#I really wish I could edit faster | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

levanterhaze · 5 months ago

Text

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader a loooot of sexual tension, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, handjob, a lot of curse words, dirty talk.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[7.4k words ]♡― guys, i'm very grateful that you enjoyed gameboy. thanks to everyone who asked to be on the taglist, to everyone who is deeply involved in the story (just like me). here's another chapter. the third of this journey. don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two]

We'll be dancin' with the shadows in the night The stars are jealous knowing that you’re by my side Feel the adrenaline, acceleration In the course, we’ll be drivin' so rough

The whole campus buzzed like it had just been cast as extras in Magic Mike: College Edition.

Nahee appeared with her basket of brownies, practically vibrating with excitement. You had floated the idea to your theater crew, and, much to your delight, they had all rallied behind it.

“This,” she said, scanning the chaotic crowd, “is the sluttiest thing I’ve ever seen.” She turned to you, her grin devilish. “And I love it.”

The scene was pandemonium. The entire basketball team had ditched their shirts, creating a spectacle that rivaled any reality dating show. Lines formed instantly—three people deep for each boy, regardless of who they were. Men, women, professors who “just happened to be walking by”—no one was immune. A few of the boys even posed for photos, flexing like they were auditioning for a particularly steamy firefighter calendar.

“This has a countdown clock before someone shuts it down,” you said, arms crossed, though you couldn’t stop your lips from twitching.

“Let them try,” Eunji sighed, fanning herself dramatically. “This is art. This is community service. This is visual serotonin.”

“Speaking of the devil…” Nahee tilted her head, gesturing with the slightest nod.

You followed her gaze and immediately wished you hadn’t. Bangchan was front and center, a walking thirst trap without even trying. His arms, all defined muscle and veins, moved in practiced ease as he handed out brownies with that easy smile of his. His shoulders looked like they could carry half the student body, and his wet, glistening torso was proof he either took this way too seriously or knew exactly what he was doing. Either way, the guy was impossible to ignore.

You tilted your head, feigning indifference despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “Guess some people can’t help themselves, huh?”

Nahee smirked, not buying it for a second. “Some people, indeed.”

You hated to admit it, but he was a natural. Flashing easy smiles, throwing in effortless charm, making every girl swoon just enough to dig into their wallets a little faster. All he had on were sweatpants slung low on his hips and his cap turned backward—just unfair, really.

Not that it mattered. You weren’t talking. There was nothing to talk about. And yet, after the kiss, everything had shifted. Bangchan had distanced himself like you were a plague, and for once, he wasn’t even trying to get under your skin.

You stole glances when you thought he wouldn’t notice, hating the way every passing hand seemed to have permission to touch him. He didn’t look at you once. And knowing him, that meant something.

The sun was relentless, making the whole shirtless thing almost justifiable. You, Eunji, Nahee, and Sohee made your rounds across campus, hustling for the theater fund. But let’s be real—nobody cared about the cause.

They wanted six-packs and pretty smiles.

You were so busy pretending not to notice Bangchan’s every move that you almost missed the presence looming beside you.

“Hey,” Mingyu greeted, arms crossed, his signature grin firmly in place. “Got one of those brownies for me?”

“Of course,” you said, grabbing a brownie and passing it to him. He handed you a bill, and the weight of it made you freeze. That wasn’t just a regular bill—it was way too much.

“Uh, I think you might’ve made a mistake…” you started, holding it up.

“No mistake,” he cut in smoothly. “I’m buying the whole basket.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “I’m sorry, what now?” you glanced at the basket, then back at him. “You want to buy all of them?”

“You heard me.” he shrugged, his tone so casual it bordered on infuriating.

Your brow arched instinctively, your internal lie detector pinging. Still, you weren’t about to complain about a sale this good. Slowly, you held the basket out to him, trying to mask your suspicion with a polite smile.

But Mingyu just shook his head, taking a bite of the brownie in his hand. “Keep it,” he said, licking the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t buy them for the brownies.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, your sass kicking in to override your confusion. “Oh, right. I forgot. They pair perfectly with a little showing off.”

He laughed, leaning in slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted a reason to talk to the cutest seller here.”

“You know, flattery works better when you actually take the brownies.”

“I’ve got what I wanted,” he teased, taking another bite.

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes, you couldn’t hide your smirk. A sale was a sale, even if the customer was a little too smooth for his own good.

You stood there, momentarily stunned. Someone had just dropped a ridiculous amount of money on brownies—out of nowhere—and then decided you could keep both the cash and the sweets. Suspicious? Absolutely. But were you going to argue? Not a chance.

With a smug grin, you strolled across the lawn, basket in one hand and Mingyu’s absurdly generous payment in the other. The whole thing felt like an easy win—until a strange heat crawled up your spine, prickling your skin like the sun had suddenly gotten personal.

You turned your head, and there he was. Bangchan. Watching you.

And for the first time all day, he wasn’t smirking. No teasing, no cocky grin—just something sharp in his gaze, something dark curling at the edges.

Bangchan had never been the clingy type. He wasn’t the guy who caught feelings, overanalyzed texts, or lost sleep over someone who didn’t want him back.

Relationships? Fun while they lasted. Breakups? Mutual and drama-free. Ever since college started, he’d embraced the single and thriving lifestyle—no strings, no complications, no mess.

And sure, people talked. About his skills on the court, his grades, his leadership. But mostly, about his other talents. The ones that kept his phone buzzing at ungodly hours, filled with invitations that had nothing to do with basketball.

Bangchan never minded the attention. He never cared—until the only girl he actually wanted looked at him like he was just another name on a list.

Like he was forgettable.

What the hell was he doing wrong? He was a good guy. A loyal friend. A straight-A student. A goddamn basketball prodigy.

So why weren’t you interested? Why were you the only one immune?

He wanted to push, to test your limits, to make you see him the way he saw you. But that wasn’t his style.

He knew when to start and when to stop. And right now? He was dangerously close to crossing that line.

Bangchan wasn’t asking for much. Just a moment—one real, uninterrupted conversation with you. No sharp comebacks, no teasing deflections. Just you, stripped of the armor you wore so well.

But that wasn’t your style, was it? You never made things easy.

It all started when Hyunjin, the group’s reigning drama king, decided to join the theater. Naturally, he demanded a full entourage for moral support, which was how Bangchan ended up in that stuffy auditorium, sitting between Seungmin, Changbin, and Jeongin, watching Hyunjin pour his soul into a song like he was auditioning for Broadway itself.

He was good. Of course, he was good. Velvet-voiced, graceful, with a presence that demanded attention. The second he finished, Bangchan was ready to get up, clap him on the back, and drag him out for celebratory food—

Until you stepped onto the stage.

He didn’t know your name yet. Didn’t know anything about you. But there you were, in knee-high boots and a white dress, angelical, standing under the spotlight like you owned it.

Then, you started to sing. I’ll Be Over You. Soft, rich, and powerful all at once.

And just like that, Bangchan was gone.

He wasn’t used to losing—not in basketball, not in academics, and definitely not when it came to people. So when he finally got close enough to talk to you, he expected… well, something.

Maybe intrigue. Maybe mild annoyance. Fuck, he would’ve taken playful exasperation.

But you? You loathed him.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Any hope of friendship, of even standing on neutral ground, went up in flames. You always had a comeback locked and loaded, always deflected, always avoided his gaze like it might set you on fire.

And maybe it would.

Because that sharp tongue of yours? The way you kept him at arm’s length, like he wasn’t worth a second glance? It only made him want to push harder.

So fine. If you were going to make him fight for every inch, he’d play along.

He just needed to know—was this all just a game to you? Or were you just as afraid of losing as he was?

The bar was buzzing, laughter and conversation mixing with the clink of glasses and the steady thump of music. You were comfortably wedged between Sohee and Eunji, their arms draped around you like you were some rare artifact they had to protect at all costs.

You were tipsy, maybe a little emotional, but mostly just basking in the warmth of the people around you. Tonight wasn’t about stress or overthinking. It was about celebrating a well-earned victory.

"I can't even describe how happy I am, guys," you sighed, raising your glass with a lazy smile. "You are, without a doubt, the best friends a girl could have."

Eunji and Sohee groaned dramatically, tightening their hold on you. "You’re lucky we love you," Eunji grumbled. "And that we’re good at handling your emotional soju phases."

"I mean it," you insisted, half-dramatic, half-serious. "We did it! We have enough to keep the theater running until Mrs. Baek finds a permanent solution."

Your gaze flitted across the table, landing on Seungmin and Hyunjin. "None of this would’ve happened without you."

“We’re a fucking team!” Changbin declared, slamming his hand on the table with the confidence of a man three shots past his limit. "And you know what that means? Another round!"

The table erupted in cheers, and for a moment, everything felt right. Until you felt it. That pull. That heat at the back of your neck, like someone had just flipped a switch.

You knew before you even turned. Bangchan was here.

You refused to acknowledge him. Absolutely not. You were having a great time, and he—well, he was an occupational hazard. A walking, talking disruption to your peace.

"Channie!" Felix called, pulling him further into the group. "Finally decided to show up, huh?"

You still didn’t look. Instead, you took a long sip of your drink and focused on the condensation trailing down your glass, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

But Bangchan had never been one to be ignored.

"You didn’t think I'd come?" his voice slid into the conversation so smoothly it sent a shiver down your spine.

You took your time—because if he was going to show up and be smug about it, you could at least make him wait. Finally, you turned, meeting his eyes head-on. "Didn’t think you’d dare."

He smirked, leaning just a little closer, like he was waiting for you to react. You didn’t.

But your pulse? Yeah, that was another story.

Bangchan leaned back in his seat, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he watched his friends celebrate. He should’ve felt the same rush of excitement, the same weightless joy—but his mind was elsewhere. The relentless pressure of basketball training sat heavy on his chest, and the gnawing anxiety that came with it refused to let go.

And then there was you.

Standing there, effortlessly stunning, laughing like the world had never touched you. Just close enough to see, but never close enough to reach.

When Changbin made his way to the bar for another round, you followed, craving something non-alcoholic to cut through the buzz in your head. He glanced at you as you stepped up beside him.

“Happy?” he asked, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eye.

You grinned, light and unburdened in a way Bangchan hadn’t seen in a while. “Very. Thanks for all the help.”

Changbin shook his head with a smirk. “You should be thanking my boy over there.”

Your brows knitted together as you followed his gaze. Bangchan, mid-laugh, his head thrown back at something Jisung said. Carefree. Unbothered. Completely unaware that your entire world had just tilted on its axis.

“What?”

“He basically forced the team to join the sale,” Changbin said, voice thick with the weight of alcohol and honesty. “Said it was to help a friend.”

Your stomach did something weird—tightened, flipped, something you weren’t prepared for.

The memory hit like a slow-motion replay. Bangchan barged into your dorm, smug as ever, announcing he had dragged the entire basketball team into your little fundraising mess. You had assumed it was for Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe even for some ego boost, a reason to flash that damn smirk of his.

But no. A friend.

“Really?”

Changbin snorted. “What? You think he went out selling brownies half-naked just for fun?”

You forced a laugh, but your smile didn’t quite stick. Something about it��about him—felt different now.

Changbin walked off with his four bottles of soju, leaving you behind, still leaning against the counter, replaying his words in your head. It was almost offensive to think of Bangchan as anything other than his usual self—cocky, overconfident, annoyingly self-assured. Your brain outright rejected the idea that he could be good. That he could do something selfless without expecting anything in return.

And yet, here you were, stuck with the uncomfortable realization that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be.

Letting your guard down was one thing. Admitting you’d been wrong? That was the real battle.

You made your way back to the table, feeling just sober enough to regret this night’s life-altering discoveries. Sliding onto the edge of your seat, you watched as Jisung threw himself into a chair, already deep in the throes of drunken confidence.

“I’m feeling karaoke,” he announced, slurring just a little. “Who’s in?”

One by one, the group rose, fueled by alcohol and poor decision-making. Bangchan stood up last, and as he did, your hand found his arm, barely brushing over the smooth leather of his jacket.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Can we talk?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a second, he just stared, as if trying to decipher whether this was some kind of elaborate prank. Then, he glanced at the others heading toward the karaoke booth and nodded.

“Later,” he murmured. “That okay?”

You swallowed, suddenly unsure why your heartbeat had decided to play double time.

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly. “That’s… yeah. Sure.”

The night had escalated quickly. One minute, everyone was just vibing at Kooler’s, and the next, you were crammed into a karaoke room, neon lights flashing, Sohee absolutely butchering a ballad while Eunji screamed in horror.

The mic passed around until it somehow ended up in your hands.

“Oh, no,” you said immediately. “I don’t sing in public.”

“Ma’am,” Eunji deadpanned. “You’re in the drama club.”

“Yeah, for acting,” you retorted. “Not for embarrassing myself in front of—”

But then the opening notes of Breaking Free started playing, and the room lost it.

“Oh, you have to sing now,” Changbin cackled.

“We’re literally living a High School Musical moment!” Sohee clapped.

Then, the real nightmare happened. Bangchan grabbed the second mic.

The room erupted.

“TROY AND GABRIELLA, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Eunji announced like a sports commentator.

“Nope.” you stood up, but Jisung pushed you back onto the couch.

“You must embrace destiny,” he said solemnly.

Bangchan, ever the performer, smirked at you before dramatically bringing the mic to his lips. “We’re soarin’, flyin’—”

You covered your face with both hands. “Kill me.”

“That’s not the lyrics,” Changbin howled.

The moment Bangchan began to sing, his voice smooth and steady, you felt it—the tiny spark igniting between you, the way his presence pulled you in no matter how hard you tried to resist. His voice wrapped around the lyrics effortlessly, making them sound less like a cheesy high school musical duet and more like something real, something raw.

Then it was your turn.

Bangchan stilled for a moment, eyes widening slightly as you sang your part. He had always known you had a great voice—it was impossible not to, given how much time you spent in the theater club—but hearing you like this, just the two of you, no stage, no rehearsals, just you—it was mesmerizing.

God, you sounded unreal.

His chest tightened at how effortlessly you carried each note, how your voice blended with his in a way that made his skin prickle. You weren’t just singing—you were feeling it, even if you tried to hide behind an indifferent mask. He could see it in the way your body moved slightly to the music, in the way your lips curled at certain lyrics.

And fuck, he felt it too.

As the song picked up, the energy between you both crackled. Your voices melted together in harmony, and the chemistry was undeniable. You tried not to look at him, tried to focus on the screen, but every time you did, Bangchan was already looking at you, that damned smirk still in place.

When the chorus hit, something inside you gave in just a little. The moment was too fun, too infectious, and before you knew it, you were actually enjoying yourself.

You didn’t notice the way Bangchan’s gaze softened.

He saw through you, saw the way you let your guard down, even for just a second. And maybe it was the adrenaline, or the alcohol, or the way your voice wrapped around his in the final harmonized note, but Bangchan couldn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot as you finished the song.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Everyone jumped up like it was the Super Bowl. Eunji was sobbing dramatically into Hyunjin’s shoulder. Changbin was standing on the couch, pointing like an old man watching his grandkids do something historic.

“Troy and Gabriella could never!”

When the song ended, the room was feral.

“That was the single most important moment of my life,” Eunji declared, visibly drunk and happy.

“I think I just saw God,” Felix wheezed.

Meanwhile, you just handed the mic to Eunji, turned to Bangchan, and muttered, “I hate you.”

He leaned in, voice low enough for only you to hear. “Sure you do.”

You’d excused yourself under the guise of needing a breather, but really, you just needed a damn second to exist without someone screaming lyrics in your ear or pulling you into another round of shots. The night was fun, but it was loud, and if you wanted to make it through, you needed a minute to reset.

The balcony was empty, save for the faint scent of nicotine lingering in the air. You took a deep breath, letting the cool breeze settle against your skin, grounding yourself. The city hummed below, distant and detached, and for a second, you just… let yourself be.

Then, before you even opened your eyes, you felt him.

That ridiculously familiar cologne. The one that had been all over you. On his t-shirt. In your space. In your head.

“Is our rockstar already tapped out?”

You turned just in time to see Bangchan leaning back against the railing, watching you with that look.

“A little.” you waved a hand dismissively, but your small smile gave you away.

His was softer, quieter than usual, but still there. Still undeniably him. And the way his eyes swept over you in the dim light? Yeah. You could feel it. The way he noticed things, details, like he was cataloging every inch of you.

It should’ve annoyed you. But tonight? Tonight, it didn’t.

“Heard you wanted to talk to me.”

You raised a brow, suddenly remembering why you had pulled him aside in the first place. “Right. Think I owe you an apology.”

Bangchan’s expression flickered with surprise. “For what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I?” he leaned in slightly, nodding as if urging you to continue. “You should be clearer.”

You exhaled, hating how hard it was to say it. Vulnerability has never been your strong suit.

“Fine.” you glanced down at your boots, gathering your thoughts. “I know you convinced the basketball team to help with the sale. I assumed the worst about you, and that wasn’t fair. So… I’m sorry. You really helped me.”

Silence.

When you looked up, Bangchan was staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. Confused. A little offended. Like that was what you thought needed an apology.

“That’s what you’re apologizing for?”

You blinked, confused. “What else should I apologize for?”

Bangchan let out a dry, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair before whispering a low, exasperated “fuck you.”

Your eyes narrowed. His arms crossed over his chest, the leather of his jacket tightening around his sleeves as he shifted against the ledge.

“What was that?” you demanded.

“Look, I appreciate the apology, really. But that’s not the thing you should be apologizing for.”

Oh, he was so good at pissing you off. Always had been.

“Then be clearer,” you shot back, arms folding tightly over your chest.

“Alright.” Bangchan turned to you fully, gaze locked in, voice steady. Too steady. “Let’s talk about your habit of coming after me and then bolting the second it gets real.”

Your jaw clenched. “I never—”

“For fuck’s sake, be for real. At the party? In my dorm? I’m not saying I didn’t want it—fuck, I wanted it. But so did you. And then you acted like it was a mistake. You run from things.”

His words landed like a punch to the stomach—sharp, direct, impossible to ignore. You blinked hard, fighting the sting behind your eyes, but you had nothing. No witty comeback, no escape route. Just the weight of the truth between you.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you did want this—him. The way he looked at you like he could devour you whole, the way his hands knew exactly where to go, the way your body reacts before your mind could stop it. You wanted it. You wanted him. But wanting didn’t make it easy.

“Why are you mad?”

“Why?” he let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Because it’s fucking frustrating, that’s why. You can’t make up your damn mind.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, but your heart was hammering.

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, voice quieter now, the anger slipping into something else. “Not for me.”

“Why? Because you hate me?” his lips curled, amused despite himself. “Which, by the way, I’d love to hear all those bullshit reasons why.”

“Is that really what matters?” you lifted your chin, defiant.

“So what, you’ve just decided you’re gonna hate me forever?”

“Maybe I will,” you shot back, voice dripping with venom.

Bangchan smirked, stepping in closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering its prey. He leaned against the railing, his body angled toward yours, closing in just enough to make you breathless. "Hate to break it to you, love," his voice was low, dripping with amusement, "but people don’t usually fuck their enemies."

That voice. That damned voice—soft as silk, smooth as sin, and dangerous enough to make your pulse stutter.

Heat coiled in your stomach, spreading like wildfire, your body betraying you instantly. No. You weren’t going to let him win this.

"You’re right," you said, tilting your chin up, feigning nonchalance. "Which is why it’s never happening again."

A bold-faced lie. One you both saw through immediately. Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, your mind was already spinning with memories—his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies fit together like a perfect crime.

Bangchan chuckled, dark and knowing. He moved closer, close enough that you could feel his breath graze your lips, your senses drowning in him—the scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off his skin, the sheer audacity in his gaze.

"That’s a shame," he murmured, eyes flicking to your lips, "because we’ve got insane bed chem."

You swallowed hard. You didn’t know what was doing you in—the teasing rasp of his voice, the heat rolling off his body, the way his muscles flexed under that stupidly fitted jacket, or just him. All of him.

And just like that, your heart slammed against your ribs, your resolve threatening to crumble.

Bangchan lingered, watching—waiting. He wanted to see it happen, the exact moment your carefully built walls cracked. His pulse pounded, anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. But you held firm, clinging desperately to whatever thread of self-control you had left.

His smirk deepened, infuriatingly cocky. "I’m heading out," he murmured, eyes never leaving yours. Then, with a knowing glance, he added, "If you ever change your mind… you know where to find me."

And just like that, he turned on his heel, walking away without so much as a second look, leaving you standing there—heart racing, head spinning, and a heat pooling low in your stomach that you really didn’t want to acknowledge.

The night stretched on, loud and chaotic, but undeniably fun. By the time the drinks had blurred everyone’s ability to string together a coherent sentence, you decided to call it.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee barely made it to their rooms before collapsing face-first onto their beds, too drunk to even bother kicking off their shoes.

You wished you could do the same. But no—your mind had other plans.

You tossed. You turned. You put on some soft music, hoping it would lull you into sleep. It didn’t. Instead, every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was him.

The way he leaned in earlier, the heat rolling off him like an invitation. The way his muscles flexed beneath his jacket. The way his voice dropped, teasing, tempting, knowing.

You exhaled sharply, fingers curling into the sheets. It was ridiculous. Annoying. Infuriating.

You rolled onto your side, desperate for a distraction—anything—when your gaze landed on something draped over your study chair.

A black T-shirt. His.

The idea bloomed in your mind just as quickly as the heat spread between your thighs.

Pathetic. That’s what this was. That’s what you were.

Still, you got up, grabbing the shirt in your hands. His scent clung to the fabric—clean, musky, him. Just the faintest trace of it had your stomach twisting, the warmth inside you flickering into something dangerously close to need.

Before you could think better of it, you were pulling a hoodie over your flimsy excuse of a pajama shirt and slipping out the door.

It was past midnight. The campus was practically a ghost town at this hour, which was both a blessing and a curse. No one witnessed this humiliating trek across the quad. No one to stop you, either.

Your steps quickened as you reached his building, as if slowing down would somehow bring back your sanity.

Not happening. Not when your knuckles were already rapping against the door. Not when your breath was unsteady, your chest rising and falling too fast. Not when anticipation was burning through your veins, leaving you lightheaded and restless.

Shuffling sounds came from the other side. The lock clicked.

And then—him.

Bangchan stood in the doorway, his torso bare, sweatpants hanging sinfully low on his hips. His skin gleamed under the dim hallway light, muscles shifting as he leaned against the doorframe.

One look at you—hoodie, messy hair, his damn shirt clenched in your fingers—and something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly. His gaze darkened.

He already knew.

Bangchan was deep in sleep when the knocks came. His brows furrowed, his face crumpled with exhaustion as he groggily sat up, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

He hadn't been expecting anyone. But when he swung open the door, there you were. Hoodie slightly oversized, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with something unspoken.

You lifted the black shirt in your hands, your breath still uneven. “You forgot this.”

Bangchan’s gaze dropped to the fabric, then back to you, slow and deliberate.

“That’s all?” his voice was rough with sleep, but there was something sharper beneath it.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No.”

That was all he needed.

The shirt was snatched from your grip and tossed somewhere behind him. His free hand was already at your waist, pulling you inside with a force that had your pulse skyrocketing. The door barely had time to click shut before you were on him. Hands in his hair, lips crashing into his, pouring all your frustration and desperation into the kiss.

Bangchan groaned into your mouth, gripping your hips so tight it sent a shiver down your spine. His skin was warm, solid beneath your touch—broad shoulders, the ridges of muscle beneath your fingertips.

And you wanted all of him.

His hands slid up, fingers teasing along the curve of your spine. Your teeth grazed his lower lip, earning a sharp, guttural sound from the back of his throat.

You barely recognized yourself at this point. There was barely any sanity left in your body, and whatever remained was slipping fast.

Somehow, between hectic kisses and hands wandering like they had a mind of their own, you ended up on the sofa. Bangchan sat with his legs spread, his breath heavy, and you straddled his lap, your hands splayed against his firm chest.

His eyes were dark, hooded, watching you like you were something he wanted to devour.

"Are you sure?" the words left his lips, but your body already knew the answer. Your stomach twisted—not with doubt, but with the unbearable anticipation of what was about to happen.

Bangchan opened his mouth, but you pressed two fingers against his plush lips, cutting him off.

"Shhh," you hissed, your voice edged with frustration. Your hips rolled against him, a slow, deliberate drag that had him sucking in a sharp breath. The way he twitched beneath you sent a wicked thrill through your veins.

"You're driving me insane," you confessed, your nails digging into his skin. "You're in my head. That ridiculous face of yours."

Through the haze of want, Bangchan let out a breathless laugh, slowly biting your finger. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

You smirked, dragging your fingers down his jaw. "Shut up. Kiss me."

And he did—like he had been waiting his whole damn life to.

With effortless ease, he shrugged off his sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but that dangerously thin white tank top—one that did absolutely nothing to hide how your body reacted to him. Bangchan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight. Fucking hell. He wanted to devour you. Every inch. Every sound. Every shiver.

His lips crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, his hand curling around the base of your neck as his tongue teased and tangled with yours. He tasted you like he was trying to memorize every second of it, like he never wanted to stop. The heat of him, the way his fingers dug into your waist, how his breath hitched every time you met his urgency—it was intoxicating.

Then his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, down your neck, and suddenly, your body wasn’t yours anymore. Your knees went weak, your breath came in ragged little gasps, and before you could stop yourself, a low, broken moan escaped your lips—right against his ear.

Bangchan groaned. That sound. That fucking sound. He was about to lose his goddamn mind. His hands tightened around your hips, his patience thinning by the second as you shifted against him, rolling your hips just enough to make him ache.

That sound. That fucking sound. Bangchan was about to lose his goddamn mind.

“I want it off,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with need.

His hands twitched against your waist, desperate. He could’ve ripped those pants clean off your body if he wanted to. But you took your sweet, agonizing time peeling them away before settling back onto his lap, now wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of white panties.

He would have torn your pants to shreds right then and there, but you took your time—agonizingly slow as you peeled them away before settling back onto his lap, now clad in nothing but the flimsy white panties that left nothing to his imagination.

And fuck. Bangchan broke.

You looked like a dream, like something too good to be real. Kiss-swollen lips. Hair messy from his hands. Chest rising and falling as you gasped for breath.

You were going to ruin him.

The absence of your pants made you bolder, rolling your hips in slow, teasing waves against his lap. He was already impossibly hard, every grind making it worse—if you kept this up, he was going to lose it before he even got the chance to be inside you. And that was not what he wanted.

But fuck, it felt good. The thick bulge in his sweatpants rubbing against your soaked panties, just barely grazing your clit, sending white-hot sparks shooting through your body. Every movement set off a new wave of heat, of need, of something devastatingly addictive.

“I need to do something,” you whispered against his lips, your breath warm and uneven.

Bangchan still had his eyes closed, savoring every second of this moment, refusing to let it slip away.

“Please.”

Your hands drifted down, fingers ghosting over the outline of his cock through the soft fabric of his sweats, barely touching—but more than enough to make his whole body tense. He gritted his teeth, veins pulsing as your palm pressed just a little harder.

“Fuck…” he rasped, voice hoarse, almost a plea.

You shifted between his legs, fingers toying with the hem of his pants, your nails barely scraping against his skin. His gaze burned into yours, dark with anticipation, completely at your mercy. And when you finally wrapped your hand around him—hot, firm, thick—he let out a shaky, wrecked breath.

A low groan escaped his lips, his head falling back against the couch as you wrapped your hand around him, warmth meeting warmth. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, every nerve in his body set ablaze by your slow, deliberate movements. You weren’t in a hurry—you wanted him to feel this. To lose himself in the way you handled him, the way you made him wait.

"You said I could use my pretty mouth next time," you murmured, feigning innocence, biting your lip just enough to drive him mad.

And then you winked—sweet, angelic, like you weren’t about to completely wreck him.

His breathing stuttered. His hands twitched at his sides, fighting the urge to grab you, to make you do something instead of torturing him like this. “You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, his voice wrecked, eyes rolling shut as pleasure coiled in his stomach.

You only smiled, satisfied with how easily he was unraveling for you. Leaning in, you ghosted your lips over his, not quite kissing him—just close enough for him to chase after the contact. His body burned under yours, every breath he took shaky, labored.

"Like that, baby" he panted, his voice breaking as he let himself go, surrendering to the moment, to you.

To his torment, you picked up the pace, your touch firm, deliberate. His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath your hand as his head fell back against the couch. The heat between you was unbearable, a wildfire consuming every inch of restraint he had left.

His moans came unchecked, rough and unrestrained, completely at your mercy. He let you guide him, surrendering to every agonizing second—until suddenly, it all stopped. The loss of contact was like a snapped tether, leaving him breathless, on edge, undone.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he blinked down at you, wide-eyed, dazed. The way you knelt between his legs, watching him with that look—he swore it could drive him insane.

And then, with agonizing slowness, your lips parted. The moment your mouth met his cock, his whole body tensed, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth. His fingers curled into the couch, muscles drawn tight as you worked him over, your tongue teasing, tormenting, ruining him.

"Look at you," he murmured, smirking like he had the upper hand when, in reality, he was barely holding himself together. "So pretty around my cock" his tongue flicked over his lower lip, his voice rough, almost reverent.

If his goal was to sound composed, he was failing miserably.

You hummed in response, deliberately slow, deliberate in every movement. He cursed under his breath, fingers threading through your hair, not pulling—yet—but holding, like he needed something to keep him grounded.

"If you keep going," his voice was strained now, his thighs tensing beneath your touch, "I—"

You raised an eyebrow. "What, baby?”

His jaw clenched. He was already too far gone to play games, but you weren’t about to make this easy for him.

And then, just as he warned, he shattered. Every muscle in his body locked up, his breath stuttering as he tipped his head back, a curse slipping past his lips like a prayer. You didn’t let up, dragging out every second of his cum until his grip on reality seemed just as unsteady as his grip on you.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his grip on your hair going slack. You pulled back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, before giving him a slow, knowing smile.

By the end of it, he was completely wrecked—chest heaving, eyes hazy, limbs boneless. His vision blurred at the edges, like his body couldn’t decide whether to collapse or beg for more. He knew you were good. Knew the chemistry between you was dangerous. But the way you looked at him—innocent, yet utterly sinful—while taking him so effortlessly? That was his undoing. You weren’t just ruining him.

And yet, you didn’t stop there.

Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, capturing his lips in a kiss so wet, so consuming, it made his head spin all over again. The taste of himself lingered between you, but you never shied away from things like that. Bangchan was great in every way, and if he could make you feel good, you’d damn well return the favor.

"Holy shit, baby," he murmured between kisses, his voice still rough with aftershocks, "you're fucking amazing."

The wicked curve of his lips sent heat straight to your core. He was teasing you, even now, when he could barely string words together.

And God, it only made you want him more.

Every movement between you was deliberate—synchronized, electric, and dripping with consent. Bangchan’s fingers trailed down your trembling thighs, finding the soaked fabric of your panties. He barely touched you, yet a deep shiver ran through him, his cock twitching at the sheer slickness of you.

"Fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, voice thick with hunger.

Then, without warning, he pushed the fabric aside and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing slow, relentless circles.

Your moan was swallowed into the kiss, tangled between tongues and shallow breaths. He was hard again, pressing against your stomach, his body burning with every second of restraint. Bangchan grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer, his free hand teasing and taunting with no predictable rhythm—just continuous, torturous pressure that sent you spiraling.

"I..." you tried to speak, but the words crumbled in your throat, lost in the haze.

Bangchan's dark eyes locked onto your face, studying every microexpression—the way your lips parted, the way your brows knit together, how every tiny twitch exposed just how undone you were.

Then, as if testing the limits of your sanity, he dragged his fingers lower, slipping two deep inside.

You gasped.

The stretch was sinful. Even his fingers were thick, filling you in a way that had you gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Bangchan groaned at the feeling, his patience thinning with every squeeze of your walls around him.

And the worst part? He was just getting started.

He sucked on your lip, bit it, then soothed it with a kiss. "How can you be so fucking tight?" his voice was wrecked, nearly a growl, as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, swallowing him with a desperation that made his cock twitch.

Bangchan didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace turned ruthless—deep, fast, relentless. Each thrust of his fingers sent another jolt of pleasure through you, leaving your brain nothing but static. Your body thawed under his touch, a mess of heat and sensation. He pushed your blouse up just enough to bare your breasts, immediately palming them, kneading them as if the sensation alone could ruin him.

"Don’t stop." the demand left your lips between ragged breaths. "Harder."

Bangchan groaned, watching you ride in his lap like a dream he didn’t deserve. "Jesus Christ." his voice was strained, his self-control hanging by a thread. "’Gonna cum all over me, hmm? Is that what you want?"

It was too much. The filthy words, the ruthless rhythm, his fingers buried deep inside you while his cock throbbed against your thigh, still wet from your mouth. Your body was on the edge of something catastrophic.

And then you shattered.

The orgasm slammed into you like a cursive wave, your moan breaking into something raw, something uncontrollable. Bangchan swore under his breath, completely mesmerized. He didn’t stop—kept his fingers buried inside, working you through every pulse, every aftershock.

When your breath finally started to steady, you opened your eyes. And he was watching you.

His gaze was alarming—dark, hungry, completely ruined. As if he had just witnessed the most beautiful thing in the world.

You were both breathless, skin damp with sweat, but it wasn’t just the intensity of what happened—it was everything that had led to it. The frustration, the tension, the unspoken words tangled between your bodies.

Bangchan reached for his black shirt, which had been abandoned on the arm of the couch. "Keep this."

You eyed him, still catching your breath. "Why?"

"To motivate you."

You snorted, rolling your eyes before giving his shoulder a light shove. "You're so full of yourself."

But you still slipped it on, letting the oversized fabric swallow you up, suddenly feeling less exposed—less vulnerable. His hands remained on your thighs, holding you in place on top of him, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

Then, casually, he picked up his phone and handed it to you. "Put your number in."

You held the device, raising an eyebrow. "Why? So you can save it as ‘bootycall’?"

His lips curled into a slow, shameless smirk. "Maybe."

"You're terrible." you rolled your eyes but still tapped your number into his phone, handing it back with a smirk. "And a complete pervert."

Bangchan ran his hands up your thighs, his fingers lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. "For you?" his voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper in his gaze. "Completely."

The weight of the moment settled between you, thick and lingering. And that was your cue. You stood, reaching for your clothes, shaking off whatever it was that passed between you. Bangchan did the same, though not without watching you with that unreadable look on his face.

"You could stay if you want," he offered, ever so casually.

You scoffed. "It's late, and the girls will notice if I'm missing in the morning."

He nodded, as if he understood—because he did. No one could know.

Once you were dressed, you headed for the door, pausing just long enough to glance over your shoulder.

"So," Bangchan leaned against the couch, arms crossed, his smirk returning. "How about it?"

You blinked. "What?"

"It'll never happen again?" his tone was pure mischief, mocking you.

Your lips curled, mirroring his amusement. "You have my number." you shrugged, stepping into the hallway. "Make good use of it."

And with that, you disappeared down the corridor, leaving Bangchan standing there, an unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling tightening in his chest.

One thing was becoming painfully clear—whatever this was between you, it wasn’t going away. And maybe, just maybe, you were better together than apart.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf

679 notes · View notes

wordsmeetwbb · 6 months ago

Text

The Chains Stay ON

Word count: 3.1k

Content: smut

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: This is my first attempt at writing smut and tbh I think it turned out really good but like. It's also pure filth that I wrote at 2am and edited this morning so consider this your warning. As always, let me know what you think!

________

Azzi couldn’t stop staring at Paige. She knew she was being obvious, she knew people online would clip this entire event and dissect every interaction, but she couldn’t help herself. Paige looked fucking incredible.

The team had gone to a Connecticut Sun game tonight, and Azzi truly felt bad about her lack of attention to the actual game thus far. Somehow, she had gotten through the whole bus ride to the arena without interacting with Paige, but that ended quickly as the team took their seats, with Paige plopping down in the seat right next to Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes had a mind of their own, roaming over Paige’s face, down to her arms, her chest, and always dragging back to her neck where two silver chains rested. Azzi swallowed thickly.

“Hello? Az, are you even listening to me?” Paige snapped her fingers in front of Azzi’s face. She blinked, startled out of her visual perusal of Paige’s body.

“Uh, yeah? No. What?” Paige snorted.

“You’re so not locked in right now. If you were looking at me I would be like, fine, whatever, but you’re not! Pay attention to me!” Paige complained. Azzi swatted her arm.

“Oh, hush. I pay you plenty of attention. If you really loved me, you’d give me a break and go whine to somebody else for once.” Lies. Azzi was lying through her teeth. She didn’t want Paige to go anywhere. She wanted the blonde to stay in the seat right next to her so Azzi could continue to stare at how those silver chains rested against her throat, draping down to sit between her collarbones. She blinked again, trying to pull herself out of the Paige-induced haze so she could actually listen to her girlfriend.

“Hey, what’s up with you? You’re not listening to me,” Paige whined again. Correct. Azzi hadn’t even realized Paige was still talking. She was too busy looking at her to practice active listening. Azzi blushed. Paige’s eyebrows raised.

“You gonna tell me, or do I have to pry it out of you?” Azzi sighed dramatically, slumping back into her seat. Against her will, her eyes wandered right back to Paige’s neck. She wanted to kiss her way down the skin there hard enough to leave bruises where the chains rested. The brunette crossed her legs, too aware of the warmth between them.

Paige looked down at herself, trying to follow Azzi’s line of sight. Azzi sighed loudly again, blushing a deep, embarrassing shade of pink. Paige was so adorable when she was confused, but she needed her to understand faster so she didn’t have to explain what had her so hot and bothered.

“Paige,” Azzi said firmly.

“What? Baby, I don’t know what you’re looking at. I just know you’re blushing real pretty right now and I want to know why.” Azzi couldn’t stand it anymore. She looked Paige right in the eyes, fisting her hands in her lap so they wouldn’t get any ideas and reach up to touch the chains that were taunting her so badly. She took a deep breath, taking a little glance around to make sure none of their teammates were listening too closely to what they were talking about.

“You look… really hot with those chains on,” Azzi mumbled, face flushing an even darker shade of red.

“Baby, what? It’s loud as hell in here, I didn’t get any of that.” Azzi wanted a sinkhole to open up under Mohegan Sun and swallow them all so she didn’t have to repeat that sentence. Lord knows Paige’s ego didn’t need to hear it twice. She wished she could just whisper it into Paige’s ear, but the chance of somebody in the crowd recording it was too high. She groaned and leaned only slightly closer to Paige.

“You look hot with those chains on,” she said, with more volume in her voice this time. She wasn’t letting there be any chance of Paige making her say it a third time.

A hint of surprise fluttered over Paige’s face, but it was quickly replaced with that all-too-familiar smirk. Azzi would never tell Paige, but it made her squeeze her legs together just a little bit tighter.

“You like them, baby?” Paige murmured, voice somehow loud enough for Azzi to hear her over the noise of the arena. It made her think that Paige definitely heard her the first time and just wanted to make her suffer. Azzi gave up and let her head fall into her hands dramatically. Paige poked her shoulder, waiting for confirmation. Azzi knew that being in public was saving her from having to reply for real. She nodded into her hands.

“Hey, come back up here. I love it when you blush like that for me. So pretty, baby.” Azzi was going to die in Mohegan Sun at the ripe age of 21. She took a deep breath, praying that she had composed herself enough for the whole world not to know just how turned on she was right now. She straightened back up, trying to pretend like she was paying any kind of attention to the basketball game.

“There you go, good girl.” Azzi whacked Paige on the knee.

“Stop it. Stop or I’m gonna do something inappropriate in a very public place with lots of cameras, and then we won’t be private or a secret,” Azzi hissed. Paige just laughed. The audacity of this girl to look the way she did, get Azzi all turned on, tease her in public, and then laugh? She scowled at Paige. Paige shut up.

“Az, wait, I’m sorry for laughing. You’re sitting here all turned on, staring at me, and I’m being an ass.” This is genuinely one of the worst apologies Azzi has ever heard. The lack of amusement on her face must be as obvious as it feels because Paige starts backtracking.

“Azzi, baby, look at me. Please.” Azzi doesn’t have it in herself to disobey. And who is she to pass up a chance to look at Paige right now? God, she looks sinfully good.

“I shouldn’t have laughed at you. That’s my bad. I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” Paige promises, looking very sincere. Azzi raises her eyebrows skeptically.

“How are you gonna do that?” She questions. A grin spreads across Paige’s face.

“You said you like the chains, right? Got you all wet and needy?” Azzi wants to protest, but Paige isn’t wrong. “I see you with your legs crossed, ma, you’re not subtle.”

“I’m not seeing how this is you making anything up to me-” Azzi starts, but Paige interrupts her.

“You want me to fuck you with the chains on, baby?” Fuck. Just the words have Azzi absolutely dripping. She almost lets a whimper slip out, but clamps her mouth shut at the last minute.

“Yes,” she whispers. Paige looks entirely too satisfied with the way this conversation has turned out. Infuriatingly, it just turns Azzi on more. Damn this woman.

“Didn’t know the NIL money would come with this benefit,” Paige muses. Azzi is in her own personal hell.

“I need you to shut up. Immediately. Yesterday,” Azzi demands. Paige snorts.

“Yes, ma’am.”

________

Azzi doesn’t know what Paige told Jana and Allie or where the two girls went upon the team’s return to campus. Frankly, she doesn’t care. All she cares about is that Paige’s bedroom door is locked swiftly and the apartment beyond it is empty.

Paige is on Azzi as soon as the door is closed, shoving her up against the wood and trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw to her neck. Actually, it’s more like Paige licking her way down Azzi’s skin. Either way, it feels incredible.

“Please, please,” she mumbles. She’s already begging, although she’s not entirely sure what for.

“Shh ma, just hold on. I’m gonna get you right, don’t you even worry,” Paige reassures Azzi against her skin. Something about it reminds Azzi of her thoughts from earlier. She lifts her head away from the door, trailing her eyes down to where Paige is mouthing at her collarbones, just above the neckline of her tank top. In a feat of pure willpower, Azzi flips their positions so Paige is the one pressed against the door. Paige gasps and immediately starts to protest. “Just shut the hell up,” Azzi demands as she begins to place wet kisses across Paige’s jaw. Her skin is warm and Paige smells so good, as she always does. Azzi’s mouth reaches the hinge of Paige’s jaw and she nips at the skin softly, not hard enough to bruise. Paige groans.

“God, baby, feels so good. Mark me the fuck up.” Azzi pushes her surprise away in favor of getting back to work. Who would she be to pass up a rare opportunity to claim her girlfriend? She bites a little harder at the spot from before, then licks over it with her tongue when Paige moans. Encouraged, Azzi makes her way down Paige’s neck, sucking in some places and biting in others, until Paige’s neck is riddled with red and purple splotches and covered in Azzi’s saliva.

Azzi finally pulls back to look at her handiwork, incredibly satisfied with herself. Paige looks desperate. Her neck glistened from Azzi’s mouth, her pupils were blown so wide her blue irises were barely visible, and she had tugged her hair free from the bun it had been in. She’s panting, staring at Azzi with unrestrained want. Azzi lets her focus go back to Paige’s neck. The silver chains glistening there really do look pretty against the newly mottled skin. She swallows, letting her hand drift up to play with the metal, warmed by Paige’s body.

Paige seems to have finally had enough teasing, because the next thing Azzi knows, she’s on her back in the middle of Paige’s bed.

“Off, off, I want these off,” Paige is saying, hands pulling at Azzi’s clothes. It’s not like she was wearing much of anything to begin with, just a tank top and a pair of too-short denim shorts, but within seconds the fabric is gone from her body, leaving her only in a pair of lace panties. The cool air makes Azzi shiver, nipples perking up from the chill.

Paige’s focus zeroes in on her tits, tongue immediately coming to lick over one nipple, hand squeezing the other gently, then pinching the nipple. Azzi gasps. It feels incredible, but this is not what she’s been thinking about all day. She tugs Paige back up to eye level, bringing their lips back together. Paige’s tongue is immediately against Azzi’s, but Azzi is mumbling demands.

“You gotta get naked too,” she whines, voice far more breathy than she wants it to be, but if Paige didn’t already know how needy she was, Azzi had bigger issues than what she sounded like. Paige’s clothes were off in seconds, leaving her in boxers and her sports bra. And those irresistible chains, of course. Still more clothes than Azzi in just her panties, but definitely an improvement.

Paige’s hand came down to Azzi’s stomach, fingers brushing over her abs teasingly on their way down to where Azzi was aching for her.

“Paige, please,” she pleaded.

“Please, what, baby? Gotta tell me what you want.” Azzi was going to cry if Paige didn’t touch her in the next five seconds. It’s that desperation that makes her give in immediately. She doesn’t have the willpower to resist Paige today.

“Touch me, please baby. Need your fingers on me, please, please, need it so bad-” Azzi cuts herself off with a moan when Paige presses her fingers over Azzi’s clothed clit. Her eyes roll back, but fly back open when she feels cold metal bump against her chin. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.” It seems to be the only word she can remember as Paige’s chains dangle in her face.

“There you go, baby. Is that better?” It’s not, really. Paige isn’t moving her fingers, and she’s still not really touching Azzi. Just that teasing presence over the fabric of her panties. Azzi bucks her hips against Paige’s hand in an effort to get what she wants.

“Is this not enough, baby? I’m touching you. What do you want?” Azzi is going to scream if Paige keeps this cocky attitude up and doesn’t fuck her like she needs. She almost gets sassy with her response until Paige moves her fingers against her clit, rubbing slow little circles over the fabric. Azzi groans, so hopelessly soaked through her underwear that the lace is practically see-through.

“Fuck. Please, Paige, please just fuck me. I need your fingers inside, please. Gotta feel it, need it, please.” She sounds pathetic, she knows. Paige doesn’t usually make her beg like this, but god, being forced to say exactly what she wants is doing sinful things to Azzi.

“I got you, good girl, so good begging for me,” Paige praises. Azzi’s head flops back onto the pillow and she immediately misses the light presence of the chains in her face. It’s quickly forgotten as Paige pulls Azzi’s panties off, throwing them somewhere to the side of the bed in favor of quickly slipping one finger into Azzi’s pussy.

“Fuck, baby, so wet for me. You feel that?” Paige already sounds like she’s going crazy, her voice hoarse and low. Azzi can barely focus on the words the blonde is saying. She’s too busy squirming closer to Paige’s hand, trying to get that singular finger deeper inside of her. She needs more and Paige is too busy talking to give it to her.

“Shh, honey, just relax. I gotchu, you know that,” Paige soothes, leaning down to press soft kisses to Azzi’s lips. The action drags the chains against Azzi’s face in the most delightful way. It almost makes Azzi miss the way Paige’s finger starts to move inside her, dragging out and then pushing right back in slowly. She moans desperately, still wiggling against Paige. She needs her deeper, faster, more fingers, anything.

“More, please, Paige, I can take another,” she begs. Paige finally obliges her, sliding another finger in alongside the first and continuing to fuck in and out of Azzi’s pussy. Azzi moans. One of her hands drifts up, tangling in the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. Then it drifts down, sliding over the fresh hickeys on her throat that are getting darker by the minute. Her hand finally comes to rest on the silver chains, fingers wrapping around the strands of metal just for something to hold onto. Her eyes won’t leave the way they gleam against Paige’s skin, swinging back and forth as Paige’s arm moves.

Between her legs, Azzi can feel her wetness dripping onto the bed. She knows Paige’s hand is probably drenched, and that mental image only makes her wetter.

“There you go, baby. Doin’ so good for me, taking me so well. Fuck, look at you. Fucking soaked, Az. Can you hear that?” Paige takes a break from her fuck-drunk rambling so Azzi can hear the sound her body makes when Paige’s fingers slide in and out. It even sounds like she’s drenched. Azzi throws her head back on the pillow again, pulling Paige’s chains right along with her. Paige follows her down, licking a stripe up Azzi’s neck while she’s there.

“Gettin’ close, ma?” Azzi nods desperately, feeling her stomach get tighter with every stroke of Paige’s fingers into her sopping wet center. “Fuck, yeah, I know you are. Squeezing me so tight, baby. Just sucking me up. Need me that bad, right baby?” Paige’s thumb drags circles around Azzi’s clit. She lets out a high whine. Paige has yapped for every minute of her life, she’s sure, but the absolute filth she’s saying right now has Azzi teetering right on the edge of her climax, biting her lip, and her stomach tenses.

“Let go, Az. Just relax and let yourself cum. All over me, baby, come on. Want it dripping down my hand. Please, I know you’re almost there.” Paige’s words, begging her to come, combined with the feeling of her damned silver chains dragging against Azzi’s throat now that she’s released her grip on them, send her over the edge.

Azzi cums with a cry, high-pitched moans and Paige’s name falling from her lips. Paige fucks her through it, fingers still moving inside her, thumb still circling her clit until Azzi is trembling from overstimulation, begging Paige to stop.

“Please, please, too much, Paige-” Azzi pushes Paige’s hand away from her, collapsing against the mattress, panting as she tries to recover. When she forces her eyes open to look at her girlfriend, Azzi finds Paige already staring at her. Her pupils are still blown wide, her body glistening with sweat, her hair messy (probably Azzi’s fault), and she thinks Paige has never looked hotter.

“What?” Azzi demands softly. “I’ll get you in a minute, don’t worry,” she promises. Paige shakes her head and melts into Azzi, wrapping her in her pale arms.

“Did so good for me, baby. So good,” she mumbles into Azzi’s collarbones. Azzi’s hand comes up to brush through Paige’s hair gently, a smile falling onto her lips, blushing lightly at the praise. Paige was starting to crush her under her weight, but it felt so good that she kept quiet, one hand moving down from Paige’s hair to stroke up and down her back.

“Hey, let me take care of you now,” Azzi said, starting to roll herself out from under Paige. Paige just tightened her arms.

“In a minute. That was so hot. You’re so hot. Everything about that was just… really insanely hot. I think I’m buffering. Give me a minute,” Paige mumbled into Azzi’s skin. Azzi laughed, bringing a hand to Paige’s chin and tilting her face up to meet her eyes.

“That was really hot,” she agreed. Paige grinned.

“I should wear chains more often,” she mused. Azzi groaned, letting Paige’s face drop back into the crook of her neck.

“I swear, I can’t tell you anything.” She complained. Paige just laughed, and Azzi couldn’t do anything but laugh with her. Of course Paige would give her the best orgasm of her life and her takeaway from the experience would be fashion advice. Azzi couldn’t argue with the idea, though. She sighed.

“As long as the chains stay on during sex,” she agreed.

“Hell yeah. High five, dude.” Azzi groaned and pushed Paige away.

“Shut up or I’m not helping you get off.” Paige shut up.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #women's basketball #uconn #pazzi #pazzi smut #paige bueckers smut #azzi fudd smut

542 notes · View notes

homesick4la · 8 months ago

Text

closer — hamzahthefantastic

contains: 18+ content, mdni!!! losing virginity, fingering, inexperienced reader

a/n: this is like a part 2 to intimate so read that one first if u want lol also i did not proofread sorry

days had passed since the night hamzah had went down on you. days since he slipped his fingers right inside of you and made you suck them clean.

embarrassingly, it was all you could think about. all that occupied your mind was an overwhelming craving for more.

of course, you were nervous over the idea of losing your virginity. you couldn’t help but stress over the possibility of it going horribly wrong.

but since that night, you felt ready.

you just weren’t sure how to approach the situation. everytime you tried to mention it to hamzah, you backed out- feeling too awkward to explain to him how badly you wanted to take that next step with him.

but now, while your sat on his couch, watching him finish editing a video- the urge to admit how desperately you needed him was too strong to ignore.

you were completely infatuated with him. the way his finger clicked on the mouse so gently. the way he let out a frustrated sigh when making a mistake. each move he made and every sound that left his throat drove you absolutely insane.

“hamzah?” you question, still sat on the couch behind him.

“yeah?”

“you almost done?”

“almost- come sit with me while i finish up.” he said, turning his desk chair around and motioning to his lap.

you walk over to him and straddle his lap, placing your chin on his shoulder as he turns his chair back towards his desk.

you play with the curls at the nape of his neck while continues frantically typing on his keyboard. every so often, one of his hands gently caresses your back.

after a few minutes, you hear his typing start to slow. this is followed by the sound of him clicking away the various open browsers on his computer.

“all done.” he says, sounding relieved.

you sit up to face him.

“finally.” you smile and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“what’d you wanna do with the rest of the night? go to a movie? or we could go get ice cream- there’s that really good spot in downtown,”

“uhm i dunno, i thought we could stay here.” you reply shyly, praying he understands what you’re trying to imply despite the vagueness of your statement.

“okay, yeah. let’s stay in. did you wanna like order food or something?”

god you wish he could just read your mind.

“no, actually i wanted to talk to you about something.” you explain, already feeling nervous.

“oh- okay.” he replies, his brown eyes scanning your face.

“it’s embarrassing.” you hide your face, laying back on his shoulder.

“c’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” he rubs your back assuringly.

you lift your face once again, looking in his eyes before you speak.

“i’ve just been thinking about the other night, a lot.”

“baby, that’s not embarrassing,” he grins. “i’ve been thinking about it too,” he lays his hand softly on your cheek.

you can’t help but smile at him.

“yeah?” you question, earning an eager nod from hamzah. “you ever think about going all the way with me?” you asks, your voice low.

“of course, i do.” he answers, his voice just as low. you feel his chest start to rise and fall faster than before.

“i’m ready for it.” you place your hand on top of his hand on your cheek.

“are you sure?” he looks directly in your eyes as he asks you the question.

“yeah. if you don’t wanna do it right now though, that’s totally fine! we can do something else, one of the things you suggested-“ you ramble.

“no no no, i want to!” he cuts you off. “just wanna make sure you’re a hundred-percent sure.”

you respond by nodding before connecting your lips with his. you kissed him hungrily.

in an instant, his hands slid under your thighs and he gets up out of his desk chair- carrying you into his bedroom.

he lays you on his bed and immediately climbs over you, wasting no time to connect your lips once again. his hands roam your body aimlessly as your hands play with hem of his shirt before helping him get rid of it.

he pulls off your sweater and leaves sloppy kisses on your collar bone before reaching to unclip your bra.

“so beautiful,” he says in awe of the sight in front of him. he leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth before giving equal attention to the other.

the sensation of his mouth on you feels heavenly. you whimper and hamzah’s hands find their way to top of your jeans- fingers now fiddling with the button of them.

he helps you slide them down your legs and you kick them to the side before he removes his own jeans.

his fingers trace the band of your underwear and he pauses, “you doing okay?”

he was so worried about advancing too quickly, making you uncomfortable. he wanted everything to be perfect for you.

“i’m good. promise.” you nod and he attaches his mouth to yours once again.

you reach for the band of his boxers before his hand stops you.

“wait- gonna make you come first.” he kisses you again. “help you relax.”

you nod in response and he takes note of the way you spread your legs wider for him.

his fingers wander across the silky material of your underwear, pressing against the already wet fabric.

you whimper as his fingers stroke you up and down. the friction of your underwear feeling both intoxicating and infuriating. all you wanted was more, more, more.

“you like that?” he questions, already knowing the answer. he saw the way your chest quickly rose up and down. the way you bit your lip in attempt to contain your desperate noises.

you nod rapidly and you watch as the expression on his face transitions from slightly nervous to completely sure of himself.

a striking contrast from his usual awkward demeanor.

he couldn’t help but feel confident hovering over you. not when you were left breathless from his touch and utterly soaked without him even having to slip his hand under your panties.

“beg for it.” he grins, his fingers still stroking the outside of your underwear excruciatingly slow.

“what?” you breath out.

“beg for my fingers. tell me how much you want me to touch you right now.” the right side of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

he knows exactly how needy you are and you’re simply to caught up in it to be embarrassed.

“i want you so bad, hamzah. please, just- touch me.” you whimper.

that’s all it takes for him to be pulling down you underwear and pressing his thumb to your clit as one of his fingers slip inside of you.

at the same time, he leans down and connects his lips with yours. he kisses you urgently and soon enough his tongue is rhythmically moving with yours- matching the pace of his finger sliding in and out of you.

the moment a second finger enters you, you begin having trouble kissing him back as your left absolutely breathless.

noticing this, hamzah moves from your lips to the sweet spot on your neck. he sucks and nips at the skin in a manner that leaves you moaning uncontrollably.

“fuck my hand, baby.” he whispers against your neck.

you shyly start moving your hips, pushing them forward in sync with his fingers. you eventually grow more confident in your movements- shamelessly riding his fingers.

“atta girl.” he praises as you feel his lips turn to a smile against the skin of your neck.

you shut your eyes tightly- the feeling of his fingers deep inside of you leaving you in ecstasy.

with the added pressure of his thumb circling at your clit, you feel yourself coming completely undone.

he can tell your almost there when your movements turn frantic.

he continues kissing up the side of your neck, across your collarbone, all over your breasts.

amongst these kisses, he whispers praises and repeats your name as if he’s reciting a prayer.

this leaves you crying out and gasping for air as your orgasm fully takes over you.

he keeps his fingers in motion until your orgasm subsides. he then removes his fingers, still covered in your wetness, and brings them up towards your mouth.

he traces your bottom lip with both fingers before you instinctually part your lips, allowing him to push them into your mouth. you suck his fingers clean just as you had only a few days ago.

once you release them, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

he pulls away, pushing away the baby hairs that had fallen across your forehead.

“you drive me crazy y/n.” he says softly, his dark brown eyes staring into yours.

you smile at him before lifting your head up to kiss him.

“i want you so bad, hamzah.” you beg, seeking more of him. you were craving a more intimate connection.

“my needy girl”, he teases. “i’ll be right back.”

you watch as he walks to his bathroom, coming back with a foil condom wrapper in between his fingers.

“you’re a hundred-percent sure about this?” he questions once again.

“yes. hamzah, i’m sure.” you reassure him.

he slides off his boxers, revealing his erection. nerves arise in your stomach as he slips the ring of rubber over his thick length.

climbing back over you, he notices the nervous expression on your face.

“i’ll be gentle.” he kisses the top of your forehead, “and if it’s too much, you’re gonna tell me and we’ll stop, ‘kay?” he stares into your eyes, waiting for your response.

“okay.” you nod.

he fingers wrap around his shaft and he begins running his erection through your folds. you moan at the sensation.

he uses one hand to hold himself up while the other traces your arm soothingly.

when he pushes just the head of his erection inside of you, you’re left with slight discomfort due to him stretching you so wide.

you take deep breaths as he works his way inside of you, one inch at a time.

“fuck- you’re so tight.” he breaths out. “you okay?”

“yeah, yeah- just give me a second.” he remains still inside of you as he leaves sweet kisses across your collarbone.

once you’ve adjusted to feeling so full, you let him know to start moving.

before pulling out and pushing back into you, he slides the hand laying on your arm to your hand, raising your arm above your head and interlocking your fingers together.

his thrusts start off slow and smooth but as he feels your body relax underneath him, he begins increasing his pace.

soon enough, your bodies colliding together quickly. the room filled with the sound of your skin hitting and the squeaking of the bed beneath you.

you never could’ve imagined that you’re first time would feel so good, you always pictured your nerves getting in the way of your pleasure.

but with hamzah, it was so easy to feel comfortable, to just let go and enjoy the moment.

“fuck- you feel so good y/n.” he whimpers. “you’re doing so good, baby.”

all you can do is nod and let out a shuddered sigh in response.

with each thrust, it feels like hamzah gets deeper inside you, hitting places that make you feel like you’re floating.

“i’m so close, hamzah.” you cry, feeling your second orgasm build.

“i’m not gonna last much longer either.” he answers.

he unlocks his fingers from yours and reaches down to rub your clit.

this puts you over the edge, you’re a breathless, whining mess as you squeeze your inner walls around him.

this causes his cock to twitch inside you and a choked groan to leave his lips. you weave your fingers through his dark curls as he comes.

witnessing pleasure wash over his face is one of the most memorizing sights you’ve ever seen.

he collapses on top of you. his body warm and sweaty- your damp skin sticks together.

you run your nails along his back, feeling the muscles of his shoulders relax.

“how was it?” he questions, his head still buried in the crook of your neck.

“it was perfect hamzah.”

he hums pleasantly against your neck. you lie together for a while.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the moment. his skin on yours, his body weighing on you, his lips smushed against your neck.

you had never felt closer to him.

you were completely encapsulated by his warmth, wishing it would last forever.

a/n: i never know how to end a fic lol also why is writing smut so embarrassing i am cringing at the fact that i just wrote this…lol..hope u guys like it tho… k bye muah

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah imagines #slushy noobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzah x reader #hamzah fic #hamzahsmut #hamzah

752 notes · View notes

justmymindandstuff · 5 months ago

Note

Would thou spare a mere peasant a moment??

Imagine Targ!reader visiting the wall with Cregan (similar moment he had with Jace, and maybe Jace is there too, it’s up to you)

And reader forces her dragon to go beyond the wall by jumping off the top of it

I’ll leave the rest to you 😚❤️

jump scare - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

summary: you and your twin Jacaerys follow Cregans invitation to the wall. As your Dragon refused to fly over the wall he sees a glimps of your temper. At that moment he knows that you, as the future Lady Stark, will bring trouble into Winterfells halls.

words: 2.691

warnings: kissing, Cregan has a crush (but he doesn´t know it)

a/n: Reader is Rhaenyras daughter and described with black hair and purple eyes// no use of Y/N// English is not my first language // not proofread // AO3

I love this idea so much, soo thank you anon🧡, but I had a hard time writing this, so it´s a bit short and I not completely like how it came out (edit: you can read part 2/6 here- seriesmasterlist/moodbord)

anyways I hope you like it.

Have fun and be kind 🧡

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

Cregan shifts from one foot to the other as the elevator slowly jerks up the Wall. The brothers of the Night's Watch and Castle Black grow smaller beneath him. His breath forms white clouds in the cold air. The Warden of the North tries to get rid of his inner restlessness. He wishes the elevator would go faster, while at the same time hoping this ride would never end.

At the top of the wall, he will soon meet the Prince and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms again, of course with their two dragons.

Jacaerys and you landed in Winterfell's courtyard a few days ago with Vermax and Veraxes. And you brought war with you. At the thought, Cregan's insides twist.

Jacaerys made him an offer on behalf of his mother: Cregan and his men would ride south for the queen and support her claim, in exchange for a marriage with the princess. Rhaenyra Targaryen gives him her only daughter as a wife.

Cregan knows he can't refuse such an offer. Nobody turn down a Targaryen offer.

And he could have done worse.

He doesn't like the thought, but he knows he could have done worse. His future wife is beautiful. Long black hair that stands in stark contrast to your pale skin, delicate features, and those sparkling eyes. There is something in it, Cregan can't quite put his finger on it yet. You have a fire, a wildness behind your eyes that Cregan has never seen before.

A woman like you is actually worth his entire army. Cregan would theoretically have to arm every man, woman, and child in the North and send them south to redeem his debt.

But he can't.

He can only send 2,000 men, Greybeards. Cregan cannot spare more, he needs his men here for the coming winter. And like his House words are saying: winter is coming.

That's the reason why you are here, that's the reason for Cregan's invitation to the Wall. You and your brother need to understand why he can't send more men. You both need to see it. Before Cregan takes you as his wife in a few days at Goodswood of Winterfell and thus seals the pact of ice and fire.

"It is an honor for me to be able to fulfill my duty, and Winterfell is very beautiful. I look forward to making it my home."

More than that, you haven't said about your marriage. Cregan doesn't know if you really mean it or if you have memorized these words, because your mother told you so. He hopes you meant it.

He can't figure you out. In the past few days, Cregan was able to spend a little time with you, but he hasn't really gotten to know you yet. Also because Jacaerys was present at each of your meetings, of course Cregan would never do anything that would endanger your honor and reputation. He is a Stark, a man of honor. That's why you two always have your brother as achaperone.

What Cregan has learned in the short time is that you are definitely not a little princess who needs to be rescued from a tower.

You train with swords, fly almost daily on your dragon, can curse like a sailor, and are not too shy to give your brother a piece of your mind everytime he gets on your nerves.

On the other hand, you have a razor-sharp mind, smile kindly at Cregan, dance skillfully and make every move with an elegance that only a Targaryen princess possesses.

You attract him like light attracts a moth. Your attractiveness has captured him, and the fragments of your being that you show him only make him more curious about the rest. He wants to get to know you, everything about you. Cregan can hardly think of you without his thoughts and feelings swirling around inside him like a storm.

A loud crack next to him makes the Warden of the North flinch and snaps him out of his thoughts. Cregan looks to the side. Veraxes slams his claws into the ice of the Wall with full force, her body crashs against it, and the Wall seems to tremble under the impact. Cregan hears you curse loudly in a foreign language, high valyrian, he is sure. Jacaerys' laughter rings out above him and Vermax flies over him before the dragon lands on the wall, noticeably gentler than Veraxes.

Cregan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. He pushes all thoughts of you and your future marriage aside. One step at a time. First he must show you what the Night's Watch and House Stark do for centuries, protecting the realm before the dangers beyond the Wall.

The elevator stops at the top, the doors open. Cregan allows himself two more heartbeats to gather himself, then steps outside onto the Wall.

Immediately, the cold wind whips around his ears, but apart from a brief shiver it doesn´t bothered him.

Veraxes climbs the Wall, her claws break off large pieces of ice that fall down. Cregan hopes that no one gets hit. You and your dragon arrive at the top and you place Veraxes next to Vermax. You slide down her wing and land next to your twin brother, snow swirling around your boots.

Cregan's gaze shifts from you to the dragons. Vermax and Veraxes, twin dragons you told him on the first evening, both dragons hatched from the eggs in you and your brothers cribs.

The dragons make whistling sounds, turning their heads. They seem nervous. The young Lord finds his own thoughts ridiculous in the next moment. What could possibly make dragons nervous?

Cregan has to swallow and takes the last steps towards his royal guests. The siblings are completely engrossed in their usual bickering.

"I told you she wouldn't fly over." laughs Jacaerys, you jab him in the stomach and then jump two steps to the side so his counterattack doesn't hit you.

"She'll do it." you say as you look over the edge of the Wall.

"Please don't go so close to the edge." the prince's voice sounds alarmed.

"Don't be such a coward, Jacey."

"Don't call me that. I'm not a little kid anymore." the prince snaps.

"Then don't act like one." you say dry and still don't take a step away from the edge. On the contrary, you push your feet a little closer to the edge, the tips of your boots no longer have any grip.

Cregan cleared his throat to get your attention. "My Lady, your brother is right. You shouldn't stand so close to the edge of the wall."

You tilt your head slightly, a hint of a smile dancing on your full lips. "Good thing you'll only be my husband in three days My Lord and only then you can give me orders." you say, your cheerful tone doesn´t match your bitter words.

Cregan feels as if you had hit him in the stomach and looks helplessly at Jacaerys, but he just shrugs and gives him an apologetic smile.

Suddenly, the dragons move. Cregan manages at the last second to prevent himself from flinching as Vermax's claw strikes the ice beside him. The dragons make whistling noises again, Veraxes restlessly lashes her tail back and forth.

Cregan looks at the twins. "Is something wrong with them?" he can't manage to suppress the concern in his voice.

You look at him, smile again as if your last comment had never been made. "Do you know the story of Queen Alysanne Targaryen?" you ask instead of answering.

Cregan tries not to show his confusion about your behavior and nods. Everyone knows the story: The queen wanted to fly over the wall with her dragon, the dragon refused. That has never happened before.

"My dearest sister here thought she was better than Queen Alysanne and wanted to fly Veraxes over the Wall."

"I didn't think I´m better than Queen Alysanne." you interrupt your brother, but he simply ignores you. The prince turns directly to Cregan.

"You saw how well the attempt worked."

Cregan furrows his brow. "So the dragons refuse to fly over the Wall?" he asks just to be sure.

"Obviously. They don't like it here." you say, again your gaze goes over the edge downwards. "7000 feet, right?"

"Yes, My Lady," Cregan confirms. He doesn't know if his uneasy feeling comes from the fact that you are half leaning over the edge of the Wall or from the fact that the dragons refuse to fly over it. It doesn't matter right know. The young Lord has to swallow and suppress the urge to go to you and pull you away from the wall.

The dragons also lean further forward, but their noses never go beyond the edge of the Wall. You and Jace watch your monsters closely as they move. While Jacaerys looks worried, you are curious.

Cregan seizes the moment and looks at you. The winter sun shines on you, makes you glow, and gets caught in your dark braids. Your cheeks and nose are slightly reddened from the cold up here. Cregan's fingertips tingle slightl as the desire arises to caress the soft skin of your cheek.

Would you lean into his touch? Or slap his hand away? Cregan has no idea, but he's eager to find out. Again, he has to pull himself together to come back into the moment. Again, he reminds himself: one step at a time.

"Forget it, sister. Silverwing didn't fly over the Wall, Veraxes will do it neither." Jacaerys sounds annoyed. Cregan sees out of the corner of his eye as he shifts his weight slightly forward, ready to catch you if you trip.

"Just because you can't get Vermax to do it." you say, the challenge clear in your tone and the way your eyes sparkle. Cregan has the feeling that you are hatching something, and the way your gaze goes from him to your brother tells him that it won't be anything good.

"Veraxes won't fly over it either." Jacaerys insists.

A mischievous grin appears on your face, your intentions now clearly visible. "Bet?" you ask, turning to your brother. You say something in high valyrian that Cregan doesn't understand.

The next second you wink at him, spread your arms and let yourself fall backward from the Wall.

Cregan's heart stops for a moment, Jacaerys calls your name, his voice trembling. Both men run forward, but of course, neither of them manages to hold onto you anymore. Cregan looks over the edge and sees you falling quickly. His entire body tenses up in fear. Not only is he watching you fall to your own death, but it's happening under his watch as well. The Dragon Queen would probably turn the entire North to ashes if she hears that her only daughter has met her end in the North.

And he would never hear your melodic laughter again, Cregan immediately gets annoyed by this inappropriate thought.

Suddenly, he is caught by a gust of wind and almost falls off the wall himself as Veraxes flies just a few centimeters past him and throws himself after you. The dragon lets out a cry that sounds angry and desperate. The sound reminds Cregan of a mother weeping for her frozen baby.

"I'll kill her." Jacaerys murmurs quietly next to Cregan as they watch your dragon catch up with you, fly under you, so you land on her saddle. Cregan is sure that must have hurt.

Veraxes spreads her wings and catches her fall, the Lord of Winterfell isn't quite sure how much space there is left to the ground but from up here it doesn't look like much.

He has to take a deep breath, relief flooding through him. Thank the gods you're not dead.

You turn your dragon vertically and fly steeply up the wall. As you shoot past Cregan, he flinches a step back but can't take his eyes off you.

You throw your head back and laugh a loud, joyful laugh. The wind tousles your braids, and the winter sun makes your eyes sparkle. And there it is again, that freedom, that wildness in your gaze. Cregan's heart skips a beat at the sight. By all the gods, he knows in that moment that you are fearless, maybe a little insane, but definitely fearless. You will fit well in the North, you will fit well with him.

Cregan is impressed, he can't help but stare at and admire you as you let your Dragon land right next to Cregan at the edge of the wall. You are still laughing.

Veraxes stands so close that the sulfur smell rises to his nose and he feels the warmth of the dragon. Your dragon blows hot air from its nostrils, accompanied by a rumbling noise from its throat that makes Cregan's neck hairs stand on end. Her tail crashes against the ice on the other side, causing the ice under his feets to tremble. You are sitting on her back and sticking your tongue out at your twin.

"I told you so." you say, still laughing at Jacaerys and his shocked face.

"I swear to you if mother..." begins the prunce, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.

"You're just angry because you lost the bet." you say. "And besides, in a few days I won't be Mother's concern anymore."

Jacaerys opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes from his throat. Then he looks at Cregan, and his neck turns slightly red.

"My Lord future husband." you break the silence with a gentle voice, and Cregan immediately turns to you. "A helping hand?"

His feelings are completely mixed up, still he steps closer to Veraxes without thinking, extends his hand to you and helps you dismount from your dragon. Even though you all know that you don't need help.

You land right in front of him, so close that he can make out the different shades of purple in your eyes. Your pleasant scent envelops him, for two heartbeats Cregan forgets everything around you. He recognizes that wild sparkle in your eyes again, and before he can react you stand on your tiptoes place your hand on the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. When your lips meet, the brief moment of surprise is dispelled by a hot shiver that runs through his body. Instinctively, his hand reaches for your hip and he pulls you closer to him. Your soft lips move perfectly against his, and his heart begins to beat faster at the sensation.

You part breathlessly from each other, for a brief moment you look deeply into his eyes. A smile dances around your lips. Cregans can't help but smile with you, this time it's him who winks. He is rewarded with a radiant smile from you. Cregan blinks, and the moment is gone.

While you turn back to your brother, Cregan has to take a deep breath to calm his heartbeat.

"Brother. It was nice to beat you again." you spit at Jacaerys and lift your chin. But when you turn back to Cregan there is a soft smile on your face, which makes his heart stumble again. "My Lord. Please excuse me. I want to look at the rest of the Wall." you nod to him and then turn away.

The Lord of Winterfell can do nothing but stare after you as you walk along the wall. You don't even have to call Veraxes, she takes off again and flies north of the Wall beside you.

Cregan looks at the prince again, fearing for a heartbeat that Jacaerys will now burn him with Vermax. After all, Cregan has dishonored his sister.

The prince, however, appears more annoyed than angry. Jacaerys bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head slightly. "Good luck with her, Lord Stark. She only causes headaches." he says then.

"Aye, probably." says Cregan, but can't suppress a grin. Yes, you mean trouble, but Cregan is ready for this journey. He is looking forward to it.

part 2

#cregan stark x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fic #cregan stark fanfiction #hotd fic #house of the dragon #hotd #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #cregan stark fic #game of thrones x reader #hotd x reader #cregan stark request #ice and fire

806 notes · View notes

lighting-and-shadow · 1 month ago

Text

Redamancy

Redemancy (n): the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

“I could’ve just called a stylist, sweetie.”

“I know, I know. But I wanna be a strong independent woman. Let me.”

“A strong independent woman who I wish would just let me pamper her like a good husband.”

Sylus’ expensive TV plays in the background as you sit at his feet under piles of pillows. You insisted, to his utter dismay, he take the couch while he helps you. So the pair of you compromised by having you sit your ass on his pricy pillows, each of which cost probably around a month’s worth of your salary.

Not that “price” is really a thing between you and your new husband.

You glance at some jewelry piece? It’s bought before you can blink.

Window shopping is no longer a thing for you.

Everything you desire is at your fingertips.

“Well, you’re being a good husband right now by helping me, love. So calm your draconic ass down and do your section faster. I’m almost done with my first.”

“So we’re racing, sweetie?”

“Yes.”

“Than what’s the prize for winning?”

Sylus’ voice drops in that way that he knows stirs you up. The way it washes over you, the way it makes you shiver.

Not this time, dear husband.

“Who knows?” You shrug.

He chuckles, “That’s no fun, sweetie. You don’t race without knowing the prize. Even the wildest person in the N109 Zone knows that much.”

You tap your chin, pretending to be in deep thought.

“The knowledge that you’ve helped your dear wife shave off hours of time on her hair? My love and affection? Better braiding skills?”

“My skills are just fine, sweetie.”

“Of course they are, love. You have the dexterity in those hands of yours to pull it off without practice.”

You expect a quip, some kind of teasing response. When he doesn’t you slightly turn your head and are shocked by what you see.

Sylus, with a slight blush on his face. Than it dawns on you.

“Aww, you big softie! Did you learn to braid recently just to help me today?”

You gently take the braid he’s working on out of his hands, with no care in mind that it might unravel due to the ends have yet to be burned (you always use extensions when doing your hair, and this time was no different). You quickly get up, plop yourself into your husband’s lap, and kiss his cheeks.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most perfect man a woman could ask for, Sy-Sy?”

A/N: might edit this later, or extend it (I both love and hate it).

#lads x reader #sylus qin x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylus x black reader

252 notes · View notes

iamthekaijuking · 12 days ago

Text

Man all the doomerism engagement bait about wilds is getting really annoying.

“90% player drop off!! Wilds is dying!!!!!” Wilds isn’t a live service game, so people basically completed what they wanted and started playing other games. They come back for the weekly bounties and for updates.

Now that being said, the gameplay loop is faster and the focus system is broken so fights were faster and the rewards are perhaps a bit too generous thus negating a lot of the repeat hunts for materials. You also don’t need to track a monster like you did in world.

“World was harder!!!” Not really?? Or at least not in the ways people think. Monsters deal roughly the same damage as they have in world and rise. This is largely just people misremembering, having nostalgia, or learning how to play monster hunter back in world and coming into wilds knowing what to do. Trust me, I was there in 2018. MH Meat Man actually made a good video about this (I’m only halfway through it though cause it’s like 4 hours long). World did have artificially difficult fights like Lunastra though.

“The game is incomplete!!” Yes but not in the way people think. World and rise also released with a similar amount of content and people cried the same thing as well, and the people crying this now probably only played world after iceborne released. Again, I was there in 2018. I think people only took longer with world because they didn’t have a mount to carry you around and you had to track monsters, and I do agree that wilds gameplay is just the seikret ferrying you from fight to fight trying to get as much done before your food buff wears off. I do wish there was some downtime to get immersed and explore like you could in world.

Now that being said, wilds released without the gathering hub and the ability to fight the final boss multiple times, and that is actually a sin. People had to wait over a month for the hub and zoh Shia.

“The game runs like shit!!!” Yeah that’s correct and I’m not defending that. The pc version of the game is in a state similar to Cyberpunk was upon release, where you need a pc that can fight god in order to play optimally or know how to edit game files. Thankfully I play on ps5 which seems to be what wilds was primarily made for, so I’ve managed to avoid issues, but I will note that wilds is the only game that made my ps5 overheat.

All of the major issues can mostly be traced back to the fact that Capcom needed a major title release before the end of the 2025 fiscal year or else it would look really bad for investors. So basically we can mostly blame fapitalism for this.

#monster hunter #monster hunter wilds #monsterhunter #monhun

192 notes · View notes

almostempty · 7 months ago

Text

Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

��…..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

Tags:

@pedroswife69

@jasminedragoon

@lilac-boo

@peekyourinterest

@evysian

@millersamour

@evolnoomym

@ladybeediva

@hoelaris

@gwendibleywrites

@xdaddysprincessxx

@bitchesuntitled

@thundermartini

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@indiegirlunited

@yopossum

@sunshinehaze1

@moel-jiller

@pedrito-is-punk

@baebee35

@blacktoptown

@deliciouslydisturbed365

@94namkooksworld

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@indiegirlunited

@kilamonster

@hoelaris

@anoverwhelmingdin

@bbyanarchist

@syd-djarin

@deviseren

@embearlyhere

@ace-turned-confused

@lostfleurs

@perpetuallymanic

@embearlyhere

@kilamonster

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited

@syd-djarin

@harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #divorced dad rock dilf joel #creed!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic

501 notes · View notes

prentissluvr · 11 months ago

Text

hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence.

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional.

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

703 notes · View notes

wafflexdguy · 2 months ago

Note

I'm not sure if requests are open or not(as the ask thing says open and the fixed says closed lol), but could we have yandere twisted Vee?

Have a good day/night!

Authors note: Yeah, I forgot to edit the pinned post. Thats my fault. Anyways yes. Helpful reminder to read the tags once in a while :)

The NASA computer went crazy again.

She be looking for you lmao exdeee

================================================

Twisted Vee is already somewhat brutal by herself not being unhealthily obsessed with you. Mentioned previously she'll typically self-boast and unintentionally make you feel like -for lack of a better term- shit. This time is different. She'll intentionally make you feel like you're somewhat worth nothing, and the only value you have is to her.

This un-cunning and somewhat predictable tactic is typically played out via advertisements, TV commercials that are played throughout the various rooms in Gardenview. She isn't afraid to do this in front of other Toons as well, more often than not aware of the situation. She doesn't care; they can't do anything about it anyway- oh they're telling you to not go on runs with them anymore... hmmm.

As much as she hates to admit it, Vee knows she can't sneak into the lobby of the building. That'd be a death wish waiting to happen. Instead, she'll just make it inconvenient for you to be gone. If she kills them, then she runs the risk of you never coming back, that can't be allowed to happen! What ends up happening is that she'll intentionally lead Twisteds that only you can effectively deal with.

Toons with attentions span that of a gerbil? Looks like those distractors are useless now! Machine needs to be done faster? Yattta is conveniently preoccupied with a Twisted Pebble and Glisten is preoccupied with being too much of a pretentious douche to really do anything. Hmmmmmm the only Toon that somehow never gets all the Twisteds on them is you.... HMMMMMMM-

Oh hey, you're back! Time to shove manipulative ads down your throat!

Vee's first attempt at it failed because quite frankly, she wasn't accounting for the other Toons to actually do something about it. Miscalculation on her part, it won't happen again. And believe it, it won't happen again.

Vee's more calculative with it this time. Every time they realize what Vee is doing and tell you to sit one out, she does the same thing until they give in. The hope is that they'll eventually give up and see how useful you are, and that's where she goes in for the -figurative- kill.

She can't really kidnap you since... well, what's the point? She's not really all gung-ho about keeping you all to herself, she's more concerned about not letting anyone else have you. She wants you to be the one that ignores other Toons willingly, not force it. The running theory is that the other Toons eventually just stop having a relationship with you all together and that you'll rely more and more on her for emotional stability.

Is this plan really smart? Eh, depends on who you are. If you're able to see through this tactic, she'll just abandon any real sense since at that point her emotions would overcome her and she'll just outright threaten to kill the other Toons -particularly those you are close to- unless you stay. Preferably within her line of sight. Once every day.

"I miss you..."

"I'm right here."

"No, I miss you."

She knows what she's doing is wrong, and believe it or not, she's actually kind of conflicted about it. Her more logical side is telling her that you won't be happy like this. That keeping you like this is more likely to turn you into... turn you into... She doesn't like to think about that aspect.

On the other hand, her apathetic and standoffish side doesn't care and doesn't care if she gets you hurt in the process. Just as long as she gets to have you, who cares how you feel in the process. If it's any consolation, this side of her gets heavily muted in the final decision making of her plans with you.

Regardless of Vee questioning her own morals, one thing is clear: You're going to be hers, whether you like it or not. The best thing for you and others is to be cooperative. Since by that point, you likely have nobody to come to your aid.

#dandys world x reader #dandy's world #dandy's world x reader #dandys world #dandys world vee x reader #The Toon side of her is begging the Twisted side to stop #And one is clearly winning

105 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Text

We don't fit together (Lando Norris)

Your lifestyle is so different to Lando's that maybe everyone else is right

Note: english is not my first language. I'm not sure how I feel about this, it's like a love hate relationship with it to be completely honest... I hope it's still enjoyable to read! Update: there's a part 2 here !

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's insecurities about herself and about her relationship with Lando, alcohol consumption

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Lando facetimes and he's going to a club wherever he is

"Hello, baby!", Lando greeted with a bug smile when you picked up his video call.

"Hey love, congrats on your podium!", you smiled back, now able to congratulate him face to face even if through a screen, "Don't you look handsome, hm?", you bit your lip once he set the phone and clasped his bracelets on his wrist.

The outfit was simple but he made it look so good. He was wearing black jeans, a white t-shirt and a backwards black cap was covering his curls. Had he been right in front of you, you would have already laced your arms around his neck and littered little kisses along the tanned skin.

"Thank you, baby", he blushed slightly, "Max and Kelly are also going to the club where Martin is playing tonight", he smiled, "it's really good and it's supposed to have the craziest nights out in town, so we're going to check it out - I miss you loads, can't wait to go back home", he mused.

"Me too, but I'm glad you're having a good time out there! I'm not going to say I wish I was there because it doesn't look like my scene, but I can't wait to have you with me, love", you giggled.

"That's true, I don't think it would be very enjoyable for you", Lando agreed, "we're leaving in the morning, which will be night time for you, so I'll text you updates and then when I arrive we can have an early dinner in that restaurant you really like near my place and then you could spend the night. How does that sound?", he suggested.

"Sounds good to me", you smiled at the prospect. Time couldn't go by faster.

"I have to go, baby - Max and Kelly are already downstairs waiting for me! I love you and I can't wait to kiss your gorgeous face", he winked.

"Go enjoy yourself, Lan, you deserve it! Give my congratulations to Max and send Kelly a hug from me. I love you!", you blew him a kiss before he ended the call.

Work commitments and some family situations had kept you from going to the race weekend. It was a common thing to happen but it still left you missing Lando like crazy, counting down the hours until he was on your arms again.

You finished cooking your dinner, ate it and then headed to the living room, ready to unwind and start your bedtime routine, getting a selfie from Kelly with Max and Lando in it too, the club lights illuminating then enough to tell them apart.

When you woke up, like promised, Lando had sent you a text saying he had boarded the jet and everything was on schedule. Opening the text, you saw that a few hours before he had also sent you a video.

It was less than a minute, but you could see Martin and Lando at the DJ table, happily interacting with the crowd before mixing some music up and dancing along, "I love you, baby!", Lando said into the phone before he ended the video.

You did your morning workout, showered and while you were having breakfast, you scrolled through your social media, seeing some edits from the race and a couple of videos from the club Lando, amongst other drivers, partied in.

The first one was a different angle from the one you had been sent, someone on the dance floor recording it and sending it to a fan page.

They usually didn't say much other than stating facts about the video, where it was taken, who was in it and who had sent it. This one, however, seemed to spark up the conversation as a lot of people had opinions about it.

He just looks so good 🥵 I'd never be able to leave his side if I was with him!

He always has the best night out spots

He just looks so happy when he's doing it, it's great he has friends who support him in it outside of racing

Scrolling down, a gossip page post popped up. Unlike the other videos, this one was in a controlled environment and it seemed to be from someone on the VIP area. You could see Lando and Martin talking to a group of people before the girl flipped the camera, speaking into her phone as subtitles showed "I can't believe this, it's Lando Norris! Fp you think we should go up to him? I bet he's here alone as usual", the blonde girl said as she swept her hair over her shoulder. She looked stunning, hair curled to perfection and make-up done in such a complementing way it showed skills you knew you didn't have yourself, "I've seen Max and Kelly, and Carlos was just at the bar I think", another girl with short black hair said.

"You know what I mean, he's never here with what's her face", she giggled tipsily.

Dating Lando meant that you were exposed to these type of interactions from people online on a daily basis, more frequently whenever he posted you or you joined him for the race weekend. On the comments, some people alerted the page admin and the girl who sent the video about how offensive it was and how they didn't have the right to talk about you like that, but it didn't seem to do much as other people left their opinion.

He'd be so much better without her, did you see the article where someone at the club said he left with another girl? She's done for...

It wouldn't surprise me tbh, there's only so much it can work before you realise you don't have similar interests and things are not making you happy

Lando would be so good with someone who is in the public eye, can you imagine all the content we would get?

Shaking it off of your body, you closed the app and locked your phone, taking a deep breath as your mind started filling with all sorts of doubts.

At the start, noise from the media was easy to reason with, but lately it was all you could think about. Every week with every interaction Lando had with another woman, they would suggest he was in a relationship despite knowing you were dating eachother. You didn't understand why, but they had even taken the extra step of having someone comment on it and give their opinion on it, as if there was an opinion to give on who he dated and didn't date.

Getting up, your put some music on your headphones and started tidying the house. You couldn't sort your thoughts out, so might as well deal with the mess on your apartment.

"I missed you so much", Lando said once you opened the door, his arms instantly wrapping around your body and walking you backwards, closing the door with his foot, "hello, my love", he said, nipping a few kisses on your neck before he looked up, finally kissing your lips after having spent so long away from you.

"Hello, Lan", you cupped his face, kissing his lips again as his hands roamed along your waist and back, "I'm so glad you're back home", you smiled.

"Me too, especially when I'm greeted like this", he smirked, looking you up and down. In the last two years, you still hadn't gotten fully used to the way he would look at you.

His heart swelled with pride because you were his, all for him and no one else, "I love this colour on you", he kissed your exposed clavicle, "as much as I'd love to continue this, we have reservations to get to", he smiled before licking the spot he just kissed, "let's go, gorgeous", he encouraged, making you get your coat and bag and put on your shoes, ready to go.

Lando got VIP entrances to a fairly new club, and since Max was in town, too, you decided to join them on a night out. Despite the opinions everyone on the internet seemed to have, you did enjoy going out, just not every week or even every month. Shutting down your laptop after sending the last e-mail, you went to shower and start getting ready.

Making sure the towell was secure on your head and the robe was soaking up all the water remnants from your skin, you walked up to your wardrobe, running your fingers through the options you had for tonight. Settling in an outfit you felt both comfortable and beautiful in, you were quick to dry yourself and change, grabbing a simple black bag out of your closet and then heading to the bathroom for hair and make-up. You clipped your loose waves away from your face once they were dry while you applied some foundation to even out your skin tone, hiding the dark circles that came with the little sleep you'd gotten that week, bronzing, highlighting and contouring what needed, doing your brows and applying some mascara to your lashes. You weren't too fussed about makeup, choosing to stay on the simpler side of things, not bothering with the little moles and pimples that still showed through as you'd end up with your face resembling a pancake instead.

Checking if you were on time, you grabbed your watch and bracelets and clasped them to your wrist before clasping your necklace on your neck and putting simple hoop earrings, appreciating your final look in the mirror.

Not too much, not too little, but you didn't look like the girls your boyfriend was rumoured to be dating. The article came from a magazine where they had analysed everyone they thought would suit Lando and his lifestyle, and even though you tried yo ignore it, Lando was the first to come to your place and tell you, in person, that he had nothing to do with those girls and most of them he didn't even knew personally anyway, spending the rest of the night in your bed reminding how much he loved you and only you.

Lando was coming to pick you up soon, so you headed to the living room to wait for him. A knock on the door announced his presence, "I'm here to pick up the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world - my girlfriend", he charmed before taking a good look at you, "you're stunning, baby, breath taking", he gasped.

"C'mon, let's go", you urged, your cheeks blushing at the attention he was giving you, "Baby girl, a little twirl for me first", he smirked, as you did it, "we're both one good looking couple, aren't we?", he added, kissing your cheek as you played with the thin chain around his neck, "you look great, handsome, so great", you kissed his throat before closing the door behind you.

As you walked inside the club with Lando, who laced your hand in his as soon as he saw the crowded place, you took it all in.

It would be a lie to say that your senses hadn't been invaded all at once when you stepped into the VIP area of the club, different kinds of substances in the air and some perfume notes invading your nose, lights flashing your eyes as the loud music rang in your ears and drummed on your feet.

Lando carefully guided you through the people - the less crowded zone helping your movements -, always keeping you close as he looked for Max and Martin.

"Hey! You finally made it!", Max said as he greeted you, "Y/N, fancy sering you here! You look amazing as always", he complimented your black pants and emerald green one shoulder top outfit.

"Hi, I'm Martin, have we met before?", he asked after he pulled you for a half hug, "I don't think so, no, I'm Y/N", you smiled at his kindness and welcoming demeanour.

"You weren't joking when you said you were going to bring special company tonight", the dutch DJ nudged Lando with his elbow before fistbumping his hand.

"My special lady only goes out when the music is really good, so you should feel honoured, mate", Lando tsked, kissing the side of your head and smiling down at you. He was so happy you were there with him.

"The bar is over there, c'mon! Let's go and get something", Max suggested, leading the way with Martin right behind him as Lando's hands squeezed your waist again as he guided you to the bar, occasionally nodding to acquaintances you two bumped into.

Getting yourself a drink and Lando grabbing something non-alcoholic for him, "I'm driving us both home tonight, I don't want to do anything irresponsible", he reasoned as the four of you engaged in conversation about the set Lando and Martin would be doing. You had always been a kept to yourself type of person, not really letting people in until you knew for sure what their intentions were, but having Lando and Max there gave you enough ease to chat with Martin too while you waited for them to go up to the booth.

Granted this wasn't your usual choice of plans, you had been out enough times to know what it entailed and what to expect, a lot of people you didn't know coming up to greet your boyfriend, some seeming closer friendships to him that others.

"Are you okay, baby? We'll have to go up in a bit, do you want to stay here or go up there?", he questioned, "I need to go to the bathroom, I won't be long hopefully, but I can meet you up there when I come back - do you think that will be okay?", you wondered, "yes, of course! Just wave at me or Max if anyone gives you any trouble, beautiful", he kissed you, "I love you", he mumbled against your lips, squeezing your hips softly before Martin pulled on his arm.

On your way to the bathroom, you accidentally touched the railing on the stairs when you were set your cup down on the designated area, the liquid on it making your squirm a little as you held out your hand like you had touched poison. For all you knew, it could be something like that.

There were two girls waiting to use one of the stalls, prompting you to gently slot yourself in front of them, "sorry, but do you mind if go first just now? I just need to wash my hand and then I'll be back to the line", you asked politely as they nodded, the first one going to the stall that freed up and making room for you as the other girl stepped out. Her face was familiar as you took a glance in the mirror, and from the smile she gave you through the mirror, you assumed she probably recognised you too.

Washing your hands again when you came out of the stall, you walked to the bar and got yourself a bottle of water, noticing your boyfriend already pressing and tapping the buttons on the mixing table as everyone danced and many captured the moment on their phones while you waited. The booth looked tight and, truthfully, quite exposed, so you decided to stay where you had been previously, still able to enjoy yourself and dance while you watched Lando and Martin.

Max must've thought the same as he spotted you a few minutes later, twirling you around before he set his drink on the high table.

"Ruby!", Max yelled as the girl from the bathroom walked up to him and gave him a hug followed by another girl you assumed was her friend, introducing her to Max before turning to you.

"You're Y/N, right?", she asked, noticing your surprised expression, "sorry, I didn't mean to be so blunt - I'm Ruby, this is my friend Katie", she introduced, "we bumped into you in the bathroom, and it looked like you knew who I was", she clarified, still noticing apprehension from you, "I know Lando - we're acquaintances, I guess", she said.

"I'm so sorry, your face was familiar but I didn't know where from", you apoligised, "I kept going over in my head but I couldn't pinpoint where I knew you from", you gulped.

Up close and in the club environment, you were now sure of why her face was so familiar. She was one of the girls the gossip magazine page mentioned. She was gorgeous and from the way people greeted her, she seemed to attend many parties and nights out at that club.

"It's okay - Lando has told me about you, by the way", she smiled before her friend pitched in, "it's so nice to finally see you here, it's a good thing you came here to see him. I didn't think it would suit you, but it does look like you're having a good time", Katie offered before sipping from her drink.

"Yes, it's quite fun actually, Martin and Lando are a good duo I'd say", you smiled, pushing the backhanded compliment to the back of your mind for now.

"Do you want something to drink, Y/N? I can get it for you!", Max offered and you shook your head no, thanking him for his offer but politely declining as you saw him walk to the bar with Ruby.

"How has your night been, Y/N?", she tried to start up a conversation and appear put together even though it was clear she had drank over her limit, "I never see you here with Lando - he usually hangs out with us when he isn't pretending to be a world famous DJ", she giggled, "so are you enjoying it? I know it's not really your scene".

"It's not my usual, no, but I enjoy a night out every now and again", you remained polite, "He's really happy when he does it and he gets to relax a little and forget his troubles for a bit, it's a good thing".

"He's really funny, yes, and charming too", she hiccuped, "I'm sure people come here for a good night out anyway, but I just know that most of these people here", she pointed to the people dancing, "are here for him because they know he enjoys a good party and they do too - I guess they're hoping their similar interests will cross paths", she smiled.

She was really trying to get to you, and much to your disappointment in yourself, she was successfully doing it.

"That's how he is wired, you know? Parties after parties, living it up with all the luxury he has access to, and at such a young age, he has everything on his fingertips, anyone even! It's just a matter of him choosing what he really wants", she added, straightening herself against the table when Ruby walked back with Max.

"What were you two chatting about?", Ruby asked as she set the drinks on the table, Max doing the same with his.

"I was just telling Y/N how it usually is around here, but tonight they've upped their game because Lando is playing, look at him!", Katie pointed at your boyfriend before she started dancing around.

"He's really fun at these functions", Ruby offered, "looks like it is something he enjoys doing", she said in an earnest tone, and for a few seconds, you wanted to believe she wasn't digging at you like her friend was and was just stating a fact.

Lando had a big smile on his face. His skin was glowing both from his tan and the sheen of the sweat from how warm it was up there, occasionally holding Martin's hand when he hugged him from behind and rested his hand on his sternum. All troubles were put to a halt when he enjoyed his time off with friends doing things he loved.

Once the set was over and the speakers played what you assumed was some random playlist for the moment, Lando and Martin came back to join you at the table, "did you enjoy it, Y/N?", Martin asked.

"I did, it was very good!", you smiled, feeling Lando's hands on your waist before his mouth whispered on your ear, "Hi, baby" and kissed your neck.

"Did you stay here for the whole set?", he wondered, "yes, it looked a little cramped up in there so I stayed here with Max, then Ruby and Katie joined us for a bit", you nodded with your eyes as Katie seemed to notice your eyes on here, waving back at you and Lando.

"Oh, Ruby - she's nice, I met her girlfriend the last time I was here - so that's her friend?", he mused turning fully around to face you.

"Should be, we didn't really talk much", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Did you really enjoy it, Y/N? You can say no and we'll be out of here of you don't want to stay", Lando offered, "I myself am getting quite tired actually", he said as he rested his hand on top of his stomach.

"I did, you did really well up there, and you looked really handsome", you smirked, twirling a curly lock that fell on his forehead.

It didn't take long before people started leaving, the night already mostly done with after Lando danced with you for a bit, noticing you seemed to also have spent most of your battery and wete in deep need of going back home. Bidding goodbye to everyone, you and Lando made your way to his car as he drove you back to his apartment where you had planned to spend the night.

Taking your heels off and putting on your slippers, you waited for Lando to lock the door and join you in the living room, thumbs fiddling with eachother.

Noticing your behaviour, Lando knocked on the door and approached you gently, "You alright, baby? You've been quiet since before we left the club. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Is your tummy upset? Or is it your head", he listed the possible causes of your discomfort.

He was however missing the point. It seemed you both missed it until now. For you at least anyway, he still didn't notice it.

Better late than never.

"I'm not judging your choices, it's not my place and definitely not on this... but... do you think we work?", you quesioned, your lips trembling slightly as all emotions seemed to come back to the front. How different you were, how his interests weren't similar to yours, how his happiness was something you were getting in the way of.

"What do you mean if we work?", Lando asked, genuinely not understanding your question.

"We're so different, Lando. Your lifestyle has nothing similar to mine, and I'm not even talking about money - that's a pretty obvious one and something not most humans can do anyway -, I'm talking about being the soul of the party, always ready to go on to the next night out and plan everything surrounding it. I don't do nightlife like you do, I barely do it at all. And that's okay for me as it is okay for you with what you do", you clarified.

"What are you saying, Y/N?", he inquired, a new tone of defensiveness in his voice.

"I'm saying we don't fit together like that", you let the words out, your heart shattering as each syllable came out.

"Y/N, that doesn't mean anything", Lando began, "sure, there are different interests that we don't have in common and that we don't share, but that doesn't make it not work between us! Why would it?", he argued, "it sounds to me like you're calling our relationship out because I like to go out and you don't and I don't agree with it".

"Lando, it hurts, it's painful", you stated, tears falling from your eyes at your admission.

It caught him off guard and his brain shifted somewhere else. To the promise he made you and the promise he made himself. He would never make you hurt and he would never be the cause of your pain.

"Y/N, baby, we can talk about this better when we've gathered our thoughts", he tried even though any suggestion he could make would potentially increase your pain. And he couldn't bear to do that.

"No one would ever see you and see me and say that we were good together, it just took us longer to see what they have noticed so long ago - so much so that they think you deserve someone else", you murmured.

"But I don't need anyone else's opinion when I have you", he mused softly, wanting to take your hand in his but you still fiddled with your thumbs before wiping your cheeks.

"Y/N, I promise that whatever is going on in your head is not the truth - your mins is telling you awful lies. I love you so much and I don't think like that", he tried to reason, "That's not what we are".

"I want to go home", you gulped, "I'm going to get an Uber", you announced, looking at a broken Lando.

"Can I drive you there, please?", he asked, himself feeling like prolonging the argument would only lead to worse but needing to make sure you felt he wouldn't give up, "I'd feel better being in charge of the car taking you home than anyone else at this time", he reasoned.

"You won't ask me anything else? Can we do it in silence?", you asked. The words had a bitter taste on your mouth like they didn't belong there. Chatting with Lando was one of your favourite things in the world, hearing his voice and his giggles, those were the best sounds ever known to man.

"Okay, if that's how you want it", Lando assured, grabbing his keys while you put your shoes back on along with your coat.

The drive to your apartment was agonisingly silent. Lando wanted to ask you where this left your relationship, you wanted to ask him if what he said was true.

"We're here", Lando announced, stopping the car and getting out, waiting for you to get out and meet him by the driver's seat door, "I- Y/N, is this goodbye?", he worked himself up to ask, "because I don't want that, we can talk about his and sort it out, please, this is what we do, love", he pleaded.

"Can we talk about it another day? I can't think straight tonight, and I don't want to say things that will hurt you because of that", you suggested.

"Sure", Lando sighed, "whenever you're ready. I love you, Y/N", he looked into your eyes, refraining from kissing your forehead even though that was all he wanted to do.

"Thank you, for this and for bringing me home, Lan, I love you", you looked back into his eyes.

He was hurt, too, and the last three words you said seemed to have brought anger to the mix as well. There was a grey hue and the sparkle was lost despite the moon glistening.

"Have a good night, baby, I love you more than words can say, and I will fight for you and for us, even if I'm the only one in the battlefield, I'll fight for both of us", he assured.

Part 2

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

847 notes · View notes

dwaynedelight · 8 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

With my blood, I’ll find your love.

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) x Female (Human) Reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ readers only! Unprotected sex, daddy kink, p & v sex.

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3,285

Authors note: This was in my drafts for a longgg time enjoy my dwayne family <3! (Not edited)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The boys had went off into the night in search for unfortunate souls.

It was naive of you to sneak off to the boardwalk all alone without the supervision of your boyfriend, if he found out about your escape, no doubt this would be the last time you'd ever step foot outside.

You'd always been rebellious, and that was a flaw Dwayne aimed to fix, he wished you'd be more obedient. He didn't understand why you had to test his patience so much, all he wanted was for you to let him take care of you, protect you, and please you, but he couldn't do that with your disobedience. You were fully aware of what Dwayne wanted and you truly did want all he said he'd do for you, but you also wanted freedom.

Dwayne remained delightful until he became like a shadow stalking your every move, you wanted to believe he meant well because you were completely enamoured by him, but lately it wasn't feeling like he really cared about your feelings.

Though the consequences of your actions were evident, that didn't stop you from stepping foot out of that dark depressing cave. You had made it all the way to the brightly lit busy boardwalk by feet, this was the perfect place to remain hidden.

Your heeled boots thudded against the wooden floor as you scaped the scene. You were overwhelmed with how much there was to do, you felt free at last! Finally you could have a night by yourself free from Dwayne.

The smell of popcorn filled your nostrils as you walked by a concession stand, your eyes watched as parents and kids waited in line to get treats, a teenage couple stood at the front as the employee handed them some cotton candy. You smiled. Cotton candy! Exactly what you needed.

You'd gotten in the long line patiently waiting all because you wanted cotton candy. "Hey beautiful" a voice called out huskily from behind. Your body came to a halt, immediately turning to meet the voice.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to frighten you" They apologized.

You sighed with relief, a tall handsome man with dark long curly hair stood before you. He wore an aged leather jacket, silver jewelry, and skin-tight leather pants. He was intriguing, to say the least.

You smiled. "No worries."

You had moved up to the front of the line faster than you'd expected. The employee had interrupted your conversation with the curly-haired man asking what you wanted. "Can I have some cotton candy?" you asked the young man. "That'll be 2.50" You nodded reaching for your purse.

"There you go," The man behind you said as he reached to give the guy the money.

"No you don't have to do that" You shook your head, but it was already too late the employee had took the money and handed you the cotton candy.

You sighed a "Thank you."

"Not a problem" He smiled. You didn't want to admit it but he was really handsome, and you couldn't help but notice his rockstar appearance. "I didn't catch your name" He replied waiting for your response.

"Im y/n" you smiled.

"That's a pretty name i'm stephen, may I ask what such a beautiful girl is doing here all alone?" You couldn't help but blush and you scoulded yourself for it.

"I just wanted to get some cotton candy." You laughed, pulling apart the pink fluffy candy.

"Do you have any other plans tonight?" He asked with a smirk. "Not really but I have to get back somewhere in a bit" You sighed, It was true you didn't have much time left.

"Well if you'd like you could come watch me and my band play" His answer was smug and seemed confident that you'd accept. "What kind of band?" You asked thinking of the offer.

As you looked up to meet his eyes, your heart dropped. You had caught sight of a tall figure you knew far to well. Dwayne. He was standing about 30 feet away by the carousel.

His eyes were set on something else. "Fuck" you muttered, the cotton candy had slipped right through your hands.

Unbeknownst to you Dwayne had already been hot on your trail. Paul had snitched you out.

He had followed his prey down to the boardwalk when he saw you standing in line at the consetion stand, the blonde smirked already eager to tell his brother about this new founded information.

Dwayne wanted to believe paul was lying, for your own good. You knew better, he thought. His excuses for you came clashing down on him like daggers as he stepped foot on the boardwalk.

When dwayne's eyes focused on you he was prepared to let this little incident go, he wanted to be reasonable until a man came into view and you didn't push him away or ignore him you entertained him, smiling at that smug son of a bitch. He wanted to rip his body apart until there were only scraps left of him right in front of the entire crowd. He searched through the crowd, debating for a mere second what he should do. Rip your skull or his, maybe even both?

You must've saw him in the shadows, because you had made a run for it. He laughed menacingly, that's cute. You think you stand a chance against the immortal angry vampire?

Your mind raced just as fast as your feet could run. His voice filled your thoughts, he was calling out your name laughing at you. Taunting your fear, he loved every second of this. Watching as you ran across the beach frantic, your heartbeat pounding right in his ears. His presence right behind you like a shadow, yet every-time you looked back no one was there.

Dwayne's laughs echoed in your head so loud you started to wonder if you were just imagining it. He was making this exchange a nightmare, every bone in your body told you to run and hide and thats exactly what you did. The gloomy cave was within a few feet away, you'd made your way through the dark tunnels of it almost tripping over rocks that scattered the floors.

Your room was waiting for you acting as the only shield between you and the merciless creature of the night. Adrenaline ran hot through your veins as you jumped onto your bed, you were so high on it you hadn't realized the tears that poured from your eyes. Your thoughts froze as A tall dark shadow with glowing red eyes emerged from the depths of the tunnels reaching the entrance of your room. Frightening you to your core...

"please... no ... please go away" Your pleads didnt do you any good he had reached the foot of your bed "Come here" Dwayne growled, his chest heaving with rage as he pointed for you to come to him.

You were astounded by his tone, your body scooted further away. "No go away! You're scaring me!" You cried. He laughed wickedly "I should be.... you have no idea what your in for!" His eyes were glowing red with fury. "Now im not gonna ask you twice come here" He said sternly. You stared at him in shock, your body froze too scared to move.

A low growl rubbled through his body before

He yanked your legs, now towering over you. You yelped in fear. "When I tell you something you obey me understand" your eyes stared at him bewildered, he had never spoken to you like that. "Who is he?" Dwayne's voice was gruff as he crawled on top of you gripping both your hands above your head.

"Who are you talking about" you cried as his face grew closer to yours. His eyes shut for a second as he snarled before opening his eyes once more. "Every chance you get you disobey me, you think I like disciplining you?" He snapped.

"No dwayne, I promise nothing happened I just wanted to get cotton candy and that guy kept talking to me-" You rushed you words out but were interrupted by dwayne. "You were never supposed to leave the cave in the first place, do you have any idea what could have happened to you, then I catch you flirting with another guy." he grimaced.

"I wasn't flirting!" You cried growing frustrated with his remarks, his grasp on your wrist only tightened.

"Well maybe I should remind you what happens when you do." With a quick shift he hoisted you up from the bed throwing you over his legs as he sat. "I didn't want to do this but it seems nothing else works for you." He didn't have to say much more, you understood exactly what he was gonna do to you.

"Dwayne! Let me go!" You yelled furiously squirming under his tight grip that forced your body bent over his lap. He shook your body forcefully "Dont make me shut you up" He growled. "You don't have to do this Dwayne. Let me go" You yelled kicking your feet back.

"Oh but I think I do you've been getting on my last nerve all damn month, I pamper you non stop and this is what I get?" His voice raised with every word as he spoke, rage flowed through his body as he reminded himself why he had to do this.

"I won't do it again just let me go" you squirmed again but dwayne rested his hand on your back as his other hiked your skirt up. His heavy hand brushed over your ass, the coldness of the metal that wrapped around his fingers making you shiver as it made contact with your skin. "It's too late for that now..." he scoffed. Your anger was slowly fading feeling intrigued by the way dwayne was handling you.

"Now..." he started. "You will count every spank I give you out loud, you miss one we start all over again got it?"

"Yes, daddy." You whispered. His hand gripped the back of your shirt tight as his other forced down the first harsh slap on your ass. You winced feeling the sharp sting of his rings slap against your skin. "One" you called out. Another one followed "Two". You felt dwayne's fury with each cold hard smack against your skin. Your hands clung tight around his ankle as the rest of your body jolted against his lap "3" you gasped vulgarly as his hand shot down on your bottom again. You were surprised how much you were enjoying this punishment. Dwaynes smacks came to a stop "Get up" He muttered.

Dwayne grew aggravated, he was so frustrated with the way you were acting always trying to get under his skin and he'd had enough of it. His body shook with anger and his skin grew hot. He picked you up throwing you back onto the bed, in just a few seconds he tore his heavy jacket off his shoulders. He snarled with a sinister chuckle. He watched as you looked up confused for a second. His chest heaved with exasperation, somehow he looked taller staring down at you. Your legs tangled in the sheets shifting upwards against the bed in an attempt to move away from him.

With a quick grasp he yanked on your ankle pulling you along with it, he trapped you faster than you could move pinning your hand at your sides. His breathing was heavy against your face. Your head tilted back in frustration, now surrendering to his little game. His jaw clenched as he lifted your dress up, the black lace of you underwear intertwining with his fingers. Dwayne teased your sex, erupting a gasp from your lips. His fiery eyes glared down on yours as his vast hand slipped under the hem of your panties. A smirk slapped on his face as he cupped your soaking mound "Even like this you're wet, you like it when i'm mean to you... Isn't that right?" He chuckled against you ear. His face grew full of pride, watching your eyes roll back with each bit of movement he made. "Those were your intentions this whole time." He purred against your neck "Weren't they?". His digits pushed deep into your heat curling up inside you, "No" you choked in between moans writhing against the sheets, desperately spreading your legs further for him. The blood had rushed straight to the apples of your cheeks turning them bright red as dwayne dragged his fingers back to your folds drawing circles on your aching clit. "no" you muttered again under your breathe.

"Oh but I think they were" He whispered leaning into your ear again smirking. "Who was he?" He groaned quickening his pace. You whimpered confused "Dwayne-" you muttered the word "Stranger" His right hand grasped the back of your head tugging on your tangled hair. This time he pulled your face to look him in the eyes "Tell me..." His voice sounded gravelly as he trailed on. His digits thrusted into you again sending your body reeling once more. "I'm not gonna ask you twice now tell me" He huffed. His thrust had slowed giving you time to catch your breathe. You realized he wouldn't stop with this, you'd never hear the end of it until you gave him his name. "Dwayne... I- I dont Know" you rushed grunting feeling flushed with his questions. "Stephen" was all you said. His breathing lowered, stopping what he was doing. The sound of another man's name coming from your lips hurt. His vision blurred, the color red invading dwayne's sight. "Dwayne!" you whimpered, snapping him out of a trance. His mind filled with pictures of you with another man. He could not fathom the thought of it, you were his. A deep sense of possession washed over him, no one could ever have you.

His eyes had turned into a raging deep shade of red as he leaned over to you, his nose nudging the right side of your cheek as his ring clad hand reached under your skirt. Snugging your black cotton soaked underwear off in one swift moment. His calloused hands gripped your thighs pulling you closer, feeling up between them until his fingers toyed near your beating sex. "Tell me...honey" He whispered. Closing in on you with a smirk. "Why should I fuck a girl who's been so disrespectful?"

Slick formed between your thighs whilst he looked you deep in the eyes. "I'm sorry" You cried. You grew eager and desperate for him. He laughed shaking his head "Sorry doesn't cut it this time, I guess I'll have to fuck some respect into you" Dwayne sighed shaking his head with a sly smile.

He hoisted you up by your waist, unbuttoning his jeans in the process. He slid his dark denim down his muscular thighs, huffing with anticipation. He stroked himself before you embracing every inch of his man-hood. Dwayne teased your slick folds probing your sensitive entrance with his tip, just enough to have you begging for more. Dwayne's eyes bore into yours watching as you pouted away, he licked his lips whilst he spoke "Naughty girl always testing my limits" he purred. Your whimper failed to make it past your lips as he pushed into you, stilling as soon as he bottomed out inside of you."Oh!" You moaned gripping the fabric of your skirt that pooled around your belly. Your eyes shut closed together tight as your cheeks flushed, he hadn't gave you enough time to adjust for him.

As much as you hated to admit you liked it. You had done just enough to push him over the edge, finally have him lose his cool. Show you just how territorial he could be when it came you.

He picked up his rhythm making his thrust deep filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock nudged your g spot expertly everytime you jerked forward. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers dug onto each side of your thighs holding you in place. "Dwayne!" you cried, your moans echoed in his head giving him the exact satisfaction he needed to heighten his ego.

Dwayne's body shook as his hips collided with yours producing the only sound that filled the room. He let all his frustration unveil right in front of you. His body heat, his scent, his entire being covered and surrounded you. You were right under his thumb.

Your thoughts were hazed with dwayne's harsh thrust, moan after moan escaping you mixed with screams. You couldn't help it his dick was so big it hurt. He was so deep inside you that he was painfully pushing against your cervix. Dwayne pulled you flush against his chest, rocking back onto his knees.

"You wanna fuck someone else? Is that what you wanna do?" He said with a snarl. "No" you cried. Your vision burred as tears poured down your face, hands clutching around his neck for balance.

"Daddy~" you cried out. "You want to fuck someone else?" A deep inhumane snarl left his lips as is hands tugged on your hair along with his words. "Answer me" He demanded. "Noo-" you cried "Oh- only you dway-" you gasped. His pace quickened with such force. Your eyes rolled to the back your head as drool slipped through the side of your mouth trying to put your words together. "You're all mine" Dwayne whispered against your neck in between his loud pants "I know all of you" The words echoed in your brain, you were beginning to feel lightheaded. His calloused hand rubbed your belly, pressing against it easily feeling himself through your flesh. "Like me there? right there" He questioned pressing roughly on your abdomen. Your head snapped back moaning his name in between loud cries. Your body shook against his as you reached your first orgasm. You squirmed under his grasp trying to escape the overstimulation. He held your hips tight thrusting into you.

"Poor baby can't take my dick" He hummed. Dwayne shoved you forward again, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. "N-o, Please—more" You screamed. The applied pressure becoming to much for your hazed little brain.

You fell limp against his vast shoulders, letting him use you as he pleased. "Already fucked your brains out and I'm not even finished" He shoved you forward again, hand adjusting to hold the small of your back in an arch. "Milking my cock so good honey" His voice sounded velvet soft against your skin. Your walls began to spasm around him so tight his hips stuttered. His pace slowed his thrust becoming forcefully, you couldn't stop yourself from screaming.

Your brain was so fucked you didn't notice the hot cum coating your insides. Your body shook continuously after each orgasm, you'd lost count. He pumped into you twitching against your tight walls grunting as he shot his hot load into you. He slowed his pace finally getting his cock to still in you. You squirmed under his hold thinking it was over but he had other plans. "Stop moving, gonna keep my cock in you" You whimpered your poor cunt. "Dwayne please-" Your face was full of fear. "I'll be gentle baby" he purred dragging his thumb below your chin. You bought that sudden sweet talk of his. "Please" you whispered repeating yourself. He traced kisses from your chin to your neck, stopping at a certain spot. His tongue sucked the spot making sure to leave a bruise so that everyone would see. His hips rocked slowly against yours subtly picking up a rhythm.

#the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #dwayne tlb #tlb fanfic #tlb imagine #tlb 1987 #dwayne tlb smut #tlb x reader #tlb smut

211 notes · View notes

august-anon · 24 days ago

Note

Hi!

Can you write a lee tim and ler jason tickle fic, please? Basically, Jason and Tim are sparring in the batcave, and after a few rough hits from jason (the main goal is to see who taps out first), Tim says that he can handle anything Jason throws at him and more, and Jason is like "oh yeah?" And after some more sparring and faster moves from Tim and Jason, Jason gets fed up and jabs him in the ribs to throw him off and then pinning him to the mat tickling him.

You don't have to write this, btw! And thank you!!

yes yes yes, so happy to fill this prompt!!! I had a lot of fun with it!! I didn't want it to turn out too much like the sparring/tickling scene in Brother's Forged in Laughter, so i tried to add a fun little game to the tickling that i hope you enjoy!!

also i am sorry it is so short compared to other fics i've put out for this fandom lately 😭 was working on this on and off in the Height of my writer's block this past month. But i hope you still enjoy it!!!

also, apologies, but i only barely edited this (aka did a loose proofread after taking my sleeping aids one night and i was really drowsy 😭), but i really wanted to get a fic out for everyone since you all have been so patient with me (esp those of you with prompts sitting with me since beginning of January, like ficsstuff here sdjkfhdfs you absolute patient angel, thank you)

_____________________________________

Snotface

Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Tim & Ler!Jason

Word Count: 2890 words

Summary: Tim was never sparring with Jason again. He was a cheater in every way imaginable.

[ao3 link]

_____________________________________

Lungs burning and muscles screaming, Red Robin leapt over the leg sweeping toward him. He barely caught his balance in time to dodge the series of punches thrown his way immediately after. He advanced, throwing a few punches of his own, but each one was blocked with ease. Red Robin really wished he had his bo staff right about now – now that would even the odds. Red Robin retreated after narrowly blocking a particularly heavy hit toward his head, taking a moment to regroup.

The Red Hood circled him, letting loose a low chuckle. “That all you got, kid? I’m not impressed.”

Red Robin lowered his center of gravity, feeling the bruises forming on his calves and thighs go ache with the motion. He took a deep, steadying breath, gratified when he didn’t feel any pain in his chest or ribs. At least he was still blocking right. He wasn’t eager to see the medley of bruises on his arms, later.

“Please,” he scoffed. “I can take anything you can dish out and then some.”

Hood narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on Red Robin’s form to search for weaknesses. “Is that so?” His voice was drawling, almost lazy. The taunt would have been more effective if his chest wasn’t rising and falling rapidly with his own breath.

“Yeah. Why don’t you give up now, save your pride?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Hood didn’t give him a chance to reply to the banter, charging him without warning. Red Robin swallowed a yelp, rolling out of the way. He could feel Hood’s fingers catch on the back of his clothing, nearly snatching him right up then and there. He leapt out of range the moment his feet were under him, trying to anticipate Red Hood’s next move.

They circled for another few moments before Red Robin took the initiative, feinting left and managing to land a solid hit on Hood’s right side. Hood grunted at the punch, and Red Robin pushed his luck, trying to slip around behind him for a nerve strike. Hood recovered quickly, however, and snatched him around the chest. Fortunately for Red Robin, Hood’s arm was right within biting range, and he wasn’t afraid of fighting dirty.

“You little shit!” Red Hood roared and threw Red Robin to the ground.

Red Robin skidded across the floor for a few feet, trying to regain his footing. He scrambled back up just in time for Hood to be upon him, throwing hit after hit at Red Robin’s defenses. He did his best to dodge and block, trying his best to fall back as he lost stamina. Hood had more endurance than him – Red Robin blamed it on the Lazarus Pit – and in a brawl like this, Red Robin would almost always lose.

Hood growled as he realized what was happening, clearly losing patience with the fight. He lunged after Red Robin, speeding up his punches, trying to force an opening. Red Robin fought to keep up, but he could feel himself flagging. He wasn’t surprised when a hit finally made it through his defenses. What did surprise him was the actual jab to his upper ribs, making him shriek and jerk away from the touch.

“Gotcha,” Red Hood growled.

“Wait, no–” Red Robin tried to scramble away.

“C’mere, fucking– snotface McGee–”

Tim yelped as his back hit the training mats with a dull smack, Jason pinning him down with his body weight so he couldn’t escape. Tim shoved at his shoulders and face, trying to dislodge him.

“You can’t keep calling me a snotface– I’m nineteen!”

Jason caught one of his wrists, wrestling it down to the mats next to his head. “You’re a snotface for as long as I say you’re a snotface. Would you prefer shithead?”

Tim bared his teeth, jerking his legs up to knee Jason in the spine. “Yeah, actually!”

“Too fucking bad, snotface!”

Tim growled, trying to twist his body underneath Jason enough to create some room to escape. “You’re such a piece of shit!”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Bold words for such a ticklish little shit.”

Tim’s eyes went wide. “What? No – Jason!”

He smirked. “What was it, again? Anything I can dish out and then some?”

“No, no, nonono–” Tim was babbling now, and all it did was make Jason laugh.

“You know the rules of a spar, Timberella.” He leaned in, his broad shoulders making him look all looming and threatening. “Tap out or face consequences.”

Tim glared at him. “You’re gonna tickle me either way.”

Jason’s smirk opened into a shark-like grin. “Probably. But if you tap out, I’ll go easy on you.”

As if.

“I’m not stupid.”

Jason cocked his head. “No, you’re not, are you?”

And then there were fingers rippling into his side and Tim was lost to giggles. He was so tired from the last several spars, and his own solo training before that, that he had no hope of hiding his reactions – not that it would’ve done him much good anyway. Jason knew his tickle-spots far too well, by now.

“Laughing already, Timmy-boy? Oh, this does not bode well for you.”

“You’re mean!” Tim whined, wriggling underneath Jason and pushing at Jason’s hand with his free one.

Jason scoffed, skipping over his ribs entirely (that never boded well, Jason skipping over death spots – Tim was in trouble) to stuff his hand into Tim’s armpit. “Oh, you haven’t even seen mean, yet.”

Tim snorted once before tossing his head back in belly-laughter, kicking his legs out behind Jason. “Get out of there!”

Jason hummed. “You want me to switch spots? Give me an alternative.”

Tim’s eyes bugged out of his head. His squirming renewed tenfold, the combined sweat from their workouts (which, ew, Tim was so taking an hour-long shower after this) helping him in slipping his wrist from Jason’s hand. Jason made a surprised sound as he slipped out of his grip and clamped his arms down to his sides.

“Dammit, get back here–”

Jason pulled his tickling hand away, scrambling for Tim’s hands, and Tim realized this was his moment. His one chance to get away, to escape Jason’s torment entirely. He shot his hands down in a panic, grabbing at Jason’s hips and squeezing them repeatedly. Jason yelped and let out a whinnying, wheezing laugh, slipping halfway off Tim in his own attempts to get away. Tim kicked at the ground, trying to get the leverage to crawl out from under him the rest of the way.

“Little shit!” Jason shouted, his hands shooting down to Tim’s wrists and capturing both in a vice grip.

Tim cursed, trying to pull or twist his hands away, but Jason had grown wise to his tricks. He kept his grip tight as he readjusted himself onto Tim’s thighs, practically growling as he pinned Tim’s hands under his knees.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that, Tim.”

Tim squirmed, firmly trapped against the mats, and gave Jason a pleading look. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

Jason chuckled, low and dangerous. He planted his hands on either side of Tim’s head, looming down at him. “Oh, yes you did. Now you’re really not getting out of this.”

Tim grunted, twisting this way and that, yanking at his arms, kicking at the mats to try and propel himself away. Jason smirked at his struggles.

“Now, tell me where I should tickle.”

“No!” Tim yelled, tossing himself from side to side. “You can’t do that!”

“Oh yeah? And why not?”

“It’s – it’s cheating!”

Jason laughed outright. “It’s cheating? What the hell am I even cheating at?”

“Being a jerk!”

“How does one even cheat at being a jerk? That makes no fucking sense. How is your brain already fried when I haven’t even started tickling yet?”

Jason started hovering his hands over Tim’s torso, wiggling his fingers ever-so-slowly. Tim gasped, pressing himself back against the mats as if it would give him any more space from the evil hands.

“Tell me.”

“No!”

“Timmy.”

“Cut it out, Jason!”

“Timmers.”

Tim let out some weird amalgamation between a whine and a groan, drumming his heels against the training mats. Jason laughed at him, clearly having far too much fun with Tim’s nerves.

“Come on, sooner you tell me, sooner this teasing stops.” He gave a more dramatic wiggle of his fingers.

Tim slammed his head back against the mats, running through tickle spots in his mind. If he said ribs, would Jason make quick work of the tickle attack and let him go sooner, or would Jason drag it out as long as Tim could stand it? Should he go for a less ticklish spot and hope Jason lost interest (as if that had ever happened), or would Jason just make him keep picking spots until Tim had no choice but to ask for his ribs to be tickled?

Tim groaned, deciding for a choice in-between the two. “Knees?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

He didn’t wait for Tim to reply before leaning back and reaching behind himself, squeezing slowly and deliberately at the muscle above his knees. Tim yipped and bounced his legs, breaking into bright giggles. Jason hummed at the noise, a devious look crossing his face. On one knee, he started squeezing and pinching lightly at a rapid pace, making Tim squeal in response. On the other, he kept the slow pace, squeezing deeply at those ticklish pressure points making Tim jolt at every touch.

“What’s your angle, Timberlina? What’s the plan?”

Tim squeaked and squirmed, struggling to make his words understandable through his giggling. “What’s yours?”

“Pick a new spot and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Tim twisted and bucked, trying to dislodge Jason yet again. “No you won’t!”

Jason shrugged. “Yeah, probably not. Pick anyways.”

Tim had half a mind to refuse again – after all, he was nothing if not stubborn. Then Jason’s hands moved. One just shifted slightly downwards, latching fingers around Tim’s kneecap itself and shifting it back and forth while flexing his fingers where they pinched it. Despite the odd method, Tim found that it tickled a ridiculous amount and his kicking renewed tenfold. The other hand darted behind his knee to spider blunt nails against thin skin, making his giggling all high-pitched and bubbly.

“Okay! Wait, wait!”

Jason didn’t stop. “I’m listening.”

“I– I don’t–!”

“Choose, TimTams. Or I’ll find a way to make it worse again.”

Worse? Again? How many ways could Jason find to tickle knees? Tim decided he didn’t want to find out. He suddenly felt very bad for Damian and his hyperticklish knees.

“Stomach!”

Fingers were massaging into his stomach before he even finished the word. Tim tried to sit up, managing little more than a crunch as he tried to double-over his own torso. Jason snorted at his attempts, scratching mercilessly along his lower stomach to make Tim’s laughter go all squeaky.

“Fuck!”

Jason clicked his tongue. “That’s two dollars in Alfie’s jar.”

“Two?”

Jason smirked, vibrating two fingers from either hand on either side of his belly button. “Two. You’ve still got the baby brother tax, baby brothers have to pay more because they’re not supposed to say bad words.”

Tim only barely managed to get a word out around his cackle – why did those little spots tickle so bad? – kneeing Jason in the back again. “Asshole!”

Jason jerked forward at the hit, eyes narrowing as he paused his tickling. “Four dollars. You sure you wanna keep hitting me?”

Jason reached back, his fingers just barely grazing Tim’s kneecap. Tim yelped and shot his legs back down flat.

“I’m supposed to pick!”

Jason narrowed his eyes, his grin turning mischievous. “That’s right, you are.” Jason’s fingers switched to wiggling all over his stomach, making him giggle. “So pick.”

“What if– what if I don’t, huh? Then you just have to stay there!”

“I already said– I’ll make it worse.” Jason shrugged. “Or I can just start picking for you.”

Tim’s eyes went wide. “No, no!”

Jason ducked down and gave Tim a long, loud raspberry right against one of those twin spots next to his belly button. Tim shrieked, shrill and loud and panicked, and burst into cackles. He wished desperately that he could shove at Jason’s head. Even if it didn’t make him budge, it would at least make him feel better.

“Okay! Okay, okay, okay!”

“I’m waiting, Timber.” He blew another raspberry on the opposite spot.

“Neck!” Tim cried out around his laughter.

Jason sat up with a sigh. “Alright, fine,” he said, drawing out the last word as if Tim was putting him out.

Tim opened his mouth to make some sort of sarcastic comment in return, but all the air rushed out of him in a flurry of near-hysterical giggles as Jason’s hands reached their target. One hand fluttered around and behind his ear, while the other ever-so-lightly scratch-scratch-scratched at the sensitive skin of his neck on the other side. Tim tried to shrug up his shoulders for protection, but Jason was undeterred. He flapped his trapped arms against the training mats uselessly, kicking his feet out behind Jason.

“I never said ears!”

Jason scoffed. “Come on, they’re practically the same spot.” He grinned. “Besides, you just did. Now they both count.”

“You’re such a dick!”

“Damn, have I already tickled you so bad that you forgot which brother I am?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Now you sound like Dick.”

Jason paused, for the barest of moments, letting Tim suck in a breath. He nodded. “That’s fair.”

Then he swapped hands. The hand scratching at his neck took its blunt nails to the shell of his ear instead. The hand at his ear started fluttering around everywhere it could reach. The side of Tim’s neck, his throat, back around toward his nape. Tim always wiggled especially hard when Jason reached around to his nape – he couldn’t help it.

“Ooh, good spot?”

“Shut up!”

As if Jason didn’t have a catalogue of Tim’s worst tickle spots locked away in his brain already thanks to his numerous tickle attacks, claiming it was his right as an older brother.

Jason started jumping and back forth between the back of his neck and his ears, then, trapping him between overwhelming tittering as he shook his head and absolutely frantic giggling as he tried to wiggle his whole body free. Both types of laughter had him grinning so wide his eyes were practically squinted shut. It was horribly embarrassing, especially when Jason started to laugh along with him. Trying to force his eyes back open made it even worse, because Tim would almost call the smile on Jason’s face fond, and Jason didn’t do fond. The uncharacteristic affection, whether or not Tim was meant to see it, made him incredibly bashful all of a sudden. It was a little like when Bruce looked at them like he was melting inside – though not quite as bad.

But still, Tim would like to not face older-brother-sappiness right now if he could help it.

“R-ribs!”

Jason paused, and Tim dared squint an eye open to see his expression. The fondness was still there, but it was pushed to the edges of his expression. Now, Jason looked more devious than anything, with an eyebrow raised high.

“You sure about that, Timbo?”

Tim whined. “Isn’t four spots enough already?”

Jason hummed. “Maybe I ought to tell Bruce and Alfie to up your resistance training…”

Tim barely resisted the urge to kick him in the back again. They’d been sparring for ages! And he’d been training hard on his own for over an hour before that! His endurance was fine, thank you very much.

Jason shrugged. “But fine. If you’re willing to offer up that spot to me on a silver platter, I’ll take it.”

Oh, fuck him.

Unfortunately, as was becoming a theme, Tim didn’t quite get the chance to tell him that out loud as Jason’s hands quickly descended to his ribcage and sent him into full-bodied laughter. He wiggled his fingers up and down the bones for a few moments, as if giving Tim a warm-up, before beginning his more targeted attacks.

He vibrated his fingers into Tim’s lowest ribs, leaving Tim cackling and snorting. He scratched at the weak point in the middle, around toward Tim’s back, and he couldn’t help the screeching, shrieking laughter that escaped him. When he dug his fingers into the tops of Tim’s ribs, just below his underarms, Tim’s laughter turned wheezing, almost silent.

Jason rotated around the hot-spots on his ribs, never staying in one place too long. He jumped sporadically between focusing on them and doing a full-rib attack, preventing Tim from predicting his next move and trying to prepare for it. He lost all sense of time as his every thought was tickled out of him before it even formed. Mirthful tears had started to build in the corners of his eyes by the time Jason started tapering his attack down, poking around Tim’s ribs intermittently to keep him on edge and giggling.

“Well then, snotface,” Jason gave a firm pat to either side of his ribcage, snorting at Tim’s full-body flinch. “I guess you’re off the hook.”

“Someday,” Tim grumbled as Jason left him laying boneless on the training mats. “Someday, I will make you regret this.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Timbuktu.”

#tickle fic #my writing #dc tickling #batfam tickling #lee!tim drake #ler!jason todd #ticklish!tim drake #dc #batfam #tim drake #jason todd

85 notes · View notes