#Good Day For It x Reader Excerpts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gangplanksorenji · 2 months ago

Text

Pulchritude

Pairing: ITZY’s Yeji x Male Reader

Word Count: 7,089

A/N: It's been a while Orenjideul! This wasn't planned to be on my draft schedule but planned at the same time LOL (pretty much quickly written). Also, thanks for @mintwithchoco for the beta-reading that made the insights about the fic!!

This was originally part of something I've been working on with and expanded it with such vague plot to probably spice things up. Enjoy reading!! <3

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“You’re crazy for this one, Chaewon.”

“It’s not my doing—” Chaewon retorts, circling her fingers onto the rim of her glass with such a distinctive smell of a concoction that piques you, distracting you a little from her words. “—this is just a part of a test.”

She drinks from her glass and darts her eyes towards you, laced with anticipation and that hint of doubt in you. You smirk with her given stare, feeling that she's getting ahead of herself with it and she’ll soon eat up her words. Extending your arm a little onto the head of the chair, you look at her with vanity and such a playful intent that intimidates her a little. “I’d say you being here is somewhat helpful by all means…”

“And why is that?”

Her eyes never fail to intimidate you, those orbs glowing in anticipation as she doesn't break her sophisticated demeanor. You fix your posture and lean closer to her, elbows on the table and your hands subtly clasped, answering her. “So I could let you know that you’ll be embarrassed at the end of the day.”

Chaewon’s hubris wouldn’t let your words slide and make her believe you, a chortle audible within your ears as she shifted onto her usual phlegmatic disposition. “We’ll see about that but for now—” Her well-manicured nails click the champagne glass two times, before giving a sly smile of a faulty sincerity. “—you gotta do what you gotta do.”

It wouldn’t end in a usual Chaewon fashion unless her drink is empty, sipping the last few milliliters of that delectable concoction, then getting off on her seat with her last words of the night. “Text me when you’ve done it, then we'll meet tomorrow afternoon.”

Grabbing her designer bag then leaving towards the doors of such a high-class bar, you could just sense the air reeking defeat all over you, but you’ll prove her wrong. You’ll just thank yourself for getting rid of her condescending nature albeit it really fuels your aim for victory, so is the upbeat music the bar brings.

You’ll make things work and take that triumphant ecstasy up to your name, with someone’s panties on the floor.

“I guess we need the devil inside me to take over.” Of course you will, and you’ll do that just about right.

---

Maybe the myths are true: sometimes, the devil does unspeakable things and it’s only a matter of time before it unveils its real nature. Not exactly an excerpt, a quote or the sayings of the elderly but mostly your own common conscience that has its own intersections of roads you can’t fathom nor follow—deep inside, you’re on a leash and Chaewon’s words intoxicates you, and you’ll prove her wrong after this.

“We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

“Oh, do you think we will?” You ask pretty playfully and audaciously, playing with her possible games. You barely know her aside from being that time where you’d constantly steal glances with her during and after Chaewon’s existence at the bar and subconsciously know you’d always come. At that moment, you know something’s disturbed within you and it’s in a good way—this is something that’s completely going to serve gratification, and you can sense how strong your gut feeling is.

“We will.” The girl inches herself closer towards you, your back pressed against the cold concrete as she pins you with her frame, fidgeting her fingers onto the hem of your shirt and then the penultimate, such dexterous fingers circling around your chest.

You feel her minty breath mixed with a hint of tequila brush against your skin as you raise her head, eyes in contact with yours—you know she’s proving something, even just with her words but those wouldn’t be enough.

“Care for an introduction?” Your hands fancy its way onto her waist, as you endearingly looked at those sharp, monolid eyes of hers rivaling that alluring stare.

Her eyes dart between your face and onto your body, as her voice speaks up in a volume.“Yeji. You can call me Yeji.”

Her voice invites you, and you’re captivated with her sultry tone and god, that stare of hers would make any man fall upon your own judgment but on your shoes, it would bear such a challenge. Even with such temptation handled pretty well, you can’t help but hint such an invitation under her spell—those eyes, her sultry voice, such a beautiful face and the promised treasure of them all, her impeccable figure.

You’d like to start on something fresh, induce such a new chapter that’s bound to end up in such an incredible fashion but you could only assume those things, yet.

Well, you won’t fight yourself over some idiotic retaliation between your temptations and let yourself be the judge of her capabilities and this doesn’t help when she’s just inches away from laying such a mark that will define one’s lust.

Looking straight to the abyssal void of her eyes, you’re enticed as you lift off her chin with your finger. “There you go, I love a woman with manners.” You hit her up with her own medicine: tempting.

“Who says anything about manners?” Even such chagrins or predicaments wouldn’t stop her, not unless you tell her so as the only thing you could feel are those luscious lips locked against yours.

The sounds of such muscle creating vacuum of sounds and suctions overpowers the fading noise of the music the bar resonates—all you can hear is her kisses up against yours and you’d love to listen to it all day.

Nothing too short nor sweet, but god, this was enough to make such a bold verdict.

“A talented kisser, hm?” Yeji hums as she pulls away from your lips’ embrace, feeling captivated with the way you display such talent.

“A girl as pretty as you would make a man like this.” Your hands then freely roam to the limited skin her waist shows but you’re not the guy to complain, but to be grateful. “Now tell me something, Yeji…”

Yeji’s eyes widen; pupils dilate as she anticipates your next words, “Tell what?”

You smirk, as your buttons were pressed enough to make such a bold move. “Why would you want me? From all of the people there, why me?”

Yeji smirks just like you, then bites her lips, using such a modicum of her actions to indulge you even more. “I just know the world destined us to this moment—led us to this moment and god…” Yeji’s hands unbuttons the topmost button of your shirt as her hands permeate such heat onto your chest to push you onto the edge. “I know what you’re gonna give to me tonight.”

Such telepathic abilities enable you to read her thoughts, and you know exactly where she’s going towards, “Let me guess, a show for the world to know?”

“For the world to fucking know.” Yeji’s words end your sentence, and seal the deal.

Licking her lips in delight, you can feel her hands roam on your chest, your abdomen then the final stop, your growing bulge. She cups onto it like it’s something she would ruin and take care of, the best of both worlds as you let out such a nigh-inaudible moan, and Yeji knows exactly you’re liking this.

“You always need to ask.” And there she goes with her wonders.

All you can see is Yeji promptly getting on her knees, and with her absolute dexterity, does her talent to unbuckle and undress your bottom half more than a count to ten.

“God…” She’s mesmerized with the view she’s currently having: you, still in your boxers as her disposition clearly displays awe and amazement. “You’re hard already this fast? Must’ve turned you on too much?”

“Who wouldn’t with a girl like you?” It just shows your evident arousal, and Yeji’s grateful to bear such an entrance. Giving the green light, she then slowly strips off your boxers down to your ankles, mostly gravity doing the work and there she goes, such eyes gleaming with utter hunger and lust.

Her lips mouth such words full of awe as her hands cups the base of your erection, leisurely stroking it as she utters such profanity, “God, your cock is something else I didn’t expect.”

Your hubris just elevated, and let your commanding demeanor take over. “Glad it is. Now, show me what you’re made of.”

She wouldn’t lose against such a hubristic battle, and settles up for a possibly stellar moment. “I won’t disappoint.”

A clear view of her lips sends pecs around your length, letting you know the immediate worshiping and carnal needs fueling her for the time being. From the base up to your already leaking slit, she didn’t waste such precious time letting you know how much she loves this and it's just evident from the start.

She grows impatient with her repetitive kisses and ups the ante, knowing how this will make your world go wild. “I may just find myself occupied more with this.”

“Less talking and more sucking.” As much as her patience grows thinner by the second, and so are yours. She scoffs off a giggle, knowing that the main event will be such a roller coaster ride.

With the last suction of her lips collecting that colorless liquid, she advances onto something pleasurable. Her tongue then dances around your red cockhead, swirling and permeating her saliva around, upping such sensitivity on your end and with that result, you shiver and inevitably moan in response.

She suckles on your swollen head, then advances past your frenulum to do the wonder she does to your slit and god, this was elevating the experience of such gratification.

“God, s-such a talented mouth, huh?”

“Gifted, I guess.” She continues her oral assault on your throbbing length, thrusting her head up and down as she quickly accelerates the pace up to both your likings.

The quicker speed sums up the possible experience she has and it shows—such technique is unmatched with the way her tongue dances around your shaft and the little introduction of such a serrated culprit antagonizing the pleasure you’re experiencing, albeit, you wouldn’t bother with such little pain. She takes more than half of your shaft as spits dominate her heart-shaped lips, running down to her cheeks and onto her chin which shows the passion she’s giving in every second.

The occurrence won’t be complete without elevated stimulation: you’d just feel your balls being fondled by her right hand as she encourages more for you to feel.

And it’s working well, too well for you to utter such compliments. “You’d make myself occupied too, i-if you want—shit, that’s great…”

An audible mhmm can be heard between her bobs as she elevated the speed, then resulting into such a mess that’s just turning you on even more. Saliva continues to drip down onto her chin and onto your clothes that’s probably damned to be given care with, tears flowing down her cheek as she takes more and suddenly, she tests her limits with a single act of boldness and bravery.

She rests her nose onto your abdomen, testing her gag reflex as she’s determined to tame it but in the end, it wasn’t in her favor. Gasps escape her mouth as she catches her breath, saliva connected onto those sinful lips was just the cherry on top yet your grow little concern, afraid she may push herself too much as soon as she coughed. “You good, Yeji?”

“I’m good—I’m good, I’m g-great—your cock is just addicting.” The succulence was evident with her repeated slurps onto your shaft, and you’re just in total bliss with her performance.

Things are not done, and she’d like to end the business with a good note.

She proved herself enough and with her immediate harsh pace, you wouldn’t be a hypocrite nor lie about it. The blurry orange-bobbing head of hers just becomes a repeated image tarnished in your brain, etched until the end of time. She continues what she’s best at, gripping your thighs for further display of talent and as a reply with the surging pleasure coursing through your veins, you opted to fight the leverage with the gripping of your hands onto her audacious head.

Constant slurps, gags and moans just became the music in the air and it’s just the paramount mood you're indulged into. You’d be damned if someone will see the both of you in such a sinful act but you don’t care anymore, not when Yeji’s mouth does explicit wonders on every inch of your body and clouding your mind with such sinful thoughts.

The head game is literally onto another level of experience, but such things wouldn’t last for so long.

She can feel your persistent throbs in her mouth, and it’s a common courtesy to ask where it will end. “You’re pretty close, I assume.”

“Yeah—” You groan in pleasure as she strokes your saliva-sheathed cock with the utmost pace her hands can muster. “—and I want it all over your face.”

Yeji just smiled mischievously, knowing how things will end up on a pivotal climax and how things will unveil between the both of you. “Then do it—cover me.”

All you can see are those pretty, sharp eyes in awe as she closes it, her visage in full display for you to paint on. This is a canvas worth investing such artwork on and you’d besmirch it with such strokes worth millions. She moans as she feels each rope touches her face, mostly her cheeks, nose, lips, chin and some even getting onto her hair. Those fifteen seconds felt like a minute as you’re in a total state of bliss and for such a conclusion, she strokes you in hopes of milking you dry, emptying up your reservoir.

“God, that tasted great.” Yeji licks her lips and hums in satisfaction and when your senses are coming back to life, you ask her with such doubt.

“How would you clean up?”

Yeji chuckles as she stands up, facing you, “No one wouldn’t care.”

You smile sincerely as you dress your bottom-half up, satisfied as her voice invites you. “Let’s get out of here.”

She’s partly a monster; partly an angel in disguise, yet she can be the best of both worlds and it’s only a matter of time before depths will be reached.

---

Gone are the boisterous music ringing repeatedly in your ears and the alcohol that will probably dominate your body, because at this time, there’s nothing better than her lips locked against yours for the second time.

She feels ruthless and so were you, feeling her tongue dancing against yours and you gripping her waist harshly as you deepen such entanglement.

Her room was something pivotal about your already impeding arousal: dim lights, vanilla-scented air freshener and such a balcony for the both of you to enjoy, and maybe it’s something else than what’s usually known for people to do there.

“Never knew you could have such a room, Yeji.”

Yeji smirks as her nails dug into your skin gently, pressing it playfully as she mouthed her own pride. “This is nothing compared to anything you’ll see but for now, you’ll be more than my guest.” And then her eyes locked up against yours as those orbs wandered around your beautiful face.

Her eyes really tell you about her adoration, as the earlier test was just the tip of the iceberg, and guess what, you passed with flying colors.

“I’d love to be one, Yeji.”

You then share another torrid kiss with her, feeling attached to her ultimately and falling under her spell. She kisses you genuinely as you reciprocate, but you want more, so you pull out of her lips’ embrace, earning a moan from her as you find your way on peppering her neck with pecs and those sharp collar bones.

You’d eventually take a glance of her flawless features, even though it’s evident ruined by you earlier but it’s such an important element of such undying beauty. You earned your minuscule rewards—her faint moans and chants calling you—and you’d love to double it, with more skin, your lips parts and marks.

“God, please—fuck…” Yeji’s pleas are audible enough for you to be distracted and it’s worth your while knowing it’s something that could elevate such an experience.

“Please what, Yeji?” You continue pecking her creamy, porcelain skin, suckling on it but not enough to result in hickeys and god, it just resulted in sexier moans escaping her lips.

She’s struggling to articulate words that can formulate her wants, but she’d put up an end to such a clouding demise. “I want more—god—more, please…”

You grip her waist harsher, gaining such control as you pin her harder onto the wall and what a poor soul whimpering upon your own dominative assertion. You grant her needs as you caress her waist while peppering her with torrid kisses, resulting in such a cacophonous symphony that you would cherish hearing every second.

You wanted more from her and her answer still made your satisfaction resting onto a low zero. “What do you want from me, baby?”

The word elicits a gasp from her mouth, feeling appalled with such a name she always finds hot and funnily enough, the stars are aligning.

She whimpers but manages to think clearly and didn’t hesitate to be vocal about it, “Your cock, please—”

As she’s about to advance her hands onto your clothes crotch, you stop her as you shake your head leisurely, having another plan in mind. “No—have some patience and also…” Yeji’s eyes scintillate beneath the dim light that appears as she’s anticipating what words could leave your mouth. “I gotta return the favor.”

Your hands roamed its way onto the hem of her tight skirt, and asked such a question she can’t deny. “May I?”

She hitched a broken breath and gulped as she responded intimately, “Yes—yes, you can.”

Your fingers ran towards the edge of her skirt and eventually found the zipper and did such wonders, things that could easily soothe her and make her more comfortable. As much as you wanted to see it down on the floor, revealing her probably wet panties, you have other thoughts about your own, selfish arousal.

“Don’t want it on the floor?”

“This outfit, Yeji—” Your left hand then forced her figure pressed onto yours as she yelped with your immediate action, earning a startled whimper as her eyes looked at you like it’s her favorite candy. She loves your subtle harsh acts, and she won’t be deprived of any since this was just a gentle introduction. “—looks amazing on you.”

Yeji smiles as the compliment strokes her ego and how genuine you sounded, “Thanks, for—ooh, gosh!”

She yelped with your touch permeating on her legs as you roamed your hands towards her clothed regions which earned such a sultry, needy moan from Yeji. You can feel the heat that’s rivaling your cold hands and as the cherry on top, her wetness evident from her slit which is probably leaking right from the start.

You loosen up the zip of her skirt and god, she vocalizes how better it felt and maybe it’s mostly because of the fact that your fingers are pleasuring her crotch against that fine silk that’s about to be ruined thanks to your dexterity. It was pursuant to her and wherever she wants it, you’re going to follow it and with her subsequent moans, you’d like to let her know that your skills are up to par. Feeling the hunger running down your body, you can’t help but share another kiss, but this time, it feels chaste since all of the attention and unfeigned emotions are translated down with your fingers. They both felt like deprived lions from the wild, and such an inevitable kiss will bound to feed the pleasure the both of you are needing.

The evident bulge pokes down on your pants and Yeji was quick to notice that, cupping it and caressing to tame the beast. You moaned with her actions and so she is, too, but it's a repeated chant in your ears as she pleads with you for your own comfort. “Your cock, please.”

You didn’t care anymore, and knowing how the both of you wanted this then you wouldn’t deny her for doing the same thing you’re great at. Even with pleasure lingering onto every lobe in her brain, it won’t stop her to claim her promised prize as you help her undress your bottom-half, unbuckling your belt as she does the last step and all you can feel are your defenses going down, one by one as the raging beast that’s inside that clothed prison is about to be unshackled.

The wait was worth it and the both of you are now in such a vulnerable state that a single touch would make a writhe or shiver as sensitivity is the culprit. Yeji’s fingers are on point and dexterous as expected—the way she danced her hands around your shaft, stroking it in a corkscrew motion is making you feel such bliss that’s unmatched and god, the scene is just hot.

You never thought the sight of the both of you masturbating would be so damn arousing and thought it was just some myth but yet again, hypocrisy is eliminated within the time being.

“God—you really can’t wait, huh?”

“How can I? We need to mutually feel the same.” Yeji knows her pursuit against your aching beast wasn’t going to bother you, but rather the opposite. Her strokes were going livid as you groan with the lack of lubrication but it was exchanged by the pleasure that she gives you and of course, you wouldn’t lose onto this game and did the same, possibly vibrating your fingers and you maintain such an up and down motion which inevitably elicits such visceral moan from her.

The both of you did your best with your own expertise, doing such sinful things without even the main event is honestly criminal, and you would hold onto that because you want to make use of this and you’d prove to her you’re as good as she is.

“You’re fucking dripping, Yeji—god, did I turn you on so much?” Possibly a rhetorical question or maybe not, but either way, you know she’ll be a little irritated enough to defend her claim and quit such hypocrisy.

“N-No shit—you’re that talented too, huh?” You smile with her inadvertent compliment as you avert your eyes through her clothed crotch and it’s being ruined with her own doing, leaving such a masterpiece of clothing worthless, spoiled with her own juices.

“A natural, more likely—ah!” You yelp with Yeji’s sudden squeeze of your shaft in between her strokes as you glare at her playfully, her face then forming such a seductive smirk then a little scoff with your confidence.

“You’re cocky too? God, you’re such a rare gem.”

A rare find, you suppose which is truly the truth—you’ll prove to her that there’s no one she can find that will be better than you. Your impatience is growing thinner by the second even with such a hot mess between both your crotches, and you’d let her know about your frustrations and needs.

“Yeji, I need to fuck you now.”

The tone is commanding, your face stern and her eyes widen with those simple words of need. Your eyes meet hers and they never lie—those glowing orbs of yours didn’t cease the exhilaration you’re feeling and she’s the one to blame.

As much as it hurts for the both of you to stop, it will be rewarding once the climax settles in for such a spectacular show.

“How would you want me?” Yeji’s voice was bubbly but still hinting at that lace of seduction, being the alluring vixen that she is.

“Strip that skirt, lay onto your stomach, and lastly, feet onto the floor.”

She is as thrilled as you are, and immediately puts up a show but doesn't go further without a question for such clarification, “Don’t you wanna see me naked?”

You would want to, but not now.

“Just the skirt, please. Everything else, on.” Commanding and straight to the point, just how you wanted all along.

There were no complaints or the fact she’s abstaining from this command of yours, and in fact, it maybe even made it hotter. The way she’s seductively teasing and pulling her zipper until gravity does the job, it’s just a sight to behold and the final product left you in awe: the ruined black silk panties in such alongside the scribbled pattern of her stocking that just made the sight sizzle it complete heat that she emanates (figuratively).

“Like what you see?” She turns around then again, showing you her perfect figure all with your eyes to feast on as you were a step away from your final prize.

“Yes, now please turn around and lay on your stomach like I said.”

Your imperative nature sets herself in a position of reluctance but then shifts onto an immediate opposite. She does what she was told and wiggles her ass leisurely to invite you with a temptation to ruin her and even though if she won’t be vocal about it, you'd make it so that she won't be able to walk until the next day.

Yeji looks back onto her shoulder and lets out such profanity words, “Make a mess out of me—I don’t break easily.”

You won’t be convinced until you try it yourself but looking at her robustness and skills earlier, you might have to be biased with your judgment. “We’ll see about that.”

Completely kicking your garments to god knows where, you’re now in a better state of control as you tease her wet folds, earning a whimper that becomes uncontrollable as soon as you sink your finger against her raging heat.

You can’t wait no more, you absolutely can’t because you’re dying to know what she feels like and with her last bit of defense out of your way, it’s time to do the unthinkable.

Now parting her supple legs with your hands, your eyes feast on her impeccable figure then onto that delicious cunt that’s making you drool. Unable to contain your enjoyment and your fantasies against her, you caught her by surprise with an unexpected twist—probably the twist that you’re involved in would be your tongue lathering her folds and tasting the escaping nectar that she produces.

It was succulent and you dived in it easily as the musky, floral scent of her tight cunt invites you, and you didn’t waste time as this was a golden opportunity. You wanted to tease her just for the sake of stimulation, playing a game with her ramping orgasm building up but you’d reckon the opposite and such pace ensued impatiently.

“Fuck! Such a t-talented mouth—fuck!” Yeji’s whines were coherent enough for you to increase the pace and double your efforts—you wish to let her reach her denied climax earlier with your fingers and your mouth. It wasn’t far off as you can feel her juices forming a rivulet onto her labia and spreading onto your chin and mouth, knowing how incredibly close she can be. She calls you repeatedly, gripping the sheets tight enough to rip it but it can’t and you eat her out with an effort that no one can rival.

A single wail is what it took before she screams, and there goes your long-chased win within a second away—

“I’m going to cum—” Surprisingly short and articulate, you let her give everything she has and there she goes—

Yeji’s orgasm comes in quickly as soon as she mutters those desperate words, and she immediately lays waste as she constantly spews liquid after liquid onto her sheets which instantly gets ruined. The both of you didn’t care about it but rather mind your own business while you still extended her climax, achieving such heights of her vocals.

“God—just fuck m-me now, please…”

Your cock is aching and throbbing in need, and with the penultimate action making her see such stars, it’s time for the last and the main event to take place.

You ask her if she’s in good condition and she didn’t bother to assure you, so with her green light, you stepped onto the throttle and gave in to your deepest, carnal desires.

Standing up, you then give her backside a last look before you plunge your length inside her wet hole and immediately groan with its tightness, feeling like her walls are gripping your shaft with a Herculean effort that probably was the blessing in disguise.

“You’re fucking tight, Yeji—this feels just right.” And it is too right to be true, and you love it.

“Stretch me out—fuck, you’re crazy.”

Lust ignites you and it serves such an everlasting fuel for what’s bound to happen, and you give in just like that. You started off slow, letting her get accustomed to your length as you bury the entirety of your shaft then withdraw with just the tip inside, showing such penetration that could make any girl’s mind go haywire.

It’s starting to get to her slowly in every thrust you do—the utter pleasure your cock brings was phenomenal and with her small whines could determine how she’s really feeling deep inside. She grips onto the bedsheets like her life depends on it and it’s only going to get better once you manage such a pace that will make her think of you and you only.

Her cunt tightens once you spanked that pristine skin of hers and then called out to let her know something, “I’ll own this cunt until you see the stars above, do you understand?”

Between her wails of pleasure is her ephemeral nod with your question, unable to speak up due to the stimulation that’s coursing through her. Every stroke you do causes such slaps that adds to the orchestra of her moans that can be possibly heard outside as her room is too puny to shackle such sinful sounds of sex. You grip her hips harshly and increase your pace, making you moan on how she clenches her velvety walls once your length hits it balls-deep inside her.

“Want me to be rough, Yeji?” You hammer your hips in a velocity that’s making her brain in shambles, unable to mutter a response after a second in which you didn’t like.

A small punishment would do the job, but this is rewarding for her and a statement by yours. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Her breaths are ragged between your thrusts as she cries with your immediate barrage of spanks, causing her to finally answer you even with her mind unable to achieve such clear articulacy. “Yes, p-please—I want it, ow!”

Another spank onto those pristine skin of hers never fails to make you throb with how it jiggled with such harshness, and the marks that’s finally imprinted on the soft skin tells such roughness. As she grows accustomed with your length due to her repeated chants of pleasure, you quickly opted for what could raise such an experience.

If her mind is ultimately clouded with you and can’t think straight, then you’re the opposite, clearly adapting to the situation.

“Yeji…”

“Wha—ooh! Mffh—mmh!” Ragged breaths leave her mouth as she struggles to breath with what you’ve done—you opted for a leverage that asserts your domination over her making the long, black lace at the back of her neck deemed as a leash rather than an aesthetic of her outfit. She probably liked the fact of such risking playing between life and death thanks to the asphyxiation and it didn’t stop you, but rather prove a point.

“You like being choked and used, slut?” Your words just made Yeji elicit more moans as she’s being tamed, controlled by you and god, the way she’s creaming against your rapidly ramming length tells you about her satisfaction. The sheets will probably rip off no matter how durable they are and lastly, it will be soaked with her own juices and that’s thanks to your own doing. Her feet then raise up in the air as you give a better angle of penetration, switching between the black lace and onto her legs for leverage.

Even though she's barely stripped from her clothing, her clothes really compliments her figure and you’d like to take this mental picture and etch it on the deepest parts of your brain—something worth remembering until the end of time. The way that she's a disheveled, ruined mess right now just fuels you to break her in half and you’re not going to stop until you’ve fulfilled such destiny.

You wanted your hands to be occupied onto something and not being idle most of the time and with such a completely ruined mess of a girl she is now, you’d love to add more of it. You then grab her wrists and command her to arch her back, in which she complies and immediately, your hands reach onto those perky breasts of hers with the clothing still in the way. You caress them and Yeji can vouch she could feel such intensity even with such stellar clothing being a nuisance but there’s nothing to worry about, not when you’re giving her absolutely everything to feel.

You didn’t stop there as you leaned your frame closer to her while hammering her tight cunt repeatedly and utter the words, “This cunt is mine now, Yeji.”

She nodded and exclaimed a faint yes as you gave her pecs onto her shoulders, letting her know how much you love every single inch of hers and how you’re marking your own territory. Between your kisses is a feeling that something’s building up and you can feel it with the way her walls pulsate around your shaft—you know she's close and it’s up for you to let her wants prevail.

There wasn’t any choice and you love to see Yeji writhe as you give her such thrusts before her cardinal end.

“I know you’re dying to cum—” You invite her to give in as she moans with your words, urging such a release that could let her see the things you wanted her to have a sight of. “—so cum on this cock. Cum for me.”

Your words act like a lever that opens up her reservoir and it feels like a tsunami surging around your length. With multiple cries to spare, you wanted to make her feel something exquisite while achieving her own orgasm, letting you finger avert her chin facing you, against her shoulder as you kissed her lips intimately. Time felt slow as the both of you locked lips and to ride off her high, you slowed down because you still wanted her to feel such intense gratification through her awaited climax.

“I n-never felt that good in my entire life.” Yeji’s breaths were jagged, as she recovers from her orgasm even with your lengthy still penetrating and possibly destroying her insides. Even with a possibly mind-fucked Yeji, she knew what you wanted all along and didn’t hesitate to ask you about it. “Aren’t you close?”

“Well, if you didn’t cum, I would’ve come first.”

An audible gasp resonated in your ears as it piqued her willingness to help you, and it was evident in her tone. “I could feel it too—just fuck me silly again and just cum.”

She recovered fast because of the evident change of her tone, and you, still a bit puzzled and hesitant knowing she may want a load deep inside her. “Don’t want it inside—”

“Then do it in my mouth—you fucking which hole is now your choice.”

Her invitation is just persuasive and alluring and it never fails you to fall a victim for. Knowing how she wanted it, as much as you wanna bother such another session being between her legs, you’d want to fulfill her wants and it’s safer with the help of a great oral ending.

“On your knees then, and open your mouth. I’m going to fuck your face.” You let her position and prepare herself for what's about to come as surprisingly, her legs are still working fine after all of the havoc you’ve brought into her.

Yeji closes her eyes, her mouth agape, ready for the taking as you stroke your length in its absolute vigor and there she goes, taking you again for the second time. This time, you take control by grabbing her ponytail that’s shockingly intact even with the ruckus you made her be in earlier. She’s taking you like a good girl as you ram into her face with abandon, skin slapping signaling the constant harshness you bring and it is perfect. She gagged and you didn’t care, yet she managed to tame it but wasn’t successful as always—you praised her attempts and wasn’t close to being futile. Her nails dug into the skin of your thighs as she let it be the leverage onto your constant rummage in her throat, and she welcomed every thrust with a gleeful demeanor, locking her gaze towards you.

She cries, tears running down her cheek as she was a disheveled mess and you’re proud of what you’ve done. You could feel the familiar sensation tingling near your stomach and a better way to end such a monumental note is giving everything you can.

The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, as such velocity is unparalleled, hammering her tight throat like it’s her cunt and within seconds from her last gag you could feel everything coming down to this moment. Here it goes: Yeji chokes yet manages to keep your length all the way in, you groaning and calling her name like a chant and of course, the awaited climax that filled her throat up to the brim. You stayed for five more seconds, burying your length as her arms writhe with her repeated gags and then, pulls out immediately, strings of saliva adding to the mess she is and of course, the image of Yeji almost choking out your load but manages to compose herself to swallow it all, humming gleefully as she not get to taste the entirety of your delicious load.

“Like I said—it’s fucking delicious—hah.” The both of you caught your own breaths yet Yeji shows the struggle evidently. Still on her knees, she managed to show what you’ve done as your reward and the last thing you just saw her go is gulp down all of it in one go, into her stomach. She initiated the last dance with her hands grabbing your shaft, then directing it onto her mouth in order to clean the mess she made onto it. You groan with the sensitive surge she brings you, thankfully her tongue doing the work but you don't complain as within seconds, she ends her oral assault and it makes you feel spectacular for a long while.

You cup her cheeks, admiring the glamorous mess you made in which she unhesitantly neaten with her utmost capabilities. “You’re so damn pretty, Yeji.”

“You too.”

It was mutual at this moment and you never knew it would end like this but her voice wants to tell you that something isn’t over, yet.

“Help me clean up?”

And it was a hint, just out of curiosity, you’ll probably pull the trigger because how can you not refuse her invitation?

---

After countless sleepless nights and tumultuous days, you find yourself at the top of the world, and what better way to end this is just to go home, lay down and reminisce what a day this has been.

“The lights are pretty, huh?” Yeji interrupts your moment with her voice, and she locks her eyes towards yours, staring deeply into your soul as you fall onto it yet manage to snap back to reality.

“Yeah, it is—also, I just can’t comprehend how we ended up this way.” Yeji’s on the same boat as you and you could feel it in your nerves. This felt like a fever dream and you loved every second of it.

“Maybe that’s how destiny works, huh?”

You scoff, as your lips curled up a faint smile and muttered, “Maybe it is and yeah, I should leav—”

“Leave?” Yeji pouts as she inches herself closer onto yours, holding your wrist as her tone hints at her disappointment. “Don’t you wanna bother and stay just for this night?”

You can’t resist her, you absolutely can’t as you don’t want to be the bearer of bad news that will make her feel awkward.

You have a choice and you’ll stick with that… in her favor.

You smile sincerely, and Yeji’s holistic demeanor appears, “Okay, how can I resist you?”

“Up for you to find out.”

Maybe she was good, but honestly, she’s great. She is partly a monster and partly an angel, and you’ll live in those worlds together as you find your soulless heart beating rapidly for the first time in a long while.

You’re completely invigorated, and you’ll embrace this new chapter that opened.

“She’s good, she’s good—she’s great.”

---

You continue ruminating about the day you’ve had, and every moment was worth remembering. You smiled in your victorious attempts, which is having her number on your phone and sleeping with her through the night. As Yeji does her hygiene in the bathroom, a buzz on your phone piques your attention, and it was no other than the devil that made yourself look like an angel despite what you descended yourself into.

kim_chaewon on 23:15 - “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you huh? Well done with the second phase, meet me tomorrow afternoon for further details. Enjoy your night for now—we’re still not done.”

She received it damn well minutes ago and made her eat up her words, but you’re still clearly within the base of the iceberg, and you’re still starting your remarkable journey.

“Hah… Of course we aren’t…” There was no surprise with that as you muttered in response to her text.

Yet there are multiple questions lingering in your mind: How did she know about this? How would she know if you’re lying or not? What may happen tomorrow? How long will this take?

You could never answer those unless you figure things out, and let Chaewon introduce you to more of what’s possible between both worlds: you and everyone else’s, including hers.

#itzy smut #itzy x male reader #yeji smut #yeji x male reader #hwang yeji smut #hwang yeji x male reader

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xinganhao · 21 days ago

Text

🧵 minghao x translator!reader.

the one where minghao falls for the group's translator ☆ some accompanying texts for my minghao birthday fic, lost in translation. sent over a span of nine years. excerpt under the cut. happy minghao day! 𓇢𓆸

⌗ ┆i published eight days worth of minghao content leading up to his birthday a.k.a the(8) days of minghao, and this verse is the conclusion! i'm happy so share an excerpt from my monster of a fic [which is also admittedly an origin story for my username lol]. happy myungho day. <3

The words stay unspoken. The red thread of fate, the one that Minghao so firmly believes in, draws out for another moment more.

As you go to shoot back some drinks with your team, Mingyu sidles up to Minghao's side. The older man presses a sweating bottle of beer into Minghao's hand.

"Still not tonight, huh?" Mingyu asks with no shortage of amusement.

The beer in his hand is cold enough that it would be a little uncomfortable to hold onto if Minghao weren't so used to it, but he simply wraps his fingers around the bottle and takes a half-hearted sip from it.

His lips purse as he hears Mingyu's question, a frown crossing his face.

"No. We didn't talk about anything," he says, somewhat regretfully, because tonight just felt like it could have been the right night to say something. To finally admit how he feels, to finally ask what he wants to ask.

And maybe you would deny him, tell him that you just wanted to be his friend, but he'd take it. He'd take anything if it meant he could stay in your life—

Or maybe you'd even say yes, and he could finally have a chance to prove himself to you.

"Are you going to try again tomorrow?" Mingyu asks, taking a sip of his own beer, his eyebrows raising a little.

Another sigh falls from Minghao's lips and he nods, his gaze softening as he looks in your direction, watching you smile in spite of the way he aches to be by your side.

"Of course I'm going to try again tomorrow," he whispers, and he'll do that for the rest of his life if he has to.

FULL FIC:

COLLECTION:

#svt smau #seventeen smau #minghao smau #the8 smau #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #minghao x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #[ the whole story being over 25k is fucken diabolical ]#[ i felt like i gave BIRTH. ]#[ the texts take place before the fic + the last text taking place after the 'date' in the story???? i guess ]#[ but for now. hbd myunghooo on god ure the only man id do this for ]

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crumbledcastle28 · 1 year ago

Text

Joel Miller: Stay Down

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood.

Excerpt: He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Warnings: stitching of a wound, kissing, blood, blood loss, so much yearning, unestablished relationship, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel is scared of feelings.

A/N: This is me coping with the fact that we do not get more last of us in January. Also partially inspired by my favorite song maybe ever.

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

Joel had found his hands becoming more and more susceptible to the cold as he got older.

They would crack and bleed, flaking dried skin within his decades-old gloves before November had even begun. This not only hurt like hell, but forced him to slow down and think about what he was doing to his body for once in his life. He had a harder time gripping the reins on a horse or fingering the trigger on a shotgun. Noticeably so. And living in a small town with a little brother foaming at the mouth to make old man jokes didn't help matters.

This is what led him to you.

He wouldn't call you a hoarder. Honestly, he would be the first to admit that you were one of the smartest people in Jackson. You had somehow become one of the most materialistically rich people in the town. You consistently managed to find the most randomly useful items on your patrols, things that people before the outbreak would never have even thought to miss.

Things like shoe insoles, ball point pens, Chapstick.

And luckily for him, lotion.

You never charged anyone for taking from what you had. Furthermore, you actively asked people if they needed anything. Even offering to scout around the area in search of specifics. Joel hadn't been around that kind of softness since...

Well, a long time.

This made him uncharacteristically nervous when he first approached your doorstep, but he knocked anyway. He had never in a million years expected to leave that house satisfied in more ways than one.

He blamed it on that stupid crinkle the skin underneath your eyes got whenever you smiled at him. He couldn't help but fall into your light.

This started a... friendship. Of sorts. He would come over when he needed you, and you would happily oblige. As time went on, the visits to yours became more and more frequent, frequent enough that the rest of the town seemed to be catching on. At least, that's what his brother had been hinting at through jabs and side comments.

"You smiled at me the other day, Joel," Tommy had said. "Actually smiled."

Joel responded with a gesture he was hoping Ellie would not pick up anytime soon.

Joel was...happy. Happy with the arrangement. He had a warm body – a fucking gorgeous warm body – to get his energy out with, and the woman inside the body seemingly had no issue with his lack of strings attached.

And yet, for some reason, this annoyed him.

There was some undetectable, bruised part of him that wanted you to…what exactly? Fight him on it? Confess your undying love for him? Pull him back into bed to cuddle?

There had to be either pheromones or crack cocaine in that honeyed floral perfume you always wore. You were beginning to drive him this insane. Unfortunately for him, the place he went when he was beginning to toe that line into insanity was always you.

Joel had checked the schedule posted in the main square, assigning every able-bodied person shifts of patrol. You had a shift earlier in the day, which usually kept you busy until noon. You would then shower, eat, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever the hell you wanted.

Overtime, these mental gymnastics became muscle memory to Joel.

He huffed as he lugged his aching legs up your steps, their typical milk white now coated in an ugly muddy brown. Winter had begun, apparent by the puffs of Joel’s own breaths, and the snow in Jackson was trying desperately to keep up.

Joel balled his hands into fists as he planted both feet onto your porch, blowing into them quickly, before knocking three times. Spaced out enough, but not too much. He envisioned you smiling as you heard his signature knock, but cringed at himself internally, burying the thought instantly.

It fluttered back to the surface when he heard the pads of your footsteps somewhere in the house begin but extinguished itself when they dissipated.

He waited a few more seconds, the rational part of his brain saying that you must be in the middle of something, but the man part of his brain imagining you putting on your silky red robe he loved so much, only for him to take it off you so slowly it made his own fingers shake. He breathed in deep, the laundry detergent from his nylon coat mixed with the beginnings of December filling his nose, and cracked his neck while rocking back and forth on his heels.

His eyebrows came together when he heard another rustle, then nothing.

He knocked again.

Still, nothing,

He knew you were in there – he could hear you, clear as day, and he knew you could hear him – but for some reason, you weren’t coming to the door.

His much too weathered mind began to race, thinking of three possible explanations. One, you heard him knocking, and were ignoring him. Two, you somehow were not hearing him knock on the door. Or three, you for some reason were not able to get to the door.

Meaning, there was a possibility you weren’t alone in there, and not by choice.

“Y/N?” he asked loudly. “Y/N, are you in there?”

Nothing. A bit more rustling, maybe a slight groan, but nothing.

Joel��s fingers began to tingle, and it wasn’t from the cold. He knocked again, harder.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said loudly, “just…just tell me you’re okay.”

Silence.

He gripped the doorknob and jiggled it, hard enough for the wood to groan underneath his fingertips, but it was locked from the inside. He huffed, knocking again, his hot breaths now clouding his face. He felt an ache in his wrist.

He said your name one more time, hearing the beginnings of a voice he knew better than he should have muffled by the wood, and the door was flat in front of him before he could think twice.

He stomped his way inside, coating the ground with mud and snow, and his eyes darted around the familiar living room. His vision was tunneled, scrounging for the shape of you on the floor, draped over the couch, held at gunpoint. His heart pulsed in his ears.

You weren’t in the living room.

He stomped into the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, nothing. All that was left was the bedroom.

There was no way in hell you were still asleep.

He practically sprinted to the room, preparing himself. He had seen what men did to women, the remnants of it anyway, and despite his state of denial, he could never in a million years handle the sight of you that way. In your own bed. In your own house. Likely one of your own friends.

He pulled open the door anyway, and was met with gold.

The room was dim except for the lamps you loved so dearly, spreading their warm, glowing, honeyed light across the room in streaks. He blinked his eyes to adjust, focusing in on your body on the bed. You were facing him, skin painted with similar golden streaks, highlighting the tears culminating under your eyes. You were sat crisscrossed, upper body totally bare, back slouched tightly, your body practically folded in on itself. Your right hand was pressed against your left shoulder blade, while your other was filled with wine-colored rags.

Blood-soaked rags.

His eyes met yours quickly, and despite their dampness, they still had that fucking crinkle.

You chuckled, your shoulders dropping up and down quickly as they always do.

“You know,” you said, voice curdled and tired, “if someone doesn’t answer the door, that’s usually them saying ‘leave me the hell alone.”

You chuckled again, this time finishing it off with a wince.

His hand slid slowly from the doorknob as he took a hesitant step towards you, his body tearing itself in half. One side begging to fold your body into him, bubbling you in a cocoon. The other, itching to tear whatever did this to you apart ligament by ligament.

Your eyes slowly drooped from humor to something like shame, like a kicked dog or a broken child, and he stepped forward again.

“Don’t,” you countered weakly. “Just…just don’t.”

You scooted away from him slightly, refusing to look at him, and applied more pressure to whatever was expelling that much blood from your shoulder. Pain was suddenly present in your face.

“You want me to leave?” he quickly countered.

You said nothing.

He walked to you, removing the hand you had pressed against your wound, and sucked in a quick breath.

“Probably the first time you’ve seen a revolver bullet in about twenty years, huh Joel?” you asked, chuckling once more.

He barely heard you.

You had gotten the bullet out, but it had sunken in deep. The skin around it was red and welting, so swollen that Joel had to guess you had already been working on it for at least an hour. He winced, imagining what kind of pain you were in, and the fact that you were dealing with it all yourself.

He swallowed grimly.

“Hand me that rag,” he said. He could tell how little strength you had left to fight him by how quickly the rag flopped into his hand.

He pressed it to the wound, and you hissed.

“Fuck Joel,” you whined, squeezing the covers of your bed so tightly your knuckles went white. He held his pressure, forcing himself to think straight.

He might as well have been feeling the pain in his own shoulder.

He finally eased his pressure, wiping away as much blood from the area as he could.

“You cleaned it pretty well,” he said softly, voice thick in his throat, so thick it was hard to speak. “But…it’s gonna need a stich or two.”

“Or seven,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit sat in the middle of the bed. You opened the bag with shaking hands, taking out the needle and thread. You attempted to begin threading the needle, but with your hands quaking so fiercely you only produced frustrated grunts and sighs. He moved to the front of the bed, the front of his body facing yours, and took the needle and thread from your hands, setting them to the side. He then held your hands in his, squeezing them slightly, before using one to tilt your chin up at him.

He sighed at the storm in your eyes.

“What happened?”

“Did you kick my fucking door down?”

“What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened.”

He sighed again. “You’ve never once been stupid.”

“Today I was.”

“How?”

“It’s how I always am.” Your voice cracked. “Thought I could pick some apples for Mrs. Lawrence down the street. She always talks about how much she loved that as a kid – a freshly picked apple. Went out too far. Felt a sudden burning in my shoulder and ended up having to take out six hunters all by myself. Six.”

A single tear dripped from your left eye, the gold from the lamps turning it to sunlight.

“I could’ve died. All for a fucking apple.”

You turned away from him again, and it took everything in him not to cup your face in his hands and turn you back to him. He had never seen you like this before. So… raw. Beaten. Trampled. Doused in self-hatred. He hated it.

And yet, he didn’t want to look away. He was slowly realizing that this was the part of you he had been desperate to see. Truth. Undercarriage. Weakness.

Human.

He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Slowly, gentler than he ever had in his life, he brought his mouth to your cheekbone. You exhaled a prolonged breath, the heat of it cascading down the left side of his neck. It only prompted him to kiss you more, and more, and more. His lips traveling up into your hairline, across your forehead, down your nose, and finally onto your lips. His kiss there was tongueless, rather a soft press, and yet it meant more to him than any other one you had ever shared.

He could tell by your breathing that you agreed.

He pressed his forehead against yours, swallowing thickly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do if you did.”

Your stormy eyes turned into a sunrise, and Joel straightened his aching back to slowly remove his coat and boots. He placed them on the floor beside your bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You watched him just the same, mouth propped open slightly.

He smirked as he set his things down. He then picked up the needle and thread while using his free hand to frame your face.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his thumb stroking your chin. “I promise.”

You nodded. “I know you will.”

His lips wanted to meet yours so badly it hurt, but he needed to stitch you. Quickly. For a wound as deep as the one you had, it should have been closed up hours ago.

He wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t.

He walked to the edge of the bed and turned you around, leaning you into him slightly to give your pretzeled back some support, and began.

You were surprisingly unreactive when he first inserted the needle, taking it as delicately as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he began to tug the skin together that your body showed signs of pain.

“You’re going too slow,” you mumbled softly after he finished the second stitch. “Please go faster.”

His hands began to shake at your request. He didn’t blame you. Speed would make it hurt worse, but be over with quicker. He squeezed the top of your shoulder in response, threading the needle quickly and stitching over the center of the wound.

You let out a high-pitched whine, gripping onto the comforter at your side, and he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your neck.

He let your breathing steady, then stitched again, this time kissing your shoulder blade.

Another stitch, a kiss across your shoulders.

Another stitch, a kiss down your spine.

Another stitch, a kiss on your lower back.

After every stitch, he planted one. Something in him couldn’t help it.

He made his final stitch and cut the thread quickly, sealing it with a kiss on the side of your face. He tasted a mix of salty tears and heat from your skin. He watched your throat bobble as he moved away, finishing off the wound with a final cleaning. Alcohol and blood filled the air, along with undertones of sweat.

He had a feeling that last aroma came mostly from him.

He threw the needle and thread away into the small garbage can you kept near your bed before turning back to face you. You rested on the balls of your palms, leaning back to look at him as he walked back towards you. There was pain visible behind your eyes, he could see it, but they were coated in something else. Something somehow rawer than before.

“You should rest now,” he said, scruff evident in his voice from lack of use. He cleared it quickly. “You took a hell of a hit.”

You didn’t move. Joel moved to the first aid kit still sitting in the middle of the bed and used the (what had to be decades old) wet wipes on his hands. He tossed those as well, but you still hadn’t moved.

“There somethin’ on my face?”

You cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly.

He hummed. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned forward and scooped your body into his arms. You involuntarily rested against him, eyes fluttering already, but he set you down beneath your sheets and swiftly pulled them over you.

He laughed at your fight against your own exhaustion, pushing stray hairs away from your forehead. He pulled away from you, beginning to walk out of the room. A fierce grip pulled him backwards.

“Stay,” you mumbled weakly. “Please stay.”

He inhaled deeply. The sweet cocktail of your voice mixed with those words fucking inebriating him, so much so he was surprised he was still standing up straight. He felt physically winded.

He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay down.”

You smiled, loosening your grip, letting your hand fall back into the bed.

Joel walked quietly out of the room but would be the last to admit how he practically sprinted to your kitchen and scoured your cabinets like a man being chased. He found your pain meds, pouring two into his hand, and filling up a small glass of water. He gave a slow, silent jog back to your room.

He felt equally as winded when he caught the view of the setting sun between your windows, glazing over you like a statue in Rome he had once seen on a traveling magazine. The streaks of leftover tears were highlighted in the light, as well as a small crease in your brow.

That is what told him you were not quite yet out cold.

He brought the meds and water to you, tucking your hair behind your ear to alert you of his presence. You opened your eyes and practically inhaled the medicine before laying back down on your side.

Joel removed his shirt in a blink and tucked himself in behind you, ensuring your stitches were not firmly pressed against him, but pressed just enough to ease soreness. You curved into him perfectly, as he did to you. He wrapped his arm around your frame, taking your hands in his and massaging them gently.

You hummed. “Promise you’ll stay?”

He knew your voice like that better than any man in the world.

He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder. “I’m stayin.’”

Tag List: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @daphne-turner @leeeesahhh

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x #joel tlou #joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller x f!reader

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astonmartinii · 1 year ago

Text

i don't wanna be funny anymore | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem podcaster!reader

i don't wanna be funny anymore, i got a too short skirt, maybe i can be the cute one. is there room in the band? i don't need to be the front man, if not then i'll be the biggest fan

based on i don't wanna be funny anymore by lucy dacus (this song speaks to me, i love lucy (she's also AMAZING live))

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 341,203 others

yourusername: hey girl hey, new ep coming at you fast this friday all about rotting. as the twilight weather rolls in and it becomes the season of all too well, we'll talk about rotting, how we can do it right and how not to lose your mind this october (a cautionary tale, i've already lost mine)

view all comments

user1: my queen hands down five stars already

user2: the bag is so real and the way i know it's a tote that does NOT stay on your shoulder

yourusername: it's the enchante tote, shameless plug for my man

danielricciardo: you singlehandedly sell out my totes every time baby

user3: not this actual fan erasure 🤨

user4: babe be real, she has a massive platform and there was a direct correlation between the first time she plugged a tote and the fact that they sold out that day you guys just love being mean

user5: i'm mean cause i don't want some leech taking credit for dan's hardwork and his fans?

user6: he fucking said it? you guys grasp at straws every time so try and justify your agenda against her

maxverstappen1: idk what rotting is but i'll still listen to every second

yourusername: thanks maxy, though i'd say going on the sim for up to 14 hours of the day is bordering on rotting

maxverstappen1: productive rotting !

yourusername: yes, i guess your sweet little treats are trophies?

maxverstappen1: that would make sense (don't tell my trainer but i do enjoy the little fruity drinks from starbucks)

user7: yall wanna say we're mean but she's literally invalidating max, saying he's rotting on the sim is so invalidating to everything he went through when he was younger

user8: how did we get there? this grasp on straws has to be studied... from a joke about the sim to invalidating abuse?

user9: i honestly thank the lord for dan and max because they're so supportive no matter the shitstorm that yall throw at y/n everyday

user10: literally max is even listening to podcasts... real friends, i hope one day she feels confident enough to come to races

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen, georgerussell63 and 1,034,239 others

tagged: yourusername, enchante

danielricciardo: buckle up, enchante is going to the rodeo 🐎

view all comments

user13: i shall be breaking the bank

user14: dan so smart, he looks like a good boyf for including y/n but didn't include her face

user15: yall ever listen to yourself talk, you need to be put in time out for real

yourusername: we all know the phrase, save a horse, ride a...

danielricciardo: daniel?

yourusername: YUP

user16: ugh there are children who are fans of daniel, she's so gross

user17: do you ever get tired of doing all of that mental gymnastics?

yourusername: can't wait for the tote drop for this collection, yall WON'T be disappointed

user18: yes, i will always trust mother's tote recommendations

user19: anyone who carries that much shit knows what makes a good tote

yourusername: this one has survived two dostoevsky book, an unreasonably large water bottle, a laptop and microphone

user19: thank you ma'am

maxverstappen1: real love is dressing as a cowgirl for your needy boyfriend

yourusername: the things we do for love (i actually had so much fun)

user20: here y/n goes doing all the publicity, but never going to races, clearest gold digger attention whore wag of all time

user21: surely a real attention whore would go to every race to get the screen time and papped and all that jazz?

excerpt of y/n y/ln's podcast where she addresses her absences in the paddock.

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 412,349 others

yourusername: life recently lol, the enchante tote is taking a beating

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user24: she's such a crybaby making dan use up an entire portion of his interview to coddle her

user25: she doesn't come to races cause of people like you invading her privacy and being rude and here you are ... proving her point

danielricciardo: pretty lady i can't wait to be back in your arms

yourusername: waiting outside the airport now

danielricciardo: we haven't even taken off yet babe

yourusername: i know i just miss you and can't wait to see your handsome face

user26: dan must be saying this shit at gun point cause there's no way he actually thinks she's pretty

user27: are you clinically blind? cause we must not be seeing the same girl

maxverstappen1: the aperol rawdogging the bag, you are SO brave

yourusername: living life on the edge, is this that thrill all you drivers talk about?

maxverstappen1: i may drive at over 200 kmh but i'd never risk my tote like that

yourusername: is it worse that i have a jar of olives in there as well, one drop and it's so over for me

maxverstappen1: OLIVES? remind me NOT to hug you when you pick us up

danielricciardo: if you want that hug you gonna have to get in line boy

user28: she picks them up from the airport? that's so cute

user29: someone tell her the gross girl aesthetic isn't cute

user30: babe don't worry no matter the aesthetic you have daniel will never want you x

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, christianhorner and 982,344 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

maxverstappen1: finally went on my bff's (no 1 in the world) podcast after i finally convinced her yall ain't shit - oh and dan was there for emotional support x

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user31: SO ICONIC

user32: ep on repeat forever, they're so funny

yourusername: for a man who hates podcasts, you were a star i think the memes hit you hard

maxverstappen1: i enjoy the PROFESSIONALS could you imagine doing a podcast with lando

landonorris: why am i catching strays

danielricciardo: i wouldn't say that too loud, i got about 20 texts as soon as you posted this demanding i ask y/n to be on the show

yourusername: oooooooooo the girls are fighting

landonorris: so can i come on?

yourusername: i'm sure we can schedule something

maxverstappen1: don't say i didn't warn you y/n

user33: ugh now she's going to whore around the rest of the grid

user34: for real wasn't dan enough? she's not even pretty enough to whore herself out

user35: you people have no reading comprehension cause you see how dan says yall are insane and yall keep proving him right

danielricciardo: i'm so proud of you pretty girl

yourusername: i love you cowboy

danielricciardo: forever obsessed with you

user36: i'm living for y/n basically telling all these insecure weirdos to fuck off

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 603,451 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: who was gonna tell me these cars are loud as shit irl

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user39: someone tell sky to stop zooming in on her i don't pay to her her ugly ass

user40: cry your heart out bro everyone else is happy

danielricciardo: oops i think you're my lucky charm you now have to come to every race ever sorry not sorry

yourusername: gosh i think that might be true - i'll be there! (but for real you are so so talented and don't need a lucky charm)

danielricciardo: i'm just so happy to share this with you, i love you so much, i'm sorry people have been so cruel

yourusername: people are passionate about you and rightly so, but i appreciate you protecting me baby

user41: imagine being this irrelevant and demanding protection in the paddock ... the audacity

user42: you finally came to the paddock and this is what you wore?

user43: she's wearing danny merch? if she didn't yall would have a problem with that as well so please just be quiet

maxverstappen1: i need you to come every weekend cause you're the only one drunk danny will listen to

yourusername: we had practice with all the wine tasting we did for his wine line

danielricciardo: i am NOT that bad

maxverstappen1: tbf it's usually him just crying about how much he loves you

yourusername: AWWWWWW (i also cry about how much i love you)

user44: gosh this is my favourite f1 couple

user45: hopefully now she has her dose of fame she'll fuck off

user46: HAVE A DAY OFF

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,451,677 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: as we're nearing our two year anniversary i wanted to say a couple things. one. i love you so much. when you came into my life i was in a bad place and you truly taught me to love myself again and how to love my sport again. you're the most amazing woman ever, the kindest soul and the most beautiful girl ever. two. i am so thankful for the support i have, i do not allow the disrespect some have given y/n. you guys have no real perception of relationships between athletes and fans. you do not have the right to comment on y/n in the way you are. you take extremely low blow and have the gall to confront her in public as well. do not call yourself a fan of mine when you treat the people i love like this. my team will now begin to monitor comment sections and will seek to block and report accounts doing this. thank you and i love you y/n.

comments on this post are turned off.

note: hope yall enjoyed!! i love danny and i saw the danny ric honky tonk this morning and had to write about him. i'd also had this idea for a while but didn't know who to write for lol. please listen to the song i love lucy so much and the song is so relatable xx

also anyone who has requested - i am working on them (but as per some questions in my asks, as for right now i do not write for footballers, if i become less disillusioned with the sport (thanks chelsea) this may change)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #astonmartinii

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hoseoksluna · 9 months ago

Text

— WIP 𐙚 part 4 of wine

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

about: the first time jungkook owns oc’s orgasm

word count: 0.417

note: because i started writing part four so late in the week (friday and i barely had time during this weekend to write) due to the fact i struggled hard, here i give you at least a little something on updating day. im really sorry its not the full thing yet, but i promise i'm working hard and i'll post it for you sometime next week. i'm really excited about what i've written and i can't wait to show you. please enjoy the little excerpt && keep your fingers crossed for me. love you all <;3

side note: happy belated birthday to my husband yoongi, the poetry to my words, the sanity to my mind. my anchor, my everything. i miss him terribly and i love him.

warnings: clit rubbing, shyness, riding fingers, jungkook penetrates her mid-climax and has a very tender reason for it

𐙚

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re really not sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

#lunas dark wips #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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lotusbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

SoCal to NorCal: Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Chapter 1: Malibu

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together? - or - you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 2: Highway 101 & Beyond

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Joel Miller

Chapter Summary: As you road trip north, you and Frankie struggle to voice your growing feelings for each other. Joel suggests something surprising, and the three of you unexpectedly explore new territory together.

Word Count: 8.7k

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter Warnings/Tags: polyamory, phone sex, video sex, masturbation (f and m), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), multiple orgasms, creampie, cum kink, cum eating, there’s a lot of cum lol i’m sorry in advance if that’s not your thing, squirting, slight size kink, mentions of food, mentions of Frankie’s young daughter named Isabella, mentions of drug addiction and recovery, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, she/her pussy pronouns, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames, Frankie the PEK, Joel’s filthy mouth is absolutely its own warning, idiots in love, a splash of angst, soft!Joel but also menace!Joel because we love a man with duality, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control.

a/n: The road trip continues! I’m so excited to dive more into Frankie and Reader’s relationship, and I KNOW you all have been waiting for Joel to get into the mix. Well, buckle up buttercups, because he is about to be THE BIGGEST MENACE lmao. A deeply grateful thank you to my darling @for-a-longlongtime, who encourages me every day, helped me massively flesh out some of the more emotional aspects of the chapter, and who I talk to almost every day, in addition to being my beta reader. Thank you @mountainsandmayhem, @alltheirdamn , and @mermaidgirl30 for screaming with me about these three when I shared excerpts with you. And thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I got this written up between huge life events (both good and bad)! Dividers & banners by the amazing @saradika-graphics, thank you. (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

You’re so happy.

After your short but memorable stay with Santiago, you and Frankie have been on the road, spending the last few days leisurely meandering up Highway 1 towards San Francisco. You take turns driving, playing car DJ, and sightseeing as you travel north. Tanned feet on the dash, chaste kisses to the back of hands while driving, a shifting playlist between your differing musical tastes. Nights spent snuggled up in a rental or hotel room, playing 20 Questions or “Would You Rather”, kisses turning into intertwining of limbs, labored breath and fingers gripping bed sheets, the murmuring of each other’s names like prayers.

In Ojai, you drank a little too much wine at the tasting room and biked back to the hotel with wobbly legs. Hearst Castle landed on your list for the formerly-captive-now-wild zebras (you) and to gawk at “ridiculously rich people shit” (Frankie). Ocean kayaking amongst the sea otters and sea lions in Morro Bay filled both of you with wonder. Frankie let you lead him into every little boutique shop that called your name, contentedly trailing behind you while you browsed.

Wherever you were, Frankie indulged your sweet tooth by sniffing out the best artisan ice cream shops. One time during a playful debate, you bopped your frozen treat to Frankie’s nose, giggling at his surprised expression and kissing the sticky-sweet remnants off of him before he picked you up over his shoulder. Your shrieks of joy ricocheted off the small town street until he tossed you in the backseat of his Jeep and crawled in after you, demanding a taste of something sweeter. Before you knew it, you were moaning and sighing under Frankie’s ministrations in an abandoned parking lot. The sight of his messy curls between your thighs as he lapped at your core propelled you into a stratosphere of pleasure.

The next morning, you continued your road trip north and stopped in Santa Cruz to experience the boardwalk since Frankie had never been. Sun-drenched wood slats under your feet, the crisp, briny breeze cooling your exposed skin. You and Frankie meander slowly, eating chocolate dipped soft serve cones and curly fries, hopping onto the slightly rickety carnival rides, including the famous wooden (and creaky) Giant Dipper roller coaster. (“This thing can’t be structurally sound if it’s making all that noise,” Frankie muttered, but you still got him to get on.)

Adrenaline trickling through your veins, giddy with endorphins from the coaster, you and Frankie debate who had the best strategy for the carousel’s metal ring toss game. “You can’t just huck it like a ninja star,” he gripes about your approach, shaking his head with a smile. “You have to finesse and time it, and throw it like a frisbee so it floats in.”

“I swear, I was way closer than you were,” you shoot back. “I’ve had my whole life to perfect my technique. One of my rings hit the clown’s mouth! More than I can say about your attempts.” You stick your tongue out at Frankie, and he rolls his eyes playfully. Neither of you had set off the lights and buzzers that indicated a successful throw. He’s about to point this out when his phone trills.

Pulling it out of his pocket, his eyebrows knit together a bit before answering. “Mamá,” Frankie says into the phone, “Que pasa? Is something wrong?” He had dropped off Isabella with her for the duration of the road trip, his mother always eager to have “girl time” with her only grandchild.

“No, no, mijo,” she responds, “Estámos bien. Isa is napping. I just wanted to call you and see how your vacation is going. You work so hard, you deserve to have this time to yourself!”

Frankie breaths a small sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, good. Well, I’ve gotta keep it short. We’re out here on the pier.”

“ ‘WE?’ ” you suddenly hear screeching out of the phone, her tone ecstatic. “Who are you with? Oh my goodness, are you with that girl?”

Frankie winces, holding the phone away from his ear as you chuckle. “Yes, mamá,” Frankie responds, “the woman I told you about. You don’t need to yell.” He looks at you, a blush slowly creeping up his face, a sheepish smile on his lips. He mouths “five minutes” while walking towards the side of the walkway. Nodding your head with a smile, you whisper, “take your time,” and kiss his cheek, settling on a bench nearby but out of earshot of the conversation, allowing Frankie his privacy.

“Oh, mijo, that’s wonderful!” his mother exclaims. “When do I get to meet her?”

Frankie huffs out a laugh. “Mamá, relax. You will get to meet her in time. We’re not quite there yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Haven’t you been together for a few months now?”

“Yes, but…” Frankie trails off, not quite sure his mother can handle a full explanation of your situation. Honestly, as he thinks about it, he isn’t even 100% sure what to call the two of you anymore. “It’s complicated,” he says simply.

The both of you agreed to enjoy what you had with no expectations. But “no expectations” changed over the days, weeks, months to become a desire to be around each other more days than not. Visits in the dead of night became dates during the day, morphing into waking up in each other’s arms, eating breakfast together over the weekends, bedhead and sleepy eyes and warm smiles. He thinks about the way you make him laugh, head thrown back, with his whole chest. He thinks about your playful debates, the way you tease him when he loses to you in Mario Kart. He thinks about the way you writhe under, on top of, beside him as he draws pleasure from your body again and again, your moans and gasps creating the prettiest song he’s ever heard. Frankie thinks about your soul, your heart, your innate goodness, and then he thinks about how he can’t possibly deserve any more than you already give him, despite him realizing more every day that he can’t imagine his life without you.

Frankie’s mother clears her throat on the other end of the line, and he snaps back to the present moment.

“Francisco,” she says softly. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just tell her how you feel, and see where it takes you. If she's as special as you say she is, you're going to regret not saying anything.”

Frankie looks down at his boots, and then back at you. You smile at him from the bench, your sundress fluttering slightly in the breeze. “Mamá, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“If you want something, Francisco, go for it. I always told you that you need to be more confident in yourself.” Frankie’s mother sighs affectionately. “You have done so much for your career, for Isabella… you have more than made up for your transgressions, mijito. Do this one thing for yourself. Take the risk.”

He thinks back to the beginning of your relationship, when he said he didn’t want anything serious because he was focusing on his career and his daughter. Not only was he in a stable job with room for upward movement, and becoming the father that Isabella deserved, it was because of you that he was able to achieve his goals. You’ve always supported him, encouraged him, and given him reality checks when he needed it. Not once have you asked for more in the relationship, but he never felt like you had to. He was willing to give you that and so much more. He was nearly certain that you felt the same way about having each other as a more permanent part of your lives, but without ever asking the question directly, he couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just all in his head.

Frankie swallows thickly. “You’re right,” he acquiesces. “I’ll talk to her soon, when the moment is right. I don’t want to lose her.”

His mother coos sweetly at him. “Now that’s the son I know and love! I’ll let you go have fun with your lady. I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, Mamá,” Frankie whispers, and then ends the call.

You’re people watching at the boardwalk as Frankie approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. There’s no surprise triggered by his arms around you, just a calm ease and warmth. He presses kisses into your hair and sighs deeply. Tipping your head to the side, you return the kisses up his arm and rub his knuckles with your thumbs.

“How’s your mamá?” you ask.

“Good,” Frankie responds, “just checking in to make sure I was having fun on my vacation.” A sheepish grin blooms on his face. “Sorry you had to hear her scream about you.”

You snicker as you stand up from the bench. “Nah, it wasn’t my ear she yelled into… But I didn’t mind at all. It’s sweet how she checks up on you.”

He grins, lifting his cap briefly to run his fingers through his hair. “She knows how hard I’ve been working to make things right with my job, and with Isabella, and she’s been pushing me to take some time off.” He sighs, looking off into the distance, and you know him well enough to know he’s doubtful of his progress.

“You deserve it, Frankie,” you murmur to him, lacing your fingers with his. You both start strolling along the boardwalk again, Frankie looking deeply in thought. “You’re always so hard on yourself, and at the very least, you deserve some time off.”

Glancing over at him, your breath catches. Frankie’s already staring at you, curls wild in the sea breeze, brown eyes warm and sparkling. Suddenly your chest feels like it’s cracked open, warm and aching. You feel the spark in your heart, and you realize that your feelings may be more than a simple affection. You search Frankie’s eyes and you can see a steady hidden layer under the warmth of his gaze as he lifts your joined hands to his lips, kissing them softly. It makes your heart do somersaults, the deeper unspoken emotions that flickered across his irises. A deep devotion that tugs at your soul.

He deserves the world.

Frankie huffs a laugh, dropping his gaze. “Everyone seems to tell me that. Guess I should stop being so damn stubborn and start believing them.” You continue walking, Frankie swinging your hands between the two of you as you settle into comfortable silence.

This is more than lust and companionship, you think to yourself. The way he looks at you, touches you with such reverence. It goes deeper than respect and fondness. Only Joel had ever given you butterflies and yet here you are, a fluttering in your gut, foreign but familiar. But what does that mean for you and Joel?

Can your heart love two people at once?

Whoa…. wait, “love”??

You push the thoughts away with a shake of your head, determined to be present in the moment with Frankie. Bumping gently into his shoulder to get his attention, you flash him a smile.

“Wanna see which one of us can win first at the dime toss game?” you ask Frankie, and his eyes crinkle at the corners the way you love so much when he smiles in return, his competitive streak flaring.

“Sweetness, I thought you’d never ask. Prepare to lose.”

After you absolutely demolish Frankie at the dime toss (he swears they rigged the bowls he was aiming for), you and Frankie hit the road towards the cute cottage you’d booked for the night. Among the draws was its proximity to good food while being simultaneously off the beaten path. You were dying to try the seafood restaurant nearby, which was recommended to Frankie by one of his coworkers.

Per usual for the northern California coast, the fog began to roll in from the beach, casting ghostly tendrils across the road. Fog was one of the things you missed most about home while in SoCal, where it was a rarity. You roll up the windows and flip on your seat heater with a content sigh, then drape your body over the center console to grab your oversized cardigan from the back. The move makes your short dress hike further up your thighs as you reach for the soft knit. Frankie glances in the rearview mirror, spotting a flash of the curve of your ass where it peeks out of your panties. The sight has him already hardening in his pants. A quiet groan rises from his throat involuntarily, and you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s reacting to.

“God, hermosa, that fucking dress,” Frankie grits. “I’ve been half hard all day seeing you in it.” You say nothing, but look over at him, your smirk growing bigger as you recline the seat a bit more and stretch your body just so, making the light blue eyelet lace material ride higher up your thighs, which you spread lasciviously.

“Oh?” you tease. “What are you going to do about it?” You see Frankie’s eyes flash with desire for a moment, but he works hard to keep his cool.

His hand inches up your inner thigh while he drives, teasing swirls with his fingertips across your soft skin. You pant quietly, your breasts heaving gently against the low, curved neckline, and bite back a whimper as more arousal pools in your cotton underwear. “Take off your panties,” Frankie gently commands.

Dragging the material down your hips and legs, you let your thighs part for him, inviting his touch. Frankie keeps his eyes on the road, calmly navigating towards a quiet backroad. His focused demeanor is a lie though; his increasingly rapid breathing is a dead giveaway. When his fingers brush against your drenched folds, he groans and grips the wheel tighter with his driving hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Frankie grits out. “You’re so fucking wet for me already.” His nimble fingers explore you, spreading the slick around, swiping a soft circle around the pearl of your clit. He plays with you, and you start to writhe. A smirk blooms on his face as he clocks your movement. Frankie loves teasing you like this, drawing things out until you buckle under the pressure of your mounting desires. But the throbbing of his cock and your soft mewling sounds are making him desperate.

Frankie pulls the car over to a small lot connected to an overlook, its parking spaces empty since the vista point is shrouded in fog. Trees block the view of your parking spot to traffic on the road. He throws the car in park, ripping his seatbelt off, and pulls your face to his for a passionate kiss. Swallowing your moans with his lips, Frankie tangles his tongue with yours while his fingers grip the base of your skull.

“You’re killing me with this slutty little sundress,” he pants, sliding his hand down to cup your naked sex.

You let out a strangled cry. “Frankie, I need you.”

Frankie shushes you gently. “Get in the back, nenita. I’ve got you.” You comply, scrambling over the center console and pushing your back up against the door, legs spreading wide and fingers tracing your glistening folds. He feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get his mouth on you in the next twenty seconds. He gets out of the front seat, yanking open the driver’s side back door and shutting it behind him after he slides in towards you.

“Gonna suck on that sweet little clit of yours ‘til you scream,” Frankie growls as he crawls towards your body, pushing your knees further towards your torso so you’re opened up lewdly for him. He slides his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to wet them, slipping them out and immediately burying them to the second knuckle in your soft cunt. A high-pitched whine is ripped from your throat.

“Frankie!” you whine, eyebrows furrowing together as you lock eyes with him. The mocha richness of his eyes has given way to pits of nearly black desire, and he keeps them on you while he presses his tongue flat to your swollen clit. Your eyes roll back and you nearly scream in pleasure.

“That’s it, baby, I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he murmurs into your drenched folds, and then buries his face into you. You weave your fingers into his fluffy curls, opening your eyes to watch him at work.

Frankie’s eyes slip closed as he rhythmically pumps his thick fingers in and out of your pussy, curving them slightly up to hit that magical spot you can never quite reach the same way as he does. He sucks your hardened clit into his mouth, nestling it between the cleft of his lower lip and an almost imperceptible divot in the center of his tongue. That sweet, talented tongue swirls in precise tiny circles with the perfect pressure, while continuing to suckle exactly how you like it. Joel may go down on you like nobody’s business, but Frankie has cunnilingus nearly down to a science. At this point, he knows the exact series of moves to bring you to orgasm, and how long it takes really just depends on how long he feels like eating pussy that day. Sometimes, he’ll lay with his face between your legs for hours.

And right now? Frankie seems to want to break his own record for how fast he can get you to come.

Within seconds, you feel your orgasm gathering in your muscles. The tight shimmer of pleasure reverberates across your skin, in your bones, through every cell in your body, suspended in time, just waiting for a release. Frankie feels you tightening on his fingers, and you swear you feel him smirk against your slick folds. He keeps going, never faltering his movements, as the feeling inside you builds.

“Frankie,” you whine again, your body starting to shake. It shouldn't be physically possible for him to get you there so fast, and yet you feel that bowstring drawing impossibly tense in your body. “Frankie, I’m gonna… I’m so….” you keen, high-pitched, your chest heaving fast. Frankie moans against your folds, pressing just a bit harder with his fingers, crooking them just right, and sucks your clit hard.

You’re lucky that the area is truly secluded, because the scream tearing out of your throat as you shatter in ecstasy is loud. Your thighs lock around Frankie’s head as he moans deeply into your pussy, drawing out your orgasm expertly. Slick weeps from your cunt, soaking his lips and chin, and he slurps down every drop. He slows and gentles his ministrations on your core until he feels your thighs relax. Pulling back, he gives your folds one last kiss before he moves up your body to hover over your face, admiring the flush lighting up your features. Frankie kisses you gently, and you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted,” Frankie slurs, pussydrunk on you.

“God, you’re incredible,” you murmur against his lips, kissing him deeper, the taste of your own essence making you clench involuntarily. You can feel the thick, hard line of him against your thigh. Moaning, you press yourself into him. “Let me ride you, Francisco.”

Frankie lets out a groan as he pulls you up. You rest your knees on the backseat, littering kisses over his face as he unbuttons and shoves his jeans and boxers down. His cock smacks his belly, precum smearing on his skin. Leaning over, you lick it off, his salty taste invading your senses. Frankie groans again when you suck him into your mouth. You gently lick his foreskin and pull it down to reveal his ruddy head, the tip leaking. Slurping and suckling, you sneak a hand between your thighs to rub your clit, the action not going unnoticed by Frankie. It seems to snap him out of his trance.

“I need to be inside you so badly,” he grits out, pulling you onto his lap. The skirt of your sundress flares over the both of you. Reaching down, he brushes his tip against your folds, making you both whine. Swirling it through your combined slick and spit, Frankie presses his head into you slowly. You take over, grabbing his hand to place it over your hip, and grind down on him, letting his length slip further and further into you. Your breath hitches as he spreads your walls, always a stretch no matter how many times you’ve taken him.

Frankie drops his head back against the headrest, his hands gripping you tightly. “You’re always so fucking tight for me, querida,” he pants, his eyes glazing over with lust. His words prompt another wave of slick to leak out of you, aiding your descent down his shaft as you swirl your cunt around him. Both of you moan, and soon enough you’re fully seated on him. You lean down, kissing him passionately, and he responds in kind, slipping his tongue into your mouth to massage against yours. Your hips begin to roll and Frankie breaks the kiss, a deep rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s like hot velvet,” he grits out, grabbing your hips to buck up into you. He trails kisses down your jaw and leaves little love bites as he goes. The car is filled with the slap of flesh, the squelch of your cunt as you fuck yourself on his cock, your shared gasps and panted breaths. Frankie slips the straps of your dress down, pulling down the cups with it, your breasts spilling out of their confines. He ducks his head down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You whimper.

“God, Francisco,” you whine, riding him harder, spurred on by the way he laves his tongue over your pebbled nipple, gently catching and pulling it between his teeth. He switches to your other breast, his other hand anchored to your hip to guide your motions. His cock kisses that spot deep in you that only Frankie and Joel have ever found, and the feeling rips another moan from you.

“That’s it, fucking ride my cock,” Frankie pants. You lean forward, changing the angle a bit until your clit catches on his belly, which triggers your pussy to clench in pleasure.

“Oh god, you feel so fucking good in me,” you moan, grinding down harder onto him, massaging your walls with his thick shaft and your clit with the friction of his course hairs. “You fill me up so well.”

“Softest, wettest pussy I’ve ever fucked, I swear,” Frankie slurs, losing himself in the feeling of you wrapped around his length. “You feel like silk on me, nenita.”

Your clit swells with the stimulation of every roll of your hips, making your cunt clench around Frankie. He lets out a whine. Your brows furrow in concentration as you seat his length in you as far as it will go, and he nearly chokes when he feels his tip kiss your cervix.

“You’re so deep in me,” you moan, working yourself on his shaft. “Tell me how good this pussy feels.” You’re desperate to hear him lose it.

“You feel amazing,” he whines, his dick hardening and swelling even more as he approaches his high. It feels like he’s lighting up every nerve ending inside of you. At this point, Frankie’s lap is dripping with your arousal, slick squelching and slapping sounds as thick in the air as the smell of sex. Both of you are covered in a sheen of sweat. You can tell he’s getting closer, so you start fucking him harder, driving his cock deeply into you, to the point where you feel like you’re beginning to meld together, a writhing, wet, hot mess of pleasure.

“Yeah?” you ask rhetorically, riding him harder and harder. “Are you going to come for me, Francisco?” You continue to use his full name, knowing how much it turns him on when you say it. “I want you to fuck me so full of your cum; I wanna be dripping for days. I want you to fill me up so bad.”

“Oh fuck, nenita,” Frankie whines as he loses himself in your heat. “I’m gonna fuck you so full. Gonna give you all of my cum. Gonna put it right where it belongs, deep in this cunt.” You roll your hips harder, your tits bouncing with the effort, and Frankie fucking whimpers. Your pussy tightens at the sound. It always turns you on so much when he loses control.

“Do it, Francisco. Fill me up,” you pant, your own orgasm barrelling towards you. Frankie’s thighs begin to quiver under you, and you know he’s almost there, too. You grip the base of his skull with one hand while the other steadies yourself on his shoulder, and then you lean down, nipping his earlobe. He whimpers again, completely fucked out.

“Come for me, now,” you beg in a whisper.

Frankie shouts as his grip on you turns to steel, and at the first hot spurt of his cum inside of you, your orgasm rips through you. Your cunt clenches, prolonging his pleasure, as your release soaks Frankie’s lap and his cum paints your insides. You both cry out at the feeling, foreheads pressed together. Frankie leans in and latches his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss.

As you both come down from your highs, you lean into Frankie, and he rubs his hands along your back soothingly. The softest kisses pepper your face, your sweat cooling down your skin while you both heave breaths, trying to recover. You weave your fingers into Frankie’s damp curls and scratch his scalp.

“Couldn’t wait ‘til we got to the rental, huh?” you quip.

Frankie huffs a laugh and hums in pleasure at your ministrations on his scalp. “Not when you tempt me with those dresses, baby. You know what flashing me a peek under your skirt does to me.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” you tease, nipping his ear.

He jerks away at the ticklish sensation, then gently bites your shoulder in retribution. “Such a tease, hermosa,” he tuts. You both begin to untangle your sweat-slick limbs, and you slip yourself off of Frankie’s cock, groaning quietly in contentment as you stem the flow of his spend from your pussy with your fingers, shuffling around, seeking your panties. Finding them in the front seat, you slip them on, pressing the fabric into your cunt to keep yourself full of Frankie. Both of you get back into the front seats.

You fix your hair as you settle back in but pause, looking up to see your boyfriend staring at you, an achingly soft expression painting his whole face. Amber eyes, golden flecked irises, striking deep to your soul.

Breath catching in your throat, vulnerability rolling through your nerves. That flutter in your heart once again.

Before you can process anything, Frankie shakes his head slightly, as if emerging from a daze. “Well I’ve certainly worked up an appetite,” he quips, squeezing your knee gently. “Let’s get some of that clam chowder.” You nod, breathing deeply and shoot him a crooked little smile. He intertwines his fingers with yours, and then puts the Jeep into gear.

A couple hours later, you arrive at the rental, Frankie bringing both of your bags in. You close the door behind the two of you, kicking off your shoes, and survey the place. A small kitchenette to the left, cute velour loveseat to the right, and through adorable French doors, the king size bed, dressed in the fluffiest looking bedding. A dresser and full-length gilded mirror complete the decor in the bedroom, everything fitting perfectly into a cottagecore dream aesthetic. The last of the natural lighting filters through the windows.

Frankie drops a quick kiss to your forehead. “I need to scrub off the road,” he says in passing while stripping off his clothes. “Why don’t you relax a bit before we decide what we’re doing for the rest of the night?”

You snort out a laugh. “Frankie, it’s not like we’re on the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon. We’ve been driving in an air-conditioned car, Mr. Drama Queen.” He laughs and tosses his hat at you, disappearing into the en suite bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Settling into the plush bed, you set Frankie’s hat on the dresser and grab your phone to catch up on messages missed during the drive, when suddenly your phone starts buzzing. Joel’s name flashes onto the screen, and you hit the green button to accept the video call.

“Hey, baby,” you coo, grinning widely as Joel’s handsome tan face appears on your screen. His umber & silver hair is damp and slicked back, likely fresh out of the shower just like Frankie will be in a few minutes. The headboard of the bed you share with Joel sits behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?”

Joel chuckles. “What, can’t a man call his pretty wife just to see her face and tell her that he loves her?”

You giggle. “I suppose that’s a good enough reason.” His eyes soften, and then flick down the screen.

“I see you’re wearing that sundress I like so much,” Joel muses.

You smile, extending the arm holding your phone so he can see more of your body. “Oh, this little number?” You shift onto your knees, spreading them wide and running your other hand teasingly slow from your collarbone, down the slope of your breast, across your waist, and then down your thigh, retracing your path slightly to lift the hem of the skirt. “Frankie hadn’t seen it before, and he likes it just as much as you do.” Your cheeks flush at the memory of Frankie taking you in the car, and Joel hums lowly when you break eye contact with him.

“Did you and Frankie get up to some fun earlier, baby?” You pause, unsure of where this is going, and then nod your head.

“Words, sweetheart,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly.

He nods approvingly, a small smirk gracing his plush lips. “I could tell, you got that faraway look in your eyes like you do when you’re thinking about me fucking you.” Joel shifts his seat on the bed, and you recognize the movement as a sign that he’s getting turned on. This is a new development, you think to yourself. He’s rarely asked about sex with Frankie before.

“Did Frankie treat your pussy right? Did he fill you up?” You nod again, your core beginning to pulse as you affirm with your words, and Joel groans.

“Let me see it.”

You choke on your breath. “What?”

This was not something Joel had ever asked before.

“You heard me, darlin’,” Joel asserts, his eyes darkening. “Let me see that pretty pussy full of Frankie’s cum.”

A full-body shiver ripples through you. “Yes, Joel,” you murmur obediently, sliding off the bed to retrieve the phone stand you use often when you’re away from Joel. You set it up on the dresser near the bed, the front-facing camera angled advantageously for him while allowing you to see him as well. Coming back into frame, you slowly unzip your dress, letting it fall to the floor. You slide your damp panties down, the heady scent of Frankie’s cum wafting up from your heated core. Joel leans back and lets out a low groan.

You climb back onto the bed once naked, noticing Joel’s espresso brown eyes have deepened to the color of a moonless night, his pupils dilated in desire. Putting your back to the camera, you get onto your hands and knees, canting your hips forward and ass back. You rest your forearms on the bed, looking back at the camera, and snake one hand between your legs to spread your pussy open with your fingers. Joel moans unabashedly at the view, your glazed pussy glinting in the light, Frankie’s milky spend coating it and gathering at your opening. He watches as your cunt clenches at the sound.

“Fuuuuuck, darlin’, that little pussy always looks so fuckin’ good when it’s covered in cum, don’t it?” Joel asks rhetorically, running one hand down his chin through his greying scruff. You whimper in response, the movement of your contracting walls pushing a thin stream of Frankie’s cum out from deep in you, dripping onto the bed sheets. This feels so debauched, filthy, and you are incredibly turned on by Joel’s response to the sight of another man’s cum decorating your most intimate parts.

“God, if I was there I would be rubbin’ that cream all over your swollen little clit,” Joel drawls. “Can see her peekin’ out at me. Can you flip over? Wanna see you touch her for me.” You oblige, gathering the pillows to prop yourself up, and lean back against them as you butterfly your thighs open for your husband. Holding his gaze, you slowly trace your outer lips with your fingers, feeling the slide of Frankie’s spend lubricate your movements. You swirl your fingertips through the mess of slick and cum at your entrance, then glide them up to the pearl of your clit, throbbing in anticipation. At the first touch, your breath catches on the edge of a jagged little moan.

“So sensitive already?” Joel teases, and you see him shift in his seat at the same time that the rustle of his pants tells you he’s pulling them down. The thought of him needing to touch himself at the sight of your messy cunt makes a pang of need course through your core.

“Let me see it, baby,” you whisper hoarsely towards the phone, desperate to see the physical proof of his desire for you, for the sight of Frankie’s desire for you. The frame jostles a bit as Joel sets his phone up on the phone stand you have in your bedroom for times like these. It’s not the first time you have had video sex while apart and it certainly won’t be the last.

And as Joel walks backwards toward the bed again and into frame, you barely stifle a gasp.

His cock is an absolute marvel, still is after a decade of being together. Thick, long, and uncut, the sight of him always makes your mouth water and your pussy slick. Joel sits on the edge of the bed, stroking his length languidly, the gleaming cockhead a flushed pink, disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin. His gray, worn sweatpants are pulled just under his ass. Heavy, sizable balls drape over the waistband. You’ll never get tired of the sight.

“See somethin’ y’like, angel?”’Joel teases, his Texas twang always thicker when he’s aroused. His thick thighs are spread wide as he sits on the bed.

“Yes… everything,” you breathe, starting to rub your pussy again.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel tuts, and your fingers immediately stop. “I didn’t tell you that you could touch yourself. Let’s wait until Frankie can join us to have fun.” Your body flushes with more arousal; Joel’s never asked to include Frankie before. But then again, you’d never asked if he wanted to.

As if on cue, the bathroom door squeaks open and Frankie appears, freshly showered, dark curls dripping a bit onto his broad, golden shoulders. A white towel is wrapped around his narrow waist, and he takes a moment to assess what he’s walked into.

“Babygirl, are you getting started without me?” Frankie purrs as he strides towards you, then pauses when he realizes your phone is on the stand and positioned right at your dripping cunt.

“Hey, Frankie,” Joel’s voice floats warmly into the room. “I figured you’d want to watch our girl play with herself, so I made her wait.”

Our girl.

You shiver in arousal — and something else — at the moniker. Your eyes flick to Frankie, a smirk beginning to grace his lips but a bit of hesitation in his eyes. This was all new to him, too.

Frankie moves towards the armchair situated in the corner of the room, behind where you had your phone set up. He was already adjusting himself, clearly aroused, which you took as a good sign.

“Frankie, are you okay with this?” you inquire, trying to gauge his consent to what was unfolding. “If not, I can —“

“Yes,” Frankie grits out hoarsely. “I want to watch you with Joel.” His tone sets off another wave of pleasure through your nerves.

Joel chuckles, his voice smooth and deep as whiskey. “Well, darlin’, give us a show. Go on ‘n pet that pretty lil’ pussy for us.” Planting your heels on the bed, you use your fingers to spread yourself open as another trickle of Frankie’s previous release leaks its way out of you. Both men groan at the sight. Scooping it up, you glide your way up to your throbbing clit, starting to circle it just the way you like. A moan leaves your parted lips; you tilt your head back while you work yourself. Your other hand moves to pinch and thumb a nipple, drawing it into a tight bud.

“Mmm, good girl,” Joel praises you. His hand starts pumping his cock once again at the same time Frankie palms himself through the fluffy towel. Frankie’s eyes flick from you to the phone, still trying to feel out the dynamics of the three of you. But both men can’t keep their eyes away from your soft pussy and swollen clit, glazed in your arousal and Frankie’s cum. Holding both of them in rapture while seeking your own pleasure is a heady power trip that wraps its silken claws into your brain.

You feel like a goddess.

“Joel,” you moan, writhing in pleasure on the bed, but not quite where you want to be. “I need more.”

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” Joel croons through the phone, the soft fapping sound of him working his cock audible.

“I want… more,” you whine, mind so hazy with pleasure that you can’t even articulate your desires. “Please.”

“Hmmm,” Joel responds, slowing down to consider his options. You look up in impatience just as a wicked smirk crosses his face.

That look always means trouble.

“Y’told me how good Frankie is at goin’ down on you,” Joel continues, “so why don’t you let him show me?” You hear Frankie’s breath choke in his throat in surprise as a whimper escapes your lips at Joel’s words. Frankie’s eyes dart from yours to the phone and back.

“Frankie?” you hear Joel say while your eyes remain on your boyfriend. “Would you be okay with that? Would you show me how hard you make our girl come with that tongue’a yours?” You let out a little moan at Joel’s filthy words, and Frankie groans involuntarily at the sight of another dribble of his cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, baby, you’re still drippin’?” Joel coos at you. “Frankie must’a stuffed you so full’a his cum. Do you like eating yourself outta her sweet cunt, Frankie?”

In a flash, Frankie enters the frame as he spreads your legs further apart and wedges his shoulders between them, leaving enough space for Joel to watch the action behind him. “I fucking love it,” Frankie growls in response, immediately running his tongue in a broad stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit, tasting himself and you as he swallows every drop of cum and slick you released. You throw your head back, keening.

“Damn,” you hear Joel choke out, his hand moving faster on his cock at the sight of Frankie diving headfirst into your cunt. Eager to prove his skills, Frankie works you up rapidly to your orgasm, your moans pitching higher and higher within a minute. He swirls his tongue over your clit, then slides two of his fingers inside to the last knuckle, aided by your copious slick and the remnants of his cum. Your back arches off the bed from the sensation as you cry out his name.

“Oh fuck, angel,” Joel grits out, his breath coming faster. “He eatin’ you good?”

“Yessss, Joel,” you whimper, your hand holding Frankie’s head firmly to your center. “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

Frankie moans encouragingly, reverberating across your cunt, and the tether inside your core snaps. You stutter out a groan, punctuated each time your pussy spasms with your release on Frankie’s fingers. The man between your thighs laps it all up, moaning in delight. He pulls back, kissing the inside of each thigh, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel purrs at you as you catch your breath. You hear a slightly pained groan, and look at the screen to see Joel gripping the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. Hmm, that’s odd, you think. Joel usually comes when he’s decided he’s done making me come.

The realization hits you a split second before Joel’s deep, commanding voice spits out, “Again, Morales.”

Ohhhh, fuck.

You whip your head around when you hear Frankie suck in a breath as he stares at the phone, his chest heaving. Looking down, you see his cock achingly hard under his towel, his neck flushed with arousal. Frankie turns to you, his onyx eyes shimmering ferally. You know following orders gets him going, but you’re surprised that Joel clocked that about him instinctively.

In a split second, Frankie’s spread both of your legs again, pinning you open obscenely wide by your thighs. His tongue immediately begins to fuck into your pussy, the strong muscle prodding and curling just right. Your head slams into the soft mattress, a squeal leaving your lips at the sudden pleasure. With every thrust of his tongue, you feel Frankie grinding desperately into the bed, trying to stem the intense arousal building below his waist.

“Talk to me, darlin’,” Joel’s voice floats in your ear, pulling you out of the cloud of intense pleasure momentarily. “Tell me how good Frankie feels.”

“He’s so good,” you moan, alternating playing with your nipples and curling your fingers in the bedding. “His tongue feels so good in my pussy.”

“Is he as good as me?” Joel asks, his voice dropping an octave. There’s not a hint of jealousy, just charged curiosity.

“Yes, baby,” you coo, gasping as Frankie moves his tongue back to your clit and slides his fingers back into you, reaching that spot deep in you that makes your eyes roll back. “So good. Just… different.”

Joel lets out a quiet growl, his voice dripping with sex. “Good. Your pussy deserves the best.”

“Frankie,” Joel commands. Frankie lifts his head from your center, moving his thumb to replace his tongue on your clit, making your back arch again. “Have you made her squirt before?”

“Yeah,” Frankie breathes, looking back at you. “She’s so beautiful when she does it.”

“Good,” Joel rumbles. “Make her squirt for us.”

Frankie nods once, then pulls his fingers out slightly until he hits the spongy spot near the entrance of your pussy. He starts swirling the tips of his fingers against it, pressing his other hand down gently but firmly on your lower belly above your pubic bone, and then lowers his head to suck your clit back into his mouth. You keen, your body folding in on itself from the intense pleasure. Frankie moans into you, but you hear a growl rip from Joel’s throat.

“Don’t you dare hide that beautiful body,” Joel demands. “Lay back and spread your legs for us.”

You comply, barely able to shift yourself open again before Frankie starts intensifying his ministrations. You hear Joel’s slick fist jerking his cock again while he coos at you and praises you, telling you how good you’re being for him and Frankie, how pretty and strong you are.

“You can take it, angel,” Joel moans with the squelching of his cock in his hand acting as an obscene background track for your pleasure. “You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimper, your cunt making equally debauched sounds with every thrust of Frankie’s fingers. “I’m so close. Feels so fucking good.”

Frankie presses harder on your belly and sucks your clit more fervently, and your cries pitch higher. “Oh god, Frankie, you’re gonna make me come,” you whine, toes curling and thighs beginning to shake. A desperate moan from Frankie’s mouth is muffled by your cunt, making you cry out again.

“Let go for us, darlin’,” Joel grits out, his hand a blur on the screen as he approaches his orgasm as well.

Frankie peels himself away from your drenched folds just long enough to command, “Come for us, now,” and then latches back onto your clit, sucking hard, and that’s the moment you break, nearly screaming. Frankie works you through the first wave of your orgasm with his mouth, then pulls back, slipping his fingers out of you as your release gushes out, spraying your belly, thighs, and Frankie’s torso. With every pump and slide out of your pussy, Frankie brings forth another spray of release, drenching your body and his.

You’re barely aware of Joel’s groans of pleasure in the throes of your own, but when you come back down moments later, you can hear the edge of desperation in his sounds. You look over to the phone to see him with his teeth bared, the head of his cock an angry red, his fist slick with precum and spit. More pearly liquid slowly oozes from the slit at the top.

Joel is barely keeping it together.

“Joel, honey,” you moan, “I wanna see you come.”

Joel growls. “Francisco,” he grits out. Frankie, who’s looking at you in amazement and pride, snaps his head to the phone at the sound of his full name. You see his cock twitch under the towel.

“Get our girl messy, Francisco.”

A whimper worms its way out of your throat as Frankie whines. Unashamed and blind with arousal, he whips the towel off his waist and his cock bobs, hard and thick. You hear Joel’s breath hitch. I’ll tuck that reaction away for later, you think.

Frankie kneels between the damp sheets under your thighs, spitting into his hand and fisting his cock hard and fast. His muscles flex with the intensity of feeling, breathing rapid. His grunts get louder and longer as he swiftly approaches his peak. You hear a long, low moan from the phone, Joel nearly delirious with how worked up he is over the scene playing out.

“Where?” Frankie moans, desperately trying to follow orders before he blows his load. Precum drips onto the sheets.

“Her tits,” Joel pants, “and her pussy. Paint her like a fucking picture, Frankie.”

“Oh fffuuuu—“ Frankie grits out just before he explodes, his release shooting out onto your nipples, the curves of your breasts, and then he’s aiming lower, coating your mound and pussy lips with his seed.

You’re dripping with yourself and Frankie, an absolutely debauched sight.

Suddenly you hear a shout from the phone, and turn just in time to see Joel shoot his load all over his chest, belly, and even some on his neck with how hard he’s coming. Every spurt paired with a moan; one of the prettiest sights you’ve ever seen in your life.

For a moment all you hear is the shared heavy breathing of yourself, your boyfriend, and your husband, and then Frankie is kissing your forehead, your lips, and then working his way down your body. When he goes to lick off his cum from your tits to clean you up, you groan in protest.

“Too sensitive, baby,” you plead, and Frankie acquiesces, cooing at you.

“You did so well for us, nenita,” he soothes, stroking your face and planting kisses across your eyelids. “You’re so beautiful. Let me rinse off and get you cleaned up, okay?” With your mind pleasantly fuzzy from what just transpired, you simply nod, and Frankie goes into the bathroom for supplies. You let your head roll to the side, and smile tiredly at Joel, who’s watching you with pride and love while he towels off his release from his body and hands.

“I would have licked up all that cum off you to save you from having to add another towel to the laundry,” you giggle, feeling your own juices and Frankie’s cum cooling on your torso. You run your fingers through the slick release Frankie left on your pussy, teasing your clit with the silky fluid. Your body shudders a bit with overstimulation, and Joel shakes his head.

“You just like makin’ a mess and then cleanin’ it up, you dirty girl,” he chuckles, watching you enjoy the tactile sensations.

“Stop pretending that you don’t like me like that, Joel,” you fire back with a smirk. “What is it you said exactly? Oh, right. ‘Get our girl messy, Francisco.’” You imitate Joel’s baritone, making him bark out a laugh.

“Fine, I do love seeing you drippin’, darlin’,” Joel admits. “Whether it’s my cum or Frankie’s.” You bite your lip and giggle, basking in the glow of this new era of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t expect he’d be so enthusiastic to see you with Frankie.

The door pops open, Frankie emerging with a warm, damp washcloth for you. Although you reach for it, he tuts and gently pushes your hand away, insisting on wiping you down himself. He gently strokes the cloth across your skin, softly smiling and pressing kisses to your face and body as he does. Joel’s heart warms at the sight before him, seeing how well Frankie takes care of you.

Tossing the cloth back into the bathroom, Frankie gets up from the bed. “I’m going to get some water for us. Do you want cold water to help you cool down, or your usual water cocktail?” Frankie asks, always remembering your quirky penchant for filling your insulated water bottle first with hot water until halfway, and the rest with cold.

“Water cocktail, please,” you giggle, snuggling further into the bedding.

Frankie grins, then lightly kisses your forehead, grabbing your water bottle off the bedside table in the process. He walks out, and you sigh contentedly.

“Wow, Frankie automatically includes Water Cocktail on his drink menu now, huh?” Joel chuckles.

You nod happily, grinning ear to ear. Laying your head on the pillow, you respond, “Yeah, he caught on fast. I think it was after the third week of seeing each other that he started asking if I wanted it instead of bringing me a glass of cold water. I didn’t even tell him explicitly, he just noticed me doing it.” You pause, brain pleasantly fuzzy in your post-orgasmic state.

“I… I really like him, Joel,” you whisper, slowly fading as sleep creeps to you. You blink your eyes gently at Joel, who looks at you with the softest smile on his face, like you are the linchpin of his universe.

“I know, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his heart flipping in response. “I know.”

When Frankie re-enters the room with a glass of water and your water bottle, he notices how quiet it is. You lay burrowed under the covers, gently snoring, but he notices your phone is the only one on the video call anymore. His nerves zap a bit in concern, but then he replays the recent events back in his head. Joel seemed totally tolerant - nay, enthusiastic, to include Frankie into sex earlier. He doubts Joel left because he was upset; you probably fell asleep and he needed to go. Nonetheless, Frankie pics up your phone and exits the call, tapping around until he finds your message app.

Hey, that was really fun, he types out to Joel, a tiny flutter of nerves alight in his stomach. Excited to meet you tomorrow. Have a good rest of your night. – Frankie

Staring at the words for a moment, he hits send before he can back out or second guess himself. Frankie then climbs into bed, wrapping himself around you before sleep claims him wholly.

a/n part 2: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and thank you for your patience! I had so much fun writing it and I’m proud to be able to share it with you. For those of you not familiar with Southern/Central CA, you can view photo references here: the Santa Cruz carousel, Hearst Castle, info on Ojai, and kayaking in Morro Bay.

Have thoughts/thots, feelings, SCREAMS, asks? My inbox is open! 💌

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roguishcat · 3 months ago

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Augustarion Day 7 – Underwear

Day 1 -🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: female reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Excerpt: “Astarion, my love,” you began in a deceptively light tone as he approached your bed, “Quite coincidentally, I was just going through the lovely collection of underwear which you have gifted me since we got to the city. And seeing as you embroidered every single thing with such meticulous care, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful work that you did. Every piece of lingerie with my name, embroidered in elvish. How sweet.”

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine, the treacly sweetness of your voice making him want to run. You couldn’t have possibly found out, right?

Word count: 1.9k

A/N This was supposed to be smut, but ended up being feels.

Astarion was in an excellent mood. Everything was going according to plan as you bagged a win after win, defying all odds.

You managed to obtain the second Netherstone, proving yourself to be a strong leader and brilliant strategist, confidently leading them into battle against the cultists. You defeated Orin and rescued Lae’zel, although Astarion still couldn’t understand why the githyanki didn’t just kill the shapeshifter herself.

Honestly. For such a formidable warrior she was quite good at letting herself be the damsel in distress. Not that he would ever say that to her face. He quite liked his head to remain on his shoulders and was sure that a thoughtless comment like that would be all the reason she needed to reach for her sword.

Of course, his fantastic mood was not the result of rescuing the githyanki. Lae’zel was no fun, as she barely tolerated his antics even on a good day. No, what had Astarion excited was the delicious promise in your eyes when you brushed past him earlier.

The others decided to celebrate their victory with a drink or ten, but you pulled him aside and whispered that you were waiting for him upstairs, giving his biceps a squeeze before sauntering off. Seeing as it would be just the two of you not getting sloshed, Astarion had a strong inkling that he knew exactly how his evening would go. And he had a little something that he picked up at Facemaker’s Boutique that he couldn’t wait for you to try on!

When Astarion entered the shared room at Elfsong, he could see that you were already there and scantily clothed. So far, an excellent start! He smirked and closed the door behind him.

“Darling, you look ravishing. But why don’t you put this lovely set on instead, hm? The pearly beads on the front gave me all sorts of exquisite, wicked ideas," he dropped his voice and all but purred as his eyes travelled up the length of your legs.

“Astarion, my love,” you began in a deceptively light tone as he approached your bed, “Quite coincidentally, I was just going through the lovely collection of underwear which you have gifted me since we got to the city. And seeing as you embroidered every single thing with such meticulous care, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful work that you did. Every piece of lingerie with my name, embroidered in elvish. How sweet.”

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine, the treacly sweetness of your voice making him want to run. You couldn’t have possibly found out, right?

“Except, Shadowheart was kind enough to translate for me. Most considerate of her, isn’t it? Making sure that I know exactly what is stitched across my butt.”

Astarion laughed nervously and backed away, feeling that there is very little he could say in his defense. Perhaps if he got away from you for a bit and gave you time to calm down, you would both laugh about it in a day or two. One could hope. Without breaking eye contact, he felt for the doorhandle, but it wouldn’t budge.

Shit. Arcane lock on the door. Apparently, he was in very hot water and this conversation was happening.

“Let’s have a look at what do we have here, hm?” you spoke with a smile, humming as you selected a delicate, pretty blue pair.

“Do sit,” you said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Astarion swallowed nervously and reluctantly did as he was told, sitting on the opposite side of the bed with a pout. He knew this whole relationship idea was bad news from the very beginning.

“Cheeky pup,” you read without looking at him.

“You have to admit, darling, it’s not that bad-”

“If you can read this, I’m going to kill you,” you went on, picking a silk pair next.

“Well, I suppose that it is open to interpretation.”

“If found, return to Astarion,” you snapped your head in his direction.

“Well,” he gave a nervous laugh, “you do have a tendency to get into scrapes. And this way you-”

“The one that got lucky,” you lifted your eyebrows.

Ah, yes. He didn’t have anything to say in his defense here.

“Sucked dry.”

Astarion did some mental gymnastics as he tried to come up for some justifiable excuse to his actions.

“It’s not going to spank itself.”

Your honor, he had nothing.

“Best meal,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, not sure which one of these you found the most ridiculous.

“And, of course, there is still the pair that I’m wearing now. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was your favourite,” you crossed your arms and gave him a hard look. Astarion tried to seem visibly chastened, like a man ready to repent. You didn’t fall for it. You saw the way his lips twitched as he tried to fight back a smile.

“Do you know how stupid I felt when Shadowheart asked me why I just took what you said at face value? I wouldn't mind it if it was us having an in-joke, although some of these are just terrible, but why did you lie? Was it to laugh at my expense?” You threw the scrap of fabric at his chest, Astarion catching it with a quick, smooth movement.

“No, nothing like that!” he assured you passionately, hating that he made you feel this way. “It’s more of a- I don’t know,” Astarion groaned and ran his hand through his curls, not really sure how to explain what he was thinking at the time. Perhaps he wasn’t really thinking at all.

“I suppose I’m still getting used to- to whatever this is,” he admitted with some reluctance, looking down at his lap. “To having someone to share my thoughts with. To not being punished for stepping out of line. This whole being myself thing… It’s new.”

Your eyes locked with his as he looked up at you. Astarion could be a very believable liar, but he did have his tells. Such as playing with his fingers when he got nervous, worried or a little too vulnerable.

In spite of still being annoyed, you hated seeing him looking this dejected.

“Oh hells, I can’t stay mad at you when you pull out those eyes,” you smacked his arm.

“I know, my sweet,” he took your hand into his, placing a kiss onto the underside of your wrist, his tongue darting out to give it a quick lick.

“But this was so childish!” you tried to keep your voice steady as he kissed his way up your arm. That was cheating. He knew what made you weak at the knees a little too well and was not playing fair.

“I know, punish me as you see fit,” he pulled you closer until you all but fell into him. “I will accept my fate without a word of complaint.”

“Without complaint? Now that would be something to see,” you chortled, pushing him away as you sensed that he was about to pounce.

You were not really angry. Just exasperated and annoyed at having to constantly figure him out. But now that Astarion gave you an explanation, however limited and disjointed, you were not really sure what to do. Perhaps you could have a little fun, though.

You plucked ‘the lucky one’ pair off the bed and waved it in front of his face with a grin.

“Put these on?”

“My love, this is a punishment. Say it with more conviction, more authority,” he growled and gripped your thigh tightly.

“Now,” you commanded, eyes flashing, chin lifted defiantly.

“Of course, my lady. Right away,” he gave you a shallow bow, making quick work of his clothes and then shimmying out of his underwear. You looking away with a blush was met with a self-satisfied chuckle. Astarion still delighted in the fact that even after all the times you were intimate, he still had the ability to fluster you with little effort.

“And you have to spend the whole evening in these,” you reminded him as he put his clothes back on.

“Hardly a punishment for me. It is you who will have to spend the whole evening imagining me in these. Do try to keep your composure in public. Wouldn’t want to find myself thrown against the wall in an alley and ravished as your hunger trumps reason. Now, allow your humble servant to assist you with your wardrobe, my lady.”

He got your clothes out and lay them on the bed, coaxing you out of your bathrobe and taking his time in dressing you, fingers gliding against skin as he delighted in hearing your breath hitch whenever he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Dearest,” Astarion lifted your chin with his finger, “I hope you didn’t feel the need to strip for Shadowheart to translate what is written on the underwear you are currently wearing.”

“No, I just assumed it was something silly and juvenile. Why?”

“No, nothing,” he answered a little too quickly.

“Astarion, just tell me.”

He took his time folding up your bathrobe and putting it away, not looking at you. And it could be a trick of candlelight, but you could swear that the tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“Mrs. Ancunín,” he mumbled and cleared his throat.

You did not react immediately. And apparently you not saying anything was worse than you rejecting the idea outright.

“I suppose it’s just wishful thinking on my part,” he gave a small, humorless laugh. “We don’t know if we can survive whatever horrors await us in the near future. And I am not exactly the best choice, far from it. There is very little I can offer and-”

You put your fingers on his lips and pecked his cheek, making his eyes fall shut as he savored the feeling.

“I’d love that. Truly. But I think that you are right. The next few weeks are going to be a lot. And if you still feel like asking at some point in the future, though I will love you no matter what you decide, I'm open to having this conversation. ”

He kissed your hand and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, letting up a little when he realised that breathing was a necessity for you.

“Can’t believe that you sort of proposed to me with a message on my butt,” he heard you mumble and laughed.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” he retorted as he heard the door unlock behind him, the spell no longer in place.

“Yes. I guess poor judgement was a prerequisite for entering this relationship?”

“Quite.”

And so the evening went on delightfully, if not quite in the way Astarion expected. You smiled and laughed with your friends. Astarion cheated at cards and won a small fortune, grinning widely as he swept the gold off the table and pocketed it. Occasionally, you saw him hover close by as he tried to listen in on your conversations in a way that would seem inconspicuous if you didn’t constantly catch him staring. From time to time, he frowned and shifted.

“Comfy?” you grinned, catching on to what was happening.

“No, these are terrible! How do you bear it?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Well, they are cute and I like them. And to be fair, they were not made for comfort.”

“Tomorrow we are getting you the ugliest and most comfortable pair of granny panties which I will rip off just as enthusiastically come nighttime as any lacy number.”

You snorted and almost chocked on your wine.

A/N I imagine Astarion reclaiming his autonomy and learning how to be in a relationship is quite a learning curve, seeing that during the 200 years in servitude anything and everything could result in him being punished. The 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky' embroidery on his underwear was such a cheeky way to rebel. Brave too, all things considered. I imagine that it would take a while for Astarion to not hide something from others because hiding has been almost instinctive to him for so long.

Sorry for the long author's note. Hope you enjoyed the story!

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@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

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#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fanfiction #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #augustarion #roguish cat

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painted-flag · 1 month ago

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OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 10: The Art of Potion Making

!!! An important poll regarding the upload schedule for this series can be found here. !!!

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.5k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Potion making is easy, but command over the dark arts is a skill derived from centuries of experience.

Two days came and went of unpacking as much as you could before going to your work and delving into books, notes, experiments, and taking care of patients. In the chaos of everything, there was no time for you to sit down and relax. You woke, ate quickly, unpacked as much as you could before Amara and Liriel came to get you ready for the day, and went about your duties in the healing facilities.

In that time, not much progress was made in your research or Daeron’s. The two of you had hit a wall, which seemed impossible to overcome. It became a topic of tension between you two. Each knew that it was not the other's fault and did not blame them, but the feeling of hopelessness began to wear down on you two.

You were finally granted a moment of reprieve.

The cool breeze of the morning chill flowed through your open windows. Scents of blooming plants filled the space as you broke your fast. You had spent the morning reading the last filled-in pages of your father's journal. It may not have been the best decision, as you struggled to maintain your composure at parts. He would write about his days however a large focus was on you. He went on of how proud he was of you and of the young lady you were becoming. His written words gave you both a sense of comfort and a deep sharp pain in your chest.

Your hand turned to the last entry and you took in the date. It was the day before he left on a trip, the one he vanished on. You sucked in a breath and looked outside, tears brimming your eyes. While your father’s disappearance was devastating, you managed to get used to the pain over the years. Reading his journal seemed to open those cuts you long thought were healed.

Your eyes scanned the delicate ink stains of his writing. His writing had always been a topic of jealousy for you, for it was always neat. He spoke of his upcoming journey. While he originally told you he was heading north, his writing revealed it was not the case. Your brows furrowed as you scanned the writing, certain excerpts reaching out to you.

The southern lake of Rosemagne… is the topic of contention among my fellow researchers because of the… I believe it is a good place to gather samples to…

You scanned the words with a rushed fervour. You did not recognize the lake's name and found yourself leaving the table and moving toward your bookshelf. The chair scraped against the floor. Once you grabbed the book you were looking for, you dashed back and sat down. You flipped to a map of the known lands and scanned the various bodies of water. Your finger dragged across the parchment as you scanned, but you could not find it in your kingdom. A tiny feeling settled in your stomach; a queasy sickness that churned the food you had eaten.

“Please tell me you were not so foolish…” Your voice barely came out, a whisper so imperceptible even you did not know if you actually spoke it.

You began to go over the known lands of the elf kingdom. Far larger than your own, you spent longer scanning the land. To your horror, but also correct assumption, the image of Lake Rosemagne sat just under your fingertip.

Oh, gods…

Your father entered elf territory without permission. His disappearance could only mean a single thing; he was caught and properly dealt with. The cup on your table was hurled at the wall quickly and you began to lose control of your breathing, chest heaving with sobs that threatened to spill. This whole time you held to the belief he was still out there.

Your mind conjured up scenarios where he decided to stay in a place he thought promising to his research. While naive, it was how you coped. There was no way you wished to admit the truth that had been clawing down your throat for years. The thought of him dead, of you being parentless and thus alone and without grounding in this world, was not an option for you.

Your suspicion then turned to Aemond. Surely, he would have known about your father. As king, he would have been notified of any trespassers. There was the very possibility that he may have executed your father himself.

No.

Your brain refused to admit it. He would have told you or perhaps Helaena may have known. You shook your head at that, if Helaena knew she would have informed you immediately after piecing it together. She would never hide a thing like that from you, but Aemond…

Was Aemond’s agreement to Helaena’s proposal of you coming here nothing but a way to lure you in? To finish the job and get rid of all possible people who would have known?

The two of you had just begun to bridge the cavern that separated one another. Assumptions would get you nowhere. Whether or not he had a hand in your father's likely death, this had to be handled with care. There was no proof he had done what your brain jumped to and you would not condemn him until there was evidence. You would play the field as necessary. Not reveal that you know and pretend to be unaware of it all.

The room felt stifling. The walls closed in on you and you needed to get out. You composed yourself and splashed water on your face from the wash basin to get rid of the redness on your skin. You placed your father’s journal under the pillows on your bed to hide it. While not a good spot, you were in no headspace to think of someplace better.

All you cared about was leaving the suffocating room.

The door to the library by your laboratory was a welcoming sight. You believed it was time to shuffle through the shelves again in hopes that you could find something new for your research. A title you may have brushed off in previous visits could stand out and be worth the read.

You pushed open the wood and are greeted with a sight you wished to avoid. Aemond stood beside one of the tables, casually flipping through the pages of a book that had been likely left behind by some visitor. He looked bored as if he had been waiting for something. Alerted by your presence, he turned his head to see you.

“Good morrow, your grace.” You bowed respectfully, but truthfully you wished to run as fast and far as you could. Images of your father flashed across your vision when looking at the king. The speculation of your father’s death conjured up just moments ago pressed down on your chest.

Aemond spoke your name. It was incredible how shamefully you relished in the way it rolled off his tongue. While you stated that you did not hate him, you also did not like him. At the very least, you had begun to think of him positively, but with your discovery that trust was thrown away.

“I was informed of your curiousness regarding dark magic,” Aemond continued. You got nervous as such information could likely have you in dire straits. He picked up another book that was on the table and walked over to you, “This was something I read a few centuries ago. I completely forgot about it until I was browsing my shelves and thought you would need it.”

The way in which he casually threw out that he had read it a few centuries ago came across like a person reminiscing on an event from just a month or two ago. Your heart quickened at the notion that, while he was browsing his personal collection, he stumbled across a book and thought of you. It was a dangerous mode of thinking for you, to go down such a speculative path.

Aemond held out the book and you went to grab it. The tips of your fingers brushed against his and a flurry of heat coursed up through your arm. You almost reflexively dropped the book by the shock you felt.

“Thank you,” You responded once it was in your arms. You held it to your chest, like some kind of shield between you two.

“I was thinking that I could also peruse the shelves here with you. I can translate the ones in other languages.” It was yet another olive branch extended from him, except this time you did not want to meet it. The thought of your whole presence being here as a trap set by him threw you off.

The most dangerous creatures are often beautiful.

You had not remembered where exactly such a phrase was ingrained into you. You had heard it from someone, but their words rang true. It was best for you to put up a wall before it was too late. There was nothing wrong with you and Aemond’s relationship just a few short days ago – barely acknowledging one another.

“I do not need any help, your grace,” You interjected, “Daeron has translators if I need them.”

It may have been a trick of the light or perhaps a misinterpreted thought, but you could have sword a gleam of disappointment flashed across Aemond’s eye. He shuffled almost awkwardly on his feet and moved his hands to be clasped behind him.

He gave you a curt nod, “I shall leave you to it, then.” He moved past you to leave and his scent lingered. Burning wood and parchment undercut by a medley of spices. It was entirely too intoxicating.

The familiar sight of Lyra lying in her bed greeted you as you walked into the sick hall. She had been fiddling with a doll in her lap, stuck in the childlike wonder of imagination. As you approached, she spotted you and a smile made its way on her face.

Lyra spoke your name, “You’re here!”

“I’m here. And how have you been, sweet girl?” You sat on the edge of the bed and made a trained scan of her body, checking the progression of the taint as the purple-black darkness spread on her skin.

“I am fine, other than the fact that I wish to know what is going on outside this hall,” Lyra answered. It was no surprise she wanted to leave. Most patients expressed the same sentiment. Their bedbound lifestyle was suffocating. While they were not contagious, their frail conditions would make any instance of walking painful and could worsen their condition.

“I’m sorry, but you know you cannot leave this bed.” You reasoned.

Lyra nodded and held out the doll. It was small - only slightly bigger than your hand and sizeable enough to fit in a pocket. The doll shared a remarkable resemblance to Lyra. Gold embroidery string replicated her hair and a small sewn outfit adorned the doll.

“Could you take Lady with you? It does not matter what adventure she goes on, I just want her to see outside this hall.” Lyra asked you. Your hands reached out to take the doll and made sure to handle it with extra care.

“I will take her on many adventures.” You promised. While you gave her a wide smile, your inner self was in turmoil. It ached at the sadness of her situation, something that many others were suffering through. You looked around the room and saw Daeron walking in from one of the balconies.

You leaned over to tuck Lyra in, “I have something I need to discuss with Daeron. Get some rest, sweet girl.” Lyra nodded at your words and closed her eyes to go to sleep. You tucked the doll gently in one of your dress pockets and got up to stop Daeron as he moved down the centre aisle.

Daeron greeted you before his face went still, “How serious is it?”

“Pardon?” You responded.

“You get this look on your face when you are going to talk about something serious.” Daeron raised one eyebrow, “Am I correct?”

You grabbed his arm and started to pull him in the direction of the laboratory. You proposed many days ago the option of using dark magic against the taint off of the basis of your poison hypothesis. He promised he would think about it and you gave him space to do so, but now you were more anxious than ever for a response. However, you could not bring it up in a space full of other witnesses.

Once in the safety of the laboratory, you moved to the book you had used for this discovery and pulled out the mortua terra flower samples as well. You had already gathered all of the other ingredients that made up your old formula – the one with the most success.

Daeron looked back and forth between you and the table, “And this is?”

“My proposal,” You told him, “I gathered the flowers in this book. I am ready, but are you?”

He kept his gaze on the jar of flowers in front of him and rested his hands on his waist, “Dark magic is something that marks your soul. I cannot, with consciousness, allow you to do this alone.”

You moved your mouth to speak, but Daeron held his hand out to stop you, “You do not need to pretend you wouldn’t have gone and done it yourself regardless of my decision.” There was something almost comical in the way he could easily read you and you wondered if the other elves could do that as well.

Daeron went about organizing the ingredients and prepping everything to work. You followed in his steps, cutting and juicing the ingredients while he spoke, “There are things such as light and dark plants. They are incompatible in mixtures together, but each serves well on their own. Light plants are easy to manipulate. Those flowers you collected are dark, so working with them requires extra preparation steps.”

“And I am guessing those steps are difficult,” You interjected. Daeron picked up a single mortua terra flower and inspected it.

“Yes,” He answered, “We need blood to leech out its magical properties.”

You paused your movements and the metal stirrer halted but the liquid inside the pot continued to swirl, “Blood?”

“The blood is just a grounding force.” He lit a small fire under two potting zones and poured the liquid from your pot into them. “I am curious to see the difference between human blood and elf blood.”

“But if we just need blood to activate it, what makes it dark magic?” You questioned him. Daeron turned and dragged two comfy chairs across the stone floor to be placed near the table. He adjusted the pillows.

“The blood is a connection to you and your soul. The more potent it is, the more energy it takes from you. That is the risk with dark magic, it sucks your energy and your soul the more you do it. However, the more you do it, you eventually cannot stop. It becomes addicting.” Daeron then unsheathed a dagger that was strapped to his waist. The metal glimmered in the candlelight.

He picked up one of the flowers and dropped it into one of the pots. Once it sank into the simmering mixture, he held his hand out and slowly cut a line on his palm. Beads of blood pooled to the surface and dripped into the pot. His brows furrowed as he winced. Daeron cleaned the blade in a washpot that was on the table. He then held it out to you.

“Your skin must make contact with the flower. Drop it in, wait a few seconds, and then cut.” You took the blade from him and a small wave of reluctance came over you. This is what you wanted, but it was still terrifying.

You followed the steps carefully. Afterwards, Daeron gestured to the chairs, “Sit down. The longer it brews, the more energy will be drained. We will be here all night.”

The two of you sat in the chairs that were placed next to one another and listened to the bubbling of the liquid. Silence enveloped the two of you. As predicted, drowsiness settled over you. It was not intense, but began to creep up on you. Daeron did not look as affected and you assumed that largely had to do with your races; elves were stronger than humans.

To occupy yourself, you decided to speak, “Why is your brother the way he is?”

“I do not even know where to begin with Aegon. He-”

“Not Aegon,” You interrupted, “King Aemond. Why is he…” You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. One moment, Aemond is holding a sword to your throat and the next he is offering you a book and help. It was incredibly dizzying. It made you feel mad. Aemond’s attitude threw you off, but the shreds of kindness that extended your way erupted a flurry in your stomach and burning in your veins.

Daeron sighed, “He is guarded. Some of the things he has gone through made him-”

“Cruel?” You finished his sentence.

He shook his head in denial and adjusted his posture in the chair, “As I said before, everything my brother did was to protect his people.”

You waited a few moments before responding, “I’ve met your family, all of you are incredibly kind. I’ve heard the stories of what he did during the Great War. Why is he so different?”

“Most of the stories about him you humans tell are exaggerated.” Daeron stretched his legs out, some drowsiness already starting to come over him.

“So he does not drink the blood of his enemies?” You asked.

“No.” Was Daeron’s quick response.

You decided to go through all of the stories you could remember, “Hangs men up by their balls? Feeds dead children to their parents? Leaves field of impaled men as a warning?”

“No.”

“He doesn’t set fields and towns on fire? Raid strongholds that had already surrendered, killing all the men inside?” Your tone moved to a more teasing manner.

Instead of answering, Daeron got quiet. His silence was a confirmation and you sunk further into your chair. You could, if you tried hard enough, picture it in your head. Aemond, standing in a blazing field, bodies littered around, and the screams of humans being all that could be heard. You cringed at that and felt an overpowering feeling of guilt for ever allowing yourself to be entranced by him.

In your state of exhaustion, you leaned your head on Daeron’s shoulder. He rested his cheek against the top of your head and the two of you stared at the brewing pots. There was one last question that burned at you, one you had asked Aemond but received no response.

“What does rūklon mean?” Your pronunciation had not gotten better, but the point was still made.

You could feel Daeron adjust his head slightly, “Why?”

“I just…” You paused and wondered if you should tell him that Aemond referred to you by that word to Helaena, but decided against it for fear it might be bad, “I heard it in passing and wondered.”

“Well, it could refer to a blooming plant, but more often it just means flower,” Daeron answered. Helaena’s voice – mimicking Aemond’s words – echoed through your head.

That stupid little rūklon risking her life…

Little flower…

Was it a connection to the fact that you wore the azure perfume that reminded him of his childhood? That may have charged extra anger towards you. You highly doubted, out of all possible reasons behind it, that Aemond meant it as some kind of nickname. Daeron’s confirmation of Aemond’s cruelty just moments ago came back to you.

Some weird part of you felt the need to justify his actions. They were at war and he was their king. He had pressure over his shoulders like no other to keep his people safe. Aemond had to make decisions, hard ones, for the continuation of his kingdom. Quickly after that thought came more guilt. You felt cruel yourself for trying to find a likely reason behind his actions – to somehow justify the wholesale slaughter of your own kind.

Perhaps, if you were lucky one day, you could hear Aemond’s side.

Daeron was the one to break the silence instead of you, “I love my siblings, I truly do. Helaena is my closest friend and I am grateful to have her as a sister. But… I’ve always wanted a little sister. I know it hasn’t been a while since we’ve met, but I think of you as one.”

You did not know if he was just sharing this with you because he wanted to or if the gradual exhaustion had something to do with his confession. Regardless of the reasoning, his thoughts matched something you had always had.

“I’ve always wanted an older brother.” It was a simple response, but gave Daeron the comforting answer he wanted. He went back to resting his head against yours. In your shared state of comfort, the both of you eased into a dreamless sleep.

You were caught in that haze of sleep and awake. There were no dreams, just an abyss of darkness that wrapped you in warmth. In the distance, a part of your consciousness was creeping forward. It spun into action upon hearing your name being whispered. You felt a light press on your shoulder and came to. Your eyes opened to see Daeron crouched in front of you. He shook your shoulder with care.

Your energy had been regained and you saw the table with the brewing pots to be on a low simmer. It likely had burned through the energy needed and made it so you and Daeron could wake. It was only when you adjusted in your seat that you saw Aemond standing next to the table and watching you with his arms crossed.

“Your grace,” You shot out of the chair, but in doing so made your head spin. You would have tumbled if Daeron did not catch you. One of his hands gripped your right forearm and the other wrapped around your waist with care. You blushed deeply with embarrassment as the flush moved across your cheeks and down your chest.

Aemond observed with a careful eye. You could see his one eye drift down to where Daeron’s arms held you and he pursed his lips. He had likely seen you and Daeron asleep together and wondered what was going on.

“Burning a candle at both ends?” Aemond spoke. It was a weird question coming from him; to tease you about working late. Daeron released you and walked to the table where his brother was.

Daeron gestured to the two simmering pots, “We are starting a new experiment that may likely be promising.” Aemond peered over to look into the pots and hummed. You approached warily and moved to the other side of the table to create distance between you and the two elves.

“They should be ready for testing on samples, your grace.” You spoke. Aemond continued to look at the mixture brewing.

“The flowers she brought back was a stroke of genius,” Daeron praised.

Aemond then looked up at you, his expression unreadable, “The same ones collected from the forest?” His tone bordered on scolding. Any words you could think of got caught in your throat and you nodded.

Daeron sensed a bit of tension and clapped his hands together once, “Well, you should tell him about your hypothesis,” You sent him a look of challenge and he reciprocated with a nervous smile. You did not know why Aemond was being combative. While he was quick to attitude, there was something that must have soured his mood.

You cleared your throat, “Well, some poisons can be used to counteract others. I thought the same could be done to the taint but it only worked temporarily. I thought, perhaps, the taint was not poison but some kind of dark magic. That is why we needed those flowers,”

Aemond opened his crossed arms and clasped his hands behind his back, “Smart.” That seemed to ease the king's annoyance and you were able to breathe.

“I must get going to tend to patients,” Daeron announced. He addressed you and spoke, “Keep watch on the brew.” The prince said his goodbyes and left. You wanted to reach out and tug at the collar of his shirt, drag him from the door, and place him right next to the table. There was an overwhelming urge to curse him out that overcame you. He left you alone with Aemond, knowingly and seemingly acted as though it was funny.

You decided to distract yourself from the tension and moved to start organizing ingredients and other items on the table. The piercing gaze of Aemond’s eye fell like lead on your skin.

“The two of you have gotten close,” Aemond uttered. You continued with your task, though you could still see him in the corner of your vision. The table between you two did not feel like enough room, yet at the same time, a part of you wished it was not there.

“Well, the prince has been incredibly helpful in teaching me-”

“I would advise against engaging in anything further.” He interrupted, “You best understand that elves and humans do not mix.”

Your brows furrowed and you ceased your movements. His words took a few thrumming beats of your heart to register. Aemond’s insinuation finally hit you. He believed, upon seeing you and Daeron asleep against one another, that feelings were beginning to bloom. You understood why he was suddenly so sour.

You were a human and the slightest notion of you so much as coupling with an elf must have been what angered him. He expressed his reservations about you being less because of your race in the past. It had angered him even further that he thought you were not just trying to go after an elf, but a member of the royal family no less. He barely thought you were good enough to consider a friend.

“Oh, no-” You tried to interject and clarify, but Aemond interrupted again.

“Best get back to work.” He gave you an uncomfortable smile as if hiding a tinge of pain and quickly exited the room. You were left alone in the laboratory. The bubbling of the pots became a background noise as the thrumming of your heart took over. You did not know why it was beating so quickly. At no point in that exchange did you feel scared or hunted, yet your heartbeat betrayed you. A heat had returned to your face and you shook your heat in an attempt to ground yourself.

You moved to stir the two pots all while trying to ease the unknown feelings budding in your chest.

Chapter 11: A New Ally Preview

His eyes narrowed and you could tell his temper had flared. He then stood chest to chest with you and raised his arm. You stood with your shoulders straight, willing to take whatever he threw at you. Cole would not have you act out in violence towards him. Despite having made incredible progress here, your record was not entirely clean since your run into the woods. If you chose to attack an elf – especially a council member – no amount of advocacy on Helaena’s, Daeron’s or even Aegon’s account would save you from harsh punishment.

As Cole narrowed in to strike you, a voice interrupted, “I hope I am gravely mistaken for what I am witnessing.”

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

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#hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #dark elf #elf #aemond one eye #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond fic

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 months ago

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Poly!Dale Acton + Wayne Jackson x Reader || Excerpt

Plot: Its the middle of summer, its hot as hell, and Norman is Not Putting Up with you and Wayne acting like hopeless pervs when Dale takes off his shirt. He's just not putting up with it.

Warnings: Thirstiness 😂😅 Unedited.

Tagging: @masqueradeball @obscureother and @slxsherwriter

Your eyes double in size the moment that Dale sheds his usual white shirt outside in the sunshine, and you know you should look away- You. Should. Look. Away! You. Should. Be. Normal. About. This! He's your boyfriend. - but you cant. "Oh- "

Next to you in the air conditioned kitchen, suffering equally from both the hot weather and now Dale- Wayne clears his throat. Doesn't bother to conceal the half-grin on his face.

... Not until Norman notices the pair of you, at least. "For shits sake you two."

" -Uhhh... " When you quickly manage to tear your eyes off of Dale, you look to Wayne for help with alarmed eyes and an embarrassed and awkward half up-turned grimace. He shrugs back; equally Caught. After half a second, you mutually and silently decide to pretend you were Not, in fact, Staring. Mhm. 'Casually', you prop your elbow up on his shoulder and flash Norman what you hope is a cool, innocent grin. Easy breezy. "... What, Norm??" act Dumb, act Dumb, act Dumb- "W- what's up? Hm?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah. What?? Y- you look a little warm. Y'need a popsicle?" Immediately you give Wayne a glare, knowing exactly what he's doing. Don't you dare leave me- "I'll getcha one. Y'like purple? I'll- I'll getcha purple."

He slips away from you and reaches safety in the freezer for a few moments, like a c o w a r d, while you set your hands so politely in your lap and shrug at Norman still looking Pointedly at you. "... um. Wh- watcha looking at, Norman?"

Norman doesn't miss a beat. "Could ask you the same thing."

" -There ya go." Thank god Wayne's back- and he hands you a red popsicle after forcing the purple one upon Norman. you take yours gratefully, happy to have a distraction (And something cool 😭 Its so hot today 😭); unwrapping it quickly and shoving it in your mouth so you don't say anything else while he sits back down next to you.

... unfortunately Wayne doesn't have a solution for your wandering eyes. When your eyes wander against your will back outside to the front lawn, where Dale's doing some weeding, Norman gives a heavy sigh, and gets up. "Its too hot for this shit. I'm gonna take a shower. You two behave."

"Em. Always?" Wayne agrees, making you have to contain a laugh.

After Norman's gone up the stairs, you give Wayne a sneaky look. "... Should we go out and say hey?"

"Yeah, we should."

#this turned out cuter then i intended but UHHHHH i dont mind XD #Dale Acton x Reader #Dale Acton #Wayne Jackson x Reader #Wayne Jackson #Dale Robert Acton #Wayne Anthony Jackson #Good Day For It 2011 #Excerpt

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chibinasuu · 2 months ago

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Happy Working Song | Brook & Reader

Part of the Thousand Sunny Slice-of-Life Series

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

Summary: It’s cleaning day onboard the Thousand Sunny, and Brook knows more than anyone that working is always more fun with a little bit of music. Word count: 1.1k Tags: one-shot, domestic bliss onboard the sunny, platonic straw hat pirates x reader, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, i swear this was supposed to be pure fluff but it took a bit of an emotional turn at the end (sorry but brook's backstory lives rent-free in my head) Disclaimer: this fic contains excerpts of "Binks' Sake" taken verbatim from the Funimation dub

The Thousand Sunny sailed alone through the waters. No other ship, nor islands, were visible in any direction as far as the eyes could see.

The ship was far from lonely, though. Its inhabitants, while small in number, never failed to fill up the space with endless chatter and laughter.

Another constant onboard the Thousand Sunny was music.

From sweet serenades to jaunty sea shanties, the Straw Hats’ very own musician was never out of tunes to play or songs to sing. The melodies from Brook’s violin, or sometimes electric guitar, acted almost like a soundtrack for your day-to-day lives onboard the Sunny. Hence, it was not unusual that a lively tune was the first thing you heard when you opened your eyes this morning.

The violin’s song accompanied you as you brushed your teeth, washed your face, and changed out of your sleepwear. Your crewmates were just starting to stir from their sleep when you stepped out of the room. Brook immediately noticed you and shouted out his good morning, his bony fingers not once faltering in their dance upon the strings of the instrument.

You returned his greetings as you sat on one of the swings on the lawn deck. You closed your eyes, swaying slowly while enjoying the wind on your face and the sweet violin in your ears.

A News Coo’s arrival broke you out of your trance, and you put a coin in its little pouch in exchange for a newspaper. Your eyes had barely scanned the front page headline when Sanji poked his head out of the kitchen and announced that breakfast was ready.

Brook ended his performance with a flourish, and you clapped appreciatively as he took a curt bow.

He came by you and offered an arm, “Shall we go to breakfast?”

You nodded and linked your arm with his skeletal one – the feeling strange, but not unusual.

Breakfast at the Thousand Sunny was always full of life. You never get tired of discussing the morning paper with Robin and Jinbe while enjoying Sanji’s hearty offerings, or hearing the crew’s raucous laughter as Zoro desperately protects his plate of food from Luffy’s sneaky arms. Your captain’s huge appetite also meant that breakfast, or any meal really, was always a quick affair for the Straw Hats.

“Thanks for the meal, Sanji!” Luffy shouted as he moved to get up, but he was stopped by Nami’s palm on his head, forcing him to sit back down on his chair.

“Now, wait a minute, Luffy!” Nami scolded him, “Did you already forget what I told you yesterday?”

“No…” Luffy answered with a pout, his eyes wandering everywhere but to meet Nami’s.

“You suck at lying!” Nami sighed, “I told you we’ll be cleaning Sunny after breakfast.”

Cleaning day at the Thousand Sunny doesn’t come by as often as it should, on account of all the troubles that always seem to follow the crew whenever they go. But when the waters are calm with no pursuing ships in sight, the crew would dedicate an entire day to properly look after their home.

Once Nami finished listing off the crew’s chores, all of the Straw Hats rose from the table and got ready to work.

Sanji was tasked with deep cleaning the kitchen and the pantry, whilst Nami was in charge of the baths. Luffy was swinging around like a monkey high up upon the masts, wiping the sails clean from salt and grime, and disposing of any debris caught in the riggings. Jinbe had dived from the side of the ship and was working underwater to rid the ship’s hull of barnacles.

You and Brook, meanwhile, took up the job of swabbing the decks. Brook scrubbed the wooden deck with a brush, and you followed with a mop and a bucket of fresh water.

The sun slowly crept up higher into the sky as you worked, the heat becoming more intense by the hour. By noon, you were drenched in sweat and were beginning to feel the effects of your labor.

“Are you feeling quite alright?” Brook asked, “It is remarkably hot today, isn’t it?”

“I’m okay, thanks!” You told him, fanning your face with your hand in a desperate effort to find some relief from the heat, “Just need a little break, maybe.”

Brook handed you a small towel, which you took gratefully and used to wipe the sweat off your forehead. You draped the towel around your neck and leaned against the railing to take a breather. Brook (literally) rested his bones beside you.

“My old crew,” Brook began, breaking the silence. His voice was tinged with a forlornness you couldn’t even dare try to comprehend, “They used to whistle all the time while swabbing the decks. Laboon loved it — he used to jump and swim around, circling the ship as if dancing to the music.”

Brook then suggested, “Perhaps a jolly little tune would also lift our spirits?”

He paused dramatically, before following up with a cheerful voice, “Ah, but I’m a skeleton so I don’t have lips to whistle, yo ho ho ho!”

You chuckled, more out of amusement at his antics rather than actually finding the joke funny, then proposed, “How about a song to sing then?”

“That is a wonderful idea,” Brook said as he took his long-handled brush and held it before him like a stand microphone.

Brook took a deep breath and started his solo. The opening bars of his favorite song filled the air like a cool breeze amid the heat, “Yo ho ho ho~ Yo ho ho ho~”

He gestured for you to take part in the song, and you obeyed, shy and hesitant at first, but gradually gaining confidence after a few notes.

“Gather up all of the crew, it's time to ship out Binks' brew! Sea wind blows, to where, who knows? The waves will be our guide!”

Your voices rang out in harmony, as you picked up your mop again and started moving it across the deck to the vibrant rhythm of the song.

Luffy was the first to notice your little duet. His loud voice echoed from the top of the mast, joining in to make a trio.

“O'er across the ocean's tide, rays of sunshine far and wide!”

Franky, who was mowing the grass of the Sunny’s central deck, turned the trio into a quartet, “Birds they sing, of cheerful things, in circles passing by!”

And so, one by one, the rest of Straw Hats picked up the song as they worked on their respective tasks. Colorful voices resonated from the crew’s various stations all over the Sunny, filling up the ship with the joyful melody.

It was slightly out of tune, slightly out of tempo, and obnoxiously loud – but Brook couldn’t ask for a better chorus.

a/n: man, i love brook. and i just really love the idea of him being surrounded by a loving crew and having someone sing along to his music again after all that time :')

Find the other parts with the rest of the Straw Hats here

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irb-pascalito-99 · 9 months ago

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Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

To read more visit a03

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agathasstrap · 1 month ago

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Reader x Agatha Harkness ; Stealing You Away From Your Girlfriend

no excerpt from this one because i'm not sure if i'm writing it yet

Fic Details; You are in a relationship with a woman who doesn't pay attention to you. Agatha is your friend, you and Agatha see one another a lot, spend time together frequently, and usually you'll stay at her house if you're having issues with your partner. Agatha wants you, and her longing for you only gets stronger every day. You feel a pull to her, something attracts you to her presence. One night, when the two of you are at her house drinking wine, your girlfriend texts you that you can't see Agatha anymore. You, upset, rant about how she's too controlling and is always trying to make it seem like someone is trying to steal you away when they aren't. Agatha consoles you, takes you to bed, and being drunk, can't help herself from kissing you. You avoid her for weeks, mostly because the kiss felt so good, so right. When your mutual friend gets married, you go to her reception, and like you thought, Agatha was there. You didn't plan on speaking to her, even though you wanted to so badly. About an hour in, they're inviting couples up to the dance floor for a slow song. You search for your partner, but they're no where to be found. The only person you see is her, agatha. You knew you should've just sat back down, but you didn't. You danced with her, for what felt like eternity, you were held by her arms and cradled. Whilst everyone else is distracted by the bride and groom, she grabs you by the wrist and pulls you aside. She confesses everything to you, about how desperate she is for you. You let your desire take control, and when she pins you against the wall and starts leaving sloppy kisses on your lips, neck, and collarbone, you don't object. Everything about it was wrong, but simultaneously, nothing was. Your girlfriend yelled for you while Agatha was all over you, and you decided to follow your heart. That night, you went home with her. Maybe it was the alcohol, at least you could've blamed the alcohol for that night. When your girlfriend asks you the next day where you were, you tell her you must've passed out in a room at the venue, and your newly wed friend must've brought you home. She buys the lie. A week later, your partner takes you on a date, one which Agatha is invited to. Your girlfriend explains how she felt bad for separating you two; saying she noticed that your mood had changed. It was a mistake to sit by her, especially as Agatha used her magic to do things to you.

More Details; Fic will be multi chapter if made, probably around 8 chapters? WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING! There will be smut, a lot of it, and it will involve cheating, a lot of that.

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drvscarlett · 2 months ago

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About You Pt 19

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: and i think its a good time to reread the series because we have some parts that is a hint to the previous chapters. its all connected! i hope you all enjoy!!!

About You Series

2015, Albert Park

Today marks the first race that he would do for Scuderia Ferrari, the dream team of most drivers. From the entrance, there were plenty of Tifosis with their banner and red ensemble waiting for him. Sebastian was used to having fans back in his Red Bull and Toro Rosso days but the energy of Ferrari fans is on a whole another level. People of all ages with different speaking languages calls out his name with something in hand for him to sign with.

“Bring the championship back to Ferrari”

“We are with you Sebastian!”

“Grazie Sebastian, have a good season!”

The words of encouragement being passed by people is something that brings a smile on his face. It was uplifting to hear that people still believed in him despite losing the championship last year. He feels extremely motivated to go to the car.

When he entered the garage, Kimi, his teammate was sitting there with his usual poker expression. Upon seeing Sebastian, he cracked one of his rare smiles and welcomed Sebastian to the team. The rest of the garage seems to be excited in welcoming Sebastian as well. They buzzed about how excited they all are about the build of the car and the opportunities that this season may grant. It was a good omen for Sebastian.

The practice session won’t start for a few minutes, so he opted to lounge in his driver’s room. The minute that Sebastian opened the room, his eyes zeroed in on the fruit basket of oranges placed on his desk.

An irony that a single fruit can bring back so many memories and could make all happy thoughts disappear from Sebastian. It suddenly reminded him that there was one person that he won’t be seeing around this year.

With a sigh, he picked up the card attached to the basket.

Congratulations Sebastian Vettel for being in Scuderia Ferrari. Have a great season ahead.

He smiles thoughtfully with the message. Flipping the card he tried to find who have sent it but it seems unsigned.

‘Can this be from her?’ he couldn’t help but think about it. He believed that he never mentioned it in any of his interviews that this was pre-race ritual goodluck for him. His thoughts couldn’t help but drift to her.

It has been months since he has seen her. There were also no news about her like she disappeared out of thin air, like she never even existed. He just wanted to know how is she doing. Is she doing better now? Can she walk now?

The heavy weight of his feelings had him sitting in silence.

“Seb..”Kimi knocked and entered the room “Free practice is starting in a few and they wanted me to call you”

The Finn was often referred as someone who doesn't care but he was secretly good at picking up emotions, “Are you okay?”

Sebastian looks up and tries to shrug it off“I’m good, don’t worry…Just the oranges”

“You allergic?”

“No”Sebastian’s voice falters “Just wondering who might have sent it”

“Probably a fan of yours”Kimi suggested.

“Yeah a fan”

2015, Sepang

Mark Webber’s book Aussie Grit, a chapter excerpt

Honestly, I never gave it much thinking that my sister sacrificed a lot of her time to be with me. She was merely 16 when she decided to accompany me to my racing and be my personal assistant. Instead of going out during the weekends, she spends it with me in strategy rooms or moping about a winless weekend. Now that I see it, I never saw her have time for herself. Everything that she does is because of me.

I wish I could tell you that I have been a good brother. There are several instances where I have been the cause of her heartache. If only I brought down my ego a notch then I wouldn’t miss several years with my baby sister. It was a great thing that she even gave me a chance. We were rekindling and everything. Then, last year was an eyeopener when she got into that accident. We were lucky to have her alive but it paralyzed her legs completely and it’s taking a while for her to recover. I respect my sister’s wishes to step back from anything motorsports related or from the media’s eyes. As her older brother, I do what I have to do to make sure she is getting the privacy that she needs.

She may or may not be reading this book but I hope you know Y/N how loved you are. We will always be waiting here for you. You take your time and your big brother will take care of everything.

2016, Lausitzring

The crowd was roaring as a Schumacher was once more placed on top of the podium. Glee was evident in Mick’s face as he made his way down from the podium. His eyes scanned the crowd and he couldn’t help but widen when he saw Sebastian’s face. He didn’t know that he would be joining to watch the race today.

“SEB!” Mick immediately made a beeline towards the F1 driver “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you race of course” Sebastian grins.

It was something that Sebastian has tried to do as much as he could. He can sense that Mick needed guidance and Michael would have done that if he was awake. So, whenever Sebastian could, he would drop by and watch Mick race. When he couldn’t, he rewatches them and messages him to commend him or recommend some improvements in his techniques.

“Very very proud of you Mick”he added the praise.

Sebastian hugged Mick proudly. Cameras immediately went off to capture the moment. Both of them have been used to the fanfares of the paddock and they could already see the articles that will be posted comparing young Seb and young Mick.

“Excuse me Seb but we have to get Mick for media duties” someone from the PR team interrupted the moment

“You can wait at the driver’s room”Mick instructed

“Look at you so bossy”Sebastian joked

“Viv, don’t let him go anywhere”Mick insisted “Seb, I still have to talk to you and update you about a lot”

Sebastian nodded and headed his way to the driver’s room. He greeted some of the staffs that were lounging there and proceeded to make himself feel at home in Mick’s driver’s room.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as soon as he enters. The driver’s room was pristine and clean. Sebastian was not the most organized driver on the grid when he was Mick’s age. Seeing how every paper has been neatly filed, clothes folded, and pillows arranged—Mick was far better from him than a mile.

There were two tables but his eyes lingered at the table where the drawer was slightly opened. He catches the glint of a photo frame. Curiosity got the best of him, and he opened the drawer a bit more to see the frame. It was a photo of the Schumacher family with him and Y/N. The bright smile on each faces and the way Sebastian held Y/N with Mick in the middle. It was a reminder of the good old days.

“I hope you are okay”Sebastian’s hands hovered at the picture.

She never leaves his mind. He stopped talking about her but she is always in his mind. Sometimes when he takes photos of Mick, he wonders if she is watching his progress. What would she say? Sebastian could bet that if things were a little different then Y/N must have been there in every race that Mick participates in. She would have been there with Sebastian proudly cheering for Mick.

“Hey”Mick was right on time to interrupt him “Media is sometimes even more tiresome than the race”

“You think that’s bad, wait till Formula 1” Sebastian snickers.

He slipped the picture back to the drawer and shut it close to avoid anyone else from snooping. If this was hidden away then Mick might have wanted it private and away from prying eyes. Sebastian respects that. However, Mick didn’t miss it.

“You saw the picture, didn’t you?” Mick asked

“Yeah” a sad smile graced Sebastian’s face “It’s been a while since I saw her and its just a bit nostalgic”

Mick has tried to avoid talking about Y/N as per her wishes and of course because he was unsure about Sebastian’s thoughts. He didn’t have the full picture of what went down but he was not dumb to not know that the ending caused them a lot of pain.

As a witness to their pining, Mick can tell that Sebastian never stopped loving Y/N.

“You miss her” Mick softly says.

Miss was a simple word to use. Sebastian longs to be with her. He has all the connection, power, and money to find her but he always stops himself. She needed time and he is willing to give that to her. However, he really longs for her.

“I do kid, I really do miss her” Sebastian sighs.

“Even after all these years?” Mick wondered

The older driver could only nod. Mick gave Sebastian a comforting hug. Mick wished that he could say the things that he know but he made a promise and his Papa raised him to honor his words. The hug is the only thing he can do right now.

2016, Yas Marina Circuit

The party was on full swing. The drinks are flowing, and Jenson could not hear the endless cheers of congratulations for his retirement. As a former party boy, he used to enjoy these kinds of events but now that he is getting older he seems to be taking a step back. He found himself making his way out of the balcony to get some open air.

“Ditching your own party? That’s so unlike you Jenson”

It seems as if Jenson was not the only one who needed some fresh air as Sebastian was also out there with a beer. The Ferrari driver has a drink in hand as he leans by the balcony.

“I think I entered my party days too early so now I’ll be retiring” Jenson admits.

“Congrats to your retirement man”Sebastian hugs him "Retiring seems to be a trend"

The implication was subtle. For the past few years, people have been retiring. Starting from Mark to Y/N and now its Jenson. He has also heard Nico joking around earlier that maybe he could retire as well now that he has a world championship. Sebastian couldn't help but ask if this is a sign from the heavens that maybe he should as well

"You should try to, there is an appeal to it." Jenson voiced out his thoughts.

Taking a sip from his beer, Sebastian shakes his head in response. He can't retire yet. He still has a passion for racing, its the only thing he has ever known so it would be hard to quit it.

"I think I can still keep up with the young ones"Sebastian replied thoughtfully.

"Wanting to race or do you want Y/N to find you easily if she decides to come back?"

Bold statements from Jenson seems to take the conversation to a different turn. A sober him would have himself controlled with the information that he shares especially with Y/N. But his defenses are down and he knew Sebastian wanted to know how she is.

“She is doing okay, she is better now and healthier. But I don’t think she will return, she is happy with her life now. No media, no stress, just a simple life”

A wave of relief washed over Sebastian's face. It was a sense of comfort for him to know that she is okay. The distance is difficult but he is glad that she is alright and getting better.

"I'm glad to hear that." Sebastian stated "But I’m not asking for her to comeback. I want her to have her time to recover as she said"

Jenson's face contorted to what seems to be an irritation or maybe this was the alcohol making his emotions go haywire.

"Why are you like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"How can you keep waiting and holding on even though it has been years. You should have forgotten her, you should have chosen another one. Why do you stay?"

"Because I love her." Sebastian answer was immediate "I know it is naïve and simple but there is no other way to put it. I love Y/N. I think she tried to push me away before but its always her no matter what. I know I made mistakes and I hurt her and I tried to make it up. Everyday I am trying to do better because I wanted to be a better person that Y/N comes back to"

The air that Sebastian ended his speech with was crackling with tension. Jenson, who seems to be drunk a while ago, suddenly sobered up with the confession. He looks skeptically at Sebastian and he could see how much he means everything he just said.

"You really love her right seb?"

"I do."

"Okay then wait for her." a resignation in Jenson's part "You take care of her okay? She is one of the best person in the world and she deserves the best. I hope you don’t get tired waiting for her."

Jenson has always been careful to keep his feelings away. He knew that this was a losing battle to admit his emotions but maybe people were right to say that alcohol manages to bring out the deepest darkest truth that we have.

In this haze, Sebastian finally dawns a realization. Something that he should have realized years ago. It was so obvious now that Jenson is all drunk and open to read.

“You love her”

“Loved.” Jenson begrudgingly admits “I know at one point I tried shooting my shot because I wanna piss Mark off. But when I got to know her damn man, I was a puddle. I knew it was useless to tell her how I feel when a) I am a playboy that cannot be taken seriously b) you look at her like she hangs the whole universe in front of your eyes and c) because she loves you so so so damn much”

Plenty of times that Jenson wished that he played his cards right. He wished that maybe he could have sabotaged the relationship and show Y/N that he is a better option. However, he doesn't have the heart to do that knowing that it would end up with Y/N being hurt. He also knew that her happiness is with Sebastian and all he ever wanted was to make her happy.

“So you take care of her better now that you know that I’ll always be watching your back. You fail another time and I’m stealing her away” Jenson laughs jokingly

Sebastian nodded in agreement.

2017, Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

"One, two, three, smile!"

Anyone passing by would have thought that its just another tourist family with the mother taking a photo of her daughter and husband. But they couldn't be more wrong.

Four time world champion Sebastian Vettel was hiding under the glasses and the cap. He looks like any other regular dad with his fanny pack and the simple get-up. Margarette was now 3 years old with a crooked smile that makes her a spitting image of her father.

"Papa, where we gonna go today" the little girl couldn't contain her excitement.

"You are so energetic huh" Sebastian picks her up with ease and placed her to sit comfortably on his shoulder "We are off to see this beautiful place"

"What is it?"

"It's a secret but its near" Sebastian assured.

It was one of those trips that Sebastian have planned to spend time time with Margarette. The Spanish Grand Prix was just right around the corner so Sebastian is maximizing his time to spend with his little girl. Hanna couldn't help but feel a sense of joy seeing the two together. Maybe the two of them didn't work out as a couple but she was glad that Sebastian never abandoned Margarette.

"Papa are we going to that big palace?"Margarette asked "Mama look we are going to that palace"

Margarette was pointing to the tall construction of the Sagrada Familia. It made Hanna let out a small wow because she have heard stories about this place before but this was really a breathtaking sight.

"It's not a palace darling, its a wonderful church made as a biggest apology for the city's sin"Hanna explained.

"But Hanna"Sebastian interjected "I think this is the grandest showcase of love because they keep on working on it for years and years for the city's forgiveness and-"

Sebastian stops halfway. The memory of the place from years ago seems to dawn him and why the whole conversation was flowing out as if it was recited for memory.

"You alright Papa?" Margarette wondered.

Sebastian was quick to shrug everything away, "Let's go inside"

The inside was even more beautiful than its facade. Margarette didn't know where to look and she seems to be awestruck anywhere she gaze upon. Sebastian chuckles to himself plagued once more by the memory of a certain someone that he once toured with in this place.

Once again, Sebastian was at the pews muttering a prayer. Even now he doesn't believe but he prays to any mighty Being out there to take care of Y/N. If its possible, make her walk again and help her heal from everything that she has been through. Sebastian was sure there were some stray tears that runs down his cheeks as he prayed.

A tug at his side reminded him that Margarette was there sitting next to him.

"What do you pray for?" she wondered.

"I'm praying for a friend"

"Is that why you cry?"she pressed on more "Is friend sick? Is friend sad?"

Sebastian honestly don't know what to answer with the following questions. How could he say so when he didn't have any form of communications with her.

"I don't know baby if she is okay but I pray she is okay" Sebastian sighs.

Her tiny hands reached for Sebastian as if a way to comfort him. Sebastian held Margarette's hands tightly. Hanna watched the two of them from a pew behind not wanting to interrupt the moment of the two.

"You know they say we can get three wishes when we visit a new church" Sebastian diverts the topic "You should go make your wishes"

"Like a birthday wish? It will come true?"

Sebastian nods and he immediately noticed how she brightened up. She was at that age that she has so many to wish for and she wanted to wish every best thing in the world. However, after a moment she seems to smile.

"I'll wish for your friend to be okay" Margarette declared "And I hope you see friend soon"

"That's very thoughtful of you baby"Sebastian couldn't help but hug his little girl.

Silently, Hanna prayed as well for that wish to come true. She hopes that maybe Y/N could come back for Sebastian. She has been a witness to how much Sebastian waits for her to return and its clear to her now how much he means to her.

2017, Suzuka Circuit

Sebastian Vettel asked about when is he going to settle down.

After being stuck in a panel in the Japanese Grand Prix media day with a group of drivers who have wives and girlfriends, Sebastian Vettel sticks out like a sore thumb in the bunch. He was pressed as to when would he introduce a girlfriend or if he has any plans on settling down. The Ferrari driver joked that the media is just like his mother asking him the same question.

“The thing is, I am happy as I am at the moment. I am not cynical about the idea of love, its just that lets say that love has already found me early. Maybe I am a sappy or romantic but I intend to wait for that love to return to me because it’s the love that I have promised to wait for. Nothing compares to her.” The person behind Sebastian’s definition of love has remained a mystery to the media. It has already been years but Sebastian has not been spotted to bring any partners to the paddock.

When asked about his rumored daughter, Sebastian has admitted that he has a daughter. He refused to deny his daughter but he wanted a quiet and simple life for her. “She is someone I treasure greatly. I intend to keep her away from the media as much as possible, she is one of the best thing that life has given me without asking.” He also mentioned that she is co-parenting with the mom of his daughter as they are great friends and nothing more.

2018, Albert Park

“Exciting season yeah Kimi?” Sebastian was his usual enthusiastic self.

The Finnish driver just shrugged a small yeah as they pass through security. Sebastian was already used with Kimi’s responses and he decided that it balanced out their duo. If Sebastian is the hyperactive one then Kimi is the laidback quiet one.

“Did you hear Jules' godkid is coming to the grid this season?" Kimi wondered.

Sebastian remembered how Jules has been mentoring a young kid before. He has mentioned his name multiple times but Sebastian have forgotten it already.

“Charles?”Kimi offered.

“Charles? The one we saw in 2015?”Sebastian asked

“Yeah that one. He got a seat at Alfa Romeo”Kimi nodded in agreement.

It was crazy how quick time passed by. It was just yesterday that he was racing with Jules and now he will be racing with his godkid. Sebastian could feel his age catching up on him with the new rookies joining the grid.

“We better go check on him and welcome him” Sebastian suggested.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up later”

Sebastian headed to the Alfa Romeo garage which is quite a walk from the Ferrari garage. He stopped by to greet some of the media and the people at the paddock. But he has his eyes set on to welcome the newest rookie to the Formula 1 community.

"I'm looking for Charles Leclerc" Sebastian announced upon reaching their sister team's garage.

The mechanics were quite busy with the preparation for the car so all hands were on deck. It was a good thing that Fred Vasseur immediately caught Sebastian's presence

"I think he is the driver's room with his family" Fred smiled

"Can I interrupt them?"

"Go ahead, I'm sure Charles would love to see you her" he encouraged.

Sebastian made his way towards the room and he could hear the overlapping voices of Charles' family. It brings him back to the first time that he joined Formula 1 and his whole family has also been supportive just like this.

"Charles, be careful. I don't want you hurting yourself in your first race"

"So I can do it in my second?"

"You are a little menace, how do we put up with you?"

The bantering between them seems to keep Sebastian from disturbing them. He knew that he shouldn't be eavesdropping on them and he started to think that maybe he should just greet Charles later during the drivers' parade.

"But Charles listen to Pascale, you come back safe to us"

The chills that went down his spine when he heard that voice was like no other. He knows that person very well but he can't help but think that he may be wrong because its been so long. His heart started to beat loudly, his clammy hands shaking to twist the door knob of the door open. He was out of his wits to even overhear that Charles was getting out of his driver's room.

"Yeah, I'm-" the shock was visible in Charles face and he immediately steps out of his driver's room "Sebastian, I didn't know you were there"

Sebastian wanted to mentally facepalm himself to be caught in such an embarrassing situation.

"I just wanted to welcome you to the grid, kid" Sebastian manages to say

Charles shifts from his spot, "Thanks I guess"

It was obvious that Charles seems uncomfortable with Sebastian around. A normal feeling that a rookie driver would feel in his first season. Sebastian wanted to ease his mind a little.

"Jitters?"

"You could say that" Charles agrees "Maybe I just need a little bit of time with the family before I go out and race"

"You do that. I'll see you later"

"Thanks Sebastian"

As Sebastian retreats, Charles could let out a sigh in relief before entering his driver's room again.

Pascale was there with eyes wide as if asking his son if that's who she think it was outside the door. Lorenzo and Arthur were by the door seemingly anxious with the interaction.

"He's gone now and I think I managed to hold him off" Charles assures everyone "But I still think its really a bad decision for you to be here"

"And miss your first race in Formula 1? Jules would kill me"

Sitting at the corner of the room, Y/N Webber was there. Her face seems to have matured over the years but she still carries the same tricks just like how she is fiddling with her necklace.

All eyes of the Leclerc family was on her because this was the closest call that she have encountered with Sebastian after all these years.

"I have been careful Charlie. I have been to several of Mick's races undetected with him at the attendance. I have been in some Formula 1 races undetected "Y/N soothes "Calm down, okay?"

Charles couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. He didn't want his debut to be the reason for Y/N's pocket of peace to be disturbed. He certainly didn't know that Sebastian was coming to greet him.

"I travelled a long way to watch you race so you better focus, okay?"Y/N encourages.

"Thank you for being here Y/N" Charles softens to a smile.

"But Y/N, aren't you planning to ever meet Sebastian again?" Lorenzo couldn't help but wonder.

The girl in question could just smile.

Honestly speaking, there wasn't an answer in her head at the moment. Hearing his voice just a door away was taking all of her self control to not run outside and hug him. She is scared if he would still welcome her back or would he still love her as much as she loves him even after all these years?

Fiddling with her necklace, the pendant that he has given still sits on the chain together with the ring he once gave her.

#about you series #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel angst #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fluff #f1 fanfic

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