carbon copies of him. And their cries always tugged at your heart, you hated that he made you feel empathy for his face

With your other son still on your hip, you tried to comfort both boys. Finding it difficult to soothe with your hands full. Adonis had gone from whimpering and labored breaths to full blown sobbing at this point, wiping the tears from his chubby cheeks with the backs of his mittens. You tried to stop him from crying, tried to get him to calm down. When the older one cried, so did the younger, and soon Damon was also in your arms shedding tears.

“Your father just wants to take you out for a bit,” your voice was shaky as you tried to reassure him, “You won't even be far. The pond is only a short walk away.” Your words fell on deaf ears as they continued to cry, both of them getting your dress wet with their fat tears.

“What's all the commotion?” The voice that asked this question somehow managed to make both of your children suck their tears up quickly and fall into an almost scary silence. They peaked up at you, waiting for your response to Ajax, who was giving you his usual charming smile.

“I- I just don't think Adonis is very fond of the snow,” you spoke quickly while patting the boy's head, even cupping his cheeks to try and wipe away some of the wetness from his face.

If Childe noticed how tense the entire family has become at his presence he didn't speak on it. Instead he took a knee right in front of his son, also reaching up to pat the boy's head, but he flinched away from his father's touch. You squeezed his shoulder a bit too tightly to hold him in place, making him look up at you in a way that broke your heart. He felt as if you were betraying him, but you knew better, what Childe could do to him was much much worse.

“That's nonsense. He's from Snezhnaya, he should love the snow,” he finally got to pet Adonis’ head. His large hand that was covered in scars and callous practically getting lost in the orange locks.

“Maybe he takes more after me,” you took Childe's hand, trying to put his attention more on you instead, “It doesn't even get cold in Liyue. You remember how much I hated it here when I first arrived, don't you?”

His eyes went dark for a moment as he squeezed your hand a little too tightly, “You hated it here for a lot of reasons.”

“But the cold was the worst part,”

“Adonis will be fine,” he spoke while placing a kiss upon your lips, then one on Damon's forehead, “My father took me ice fishing when I was practically an infant.”

“I-i suppose,” words muttered with your head down.

The two of them slipped on their boots together, with Childe even helping his son tie his. You felt on edge watching the both of them leave out the door. It was the first time that you'd ever left Childe alone with him, and the instinct inside of you that was telling you to protect them was on high alert. There was nothing you feared more than your husband.

But nothing could be done. Childe kissed you again on the lips and you pressed your forehead to your sons, quietly whispering words of assurance to him and most of all Please be good.

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #yandere childe x reader

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7oji · 10 months

Text

imagine you run into an ex-boyfriend after a night out with toji 🎀

◞⁺⊹ toji fushiguro/fem!reader ──── fluff. established relationship. jealous toji ofc. 800+ words.

A sober Toji takes you by the hand to head out of the club after you have had too many drinks. He was having a lot of fun seeing you all red and tipsy, but you would probably blame your hangover on him the next morning.

The deal was that he was supposed to be taking care of you. And he did. He only leaves your side to walk over to the valet.

Those few seconds are enough for your gaze to wander into the crowd before it stops to recognize a guy walking your way.

“That’s my ex...” you blurt out.

Toji returns at the perfect moment to see you tense up. He follows your eyes and his own narrow slightly as he spots a guy your age waving in a friendly manner.

“Is he a problem?” he questions in a low tone, locking his hand around yours.

A bit of alcohol probably drained out of your system, not so much about being trapped without a car and being forced to interact with someone from your past, but more about the fact that Toji grabbed every opportunity to pick out a fight if it was about you. He looked like he enjoyed scaring guys away from your drunk dancing all night.

“He’s okay. We only dated for a while in high school,” you reply after a long breath.

Worried about what you will see in his eyes you avoid looking at him. Instead, he feels a gentle squeeze on the hand before you wave back.

“Heeey,” you greet him as only a drunk girl could. “Long time no see.”

The guy’s expression changes from excitement to a startled look when he notices the large figure beside you.

“This is my husband, Toji,” you introduce him, immediately satisfied at the stunned reaction to that title.

Toji nods at the boy in acknowledgment, ignoring the hand reaching out to him. You swallowed worriedly and try ignoring it too.

A few polite questions are exchanged, all while Toji looks over at the guy with a careful stare, unaware his hand clenched your own in a fist.

“I’m glad you are doing okay,” you finally say after spotting the valet coming closer with your car. “And this was nice, but we really need to go! We have to get back to our kid.”

Easy like that, Toji’s demeanor becomes just a little more serene at the mention of your boy.

You make your way to the car, nudging Toji’s hand in an attempt to stop him from doing much else, but he manages to give the guy a last look with his mouth curling into a mean smile.

“Take care,” he says in a tone that made everyone question if it really was a well-wished farewell.

Your husband turns around to get the keys from the valet. He takes his wallet out and offers the worker a chunk of bills that was large enough to make all people around notice his generous tip.

Toji finally gets into the car in a seemingly carefree manner but finds you already inside trying to contain your laughter.

“What?” he raises his brow.

“You really have a way of making guys sweat, you know?”

He snickers at your words. Not a hint of remorse in sight.

“I suppose I just have a way with people.”

“Oh man, so many memories are coming back…” You give a final breath of relief as you slump on the co-pilot seat.

“Yeah, I’m sure you had plenty of guys following your trail,” he huffs playfully while starting the car. “You were probably one of the prettiest girls in school, right?”

Probably because of the alcohol, but a wistful gleam appears in your eyes.

“Yeah, right. I was lucky to even get that guy as a date for prom.” Remembering how you felt about yourself during those years put you in a sentimental mood, more so in your current state. “You probably wouldn’t even have looked my way back then.”

Toji chuckles when he finally understands why that guy back there had a stupid look on his face when seeing you. It also explains why you didn’t keep pictures of that time, or at least showed them to him.

A bit of nostalgia spreads across his own face as he goes back to his younger days as well. But one look your way makes an affectionate glow replace the melancholy in his eyes. You were a beautiful woman now, and you got all dressed up for him tonight.

“You’re crazy. I would have noticed you instantly back then,” his smile grows a little kinder the more he speaks. “I’ve always been an expert at picking out hidden jewels.”

If you had each other back then, maybe things would have turned out differently. Or maybe not, but you were grateful to be together now. Dewy-eyed at the thoughts, you lean into his side.

“You always know the right thing to say,” your words come out slurred by this time. You start to doze off right then and there.

Toji chuckles and places a kiss on the top of your head before starting the drive back home.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #works 🧷.#WRITING THIS FIXED ME A BIT OK

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eymie · 3 months

Text

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY !

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

warnings: smut, alcohol, fingering, oral (m. receiving), praise, riding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

summary: you meet while tending to your grandfather saloon while he’s ill. you can help but take a liking to him.

a/n: i kind of hate this so much

You spent a significant amount of time in your grandfathers saloon. At least in the past couple years you have. You knew all the regulars, good or bad. You weren't good at tending to the bar but you could pour a glass of whiskey if your grandfather needed help. That's what most men wanted anyway.

You always recognized new faces, and you recognized that this man was new. You had heard whispers of an outlaw in town, you didn't care for rumors.

You were tending to the bar alone again. It was the time of day where the saloon was almost empty. That new face sat down at the bar, head hung low.

"Whiskey?" He looked up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. He nodded and you poured him a glass, sliding it over to him. You tended to a few other customers but it was almost closing time.

"How long you open?" You heard the voice say, you turned to meet that mans gaze again. His glass was empty and his fingers drummed on the edge of the table

"Not too much longer I'm afraid." You smile, wiping down a table. You walk over to the bar he sat at, wiping off some spilled whiskey. "I can give you another round, if you'd like."

"Yes ma'am." He said, watching you walk over to grab the bottle again. You laughed to yourself, turning to refill his glass.

"You don't gotta call me ma'am." Ma'am made you feel old, you were not old. He wasn't either, just around your age if you were to assume. Although the eyebags and dirt on his cheeks might disguise that.

"I don't know what else you'd like me to call you." He laughed, hanging his head back down low. He looked back up, waiting for you to tell him your name.

"Well, I don't even know your name." You tossed the cloth back into the bucket, sitting down next to Billy. Resting your head on your fist.

"Billy." He stated, cutting it short.

It registered to you who he was. The outlaw, Billy the kid. You didn't care, who cares if he was dangerous when he was chatting with you like any other gentleman.

"Billy what?" You smiled, trying to ease out his last name. HIs smile dropped, twiddling with his hands.

"Don't matter." All he said, it was true, didn't matter all. You knew who he was, he probably knew that you knew. He didn't have an accent like any of the boys you knew. You liked how foreign he sounded to you.

"Suppose not." You shrug, standing up to clean up the rest of the saloon. Pushing in the chair that the men had forgotten to. There were cards left out on the tables, along with some empty glasses.

"I suppose you should be locking up right about now." He reminded you, you turned to look at him. You liked how messy his brown hair was under his hat. Was it too embarrassing to flirt with this man, an outlaw?

"You can stay longer, if you'd like of course." You wanted him to stay, as long as he liked. You didn't want him to leave at all. "I don't mind at all."

It was silent for a few moment, the only noises being the clinking of glasses you picked up.

"You got a man?" It came off as a surprise. You turned to him who patiently awaited your answer.

"I do not I'm afraid." You tell him, walking back over to where he was. You waited a few seconds before speaking up again. "You got a girl?"

"No time for that." He'd been with a few women in his time, never keeping them too long. You felt a sense of relief wash over you knowing he didn't have a girl.

"Me neither." The men in town weren't anyone that interested you. The men your age were fools, drunken fools. Some of them had women and were getting married. The other ones were wastes of good air.

"Not sure I believe that." He wasn't entirely wrong. Sometimes men took a liking to you, not that you had paid much attention to them. There had only been a few that caught your interest.

"Why not?" You ask innocently, untying your apron and hanging it it up.

"A pretty girl like you, young and running a bar. Bet you're meeting suitors everyday." Everyday was exaggerated but he was right enough. A saloon full of men had its pros and cons.

"I suppose so, I haven't met one that interests me yet." You shrug, looking over at him. He caught you gaze, knowing exactly what you wanted. "Well, until now."

"You live here?" He asked, eyeing the stairs in the corner of the room leading to a loft.

"Yeah, just upstairs." You nod, backing up towards the stairs with Billy following after you. "Why? You wanna come see?"

"I think I'd like that."

Billy swallowed the last of his whiskey, leaving the empty class on the counter. He followed after you up the stairs to the loft. It wasn't much but it was yours. Billy's hands traveling to your hips from behind. Feeling the fabric of your dress between his fingers.

You turned around, smelling the whiskey on his breath. He kissed along your neck and jawline before he dares kiss you. When he does, you couldn't but moan into his mouth. Your hands pulling his face in deeper. He pulls your skirt up as far as he could before you pulling his hands off. You pull away from his face, falling to your knees in front of him.

His hand caresses your cheek, tilting your face up. His thumb brushes your lips, parting them. You welcome his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. He pushed his thumb harder against your tongue.

"Good girl," He pulls his hand from you, your mouth releasing his thumb with a loud pop. You wait patiently as he unbuttons and zips down his pants. You help pull them down far enough to reveal his boxer. You look up at him awaiting his approval, he nods down at you.

You pull down his boxer, revealing his hard length. It was long, a slight curve to it. The prettiest one you've ever seen. He watches as you spit on your hand, wrapping your fingers around his cock. You stroke him experimentally, he groaned at the feeling, throwing back his head. Your tongue runs along the vein running along the underside of his cock.

"That's it-- Ohh, fuck." He groans as you suck his tip into your mouth. His hands travel to your hand, threading his fingers in it. You pushed you head down as far as you could, his tip hitting the back of your throat. "So warm and wet-- good girl."

You stroke his cock where your mouth can't reach. He bucks his hips, his cock poking at the back of your throat making you sputter. Tears brimming your eyes as you take him as far into your throat as you can, causing you to gag around his length.

"Shit--" He groans, throwing his head back as you bob your head. Your cheeks hollowing as you suck harder, silently begging for him to cum in your throat. "I'm--fuck, I'm coming."

Your eyes roll back as his hot seed spills down your throat, the salty taste on your tongue. You pull of his cock, sitting on the ground in front of him. You swallow what he gave you, sticking out your tongue to show him.

"God, you're something else." He pulled back her head, making him look up at him. You look up at him with glossy eyes and the taste of him on your tongue. He pulls you back up to your feet, pulling you in. He kissed you like he was starved, he felt starved of you. His hands pull at the lacing off your corset, pulling it open.

Your corset felling to the ground in between your feet. Billy was quick with his hands, pulling at the fabric of your clothes. His calloused hands rub your soft skin, pulling the rest of your clothing off. Your dress fell the floor, next your bloomers.

Your delicate fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open. You kissed along his jaw, and down his neck. You teeth grazed his pale skin, nipping and sucking at it. Soft purple bruises decorating his skin. His hands pulled your bare skin against him, his hands grazing the fat of your breasts. He walked you backwards towards the bed until your legs hit the frame.

Billy laid you down against the bed, discarding the last of his clothes. You laid sprawled against your white sheets as he crawled over you. His hands spreading your thighs, sliding down to your wet folds. His teeth grazed your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue swirling around your hard nipple.

"Wait-- Billy," His mouth engulfs any words you have left. Swallowing them into the kiss. Two fingers push past your folds, sinking into your wet pussy. Your tight walls stretching out around his thick fingers. Thick than yours, longer too.

You whined into his kiss, his fingers speeding up. Your walls clench around them, jerking your hips up. His thumb rubs along your swollen clit that begged for attention.

You pulled back from the kiss. "Billy, wait Billy. Let me ride you."

Billy groaned into your neck, pulling his fingers from your pussy. They were wet with your juices, smearing it onto your thighs.

"Open," You opened your mouth, sucking his fingers in your mouth. Your juices mixing with your saliva. He pulled his fingers from your wet mouth, pulling you on top of him. "Come on now, keep your word."

You furrowed your brows as Billy placed his hat on top of your head. His hard cock presses against your ass, dripping precum from the tip. You slowly lift your hips above him, directing his tip to your entrance. Sliding down, his girth stretching you wider than before. Your hands press against his chest for stability. Billy throws his head against the pillow, his hands sliding down to your hips helping you rise up and slide back down.

"Just like that." Billy's hands gripped your hips, guiding your hips up and down. His hips thrusted up to meet yours. Whimpers leaving your lips as his cock brushes your cervix.

"God, Billy--" You moan out, jaw going slack as he thrusts from below. Your walls clench around him, he groaned in respond. His fingertips pressed into the fat of your hips, leaving crescent shaped marks. "Need--Gonna come."

"Mm, come for me." Your hips ground into his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis. Billy pulled you harder down against him, slamming you down. His thumb rubbed at you clit, begging you to come. "That's it, so good for me."

Billy pulled you down against his chest, bending his knees so he fuck into you. He pulled your head into his chest muffling your moans. Your hands scratched at his chest as you came around his cock, relentlessly pounding you through your orgasm.

His hands pulled you off his cock, spilling his seed onto the sheets. You laid against his chest, the hat long fallen off. He panted as he laid back against your sheet, your body collapsed against his chest.

"So good for me."

masterlist

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