#I’ve been so busy I hardly have time to play!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beardedjoel · 11 days ago

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honey, honey | one: for the low, low price of!

sugar daddy! joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you find yourself in a precarious situation financially, one that requires lying and risking the silver spoon you've grown up on. your father's oldest friend, joel, finds you in a compromising position but quickly becomes an unexpected solution to all your problems. 9.8k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, sugar daddy worthy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 54), inherent power dynamic imbalance from a sugar daddy arrangement, reader has shit parents and comes from money, one (1) jerk off session, playing it a little fast and loose with pov, slow burn!

a/n: well, here she is. i actually started this over a year ago but sent it to the back burner for ages, so it feels like such a long time coming! i hope you enjoy, these two are going on a journey together and i really hope you stick along for the ride. so, so excited for it! i'm attempting a slower burn with eventual smut this time around. it’s not the focus from the get go but instead some chemistry, banter, and confusing pining are taking center stage for a bit before they get freak nasty.

You stare down at your phone, scowling at the message on screen as the van jostles you on a turn, pulling into a new neighborhood. Your coworkers, Alicia and Gladys chat in the front seats while you sulk in the back. You don’t mean to be so off putting, but you’re reflecting on how you ended up here, staring at a text from your father inquiring about your day at the firm. Guilt squeezes your insides at the fabrication you’ve concocted, the way you couldn’t be further from the false narrative you’ve given to your parents, and with hardly anything to show for it yet.

“Wait…” you mutter, your eyes focusing and scanning along the perfectly manicured street of gorgeous brownstones rising up, all crammed together. You know that despite the small, more humble outsides of these homes, the insides are immaculate, thousands of square feet renovated to perfection. “I know this street.”

Alicia turns from the passenger seat, raising her eyebrows at you. “This richie rich neighborhood? Who do you know here?”

You feel your cheeks warm up, too embarrassed to admit to them that your own parents’ luxury apartment is on a street not too dissimilar to this. In fact, you don’t even need this job in the slightest, but have been desperate to make your own money under the radar, away from your parents’ obsessive peering into every aspect of your life. Every day that has passed since you hatched your little plan that had felt like some kind of genius at the beginning has only proven how futile it was to jump into it so hastily.

“I… swear I’ve been here before…” you mutter, mostly thinking out loud to yourself, eyes staring out the window as you wrack your brain.

When Gladys pulls into a drive, dipping below the house into a garage that opens for the van, your stomach tightens. It’s all too familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it. You haven’t been here for a few years, at the least.

“W-who’s our client today?” you ask urgently, tightening your hands into fists.

Gladys glances at her work tablet, filled with the itinerary for the entire week. “Mr. Miller, hon,” she replies before peering back down at the screen, confirming it. “Joel.”

You can tell you must look as shocked as you feel, eyes flashing with fear and going a little wider and your face dropping instantly.

“I-I know him,” you manage to stutter out. “Well, he knows my parents. Like, really well.”

Joel could not, under any circumstances, see you like this. What a disaster that would be - your rich daddy’s rich friend getting a house cleaning from said friend’s daughter. One who is supposed to be off interning somewhere. Instead, you’re plotting to live by scraping by, collecting money for what you hope could be an escape from this life, their life.

Your parents are both insistent on you taking over the family business - some corporate bullshit you have no interest in - so you’d sated them by claiming you were off gaining experience in between classes with some interning hours at a firm. You’re lucky that a friend of yours from college actually does work there, hoping if it came down to it, they could vouch for you. If the truth got out, you know the possibility that you would be cut off is high. It’s the kind of massive fallout you’re not sure you’re prepared to deal with yet.

The lies you’ve had to concoct and the harsh reality of cramming your schedule full between class and this job - scrubbing floors, endless vacuuming and wiping surfaces, your body aching after each and every day of work - was starting to get to you, but you had to persevere.

“They’re hardly ever even home when we come anyways, especially this Mr. Miller,” Alicia suggests at your panic, and you swallow and nod. Gladys agrees with her, then they shoot each other a concerned, confused look. They’ve been a team for a while, but you’ve only just met them a few weeks ago, assigned to train with them. Both of them are older momma bear types, having clung to your young ass like glue, vowing to teach you all the ropes and take good care of you, which you’d appreciated. You’d been lucky enough to have gotten a job with this particular company, having no experience in the field, or nay field for that matter. The client base they worked with was high end, their homes millions of dollars, the service only known to the more wealthy side of Manhattan.

“Y-yeah, you’re right. It’s totally fine.” You’re not sure if you’re trying harder to convince yourself or Gladys and Alicia, the two women staring you down with their brows wrinkled in worry.

It’s the last cleaning of the day, and all you need to do is get through it. It has to be fine, it just has to - you need the money. Desperately. You push out a small smile, moving to exit the van. “Let’s do this,” you add on a little more encouragingly after the two of them look less than convinced.

“There she is,” Gladys teases, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as you all start to unload all your supplies. You’re let in by a middle aged woman with dark hair in a sleek bob answering the garage door with a polite smile. His house manager or assistant, you realize. Men like Joel Miller had assistants, you remind yourself, to help take care of everything - the house, grocery lists for the week, light cooking, or even his schedule. She likely did it all.

You take in Joel’s home with wandering eyes, recalling now that you’d come here for dinner before - a family outing that your parents had dragged you to, the details of the place coming back to you as you all move further inside. It feels strange to be here without his permission, without your parents knowing where you are right now. Your chest is tight at the thought, but once you three get to work, you feel your anxiety dissipate as you get lost in the monotony of it - the drone of the vacuum, the mindless scrubbing of sparkling surfaces, the fresh lemon scent as you clean the bathrooms. Joel’s house isn’t all that dirty to begin with, an easy job compared to some of them you’d seen since you started.

You’re feeling downright pleasant by the time you’re finishing up, a job well done filling you with satisfaction as you wipe a thin layer of sweat off your forehead. You’re heading back to the main living room, hoping to link back up with Gladys and Alicia when you spot him.

He’s walking down the hallway with purpose, eyes glued down on his phone, dark framed reading glasses shielding his eyes from you further. His black suit hugs his body like it was meant for him, and you suppose it likely was tailored to his exact measurements, right to the very centimeter. You stop dead in your tracks, head whipping from side to side, looking for an out, a door you can rush into, but you’re trapped, the nearest one at least several paces behind you. When Joel glances up, he’s silent, stopping as he’s close to crashing into you and giving you a range of emotions rushing across his features - quizzical brows turning into full on confusion as he just stares.

Your name finally leaves his lips, almost incredulously. “Now what’re you doin’ here?” He takes in your outfit with his dark eyes - the branded tee shirt, your working slacks, and plain black work shoes - possibly one of the least flattering ensembles you could be wearing. “What is all this?”

“Not sure what you mean, Mr. Miller,” you spit out in a panic, keeping your voice professional, a high, sweet lilt as you hold your smile.

“C’mon now,” Joel urges, his brows coming together further in concern. He steps towards you with his voice lowered, but you step back a little almost instinctively, keeping your distance. Like you can run from this, from this mess you’ve suddenly made of your life. You break a little, lips faltering as your smile starts to fall. Tears prick behind your eyes, embarrassment from being caught creeping its way up from your chest.

“Please don’t tell my parents…” you mumble, darting your gaze away from his intense stare.

Joel pauses for a moment, adjusting the glasses up on his nose before deciding to take them off completely, tucking them into his jacket pocket.

“I don’t even know what I’d be tellin’ them, if I’m honest here,” he admits, rubbing a hand along his lips and chin, studying you. It’s starting to practically burn your skin, the way he stares, a man of confidence and command looking at you this way. Not something you were completely unaccustomed to, your father having plenty of business partners and associates with the same demeanor. But Joel felt different, like he was genuinely concerned for you.

“There you are,” Gladys huffs out, turning the corner behind Joel, her mouth forming a small "oh” when she sees who you’ve run into.

“Mr. Miller, great to see you, sir,” she chirps immediately, giving him her professional grin, one you’ve seen plenty of times already in the few weeks you’ve worked with her.

Joel, not forgetting his manners, smiles back at her and greets her, turning his body to let Gladys into the conversation. Alicia follows close behind, and you’re starting to burn up with embarrassment at this clusterfuck of a gathering you’ve found yourself in now.

“Everythin’ looks great, ladies. Why don’t you two head on out and I’ll steal her for just a bit,” Joel says, charming and smooth, his accent thick. “Think my office needs some special attention.”

Alicia and Gladys shoot each other a glance, then you, then Joel, seeming to try to piece everything together. Your cheeks couldn't possibly be any hotter, white hot and spreading up to your ears, knowing that this looks bad. Like Joel is about to take you into his office and do unspeakable things to you. The classic maid trope, or whatever.

“It’s okay,” you mouth quietly to the both of them, giving them an encouraging smile even though you feel shaky, like your stomach is bottoming out.

“She’s an old family friend in need of some catching up. In fact, I’ll drive her home after. Don’t y’all worry about it, I know you’ve got places to be,” Joel adds to sweeten the deal. The two ladies exchange another look, but then turn back to Joel, their faces slightly strained but professional.

“Of course, Mr. Miller. We’ll see you for the next service, then,” Alicia says a bit robotically. They both nod curtly and then bow out, not before peeking one last look at where you stand like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“This way,” Joel says, turning back to face you with a steely expression, brushing past you to lead you towards where you already know he’s going - his office. You hadn’t been in there today - Gladys had tackled the office, so it’s all new territory to you as you pass the threshold, taking in the modern but cozy decor. It’s mostly black and dark wood furniture, dark gray chairs but contrasted with airy white walls, a high ceiling, and colorful art, making the room feel spacious despite the dark features.

Joel sighs softly, shutting the door behind him, even though nobody else is here, no reason to need the privacy. It serves to make you even more nervous, and you lick your quickly drying lips, standing near the doorway with your hands folded in front of you.

“Look, Mr. Miller -” you start, wanting to explain yourself. Joel moves closer, sending you backing up into the room, cutting off your train of thought as his large, imposing form closes in on you.

“You gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on here?”

“W-what do you mean?” you ask innocently, knowing there are a myriad of very reasonable reasons for Joel to be questioning you right now. You’re not sure what charade you’re even trying to hold up at this point, it’s only pure panic. Another step closer, and another step backwards for you, he continues until the backs of your thighs hit the desk and you stop, surprised as you glance back at it behind you.

“Don’t play coy. Imagine my surprise when I see my one of my oldest buddies' daughters, knowing he takes care of his family, here cleanin’ my floors and toilets. Now don’t you think that’d strike me as odd?” His head cocks, and he looks at you seriously, brows raised. You can’t quite tell if he’s getting any satisfaction out of this, or if he actually seems angry.

“Mr. Miller, I - I can explain, okay?” you start nervously, and Joel waves a hand impatiently, as if to say go on then. “They, my parents, I mean, they want me to be in the family business, and I…” You sigh. “Don’t know what I want, but it’s not that.”

Joel stares at you for a long, quiet moment, flashing eyes studying your face, trying to read if you’re being truthful.

“And what’s this have to do with cleanin’ my house?” he asks curtly.

“I… well, it doesn’t. I mean, it does. I just need to make my own money. If I don’t follow in his footsteps, I think they’ll… cut me off,” you reply, deciding to try to be as blunt as he is. Your voice falters on those last words, the reality of it painful, twisting in your gut. What kind of parent cuts their child off for something so frivolous, so selfish?

Joel looks amused suddenly, cocking his head a little further, and you can tell he definitely doesn’t believe you. He’s so close, so in your personal space, you’re finding it hard to breathe. “So you’re sayin’ your daddy ain’t takin’ care of you?”

You bite the inside of your lip and give him a small nod. The thing about your dad was if you acquiesced, if you followed exactly the plan he’d laid out for you, you’d have been riding high, walking on easy street for the rest of your life. And if not, well, he’d always made it perfectly clear he didn’t deal with traitors, because what was the point of having children if they couldn’t take over your business for you? Sure, it was tempting to take the easy route, but maybe you’d gotten tired of it all, found your rebellious streak a little later in life than most people.

“Yes…” you say out loud, unable to believe you were sharing this with Joel of all people - someone more likely than anyone to feed this information straight back to your father. It’s not like you knew him well, despite him being one of your dad’s closest and oldest friends, one of his closest business partners and confidants. You’d spent a decent amount of time in the same room as Joel, but you only knew the surface level, just the polite, agreeable conversations you were expected to have. It typically was some kind of public function, or the holiday party at your parents’ place every year, maybe a dinner party sprinkled in here and there, but you’d certainly never been quite this close to Joel Miller. Or alone.

His face falls at the sincerity in your voice, seeming to feel the gravity of it weighing down on him. “Now what d’you mean, cut you off? Like, full on, ‘n everything?” He steps back a little, giving you some space, his brows scrunched together in concern and arms crossing over his chest.

“Er, with all due respect, Mr. Miller, I don’t think I should be talking to you about it all.” You slump back a little, pushing yourself off of where you lean back on his desk, glancing past him to look around his office. It’s tidy, bookshelves lining the far wall full of perfectly placed, perfectly organized books on all kinds of things - some practical and business related, some seeming more like guilty pleasures of fiction and nonfiction of various genres, but mostly mystery, it seems.

“Y’made it my business when you stepped into my house today though, didn’t you?” he quips back, but you detect a hint of teasing there, feeling it start to disarm you.

“C’mon, sit,” Joel says, seeming to soften when he notices you stuttering to reply, gesturing to one of the chairs that sits near the large bay window in the room, a matching one set up across from it. “This’ll be… confidential.” He smiles, trying to convince you, and you don’t know if you believe him, but the twinkle in his eye almost makes you want to. You decide to sit, smoothing your scratchy work slacks, crossing one leg over the other, feeling like you look as stiff as you feel.

Joel, on the other hand, looks relaxed as he sits back, legs spread wide, his large palms settling onto his thick thighs, fingers spread over them.

“I… don’t believe you,” you finally tell him. “What’s to stop you from telling my dad everything I say right now, or even that I was here in the first place?” you ask before feeling your heart sink a little at the likely prospect of it. Your life as you know it could be over, starting from scratch with one phone call from Joel.

Joel chuckles, the corner of one side of his mouth twitching upwards as he eyes you. “Look, I get it, I wouldn’t trust me either,” he replies, his hands lifting off of his legs to be thrown in the air before he fists his upturned palms and settles them on the arms of the chair. “I wanna hear you out, though. Your dad, he ain’t uh, without his faults, I know that.”

You try to hide your surprise, keeping your brows from twitching inward, your face showing the intrigue you feel. You breathe out, slow and steady. “My dad isn’t interested in anything but me being the next, well, him. And if I’m not interested in that, then I don’t think he’s interested in having me as his kid.”

Joel goes stone-like at your bare confession - so honest - and he seems to soak in the words quietly with serious consideration. “An’ where do they think you are right now, hm?” he finally questions, steady eyes on your anxious ones.

“An internship.” Your cheeks heat a little as you face your lie and how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud.

Joel chuckles again, this time looking a bit impressed by you. He shoots a handsome, devilish smirk your way and you avert his gaze. “Yeah? And they’re buyin’ it?”

You let out a small laugh of your own, releasing some tension, and shrug. “Seems like it.”

“Why… this? Why the, uh, cleaning?”

“Turns out the job market is pretty shit when you have no skills, no experience, and are trying to do things under the radar - y’know, name recognition around all the big places, and all of that.” Being spoiled for your entire life, never worrying about wanting anything, needing anything, had predictably led to you never having needed a job, even now into your early twenties. The only things you’d learned were with your dad, the days he’d dragged you up in his high rise to shadow him and start preparing you for the future. Your future, as directed by good ol’ dad.

Joel nods softly a few times, running a hand across his face. “Got it. An’ what exactly do you want to be doin’ if it ain’t workin’ for your daddy, fast trackin’ to CEO?”

“I…” you stutter, your eyes falling. That was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had the mindset, the freedom to wonder for so long, not realizing that you did have a choice in what you did with your life, that you could try to find a path you at least tolerated more than what your dad was going to have you do. You’d seen too much - the pressure, the stress, the kind of person it had made him into, and you wanted no part of that lifestyle.

“I don’t know yet, honestly,” you admit, embarrassed that you’d started this whole plan without an end goal, all built on a frustrated whim you had one day. “Maybe something in education? Maybe fashion, interior design? Something more creative, I think. Or I could even be a lawyer, help people out, or something.”

“Thas’ quite a laundry list, sweetheart,” Joel says, and your heart thuds at the pet name. You hate it, hate how it makes him sound condescending even if he isn’t meaning to, like you aren’t smart enough to figure this out for yourself.

“I know, I know,” you acquiesce. It was all a pipe dream, you knew that deep down. “I just needed to get away from it. I hate business school - it just feels like a load of shit, honestly, Mr. Miller. I don’t want to become like my dad.”

“An’ what’s that, hm? What’s becomin’ like your dad?”

You shake your head. “I-I’m not answering that. It’s your friend, and clearly you see some merit in him to stay close all these years. I… don’t want to ruin that for him, too.” The thought makes you sad. Your dad is already about to lose his only child if he finds you out, and you don’t want to bring losing Mr. Miller into it, too. While it was by your dad’s own choices and shortcomings that he’d lose you, you still find your heart squeezing a little for him at the thought.

“Fair enough,” he says with a small smile, rubbing his hands together before putting them back on the armrests, gripping it. He pushes himself up, standing and walking over to his desk, opening one of the top drawers and pulling something out. You can’t see from this angle, and fight the urge to get up and go see what has so suddenly grabbed his attention.

“How much?” he asks, grabbing a pen from a tiny box on the desk - a pen that likely costs more than what you’re making from this one job today.

Your lips part, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?” you ask, shaking your head.

“How much do you make in a week? Here at this job? I’ll pay you five times just f’you to quit it.”

“Mr. Miller… n-no,” you spit out, hopping up from the chair in a hurry. You rush towards the desk, your non-slip work shoes clunking along the hardwood until you reach the plush rug that surrounds his desk. “No,” you say a little more firmly, planting your hands on the desk, standing opposite of him.

“And why not?” He smirks now, like he’s somehow having fun here, and it irritates you. That would only make one of you having a nice time, because you are certainly fully out of your depth here.

“B-because! It’s ridiculous, that’s why. I don’t need handouts,” you say indignantly, now moving both of your hands to your hips, standing taller.

“Sounds like you might,” he half-teases, looking down at where he’s pulled out his checkbook onto the desk. His face falls suddenly and he rubs the back of his neck. “Jus’… I don’t like hearin’ what I’m hearin’. Could never imagine cuttin’ off Sarah, and if that’s true what you say about your dad, well, I…” he glances up to you with a more serious look in his eyes - pity.

Like your father, Mr. Miller also only has one daughter, Sarah, who as far as you’ve heard is well and thriving. Doing some kind of work in animal rescue, you think. You two had never been close given the over ten year age gap between you two - Joel had Sarah relatively young, and as long as you’ve known them, her mother hasn’t been fully in the picture. You’d always noticed how much Joel cared about her, how good of a father he was, remembering the pangs of jealousy you’d get as a kid when you saw how engaged he was with Sarah.

“You’re a good dad, that’s why,” you murmur in reply, eyes casting downwards.

“I try t’be, I suppose,” he says, sounding more bashful. “C’mon, jus’ name it, sweetheart. No harm done, it’ll be our secret.”

“Wh- what am I even supposed to do? If you give me the money? What do I…” You swallow hard. “Owe? What do you get out of this?”

Joel’s energy turns a little lighter, his smirk returning. “Let’s just say I enjoy helping you. I want to. Nothin’ owed, except coming by same time next week for your next check. We can talk more then, give y’some time to think.”

Think? About what? You almost scoff, but reign it in at the last second, fighting your eyes from rolling on top of it. “Mr. Miller, this is…”

“Ridiculous? Is it, really?”

Oh, he’s good, so convincing when he wants to be. Suave and calculated yet warm at the same time. You understand how he got to be so successful, how so many people likely fall at their feet to just be a part of the air he breathes, the aura he fills a space with. He’s a giant, knowing how to command a room, take up just enough space, yet feel so relatable at the same time.

“I’d feel too guilty…” you say quietly, your shoulders sagging in defeat.

“More guilty than doing this job, droppin’ out of school behind your parents back?”

Your skin is burning up, your brain at war with itself. He’s too insistent, there has to be some angle here that you’re missing, some reason he’d be so kind to you. Leverage - blackmail, maybe - to your father, to be able to hold it over your head to get what he wants at some point.

“Hey, c’mon. I’m serious, sweetheart. Just the check, nothin’ more,” Joel says more urgently, seeing the way you’re starting to waver.

“How can I trust you?” you finally spit out, and Joel leans back in his office chair, just watching where you stand. “I’m sorry, it’s all very nice and everything, but no. I c-can’t. I shouldn’t. I need to do this for myself.”

You turn to leave, and you hear the creak of Joel’s chair as he sits forward, watching you throw the office door open and move with purpose, rushing to get yourself out of this situation as fast as possible. You feel the spell lift immediately now that you’re out of reach, whipping past his fine furnishings and art as you move through the hallway back to the foyer. You hear Joel, hot on your tail, his energy a little more frantic than he’s been as he follows you.

“At least let me drive you home,” he finally offers as he rushes to catch up. You keep moving, shaking your head.

“N-no, I’ll just get a ride or something. Call my driver,” you throw at him over your shoulder, and his hand on your wrist stops you in your path just as the front door is in sight. You fully turn your head to face him now, and his eyes look soft, like he does care.

“Offer’ll stay on the table, okay?” Joel says and you just let your lips part, meeting his gaze for a moment. It’s intense, the standoff between the two of you, his eyes searching for weakness, for any crack that indicates you’ll give in. You offer him a succinct nod, slipping out of his grip and not looking back as you step out into the bright sunlight of the evening, shielding your eyes before pulling out your phone to call Karl, the man who has been your personal driver for years. Your father hired him, but he’s been nothing but loyal to you - you know Karl has kept every secret of where you’ve been, overheard phone calls, arguments with your father. He never says a word, never spreads the information - he’s paid well, and that extra cash pays for his silence.

In the back of the car, your phone buzzes in your lap while you stare contemplatively out the window. You ignore it, letting your eyes glaze over as you watch the houses pass you by on the way out of Joel’s neighborhood and back towards downtown.

What if this was your chance? Your only option to really get out from underneath your parents? It could be a huge cushion, much more than you’d make doing what you’re doing now. At this rate, it would take ages to get enough to push you through school, where you’d already have to start from scratch, leave Columbia and start an entirely new curriculum, most likely. Find a much cheaper school, then take care of housing, bills, everything on top of it that you’d never been prepared to have to worry about in your life, always promised the comforts of your parents money. You knew you were lucky, going around with your life spoon fed to you, but you wanted to feel something, the part of you that was excited about anything having died off completely when you realized the spoon had been fed to you through a cage. Live this way or we starve you, cut you off.

You sigh, dropping your head into your hand where it rests along the window of the car. The noise of Manhattan traffic goes in one ear and out the other, fading into oblivion as you realize you may have made a mistake by leaving so soon, not hearing Joel out.

Did you have a choice?

Your phone buzzes again, a reminder of the message from your father you’d ignored and you tear your eyes off the passing landscape to peer down at your lap. Your face falls, brows pushing together when you see it’s an unknown number texting you.

Unknown: If you change your mind, let me know. - JM

How the hell? You stare down at the message, eyes scanning rapidly over the screen in disbelief. You scoff quietly, but find your lips turning into a smile before you can stop it, unconsciously putting your fingers over your them as if Karl seeing you grin like this could give it all away.

You: How did you get this number?

Joel: I think you underestimate how persistent I can be.

You: Does it hurt your ego to take no for an answer? Is that what this is?

You eagerly lick your lips, smile growing as you find yourself so quick to banter with him. It’s always so much easier over text, you think to yourself, to be a little more bold, a little more careless. Joel had a warm, welcoming energy, but it doesn’t mean you’re immune to the way he charms, the way he seems to be a man who gets what he wants more often than not.

Joel: I think it’ll hurt you more than it does me sweetheart.

You: I’m thinking about it, okay?

Joel: Think away.

You tuck your phone away, flipping it over on your lap so you can’t see the screen anymore, drumming your fingers along the back of the case as you feel a surge of frustration wash over you. If Joel’s offer is genuine, if he really expects nothing in return, you’d be a complete fool to pass it up, right? Who passes up free money? You knew you were screwed either way, really - the job you had right now wasn’t getting you anywhere near achieving your dreams. You needed more, you needed support. Financially first of all, but if you were honest, someone like Joel with some life experience to help you figure out your next steps couldn’t hurt.

Fuck.

You wince and flip your phone back over, unlocking it to where the messages still sit on your screen, taunting you. Your fingers go flying before you can stop yourself, your heart starting to pick up in pace.

You: You’re serious? I wouldn’t owe you anything? Have to pay you back someday?

Joel: Serious as can be.

You: $800 a week. Without tips from lovely clients like you.

Joel is quiet on the other end for a while, slower than his usual response thus far, and your throat gets a little tight. You swear, if he was backing out now, or worse, sending screenshots of your conversation to your father, you were going to have it out with Joel Miller. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Instead, a few moments later, a text comes through, a photo. That same checkbook, the background the sleek black surface of his desk, with the top check filled out for four thousand dollars. Signed and everything, with the memo line reading ‘knew you’d make the right choice’. Your hand shakes a little, all of this feeling wrong suddenly now that it's gone this far.

Joel: 9am tomorrow.

Joel sits back, satisfied as he smirks at his phone. The check lays in front of him, taunting him, his energy buzzing and satisfied picturing your pretty hands taking it from him tomorrow. He sighs heavily, a hand creeping up his thigh to where he’s started to bulge through his black dress slacks.

“Fuck…” he murmurs quietly to himself as he palms it, his hard and wanting cock desperate for any relief. It would be wrong, should be wrong, if you’re the one involved in all of this. But he can’t care when he pictures your lips smiling with the check in hand, you depositing the money and buying yourself something pretty with it, taking care of bills, getting a nice meal. You spin in a new dress or top, showing it off to him, bought with that chunk of change he’d so willingly given to you. Just the tiniest of dents in his finances, so much more where that came from if you’d let him. He’s hardly realized it, the way his hand had undone his belt and zipper while he got lost in the fantasy, hard cock in his fist as he pictures it over and over. He tries to make it not you, not his friend's daughter as he immerses himself in the scenes, but he’d be remiss if he tried to deny that you’re a gorgeous young woman, that you’d look so good doing everything he’s picturing.

“Fuck, oh god…” Joel whimpers while his hand moves along his cock, slickened from the bit of precum leaking out the tip and the saliva he’d haphazardly spit down there when he started. He stares at the check, your hands on it over and over, your pretty lips and smile and the way he could give you more and more and more until you wanted for nothing. He grunts, hips stuttering forward as he fucks his fist quickly and finds himself coming faster than usual, his release taking him by surprise with a loud moan.

“Christ,” Joel murmurs as he breathes heavily, quickly cleaning himself up with a tissue before rushing to the powder room connected to his office, washing his hands of it all. He stares at himself in the mirror, such a bastard for what he’s doing, all the secrecy inlaid in his plan.

Your father… one of his oldest friends, and this is what he’s doing with that friendship? That empire of business savvy they built together? Years of trust, of advising one another, throwing it all away for a little gratification on his end? No, he knows this is about more than just him, this could really help you if what you said about your father was true. He knows your dad isn’t an easy man to live with - he’s got a short temper and is stubborn as hell, a black and white thinker if there ever was one. If he truly was saying he’d cut you off, then well, Joel was starting to think he’d believe that.

And he wants to be the one to ease that burden for you.

You fuss with your appearance yet another time, anxiety pooling in your gut as you inspect your hair and complexion, searching for anything amiss. It’s not like Joel hadn’t seen you a complete mess yesterday, your bland outfit so far from what you were used to wearing, your appearance an afterthought as you went into work at an early hour.

But last night, as you tossed and turned, anticipating meeting back up with Joel today, you’d wondered what he expected out of you. Someone pretty to look at, someone deserving of the money? Would you get there and find Joel completely different, taunting the check in your face unless you decided to get on your knees and suck his cock? Let him get a quick fuck in for the money? There was no way he was that charitable, just willing to drop four grand because you’d given him your daddy issues sob story yesterday.

So what was the catch?

There always was one - men with money didn’t just give it away for free unless it was to charity, wanting to look good. And you surely weren’t a charity case by any means. Sex for money seemed like the next logical option to your tired, frazzled brain as you laid awake in the dark. You didn’t know if he presented it like that, would you go along with it? Would you, this far in already, bring yourself to your knees for him?

Joel Miller is certainly handsome, nobody could deny that, but you’d never thought of him in that way, not really. Maybe noticing his broad, muscled shoulders stretching across his suits when you’d seen him, his cocky, warm smile that seemed to melt hearts everywhere he went. He’d always seemed kind, more amiable than your parents’ insufferable network of friends, which you’d taken notice of and respected Joel for over the years. But you’d never thought of yourself with someone older like him, despite seeing those young dates being toted on wealthy, older men’s arms to all kinds of charity events and parties over the years. Would you want that? To be seen like that?

You feel your skin tingle as the thought comes to you again this morning while you get dressed. Joel Miller in a lavish, designer suit, tailored perfectly to his body, you next to him in an equally gorgeous gown that he paid for, your hand slipped between his body and his thick bicep as he glides into a room full of people with you. And he’s proud of how good you look on his arm, how he can show the world just what he’s bought, what he’s paid for. Your head shakes violently as if to jolt the thought far away from you.

“No…” you whisper to yourself. It wouldn’t get that far, you wouldn’t let it. Maybe you’d just take the one check and run, tell Joel you couldn’t be what he was looking for. But that’s when you realize you don’t even know what it is that he may want to get out of this, the curiosity eating at you.

That bastard. Such an enigma he’d painted himself as yesterday when he’d so cooly offered you the money like it was no bother, like he’d expected nothing back. There was always something, always a trade - if you learned anything from your father, it was that.

You can't shake that incessant thought, walking up the steps of Joel’s brownstone, hesitantly knocking on his door and swallowing down the lump in your throat. The assistant you’d met yesterday opens it with a polite smile, beaming at you.

“Welcome. Mr. Miller will be right out,” she says, guiding you to a plush daybed off to the side. You just nod, a little dumbfounded as you step back into his grand foyer. It’s a lavish room with tall ceilings, a skylight at the top pouring extra light in along with the floor to ceiling frosted windows on either side of the front door. Joel’s dress shoes click along the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as you stiffen and then freeze where you sit. You see him come into view, the top button of his pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned, navy slacks adorning the bottom of his look. He looks a little frazzled himself, like he’d tossed and turned just as much as you had last night. You hadn’t considered the possibility that Joel could have reservations about this now, too, since he’d been the one so eager to offer it up yesterday.

“Thanks, Clara,” Joel says kindly, giving her a nod before Clara skirts along the edge of the room, dismissing herself at Joel’s signal. You watch her go, confidently striding away before you skim your eyes up to Joel’s face, trying not to look too guilty.

“Back this way,” he says, holding out a hand in the direction of his office as if you weren’t here only yesterday. You stand, meeting him, and he quickly takes you in, noticing your complete change in style from yesterday - dressed much more like the businesswoman he knows you loath with a pencil skirt on. He tries not to laugh at the irony as you follow him back, taking that same path you’d just been on yesterday, a strange sense of deja vu washing over you.

You’re silent, just trying to breathe, to remember to stand your ground, not do anything you don’t absolutely want to do. You haven’t signed a contract, you aren’t bound to this, you two are just… talking. Joel smirks as he eyes you, clearly trying to walk in with confidence, but he knows this look - you’re apprehensive about the arrangement, you have questions. They always have questions.

He curves around his desk, pulling out his highback office chair and sinks into it, you doing the same in one of the sleek armchairs in front of his desk. It feels too much like a professional meeting, and your skin prickles with discomfort at how formal this all seems now. His fingers scratch along the checkbook on the desk, and you salivate as you keep widened eyes on it, knowing the number written on there, the promise of more of it to come. Your way out.

“So…” Joel says cooly, letting his hands link together and pulling them behind his head as he leans back a bit, the picture of relaxation. “Let’s talk.”

Is this some kind of sugar daddy situation, or what?

Joel laughs, a genuine smile across his face at your blunt question as he sits across from you.

“Well, in a lot of ways, I ‘spose it is,” he answers casually and honestly. You don’t understand how he can maintain this cool facade, this relaxed attitude given the circumstances. You’d think something so awkward and uncomfortable could get anyone frazzled, but then again, you take it this isn’t Joel’s first go-around with this type of offer. He goes on. “I’ll try to be blunt for both our sakes. We’re busy people. I want to… go beyond jus’ the checks. I’d pay for your lifestyle - school, car, whatever you want. Treat you, too. Give you money for all the things your pretty little heart desires, see you enjoyin’ it.”

That was not what you’d expected him to say. You stare wordlessly, stunned, expecting him to go on, to tell you now what you have to do to earn all of it. He remains quiet though, finally looking the tiniest bit sheepish as the both of you size each other up.

“…And you get?” you finally ask, your face screwed up in confusion as you shrug, throwing your hands up.

Joel smirks again, and you notice the dimple on the side of his face that he seems to prefer tilting his mouth upwards. “I get exactly that. What I said. You enjoyin’ it.”

Your mouth hangs open slightly, eyes narrowing in his direction. You give a tiny shake of your head. “No… there has to be something. One day you’ll turn it around on me, blackmail me or something.”

Joel laughs again, and you’re starting to get irritated at how blasé he seems about all of this. Your foot starts to tap anxiously on the rug underneath your feet, arms crossing over your chest. You try to remain unimpressed as you stare him down, but he’s not budging in the slightest, remaining cool as ever.

“You really think that’s the kind of guy I am, do you now?” he asks with amusement.

You scoff, pinching the inside of your lip between your teeth. “How should I know? You offer me a bunch of money and we hardly know each other, Mr. Miller.”

“First off, Joel, please, unless you’re into that, I ‘spose.” He gives you a suave smirk and your lips part a little, cheeks heating almost immediately at his words and their insinuation before you check yourself, turning back to the conversation. You’re determined not to let his charm get in the way of you walking out of here with your future secured.

“Okay, then, Joel. I just… you don’t want something from me in return? It’s not that I’m not grateful, I just can’t understand.” You tut and glance around the room for a moment to collect your thoughts. “I mean you get it, right? People with money always want something out of it. I’ve seen it my entire life.”

Joel gives you an understanding look. “I do, I get it, sweetheart. If you want me to want somethin’ out of it…” he trails off, pondering for a moment. “If that’d make you feel better about takin’ the money, then why don’t y’come spend some time with me. Let me take you out, or jus’ come by for a nice dinner, me ‘n you. Get to know each other a little, keep an old man company, hm?”

You roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle pushing out of you, feeling yourself relaxing the tiniest bit at his appeal. “Really trying to play the sympathy card calling yourself old, I see,” you say, quirking a teasing brow. You grow more serious with your next words, worrying that you’re signing yourself up for something you aren’t sure you want or even understand. “But uh, I… could do that… if that’s all you want.”

Joel’s gears are turning, and you see a flash of recognition across his face as it falls a little. He leans forward, propping his forearms on the desk, his brows knit tight and eyes narrowed while they watch you. “D’you think I expect you to sleep with me?”

You nearly choke on nothing, just the air that you’re now fighting to gasp in as you clear your throat. Your cheeks burn like something fierce, that notion you’d been so worried about as you tossed and turned last night now sounding so obscenely ridiculous when Joel says it out loud.

“I - I thought maybe that was how this sort of arrangement worked, l-like an unspoken expectation or something. But if you’re saying no -“

“I’m saying no.” Joel is hard with the words, concise, and his gaze ices over. He was kidding himself if he thought he wasn’t even remotely attracted to you, but he was already putting himself in a precarious enough spot with the secrecy of giving you this money behind your father’s back, let alone deciding to bring something as complicated as sex into it.

You didn’t need to know that just the thought of handing you this check made him start to get hard inside his slacks. You didn’t need to know that this wasn’t the first arrangement of this kind for him, the only difference being that most of them involved a relationship of some type, or at least something physical once and a while. There had been times it was just about the money, and sometimes that was enough to satisfy him without the women having to fall into his bed, too. He’d hated that he fell into such a cliche - wealthy older man toting around a younger, gorgeous woman on his arm - but he’d come to accept it by now that this was who he was, trying to come to terms with the shame of it.

“Right… right, good,” you confirm, trying to sound equally as sure. What was that you were feeling? Disappointment? Relief? All you could sense for certain was the way your stomach tightened with nerves as you delved into this conversation with Joel.

“We got enough on our plate without all that, don’t you think?” he asks, a very roundabout way of putting it, you think. Maybe he’s too afraid to hurt your feelings or directly tell you that he’s not interested in sleeping with you, even if that’s what he’d normally do in a situation like this. Joel Miller was nothing if not direct, though, you’d noticed in the last two days. You aren’t even sure why you’re thinking this way - it’s not like you’d really shown much interest in Joel, never thinking of him as accessible in that way. It never went past him being an extended part of your family, one of your father’s inner circle. So if he didn’t want to have sex with you, fine, your ego could take the hit.

“Jus’ the money, helpin’ out a family friend who needs it,” Joel adds, seeing the way you’re a bit lost in thought. You bring yourself back, meeting Joel’s eyes, noticing the rich color of them in the early daylight streaming into his office. They’re so warm despite the chilly facade he can put on.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, when you put it like that… I mean we go way back, right? You’re practically family.” You cringe at the words, kind of hating the implication when you’re half flirting with the man and then proceeding to call him your family. “Uh, well, you know what I mean…”

Joel chuckles again, and you return it a bit nervously. “I do, sweetheart. Known your daddy a long time, so I’m trying to be, as dumb as it sounds, respectful.”

Fuck my father, your mind churns out in a flash, not daring to mutter it under your breath. Fuck him for putting you in this position, pushing you to this point where you’ve ended up in Joel Miller’s office, about to become his latest sugar baby because your dad can’t figure out how to love his only child apart from what it could bring to his business.

“Yeah…” you say, putting on a grin that you fear may have started to turn a little diabolical. “Respectful.” You’d be lying to yourself if you thought that this wasn’t starting to entice you more, the idea of such a big screw you to your father.

“So let’s talk terms…” Joel starts more pragmatically, picking up that same pen from the little box on his desk, tapping it on the hard surface a few times before he holds it over a blank page on an open black leather bound notebook. “I like t’start at five hundred for allowance. See how it goes. Then up to two thousand. An’ that’s just for you, and you alone. Your bills will come to me. Your apartment, tuition, your car, anything that’s a bill, I don’t want to see a cent of that allowance come out for it. Is that clear?”

Your mouth is slowly opening to gape at him, eyes tracking across his face as you try to follow what he’s saying, thinking it must be a joke. “S-sorry, but two thousand dollars? A… month?” you ask incredulously. That already sounds like too much to be going from Joel’s pocket to yours if he’s also taking care of your bills.

Joel goes completely smug, lips pressed tightly into a smirk. “You’re cute,” he deadpans. “Per week, sweetheart.”

You almost gasp, shaking your head. “I- no, I just need money for school, to make sure I can do any major I want in school, I don’t n-“

“Shh,” Joel interrupts you. “You came here lookin’ for my help, and this is how I like to do things. You deserve to have fun, not just pay for classes and have no extra money f’yourself.”

“I have plent-“ you start, referring to the extensive funds you have access to thanks to your parents. Funds that you do realize could be ripped out from underneath you at any time, you realize all over again with a quick jolt of fear.

“Enough,” Joel snips, raising a hand, palm facing you for further effect. “If what you tell me is true, I think your daddy ain’t gonna be too keen to pay for all your favorite things you’re used to gettin’ when he learns the truth, is he?”

You look down, ashamed. Were you really that shallow? Is that how you’d been raised to be? Joel sees through your facade right to your designer bag and clothes, all the expensive things you’d gotten accustomed to. But he doesn’t judge you for it - he understands it and he’s a part of that world, whether he likes it or not.

“No…” you murmur in defeat.

“And I’d like to keep seeing you in pretty things: nice clothes, shoes, gettin’ yourself pampered. So, two thousand dollars per week once you earn it.” He grins, setting the pen down and folding his hands together on his desk. You stay quiet, letting him go on, your heart steadily thrumming in your chest louder and louder with every word he says.

“Weekly allowance is, of course, a suggestion. If you need somethin’ more, you ask me. And otherwise, I’ll set your bills, tuition, all of it, to be paid by me.”

“I mean, weekly allowances?” you sputter out, “This is a sugar daddy thing.”

Joel doesn’t waver, he just smiles a little at you, completely unfazed. “We can call it whatever you want, but I see you want it too. I’m gonna be straight w’you here - I want to do this. I like you. I think you’ve got spunk and deserve to carve out a place for yourself in this world. Doin’ something you want, not half heartedly runnin’ your dad’s company someday. So… Do you still want this?” he asks, picking up the check, holding it out towards you. “Don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t.”

Joel’s face is kind, like he’s listening, attentive, acting like he doesn’t have a plethora of meetings or things on his plate today, which you know he must. He’s content to hear you, if you have something to say. You feel your whole body sitting tense and rigid in his chair, your mind spinning. It’s all becoming too much, this idea you had to get out on your own seems to be poked with more holes every day you’ve been trying to work and save up. You don’t really have much of a concept of money, once again thanks to your parents who never thought to put in the effort of teaching you. Why bother when there’s so much of it to go around?

“I- I know… what I’m doing now, the house cleaning, isn’t going to cut it long term. Especially if my parents find out I’ve been bullshitting them before I can save up enough for school and stuff… I just don’t k-“ you clear your throat, holding back the way your voice wants to crack as you fight tears springing to your eyes. “I feel so out of my depth,” you sigh. “I have so much to learn about real life and it’s been so… overwhelming.”

You breathe out a shaky breath, feeling your chest loosen a bit - you’d been holding this all in, doing it on your own for weeks now, not even able to trust your friends with the information even if just to vent about it because everyone in your world always has an angle. It’s exhausting.

Joel hears your words and stands up, going the few paces around his desk to stand next to you. He lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up from where you sit, seeing him through slightly watery eyes, but you refuse to cry and break down in front of Joel. It would be too embarrassing to recover from. But you’d be damned if you didn’t feel like you were about to snap in half, holding in your tears for weeks now as you navigated this foolish path you’d set yourself on.

He gives your shoulder a squeeze before moving to sit down next to you, turning the identical chair to face you more, settling himself down and crossing one ankle over his knee. He leans towards you, and you do the same, angling your body in the chair to face him. His gaze is so steady and clear, giving you that full sense of his presence once again.

“Y’know…” he starts, scratching a hand through his beard. “I think you’ve got more potential than you’re givin’ yourself credit for.”

You snort, a tiny scoffing sound. “Oh yeah?” you spit out sarcastically, “That I have no experience, no references, nothing to show for all the time I wasted doing what my dad wanted? Except for a last name and a family that people recognize.”

Joel tuts and bites the inside of his lip. “You’re smart and so young with all this potential. You know this kinda talk ain’t gonna get you anywhere. Neither is feelin’ sorry for yourself. All you can do is use the opportunities you’re given, like this one landing in your lap from me today. Right?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess you’re right. This just feels… kind of wrong.”

“Well we ain’t a couple of saints for doing this behind your daddy’s back, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself chuckling softly amidst the seriousness of the situation weighing on your chest. You honestly don’t have a clue how your father would react if he found out about this - he’s unpredictable and stubborn, and you’ve seen his vindictive side more than a handful of times. It makes your stomach clench a little at the thought of him unleashing any of that in your direction. You strengthen your resolve, unwilling to let your father stop you from exploring new horizons any longer. It was your life to live, and it was about time you did what you wanted.

“A-alright,” you tell Joel, sighing out a calming breath and sitting up straighter. “Alright, I’m in, then. What’s next?”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

#fic: honey honey #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #sugar daddy! joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

Note

quinn’s gf always getting stolen by jack and luke who literally call her their sister and quinn is like okay you stole her enough today she’s still mine

“okay, scram, you’ve had enough time with her today, she’s mine again,” you hear quinn say as he reaches for your hand and pulls you to stand from the couch.

“quinn! we’re not done with her yet. give us five more minutes!” jack whines, crossing his arms like a toddler.

“yeah, let us spend time with our sister, you get her to yourself all the time,” luke adds.

you laugh, watching the three brothers have a stand off over you. quinn sighs, pinching his nose. “luke, she’s not your sister. she’s my girlfriend, and i’ve hardly seen her all day today. i’d like to at least be able to go eat dinner with her alone.”

jack and luke both whine, acting like they’ve been mortally wounded. “you bring her here, tease us with getting to spend time with her just to steal away again. you’re mean, quinny,” jack pouts.

the sight brings another laugh out of you. it’s the same cycle every time you come to the lake house for a visit. as soon as you step out of the car jack and luke are whisking you away. quinn gives them their time with you, making himself busy doing boat checks and unpacking. but then he gets bored, and he comes to retrieve you.

“boys, i promise, when we get back i’ll make mr. no fun over here play monopoly with us or something. and we’ll bring back dessert,” you place a hand on both of the brothers’ shoulders despite how they tower over you.

“fine…but only if i can be the dog,” luke agrees, looking over at jack, who’s being slightly more stubborn.

“i guess…that’ll work,” he eventually spits out. “but i want ice cream. and i get to be the racecar!”

patting both of them on the cheek you giggle as you walk over to join your boyfriend, watching how he rolls his eyes at you. “don’t encourage their behavior, baby. they’re already insufferable enough as it is.”

“quinn, they’re just excited. i love them, they’re the little brothers i never had. you should be happy they love me so much,” you slip your hand around his arm, walking towards the front door.

“i am, i am, i just wish they didn’t act like me wanting to spend time with you was such a dramatic thing. you’re my girl, i need you all to myself sometimes,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, not knowing what he would do if his brothers didn’t love you as much as he did.

#alliyaps #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes

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nebulablakemurphy · 2 months ago

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Epilogue)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Part 24

In the first months following Peeta’s return things are good. Calm. Until the night Y/N and Haymitch are lying in bed and she whispers, “I’m late.”

Haymitch’s arms tense around her. “No you’re not.”

“My period is late.”

She can’t be pregnant. He’s been careful. Y/N can’t be pregnant. “It’s gotta be something else.”

She sighs, “ok.”

The weeks that follow confirm that it is not, in fact, something else.

August Abernathy is born the following summer, with hardly any fuss. Completing their family and sealing the deal on Haymitch’s vasectomy. The little boy is perfect, Everest and Arista take to him immediately. Daisy takes some convincing, she’s not used to not being the baby.

She cries…a lot. Even at almost two she wants to be carried around. Y/N and Haymitch indulge her, she will only be little for so long.

Katniss and Peeta have settled in to her house in Victor’s village. Nobody knows what to expect in terms of rebuilding district twelve, so they are all surprised when Pollux arrives by train from the Capitol.

“What are you doing here?” Madge stammers, watching anxiously as he scrawls down a message.

“I wanted to see you.” He holds up the note to her.

“But you didn’t say anything in your letter.” The ones they’ve been exchanging over the past few months.

Pollux smirks, moving the pen over the pad of paper again. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Madge laughs, “thank you.”

He opens his arms for her.

“You’re gonna have to teach me to sign.” She insists, hugging him tightly to her. “I’ve been practicing but Katniss told me I’m not very good.”

Pollux passes a hand over her hair, nodding against her shoulder.

“Can you teach me how to sign, ‘I love you.’”

He pulls back slightly, searching her face.

“I love you,” she shrugs, “by the way.”

————————————————————————-

Years pass, everything and nothing changes.

Katniss and Peeta become parents, earning Y/N and Haymitch the titles of Grandma and Grandpa, not long after they become Aunt and Uncle to Madge’s twins.

It heals something in them; holding their babies’ baby. “It’s a girl.”

“Why didn’t you call?” Y/N asks as the infant is placed into her arms. “We could’ve helped you.”

“Didn’t want to bother you.” Katniss shrugs.

“Bothering us is your job.” Haymitch scoffs, “lay down, take a load off, I’ll make you some tea.”

Peeta watches his wife, carefully.

“How are you holding up?” Y/N asks, looking up from the newborn in her arms.

“I’m ok.” Peeta shoots her a tired smile.

Y/N returns the gesture as he takes a seat beside her. “Does my granddaughter have a name?”

“We were hoping you’d help with that part,” Katniss admits. Seems like something parents would help their children do.

Y/N busies herself counting the infant’s fingers, “of course.”

Katniss is snoring by the time Haymitch returns, he lies the throw blanket over her carefully, brushing bits of hair away from her face. “You did good, sweetheart.”

When he is ready Y/N hands over the tiny bundle of joy. “You too, Peeta.”

“Thanks.”

A little boy follows the next spring.

————————————————————————-

Everest graduates high school, leaving soon after to continue his education in politics, in the heart of Panem. The Capitol is much different than when he was a child, still he is welcomed with open arms. A child of war heroes is always welcome.

It’s not until he returns home for the first time that Y/N is sure he knows more than he should. “He knows.”

He knows about their arranged marriage, and the cameras, and the meticulously timing of his conception. He knows all the horrible ways Snow would tug at their strings and make them dance like marionettes. He knows the lengths his parents went to make sure he didn’t know.

“I need to talk to Dad,” Everest tells Y/N, “alone.”

“Honey, I’m so-” Y/N reaches for her son.

“Don’t,” Everest takes a step back. “Please, don’t.”

“Everest.”

He explains, “I can’t look at you and talk about it. I’ll puke, like I did on the professor’s rug when I found out, and I need to talk about it.”

Haymitch sighs, passing a hand over Y/N’s back. “Give us a minute.”

Everest doesn’t miss the way his parents struggle to break apart. Or the way his father attempts to hide the distress caused by his mother’s absence.

“How much do you know?”

Everest crumbles, collapsing into his father’s arms.

Haymitch holds him, hushing his first born child. Wishing more than anything to take his pain away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We hoped you’d never find out.” Haymitch admits, “I’m not sure how it’d be relevant to anything you’re learning in school…”

“The curriculum covers the lives of victors. My professor didn’t know that I didn’t know, he pulled me aside after the lesson to make sure I was ok, given what happened to you and mom.” Everest swallows hard, taking a step back, “I just let him talk for a while. Told me everything I needed to know.”

Haymitch nods.

“Mom was my age when you got married.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I thought you loved each other. I thought you got married and had me because you loved each other.”

“We do love each other.” Haymitch assures him.

It must be true, in all their years back home after district thirteen, his father reached for his mother over a bottle every time. “But that’s not why I’m standing here now.”

“I wish it was different, son. I wish I could change it, but I can’t. I did whatever it took to keep your mother as safe and happy as I could. I tried to do the same for you and it kills me to think that I failed.” Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face. “The games, Snow’s plan, the rebellion and everything thereafter never mattered to us. It never mattered to me. All we wanted was to give you a good, normal life; away from all of it. We got to just be your mom and dad. Those were the happiest years of our lives.”

“My parents are Y/N and Haymitch Abernathy, I’m not ashamed of that.” Everest assures him, “I only wish I could have heard it from you.”

“Me too.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Haymitch lifts a shoulder, “because I am ashamed.”

Everest’s brows furrow, a spitting image of his father, “don’t be.”

When the two of them finally return to the living room there is nowhere to hide from Y/N’s wide, inquisitive eyes. Youth still clings to her features, despite her age. She is heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Daddy, I want to show you something.” August says, immediately rising from his place on the couch.

“Oh yeah?” Haymitch chuckles, allowing his youngest son to lead him away.

“Daisy did it.”

This ought to be good. “What did Daisy do?”

Their banter continues until they are out of earshot, leaving only Y/N and her son.

“You need to tell Arista before someone else does.” Everest says, simply. “Don’t let her find out like that.”

Y/N nods, “you’re right. I should have-”

Everest closes the space between them, pulling his mother in for a hug. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re allowed to be.”

“I’m not, not at you.” He wants to say more, to tell her how sorry he is for every horrible thing that’s ever happened to her. And how grateful he is for all the times she used herself to shield him from the world.

Y/N and Haymitch Abernathy are his parents, and it means more to him now than it ever has.

————————————————————————

“I think we did it.” Haymitch yawns, sliding beneath the covers and enveloping Y/N in his arms. “Everest seems alright.”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, bringing his hand to her lips and pressing kisses to his fingers.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you too.”

I love you more.

I love you always.

Series Taglist: @magical-spit @greaser9902 @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @misfits1a @nj01 @thatkindofgurl @solikeapparently @innercreationflower @nicksolemnlyswears @a-sweet-little-fangirl @champomiel @kate654 @maladptivedreamer @rainbow12346 @gabwitch99-blog @theseerbetweenus @prettybiching @izziebreeziel @anneliese500 @scoliobean @mariechristine00 @hoslunix @alitaar @sundawn1990 @hobiebrowns-wife @eibarramendia @the-apprentice-lia @fromsaltandsea @holb32 @sstar-ggirl

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #haymitch fanfic #the hunger games fanfiction #haymitch abernathy fanfiction #hunger games fanfiction

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moonstruckme · 11 months ago

Note

I absolutely adore your roommate James series! It’s so tender and soft and sweet and it feels like the literary version of a hug 😭 you nail it every time!

Thank you sweetness!!! I am giving you a hug actually <3

cw: threatening with a weapon

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Things have come to a point where James needs to admit to himself that he likes you as more than a friend.

The problem is, he likes you as a friend so much. He’s no stranger to the dilemma of risking a friendship for something more, but he’s not a teenager anymore and you’re not Lily. James knows he wouldn’t be able to play it off as a silly, harmless crush with you. And, really, he wouldn’t want to. You bully your way into his thoughts all day long. Your sweet voice, the way you talk with your eyes, tiny moments like the way your lips parted when he’d first slipped and called you sweetheart. You’d schooled your expression into teasing exasperation almost immediately, but there had been a softening in your eyes that made him impatient to do it again.

If he told you all that, James would probably come home to find all your things gone. You can barely handle it when he tells you you look nice. He doesn’t want to lose you.

So, against his wishes and all his instincts and proclivities, he’s going to let it lie. James wants to be your friend more than he wants to discover what else you could be together. He can love you this way, too.

That doesn’t do anything to deaden the thrill that goes up his spine when he picks up his phone and hears your voice on the other end, though.

“James?”

“Y/n?” He checks the number on his phone. It’s not in his contacts.

“Yeah. Um, are you—are you busy?” There’s a wobble in your voice. James’ heart drops straight down to his stomach.

“I’m not,” he says, stopping short of the field where his teammates are gathering and turning back towards his car. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” It’s clearly not, but he was silly to ask. Of course you’d say that. “I just, if you’re free, I was wondering if you could maybe pick me up?”

That wobble hasn’t gone from your voice. James’ heart trembles in solidarity.

He gets back in his car, starting the ignition with perhaps a tad too much force. “I’m on my way,” he promises. “Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m outside the Waterstones on Manor Road, you know where that is?”

“I know the one, yeah.”

Your voice sounds held together by fragments. “I’m sorry, it’s far.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, then regrets it instantly. This is hardly the time for a good-natured scolding. He turns out of the parking lot. “I’m coming. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve—I’ve had my phone and wallet taken. I don’t have my key to the apartment.”

“Taken?” James’ head buzzes like a TV turned to the wrong channel. “By who?”

“A man, I—I don’t know. Um, I’m borrowing this woman’s phone, and I think I should give it back.”

His lungs feel small, panic choking him. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.” A breath crackles through the phone. James wonders if you’d been choking, too. “Thanks, James.”

“Just be safe.”

The sun has dipped below most buildings by the time he gets there. It makes it difficult to see you, but James’ eyes work like a compass, finding your shadowy form curled up on the curb. The bookstore looks to be closed or close to it, no patrons walking by you as you sit with your knees bent close to your chest.

You see his car pull up, and he’s halfway to you before you’re even standing. Your arms come around James as readily as his around you, your face squished willingly into the fabric of his workout shirt. Your breath seems to stutter out of you.

“It’s okay,” he says, grasping the back of your head. He’s not sure if he’s talking to you, or himself, or either of you. He’ll tell whoever will listen. “You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s alright.”

“Sorry,” you squeak. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.”

“You’re okay,” James says again, just for good measure. His lips find the top of your head. “What happened?”

“I think I was mugged,” you laugh. It comes out warped, completely unlike the sound he’s spent months chasing after. “This guy showed me a knife, and told me to hand him my bag and phone, and I just gave them to him. It was right out in the open.” Another jagged, heart-aching laugh. “I feel so stupid.”

“Why would someone else mugging you make you stupid?” James lets you go enough to give you a little space, but his arms stay around you, his hand rubbing firmly over your shoulder blade. “Did you call the police?”

You gnaw on your lower lip. It already looks bitten to shreds. “No.”

He nods, taking a breath. James isn’t typically the responsible one in his relationships. He’s not good at knowing what to do. It makes him think of being thirteen and seeing Sirius all bruised and broken, feeling his heart break and knowing that he had to fix things despite the both of them being too young to have any clue how to deal with something so huge. James is an adult now, but he still feels too young.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks you.

You bite down hard on your lip, but your eyes gloss anyway. “Yeah,” you say, voice breaking.

James pulls you close and gives in to treating you the way he wants to, kisses pressed into your hairline and tender words pouring from his lips. He gets you into the car and takes you home.

Throughout the rest of the evening, you’re at once more reticent and more talkative than you’ve ever been. You’ll stare into the distance for minutes at a time, but then you’ll speak up, seemingly randomly, about some small fact you’d forgotten or a thought that’s been pushing at your consciousness. You tell him that you don’t think you could describe the man well enough to the police. That you have no concept of how long you stood around before you thought to ask for someone else’s phone. That you sort of wish you’d refused to hand yours over, because really what was the worst that could have happened?

“Well, he could have stabbed you,” James says.

“Yeah, but how often is that really fatal? And he might not have. It’s embarrassing, all he had to do was show me the knife and I turned everything over. I probably would have been fine.”

“I don’t think you’re automatically fine if you’re not dead, angel. You were still at risk of being stabbed.”

“I’d still have my phone and everything, though.”

“I think you’re worth a bit more than that stuff.”

“Mm, agree to disagree.”

James does things he doesn’t particularly want to do—phoning your bank, filing a police report online, texting your landlord about a new set of keys—and several things he really does want to do. Once you’ve changed into your cozy clothes he practically swaddles you in blankets, putting a hot chocolate in your hand and that show you’re always watching on the TV. He makes you dinner, teases you until he gets a real smile, puts your mum’s number in his phone and texts her to let her know you’re okay. James touches you amply, lips on your cheek and hand smoothing the hair from your face and one knee pressing into your leg through the blanket.

And you let him.

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vroomvro0mferrari · 1 year ago

Text

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption, curse words

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women.

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls.

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks.

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind.

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment wasn't that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse.

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm.

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment.

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep.

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

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novaursa · 7 months ago

Text

Web of Gold (Aegon is jealous)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: This part has an extra reader/Aemond interaction. Time is skipping from present to past.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: aegon has a cold

- Next part: royal wedding

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995

The Red Keep is unusually quiet this afternoon as you’re making your way through the castle, intending to visit the gardens where you can enjoy the warm air and perhaps indulge in some idle gossip with your ladies. It’s a perfect day for it, or at least, it was until Aemond Targaryen unexpectedly appears in your path.

He stands in the hallway, arms crossed and expression as stern as ever, as if he’s waiting for some important meeting. When his single, icy violet eye fixes on you, it’s clear he has no such plans. You have the distinct feeling that this encounter is as unwelcome for him as it is for you.

“Aemond,” you greet with your best attempt at politeness, offering a sweet smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Aemond doesn’t bother with a smile. Instead, he inclines his head slightly, regarding you with that same, unblinking stare that could make a lesser woman wilt. But you’re no lesser woman. “Y/N,” he replies, his voice cool and precise. “I’m surprised to see you without my brother clinging to your skirts. Or did you manage to give him the slip for once?”

You chuckle, deciding to meet his coolness with warmth. It’s what you do best, after all. “Oh, Aegon can’t always keep up with me,” you say with a wink, gliding closer. “He’s busy with kingly duties, you know. Someone has to manage the realm.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, though whether it’s the beginning of a smirk or a grimace, you can’t quite tell. “Yes, I’m sure he’s terribly preoccupied. I imagine it’s quite exhausting, all that lounging about with a goblet in hand.”

You ignore the jab at Aegon’s expense, well aware that this is Aemond’s typical mood—bitter, acerbic, with an ever-present undercurrent of disdain. “Well, he does deserve some rest, don’t you think? After all, he’s got me to keep him on his toes.” You give him a bright smile, the kind that you know Aegon would melt for, but Aemond merely stares at you, as though you’ve sprouted a second head.

“And how fortunate for him,” Aemond mutters, rolling his eye. “I can only imagine what you keep him busy with, though I suspect it involves more idle flattery than sound advice.”

You laugh at that, a light, melodic sound that echoes off the stone walls, but the humor doesn’t reach your eyes. “Oh, Aemond, I didn’t realize you were so interested in my life with Aegon. I thought you preferred to keep to yourself, all stern and serious like some sort of dark knight.”

Aemond’s eye narrows at your teasing, his mouth flattening into a line. “You presume too much,” he says coolly, though he can’t quite disguise the irritation that seeps into his voice. “I have little interest in your affairs, but unfortunately, it seems I am forced to endure them regardless.”

You bat your lashes at him, taking great amusement in needling the typically unflappable Aemond. “Endure? My, my, Aemond, you make it sound as though I’m a burden. Surely you can find some enjoyment in my company.” You place a hand over your heart, feigning a dramatic sigh. “After all, not many get the pleasure of my presence without having to fight Aegon for it.”

Aemond’s expression remains stony, but you catch a flicker of something behind his gaze—annoyance, perhaps, or maybe resignation. “I would hardly call it a pleasure,” he replies dryly, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “More like an exercise in patience.”

You smirk, unperturbed. “Oh, patience is a virtue, they say. And I’ve been told I can be… a bit trying at times.” You lean closer, dropping your voice to a mock whisper. “But I’m sure a serious, level-headed man like you can manage it.”

Aemond’s jaw tightens as he regards you with barely concealed frustration, and for a moment, you think you might have finally struck a nerve. But then he huffs softly, a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so begrudging. “You are nothing if not persistent,” he concedes, though his tone remains clipped. “I suppose that’s why Aegon finds you so endearing.”

You tilt your head, studying him with a curious smile. “Is that jealousy I hear, Aemond? Surely you don’t wish you had more of my attention?”

Aemond’s eye sharpens, and he steps closer, looming over you with his taller frame. “Hardly,” he retorts, his voice as cold as the North wind. “I prefer company that doesn’t talk my ears off with false pleasantries.”

You pretend to consider his words, then shrug with a grin. “Well, not everyone can appreciate my charms. But I can assure you, Aegon seems to have no complaints.”

Aemond rolls his eye, clearly done with your banter, but before he can walk away, you step into his path, forcing him to pause. “Come now, Aemond, it wouldn’t hurt you to smile every once in a while. It might even soften that terrifying expression of yours.”

He arches a brow, unimpressed. “Why would I need to soften my expression?”

You give a playful shrug, glancing up at him from under your lashes. “Well, it might make you seem less like you’re plotting everyone’s demise at any given moment.”

Aemond actually snorts, though it’s a dry, humorless sound. “You misunderstand me, Y/N. I’m not plotting everyone’s demise.” He leans in slightly, his voice lowering, as if confiding a great secret. “Only a select few.”

You let out another laugh, genuine this time, and Aemond’s lips twitch slightly, as if even he can’t help but find some amusement in your audacity. It’s brief, but you catch the ghost of a smile before his usual stoicism takes over again.

“Well, as long as I’m not on that list,” you reply cheerfully, stepping back and giving him a mock curtsy. “I suppose I shall leave you to your brooding, then.”

Aemond watches you for a moment longer, as though considering whether to respond, but then he simply inclines his head, his expression settling back into cool indifference. “Good day, Y/N,” he says curtly before striding past you, his coat swirling behind him as he disappears down the corridor.

You watch him go, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. Aemond Targaryen might be as rigid as the Iron Throne itself, but it’s almost fun to poke and prod at that iron shell of his. He may endure your company with all the grace of a man suffering a long sermon, but you know he’ll remember every word.

And that, you think with a smirk, is victory enough.

The Red Keep’s dining hall is bathed in the warm glow of candlelight as the royal family gathers for a dinner. The long table is laden with platters of roast meats, steaming vegetables, and freshly baked bread. It’s meant to be a family meal, a time for unity and bonding, but the atmosphere is already taut with the undercurrents of various rivalries and tensions. At one end of the table, King Viserys looks weary, doing his best to keep up with the conversation between coughs, while Queen Alicent hovers nearby, ever the dutiful wife.

You sit comfortably beside Aegon, who is only halfheartedly stabbing at his food with a fork, glancing up every few moments to check on you. But tonight, for once, your attention isn’t entirely on him. Across the table, Aemond sits with his usual upright posture, speaking to you with a surprising degree of politeness, even if his compliments have that sharp edge he never quite seems able to dull. It’s enough to draw your interest, and Aegon can see it.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Aemond says, his tone smooth, “have you ever read the histories of Old Valyria? I find them quite fascinating—the rise and fall of empires, the shaping the bloodlines. Few truly understand the weight of it.”

You smile at him, leaning in slightly, clearly interested in the conversation. “I have, actually. The legends and lore are beautiful, if not tragic. It’s incredible how much history shapes our present.”

Aegon’s grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles turning pale. He glances between the two of you, his mouth curving into a frown that deepens with each word exchanged. You’re supposed to be looking at him, not his self-important little brother. He coughs loudly, just shy of a theatrical gag, as he leans closer to you. “Y/N,” he says in a voice that’s far too loud for the setting, “you remember that story I told you about that time I fought that wild boar on Dragonstone, don’t you?”

You blink, turning your attention to Aegon, who is now staring at you with an intense, almost desperate expression. “Yes, Aegon,” you reply, though your voice carries a hint of amusement, “you’ve told me that story a few times.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit, but he says nothing, instead taking a slow sip of his wine. You get the sense he’s enjoying watching Aegon squirm, though he hides it well. Aegon catches the subtle smirk, and his frown deepens. He isn’t about to let Aemond outshine him tonight.

“But did I ever tell you about the time I caught two wild boars, at once?” Aegon blurts, leaning in closer as if the detail will turn the tide of the conversation. “It was quite the ordeal, really. Very dangerous. Everyone said it couldn’t be done, but I proved them wrong.”

Alicent shoots Aegon a withering look from her end of the table, clearly exasperated with his antics, but Aegon doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s too busy trying to win back your attention.

You give Aegon an indulgent smile, though it’s clear you haven’t entirely forgotten your conversation with Aemond. “That does sound… impressive, Aegon,” you say diplomatically, though you can’t resist glancing back at Aemond, who raises an eyebrow ever so slightly.

Aegon’s eye twitches at your distraction. He reaches for the jug of wine and refills your cup to the brim, his movements overly eager, as if hoping the gesture might sway you. “You know, Y/N, Aemond may know his dusty old books, but I—” He thumps a hand against his chest, nearly knocking over a plate. “—I know how to live. And isn’t that what truly matters?”

Aemond’s expression barely changes, but his single eye gleams with amusement. “Is that so, brother?” he drawls, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “I suppose it takes a certain… perspective to see chasing boars as living.”

Aegon bristles at the veiled insult, his face turning a shade redder than the wine in his cup. He reaches out, draping an arm over your shoulders in an overly possessive manner. “Y/N knows what I mean, don’t you, darling?” He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “You prefer my company, don’t you?”

You manage to suppress a laugh at the sudden shift in his demeanor. It’s like watching a puppy bark at a much larger dog, trying to prove it’s just as fearsome. “Oh, Aegon, you know I appreciate you,” you say, patting his hand in a way that’s meant to soothe, but your amusement is barely hidden.

Helaena, who has been sitting quietly beside Aemond, looks up from her plate of roasted duck and glances between her brothers with mild curiosity, though she seems more fascinated by the way the candlelight reflects off her goblet than the tension in the room. “Boars can be very tricky,” she muses dreamily, as though it’s a perfectly normal contribution to the conversation.

Viserys, who has been struggling to follow along with the rapid exchange, chuckles weakly, though it’s clear he’s not entirely sure what’s happening. “Yes, yes, tricky creatures,” he mumbles, before lapsing back into silence, his weariness overtaking him again.

Aegon takes the opportunity to press closer to you, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant to sound sweet, but it comes out more desperate. “You see, Y/N? Even the king agrees with me. I know how to keep life exciting.”

Aemond snorts softly into his wine cup, just loud enough for Aegon to hear. “Yes, brother, you’re certainly a master of excitement. Like that time you… fell off your horse at the tourney? Or was it when you set fire to your own cloak trying to light a candle?”

Aegon’s face flushes with annoyance, his grip on your shoulder tightening. “That was an accident, and everyone knows it!” He turns to you again, trying to recapture your attention with an exaggerated pout. “But you don’t think I’m clumsy, do you, Y/N?”

You look between the two brothers, thoroughly entertained by their bickering, and finally take pity on Aegon, though not without letting a hint of mischief creep into your voice. “Of course not, Aegon. I think you’re… very capable. In your own way.”

Aemond raises his goblet in a mock toast. “Yes, to Aegon’s… unique talents.”

Aegon glares at him, and then, as if he can’t think of a better response, leans closer to you, pressing a noisy, dramatic kiss to your cheek. “You see, Y/N, some people might call my talents unconventional, but I think that just makes me more… interesting.”

You try not to laugh, but the sound escapes despite your best efforts. Aemond rolls his eye again, a faint smirk playing on his lips, but he remains otherwise silent, clearly enjoying Aegon’s discomfort too much to intervene further.

Alicent clears her throat, her patience wearing thin as she glares between her sons. “Enough,” she snaps, her voice low but cutting. “This is a family dinner, not a competition.”

Aegon, undeterred, clinks his goblet against yours with a grin that’s more petulant than charming. “To family, then. And to those who know how to enjoy life to the fullest.”

Aemond merely raises an eyebrow, taking another sip of wine, but you can see the faint amusement lingering in his gaze. He seems content to let Aegon claim his small victory, knowing that the real prize is seeing his older brother squirm with jealousy.

You lean back, enjoying the view of the two brothers’ very different styles of vying for your attention, thinking that this family dinner has turned out to be far more entertaining than you’d expected.

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slimmestofshady · 10 months ago

Text

Bad Habits Kill You

Summary: The 90s in Detroit wasn’t exactly easy to live in with two kids and a boyfriend who redeveloped a bad habit.

Warnings: Drug Addiction, relapse, toxic relationship, abusive on both sides, accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, swearing, mention of smut, mention of drug dealing, breast feeding, robbery

6 calls, 13 text messages later and you found yourself driving home with your 3 year old daughter strapped in the carseat, livid that Marshall hadn’t picked up the phone. Working two jobs and trying to live life comfortably was becoming difficult as you felt like you were the only one here trying to keep the family afloat. This had been the fifth time this week you had to leave early and pick her up due to your boyfriend not showing up. Two write ups later with the check engine light on the car, hardly any gas in it and needing an oil change that you couldn’t afford you unbuckled her, carrying Ellie inside only to hear your newborn screaming once again.

Scoffing, you pushed open the broken screen door, the object squeaking when it was pressed back only to find Marshall’s blonde head fast asleep on the couch, a bowl of weed sitting right out on the rickety table next to Sara’s play pen.

“Mommy, why is daddy always tired? He never eats with us either.” You knew what this was, rehab hadn’t been working and it wasn’t just the sleeping pills he was taking. What were you supposed to say to her?

“Daddy’s just been very busy, why don’t you go play with your toys? Okay?” You smooched her on her delicate little head, ruffling her hair. A child at that young of age shouldn’t even have to ask those questions or ask why other kids have more than you did. Even in a relationship it felt like you were a single mother just trying to make ends meet.

Picking up Sara from her crib you kneed him lightly in his side in irritation, causing him to moan and groan, mumbling something about being cold in the process. You kneed him again to which he turned around and shouted in his groggy state, his baby blues eyes dilated with dark circles shading his white skin.

“What?!” His temper was not in the slightest controlled, only pushing you farther past your limit of being civil or concerned for his well being.

“You were supposed to pick Ellie up, and do you hear that? That’s your other daughter crying to be taken care of which I can see you’re doing a great job at.” He clenched his jaw, folding his hands together, rubbing them. He got up, closing the distance between the both of you pointing an accusing finger directly in your face.

“I know how to be a fucking parent Y/N. Besides you’re one to talk, did Andre fuck you yet cause he been blowin up the phone all god damn day.” Taking Sara to her room, you rolled your eyes from having the same argument every fucking day while laying her in the crib, but he followed.

“At least he offers to watch the kids, more than you’ve ever fucking done! Tell me how many pills did you fucking pop today and don’t lie to me because I can see you’re clearly stoned. Fucking blanked out and shit.” You closed the door once you layed her down, refusing to argue with him in front of the kids but that didn’t mean they didn’t hear.

His hand wrapped around you arm pulling you back until you were pushed against the wall of the tiny hallway, giving you no personal space as he spat his venomous words.

The tensions was rising, only fueling your immense anger. This was the same old song and dance as every other fucking day. Why didn’t you leave? Well it’s easier said than done when you loved someone.

“I’m not fucking stoned babe I’ve been working on a new song and just fell asleep. Besides I don’t see you bringing any money so where you been if it ain’t work?” He pulled out a red piece of paper in his pocket with the words “EVICTION NOTICE”. Snatching the paper out of his hands, you noticed they only were giving you a week to pack your shit and get out due to being nearly three months behind on rent.

Scoffing you shoved the paper at his chest, trying to walk away but he didn’t let you shoving you back against the wall again.

“Marsh, don’t start your fucking shit okay?! I’ve been working my ass off but god forbid I work a full fucking shift because your ass has to be sat on this fucking couch, smoking dope and taking your fucking sleeping pills and xanax!” As he started cussing you out, you didn’t think before slapping him harshly across the face when he accused you of cheating once more based off the basis of no money coming in yet you’re always “at work.”

“What the fuck y/n! You don’t want to play this fucking game with me aight?!” Right before you could spit fire back, Ellie walked out of her room crying, causing you both to stop. She was just a child and didn’t ask or sign up for any of this. A sympathetic look of sorrow washed over Marshall and yourself the tension dwindling ever so slightly when you saw her teary, beading eyes, her cheeks reddened from the hostile situation.

With open arms, he picked her up cradling her against his chest as his hands rubbed her back gently.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. Mommy and I will stop arguing okay?” You crossed your arms, huffing from this constant fighting but seeing how quick he was when he was awake to console her, and ensure those crybaby tears stopped was heart warming. He had the potential to be such a good dad if he would just set the drugs aside but maybe that was too much to ask.

“My-my tv is gone, all-all my stuff is gone!” With frantic eyes, you both pushed open the door to see the room a wreck, and multiple items missing. Some of her blankets on her bed, her stuffed animals gone, even her piggy bank that had nearly $500 in it. It had taken over a year to save it, in hopes of starting a fund for her when she was 18, and now it was just gone.

You couldn’t hold back the tears, feeling like everything was just crumbling down. They flowed freely down your cheeks, Marshall noticing and trying to pull you in to his side with his other arm but you waved him off, walking into the bedroom and closing the door. How much more of this could you take? There were shootings at least once a week, you were barely able to afford food, living off food stamps that barely covered shit. Whenever it seemed to be going great or a little better than before, everything would just turn to shit.

As you slumped down onto the bed, you couldn't help but notice the bathroom light still open, the shattered mirror from the night before slightly ajar.

Pushing yourself off the bed, you walked into the room with a dreadful feeling, hoping you weren't right. Taking a deep breath, you opened the object only to find the 3 pill bottles completely empty with their lids off, how much shit did he fucking take.

There was a knock at the door pulling you from your thoughts, but when you heard his voice asking if he could come in your blood boiled. When you didn't respond he pushed the door open, Sara no longer in his hands. When he saw you had found the empty bottles, he had a guilty look on his face but not remorseful.

There was a dead silence as you stood with your arms crossed shooting daggers his way.

"Tell me again that you're not fucking using. I'm not fucking stupid. How do you expect me to become closer with you when you can't even own your shit! This is getting old, and I don't know how much longer I can do this!" A switch like the atomic bomb flipped inside of him and he wasn't thinking before he pushed you on the mattress as you pounded against his chest, but you were never a match compared to his strength.

He folded his hands around the warmth of your neck, shaking you in place but not squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation.

"You don't know what it's like! Who the fuck are you to judge me huh? We're livin in this broke down piece of shit fuckin trailer, I'm tryin to fuckin write songs and start a good life for us, while you bring some dude around our fuckin kids when I'm not home, actin like you perfect, you ain't perfect either!" The tears welled in your eyes in a mix of emotions. He was right neither of you were but how did you get to this point. You had a plan, a good one, but everything kept getting taken away from you. It was like playing ring around the rosey but always falling down. You stared into his ocean eyes while sniffling when he finally released your neck.

"Fuck!" He screamed with profound irritation. You were both tired of fighting nearly every day, it was draining but the love was still there even if it was minuscule at times.

"Can you tell me truthfully I'm not being replaced by your fuckin' boss at work?" His eyes settled for a moment, just needing to know the truth.

"Marshall there is nothing there, nothing has happened. I'm just trying to find someone to watch the kids and I clearly have to even when I'm not home." A sorrowful look of hurt and guilt crossed over his face. You weren't wrong that he wasn't trustworthy to his own god damn kids and he wasn't wrong that you should've at least asked him about Andrei watching the kids. He was a private man, he didn't like strangers around the house let alone his kids.

As your breathing steadied, Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, allowing a singular tear to slip from his eye and land on your skin. He wanted to be better a father, a better boyfriend but it was so difficult during times like these.

"You need to get help baby..." A choked sob escaped you. You hated seeing him like this, he was better than this.

He had gone five months sober and when you noticed the signs he was using again you hadn't asked again after how irritable he was with you the first time, until today at least.

This wasn’t all on him though, the relationship issues anyway.

in his own head he felt there was no going forward, there was no escaping the impending, disastrous thoughts in his mind. The drugs soothed those intrusive thoughts, how could he lose himself inside his own head if he was asleep?

“I know, I know…” You both layed there for a moment in each others company. Neither of you calling the cops about the break in since they never seemed to actually do anything given where you lived.

“Maybe we should take the kids out for dinner or something, get Ellie’s mind off her things being gone.”

“Well how much do we got in the account?” You shook your head, sitting up and waving your hands up in the air with defeat.

“Not enough. I think altogether for the month we have around $120.” Fuck. He couldn’t do shit for his kids but somehow had enough money to get drugs? His mind twirled, the stress and realizing his priorities weren’t straight pressing an immense weight on his shoulders.

A thought crossed his mind of what if he started to sell only using every now and then? That would surely bring in money, especially around this neighborhood and keep you afloat for the time being but he didn’t say it.

He also had to worry about the kids. He refused to let them be homeless.

“Let’s take them we’ll figure it out. We aigh’t now?”

“Only if you promise me you’ll get help. I’m here to support you, okay?” Your hand caressed down his cheek as you stared into his baby blue hues, he nuzzled into your touch nodding before helping you out of bed.

Ellie was sat coloring with the crayons she still had on the living room floor wrapped in a blanket. That was another thing you were behind on, the fucking heat bill but that was a concern for another day. Luckly the electric and water seemed to still be on for the time being.

Marshall swooped her up in his arms peppering her face with loving kisses while ruffling her hair. He was always so good with her, such a caring dad and the sight made your heart melt. Moments like these made the fights seem almost pointless.

“Are you and mommy done fighting?” Her voice was so sweet and innocent, her small fist clenching and grasping at Marshall’s white shirt. The small gesture warning his heart. He just wanted his daughter to be happy.

“Yes baby. Daddy loves mommy we just have a lot going on, adult stuff you don’t need to worry about. Let’s get you and sissy some dinner, okay?” She nodded against him, perking up when he mentioned McDonald’s. It wasn’t the healthiest but it was affordable and it made her happy and that was all that mattered right now.

Passing her to you, Marshall went out to the car throwing a raggedy, old gray sweatshirt on before lighting a cigarette as he started the car. It took him about three times for the car to turn over, rickety old piece of shit, he was just grateful the heat was working for his angels. Checking the glove box, he ensured his gun was still there while a car passed by slowly, music blaring. He was skeptical of everyone and everything in this neighborhood, especially when something like today happens for the fifth time this year.

Pushing the door open, Marshall rushed to your aide to help Ellie down the stairs, avoiding the section with a nail sticking out of the wood while you carried Sara in your arms.

“Should we get gas?” You shrugged, nodding and informing him you still had work and Ellie had daycare to attend.

“How much we’re paying for that again?”

“Nearly $100 a month.” He hasn’t realized how expensive it was, scoffing and mentioning how the government expects people to live off minimum wage jobs and take care of their children.

Dinner seemed to be going smoothly, Ellie was making friends and playing in the play pin section of the restaurant while you and Marshall sat with Sara near the window in a close distance, sharing a milkshake while laughing over the memories of the past.

“Be careful sweetie!” Marshall yelled after Ellie noticing how close she was to slipping a falling off a plastic cube. She nodded to her dad, going back to her activity.

He couldn’t help but glance down at your tits, they’d gotten so big from the swelling of breast feeding. One of the things he loved that happened when you were pregnant. He bit down on his bottom lip intrigued, making a comment about how even after giving birth he still would take you right here right now over this table had their been no kids around.

Smacking him playfully with your cup, you giggled. It was about time she needed to be fed but before you could excuse yourself to the restroom, Ellie came up to have a drink break, not wasting a minute before she blurted out,

“Mommy, when is Andre coming over again? He likes to color with me and he talks about you a lot…” You we’re at a standstill for words, being left speechless by your toddler. Marshall’s jaw clenched, his hand forming a fist as he held his composure. He simply said, “Believe me now? Hows that for truth?” Ellie yanked on her dads sleeve, asking for a refill on her drink giving you the perfect way out of the situation.

“I’m going to feed Sara, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.

“Yeah, aight. You do that.” Arriving home, the car ride was mostly silent. Marshall laid Ellie down in your bed as she fell asleep in the car, too worried about her being in her own room and the same for Sara moving her crib for the night near the back corner of your room where the light wouldn’t be in her face but she’d still be close.

While you were still in the living room changing laundry, he stumbled into the back of the closet, reaching for a small box that was hidden under a flap in the carpet, popping a pill or two in his mouth, rinsing them down with water from the sink.

He closed the door lightly to not wake either of your kids, walking out into the living room and not hiding that he was not in a good mood, slouching down into the couch.

“So when the fuck did you plan on telling me that he been coming over into my fucking house with my fucking kids? You didn’t even ask me.” You sighed, knowing that resurfacing the topic if anything to with Andre would end badly, especially after the comment Ellie made.

“It was only one time babe, you were out with your friends, I was working late, Nate was out of town. I didn’t exactly have a choice. Those things Ellie said, I understand you are upset but until we can find someone else I don’t know what you expect me to do or what we’re going to do come next week.” Closing the dryer, you accompanied him on the couch, not looking for a fight but a resolution, but he loved to fight.

“I don’t want some strange, douchebag guy that wants to sleep with my girl around my kids Y/N. Plain and simple. Don’t worry about next week I’ll figure it out.” The way he ended the sentence meant there was no room for any other decisions. He wouldn’t allow it and quite frankly he was ready to choke this bitch out and arrange a little meetup in an ally to beat the shit out of him “And I don’t want a boyfriend who is high all the damn time yet here we are. Your bad habit isn’t just killing you, it’s killing us.” Yeah maybe you were right but maybe his trust issues got in the way of that cause as far as he was concerned if he saw Andre or even heard about him being here again he was gonna call up some of his buddied and make him a dead man.

This constant back and forth bullshit was getting you nowhere and frustrating the every living fuck out of him.

“I promise you I’ll go into rehab again once we get this shit figured out. But you gotta promise he ain’t coming around our kids anymore, and tell him to get rid of this fuckin number.”

“ And I will okay? No more Andre. I promise.” He nodded still not believing this guy was going to leave you alone but for now he wanted to relax, the pills already taking effect and making him drowsy he just hoped you couldn’t tell. Trying to avert attention from himself, his hands grasped your thighs pulling you into his lap and caressing your ass cheeks making you giggle.

“What’re you doing?”

“What I cant feel my girl up? C’mon the kids are asleep. We could get in a round or two.” That would be nice and a big stress relief, you could already feel his large bulge growing beneath you, causing your pussy to throb in anticipation while you rolled your hips down against him before pulling your shirt off, revealing your breasts.

“What’re you waiting for then?” You leaned in closely to his ear, lips just brushing over the bottom lobe and biting playfully.

“Fuck me.”

#Marshall mathers x reader #Eminem x reader #eminem imagine #Marshall mathers imagine #Slim shady #slim shady x reader #Slim shady imagine #Eminem #marshall mathers #ranaewrites

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lushaletta · 1 year ago

Note

I have a question??? Could you do Fred Weasley x older sister Potter reader who's he's friends with and like headcanons of their relationship please and thank you

in good hands / fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

content: mild swearing, older sister potter!reader

summary: being harry potter’s older sister is difficult. you hate watching your little brother get hurt both physically and emotionally, but fred happens to be a great protector.

a/n: MY FRED WEASLEY DEBUT!! george is my fav but fred is so arghghghgh hot. anywayyyy tysm for this request and i’m sorry i didn’t follow it to a t!! i was originally gonna do headcanons as requested but i kinda got in the zone… i do kinda like this pairing though so i may end up doing hcs eventually anyway! also my bad for this taking FOREVER i’ve been madly busy… love u folks

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Harry comes running into your room, soaked with both rain water and agitation. His broom is immediately tossed to the side and you can’t help but be concerned— you have a feeling you know what this is going to be about, and it’s not the first time.

“Harry?”

“So sick of it! I only try to help, you know? To make things better and no one ever gives a fuck! No gratitude or even kindness, after everything I’ve done.” Your face softens as he inches towards you, even being careful not to get your bed wet with his clothing.

“They’re still mad at you for losing the game? Are you serious?” You’re completely furious. Harry’s had the world on his shoulders since forever and his entire life is a tragedy. He can’t even play a school sport without being reamed for something that’s hardly his fault.

Peeling his jersey off, he crawls into your side and waits for your affection; the only thing he can count on when the world isn’t on his side.

“I tried to fix things, you know? Told Fletcher I was sorry but they’re still pissed, calling me a freak and saying all this crap about Voldemort.” You shush him and cradle his face in your arms. Your heart is breaking because how could anyone treat your baby brother like this, how could anyone see him as something less than precious?

His eyes shimmer but not with the sparkle of joy. They’re teary. “Fuck ‘em all. They’ll come around, Harry. They do eventually.”

It’s not fair what they do to him. He’ll mess something up and half the time it’s out of his control, and suddenly he’s public enemy number one. You’re usually there to help, and so are his friends like Hermione and Ron, but it can’t always be like this.

He’s okay after a while. You amp up the jokes and ruffle his hair and he’s okay. He has dinner with his group and you with yours. It’s a nice evening and all you can do is hope he’s forgetting everything wrong with the world. It seems like he is, because he’s tossing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth while Ron is laughing hysterically and Hermione is resting her hand on a judgemental expression.

“Oi, Weasley!” you say, and Fred whips his head towards you. “I’ve got something to ask. A favour.”

He perks up. You were asking him for a favour. He’s been waiting for his in since forever, but he wouldn’t let you know that. “Yeah?” he replies, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

A quick breath escapes your lips as you lean on him, lashes fluttering and a little grin settled on your face. He can look at you trying to be all persuasive without blushing. He’s stronger than this.

“How about.. you and George look after Harry? I’ve been worried about him, with the whole dementor thing. And after what happened last game, I can’t just sit from the stands and watch him get injured again knowing I didn’t do anything about it. Everyone’s pissed at him.”

Fred softens. His mind races, trying to come up with the cons of the request. He comes up empty. This was an excuse to talk to you more and, well, he already quite liked Harry, so that was no issue. And with your convincing doe eyes, how could he refuse?

He’s taking too long to respond and he knows it, but he can’t stop staring at your pretty face. You clear your throat, prodding for an answer. “Huh? Oh, yeah. The lad’s gonna be in good hands, m’lady,” he winks.

The roll of your eyes makes him smile. “Better make sure of it, Weasley.”

And to shut you up, he shoves a grape between your lips and you smack him across the arm.

From then on, Fred and George made sure no one got in Harry’s way. Someone messed with him, they messed with them. The twins were 190 and a half centimetres of beater strength and poking the bear was on no one’s to-do list, so Harry was pretty much set. Well, not entirely.

All Harry really wants to do is sit down and catch up on the pile of homework he’s missed for Chosen One duties, but some people take that as being haughty.

“Potter. You and your godforesaken hero complex. You think you’re untouchable? What’ll happen if I sock you in the face, huh? You think magic will—“

“Fuck around and find out.”

Finnick Lewis turns around. He immediately backtracks. “Hey, listen, man, I don’t want any trouble.” Fred didn’t miss the nasty glare that Lewis sent Harry on his way out. He’d take care of that one later.

The boy doesn’t really know what’s just happened or why, but he’ll take whatever he can get and he’ll be grateful for it. He mumbles out a thank you before scrambling to his room.

You’d seen Fred’s effort in protecting your brother. He’d done a damn good job at it too, because Harry hadn’t complained much about students in weeks. You’re glad you at least took that load off his shoulders.

“Tell you what, Weasley,” you say nonchalantly, unwrapping a chocolate.

He hums. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and he’s trying to finish up an essay. Lupin likes him just fine, but he’s definitely a tough grader.

“If you can make sure Harry’s perfectly uninjured after the next game, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Who cares about Lupin? Fred looks up at you instantly, suddenly feeling the velvet of the chair on his skin. “I’ll totally bite. How many seconds?”

You snort. “The kiss?” He nods. “3 seconds. 5 if I’m feeling generous.”

The essay is forgotten just like that.

The man moved the moon and sun to ensure Harry’s safety on his watch. Lewis and Fletcher had their tails between their legs after a few careful threats and actions to back them up, and Harry felt good. Safe. That’s all that mattered.

Monday arrives and the Quidditch stands are a sea of red and green with Gryffindor particularly antsy as Harry zooms around the pitch, Golden Snitch right within his view but not quite arms reach.

“Potter’s got his eye on the prize! I’ve got mine on too, Johnson looks impeccable in robes, I’ll tell you that much— Sorry, Professor.”

Fred’s holding his own, watching out for any foul play from the Slytherin Seeker whilst batting Bludgers. George is at his side, throwing them out and scoring right into Flint’s stomach.

“Wonderful play from Weasley! Not quite sure which one, but great nonetheless,” Lee says through the megaphone.

Fred’s just about to hit a Bludger into the opposing Keeper’s side, but he spots Harry in the corner of his eye being tailed by Higgs and there’s a nasty Slytherin Bludger coming right for him and he’s flying there immediately.

Harry’s so pumped with adrenaline and focus on the Snitch, he doesn’t even notice the ball coming straight to his nose. Godric knows that would leave a mark. Fred comes up and bats it away, nearly falling off his broom.

You’re watching from the stands in admiration and excitement and Fred can’t help but find you in the crowd. He sends you a wink from the pitch and a girl beside you seems to think it’s for her. You let it happen. You know who it belonged to.

Gryffindor emerges victorious, winning by two points and Harry’s crowd surfing, a big smile on his face as students chant his name. He doesn’t know how long the fame will last, but he doesn’t really care.

“You did good, Weasley,” you admit as Fred comes up beside you.

“Think I deserve my kiss now?”

In typical you fashion, you roll your eyes and pull him towards your face.

He thinks the kiss will be haste, but you melt into his lips and he does the very same. His arms snake around your waist and bring you impossibly closer and you relish in it. It’s embarrassing how much you’re grinning, but you can feel his smile too.

Catching your breath, “That was like 30 seconds. Now you gotta help Harry with his homework.”

#🎞 by.ivy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #harry potter oneshot #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #weasley twins fanfiction #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley imagine #weasley twins

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hearts4werka · 6 months ago

Text

NNN day 3 | Skin Deep Scars

summary: you’ve been born into a rich controlling family, always having to stay on top and never cross the line. You tried to please your mother but never could be enough for your mother’s standards, your father was mostly at work and away at business trips so both of you hardly ever interacted with each other. That’s until you got into an argument about your new friend chris who was the polar opposite of you, what do you think will happen next?

warnings: ANGST, !parental abuse!, arguing (again ik), family issues, swearing, manipulation, controlling mother figure, !burning skin!, slight fighting, crying, !mentions of childhood trauma! And this contains sensitive topics for many (even me) so please I advice to read this with caution and knowingly what you’re consuming.

authors note: day 3 is behind us now, thank yall so much for all of the love on the past fics I seriously rlly appreciate it. Yall can drop some ideas for future days and fics outside of this in my inbox and I’ll be happy to write them, I don’t have my computer with me rn so I’ll make the gradient text when I’m at my computer again, hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

Escalated screams and yells fill the large space of the room, making my ears want to fall off as foul words continue to fall from my mother’s mouth. It’s not the first time my mother has yelled at me for the most stupidest bullshit ever known to mankind and this is one of them, somehow it never turned psychical between us which could be a shocker for some of the others considering how loud she is screaming and shouting that you would think she’d hit me by now or at least threaten to.

“You are bringing such shame to this family! It’s unacceptable!” She shouts, her face contoured with pure anger. I might as well see smoke coming out of her ears by now, rolling my eyes as I feel my own anger rise inside of me at how ridiculous she is being right now. “I bring shame? What about you sleeping around behind dad’s back, huh?” I argue back, not letting her bring me down and standing my ground. She gasps dramatically as if I insulted her whole bloodline, pressing her hand to her chest to make her seem more like a victim.

“Don’t you dare speak of that! This isn’t about my mistakes, it’s about yours!” She attempts to defend her name but fails miserably, thinking if she raises her voice higher than me she’ll have the high ground and take the upper hand in this argument. “You’re the one that’s hanging out with that street rat and even dare to invite him to this house!” My blood boils to high temperatures at her insult targeted towards Chris, well she isn’t very fond of him and his lifestyle or he of how she treats me from all of the stories I’ve previously told him.

Summarizing that thought, their hatred is mutual towards themselves. “Don’t bring him into this, he has nothing to do with this! It was one lower grade, mom!” I yell defensively, the level of my irritation rising with each second of just breathing in the tense air in the room. “That he caused by the influence he has on you! I just want the best for you, honey.” She tries to twist her tone into a softer one but I can feel the fakeness radiating off it the minute it comes past her lips, how pathetic.

“You aren’t convincing anyone with that fake tone, that’s for sure.” I state annoyingly as she attempts to move closer to me but when she sees me backing away she just gives up with trying to convince me into doing anything she wants with the same old method and decides on a newly invented one. “Fine, maybe I wont convince you at least but your father is pretty gullible and he’ll do anything I ask him to do. Even if i feed him a couple lies involving you and that little skank.”

I narrow my eyes at her, not believing her words at first until she shoots me a specific look which informs me she isn’t playing around, raising her eyebrow and slightly dipping her chin just always has her whole bitchy personality written all over her face in that moment. My face normally would drop in color but at this point I didn’t care, she brought Chris into this who has nothing to do with this and shouldn’t be assumed as the cause of my lower grade. It was one of the hardest exams this semester and even when I studied harder than ever and got the highest grade in my class, she still doesn’t appreciate my hard work.

My head decides its the perfect time to bring up the first time I got a lower grade, being only at the age as young as seven she was already pressuring me into being perfect and didn’t even allow me to have a normal childhood only filling me with more work and mental pressure I often was too tired to do anything the next morning after studying all night in hopes to attempt to please my mother but no matter what I did, she never fully appreciated it and always found something bad to point out.

Start of Flashback

I excitedly run into the living room with my test clutched in my head, my dress flowing in the slight breeze coming from the window. A proud smile spread on my face as I reach the living room where mommy resided in sitting on the couch, holding up my paper for her vision to see the teachers red mark saying ‘79/100’ in the corner of the paper. “Look mommy, my teacher said I got the highest grade in my class on the test!” I exclaim proudly, waiting for my applause but was met with silence. Tilting my head to the side to glance at my mommy confused on why she is quiet but she had only a disgusted and an unimpressed look shadowing her face.

She notices my confused expression and finally speaks, turning her head away from me and back at the tv “Honey, that’s not good enough for this family. Study harder next time.” She states without any sympathy in her voice as she goes back to her activity like nothing happened, my eyes slightly start to water. Why am I not good enough for mommy? Why isn’t mommy proud of me and saying nice words like my teacher was? My arms drop down to my sides with the paper still clutched in my small arms.

“What do you mean, mommy?” I ask curiously, my voice becoming slight wobbly as shaky breaths enter an exit past my lips. “My teacher said I did great and even gave me a lollipop!” I add, now my sadness being evident and that’s when mommy looked at me and sees me upset. “Oh baby, you know what I told you about eating too much sweets. And a 76 isn’t high enough for the reputation our family has.” She says in a reassuring voice, seeming as if she wanted the best for me and me being the gullible and innocent child, not realizing she’s manipulating me into doing whatever her heart desired and shaping me into a perfect little toy to play in her game.

“I just want the best for you honey and you know that, I would never do anything to hurt you, ever.” She calmly assured in a soft tone, she walks over to me and wipes my tear-stained cheek with her thumb and looks at me with fake sympathy mixed with fake remorse. “Now go to your room and study for the next test, mommy has to go attend to some things, okay?” I nod my head yes and ran off into my room, the paper flying out of my hand and landing in the floor. My body immediately jumping onto my bed and bury my face into the nearby pillow as I clutch my favorite stuffed animal to my chest…

End of Flashback

I remember crying the rest of the night and thought it was normal and everyone’s mother was pressuring them into being better than every other kid and always perfect to upkeep the family’s ‘perfect’ reputation. Now that I’ve grown up and caught onto my mother’s manipulative acts, letting me have the upper hand in some regards. “You’re pure goddamn evil, I can’t believe you’re trying to scare me with dad out of all people.” I huff, feeling my body become more tense by the second before adding. “Better than one of the guys you cheated on dad with.” After the words leave my mouth, she immediately darts towards me and gets impossibly closer to my face. Glaring at me as if she wanted to strangle the shit out of me.

“I said, don’t you dare bring that into this situation, young lady!” She warns, her voice completely shifting from fake sympathy to rage and evilness. One of her hands raises and she sticks out her finger, getting it in my face as if to try and scare me further but I only laugh in her face. “One more word out of your mouth and I make one call to your father, singing like a bird to him about all of the things you’ve said to your own mother.” She wipes imaginary tears off from under her eyes, pretending to be upset and hurt as if she’s the victim here. “You’re such an ungrateful brat, I’m surprised we haven’t kicked you out the house yet. You always disappoint us and bring total shame to the family.”

An evil laugh rumbles in her throat, I don’t see her as a loving mother I thought I had. No, I see her as the worst and most controlling mother ever known to mankind and I feel ashamed being in the proximity of her and letting her walk all over me like a doormat. She takes a few steps back and finally puts some distance between our bodies, I sharply inhale the tense air surrounding us as the following words fall from her mouth that I was just waiting for her to speak.

“I regret you were even born, more with every passing minute. Me and your father never wanted a girl, but a boy and at one point were debating to put you in an orphanage or give you away, another decision I regret making.”

Before my mother could say another word, I deliver a slap across her face and throw the words out of her mouth. She looks up at me, completely livid and fet up with this little cat fight between us. “That’s it, you’re getting punished hardly this time.” She angrily exclaims and roughly grasps my arm, dragging me into the kitchen by pure mad force. I try to escape her vice grip but it only makes it tighter, the feeling of pain and a bruise coming in spreads across my whole body as I see her walking towards the stove.

I start to get more desperate to escape, almost beginning to scream for her to stop and don’t do what I know she’s about to do. She did it before when I talked back to her ever and looks like today her strings popped too much, we get to the stove and she ticks it on, the flame blooming to life as she forces my arm above it. “Please, mom dont do this…” I weakly plead as the burning sensation starts to hit my skin, spreading across my whole arm. I cry out in pain and pleads for her to stop, quiet curses falling from my lips as she only glances at me sternly. Tears prick my eyes and burn down my cheeks, she continues to hold my arm over the flames and brings it closer.

My body starts squiring around, my pleads getting more and more desperate as more tears fall from my eyes. “Stop! Please, mom I’m begging you stop!” Shaky breaths fill the air and accompany the growing cries and pleads to my mother. “Stop moving around, you brat! Are you going to still be disobedient towards me now?” She asks mockingly as I think she’s going to burn my skin off, someone pushes her off me and I immediately fall to the ground in pure agony. The uncontrollable cries continuing to fall from my mouth, my eyes landing on the severe burn mark left behind on my arm, my eyes start to burn themselves from the amount of tears filling them at once

“What in the actual fuck is happening here?” I hear a familiar voice yell out as I don’t think about who it could be until they kneel down next to me and I realize it’s Chris, I forgot I invited him over today. I can’t believe he’s seeing me in this state right now, he glances at my arm and immediately grasps it gently into his hands. “Jesus Christ, we need to get you some serious help, cmon we gotta go to the hospital.” He calls out and helps me get up and stand on my feet, rushing me out of the house and looking around for something to quickly get me where I severely need to be right now. “You got a private driver here somewhere?” He questions and I nod negatively, there aren’t any available unless you ask for one beforehand.

‘Fuck, umm- okay then let’s just take.. your car!” He exclaims nervously, pointing towards one of the cars in the driveway. Quickly running over to it and rushing me inside of it, getting into the drivers seat and trying to start the car. When he finally gets a hang of the functioning of the car he quickly presses down on the gas and speeds out of the driveway and towards the hospital…

Guestlist!

| - @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - |

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f4ggydog · 2 months ago

Note

Misty with a breeding and cucking kink fucking a drugged reader, who is Lottie's favorite "community member" whom she helps with "specialized" sexual therapy

minors and dark content haters dni

Your surroundings didn’t make sense to you. Your mind felt hazy and your thoughts were merely cloudy. It’s like you were unable to think, just reduced down to a good little acolyte.

You were already stripped down. Charlotte was the one supposed to assist you tonight, but there seemed to be a change of plans. Now you had Misty fucking Quigley of all people urging you to arch your back or get in different positions that satisfied her.

It was like some sick fucked up yoga. You had a gentle voice encouraging you, but you also had your mind trying to rebel against the conditioning and brainwashing. Don’t give in. These people aren’t right in the head. You know that, you absolute coward.

“So you know why Lottie has me do this with you?” Misty asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You shake your head.

“Well, playing with you like this does have its benefits. Even if Lottie is hesitant to hand me over to you because she likes to administer this therapy herself.”

Therapy. The term being used here was laughable. Of course they would disguise it behind spiritual garbage.

“You’re healing,” Misty claims, fingers deftly rubbing and twirling your nipples.

The slight pain from the twisting intensifies with the effects of the drugs. It leaves you writhing and Misty has to pinch harder as a signal for you to stop squirming like a dumb worm.

“This is good for you. Lottie’s told me about some of your trauma. I mean, it just sounds awful! But, this is why I’m here. I’m here to give you the sort of assistance that only comes from…don’t question it so much, okay? Just…shut up and take it.”

‘Sober you’ would ask where Misty’s qualifications were. But that’s why Lottie had you all nice and drugged up, wasn’t it?

“Sorry.” Misty shakes her head. “Didn’t mean to be so aggressive. I just…you know, Lottie thinks you belong to her. Lottie likes to believe that you are hers. But that’s not so fair, isn’t it? I mean, we all should get a piece of you if I’m being frank!”

Yap, yap, yap. Misty releases your sensitive nipples and rolls you over on your back. She doesn’t please your pussy with her mouth, presumably so she can keep rambling about nonsense. So she harshly spreads your lips open, her thumb aiming for your clit.

It’s barely pleasurable. There’s no lubrication. There’s no spit or saliva and there’s hardly enough slick, even for your drugged self. Whatever. Misty didn’t have all day. She had to go home and feed her bird.

Careless. If sex was to be a crime, it should be one of passion and love. It shouldn’t feel like a business transaction. It shouldn’t feel lifeless and dull like beige wallpaper.

“Fuck it!” Misty cries out, quickly shedding out of the clothes on her lower body.

Your eyes widen both with surprise and also dread as you stare at the thick flesh between her legs. Where was this in all the previous sessions?

“It’s not fucking fair,” Misty whines, forcing your legs open so she can position herself between them. “All these different sex techniques, all this bullshit, all my time wasted!”

Misty slams into you, not even giving you a chance to breathe.

“I’ve had it! Seriously! When have people ever considered my pleasure, huh? When has Lottie ever given a shit about how I feel? When has my time ever been prioritized at this stupid retreat?”

Misty punctuates her words with thrusts.

“This. Stupid. Damn. Loonie. Bin. Center.”

You twitch from each thrust, your body barely accommodating to Misty’s size. However, you’re in a state too weak to resist her both mentally and physically. Neither proves to be a task of simplicity and you find yourself being forced to take nothing but cock shoved up your pussy on the floor.

“First she tries to steal Natalie from me,” Misty rants, still pumping away. “Then she has me do her fucking dirty work! No fucking more! No, I’m tired! For now on, I’m gonna do what I want to do! For now on, you’re fucking mine. You’re not Lottie’s. You’re mine!”

You wheeze out, your body aching and already sore and begging for a rest.

“Lottie’s not getting her paws on you anymore. Ha, I’d love to see the look on her face when she realizes it’s my cum you’re infused with, that it’s my baby you’re about to carry.”

Pregnancy? You were about to be sick.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Misty whispers, sinister smile painted on her lips. “Papa Misty’s got it all under control. You’re going to look beautiful with my seed in you. It’s what Lottie’s ‘favorite community member’ deserves.”

One of Lottie’s community members that isn’t as cherished walks by and witnesses the sexual act taking place. Misty notices her gaze and doesn’t stop for a minute. Lisa stares for a couple of seconds before hastily departing.

“Yeah fuck this,” she says. “I…just fuck all of this.”

“Lottie’s little toy isn’t gonna belong to her anymore,” Misty states cheerfully. “Oh, how is she gonna explain it when I fill you with cum? When I drench you with so much cum that it leaks out of you? Poor baby, I bet you weren’t expecting this part of the therapy, were ya?”

You shake your head pitifully, mind in a daze that you can’t seem to escape.

“You’ll be under new ownership,” Misty chuckles. “Lottie’s going to be the outsider. She’s going to be the freak watching as I plow you over and over again, not me. She’s gonna have to deal with her perfect slut getting broken by someone else.”

#yellowjackets #misty quigley #misty yellowjackets #misty quigley x reader #yellowjackets smut #smut #x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

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allthemeninmybed · 2 months ago

Text

The itch - Part II

Summary: Reader is a friend of the band but III doesn’t like her too much and the feeling is mutual. Or is it?

Pairing: III x fem!reader

Warnings: +18 language, slight exhibitionism

Word count: 3800ish

A/N: I hope you like it, please, don’t forget to give me feedback! And let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part! 🖤

Almost three weeks have passed since that night and you've been avoiding him ever since. It wasn't hard since they're on a mini UK tour but today they play at home and you cannot not go, it would be too suspicious.

The show was insane as always, you're backstage waiting for them to come off stage. You're releived that you're meeting under these circumstances, in front of the others, you don't know how you'd behave if there were just the two of you.

“There she is!”

IVy is the first one to spot you, grinning widely as he walks towards you, arms spread wide open. He pulls you in a tight hug, he's thrilled to see you. You can faintly hear III scoff somewhere in the background but no one pays him any mind, too busy chatting amongst themselves eagerly about the concert.

"Hi guys, great show, as per usual."

You smile as ach of them gives you a hug, except for III, obviously. You're chatting and catching up and you try not to dwell on what he might think of you. After a while you say your excuses to go out for a smoke, hearing footsteps behind you immediately as you step out to the corridor.

It's him.

III follows you out with a grim expression. He’s been watching you, the sight of your laugh, the feel of your hug greeting the rest of the band driving him crazy. He’s been itching to get you alone, to confront you about the way you’ve been avoiding him. You walk out into the night, the dim light of the hallway casting shadows on your face. He catches up to you in a few long-legged strides, his voice low and gruff.

“Give me one.”

His tone is commanding and your stomach is already in a knot from what is about to come out of this. You reach out your pack and you watch as his long fingers pull out a cigarette hastily. He looks at you, his eyes are almost glowing in the low light and you know you're fucked. He's gonna confront you, you can't avoid him anymore.

He lights the cigarette, taking a long pull, his eyes never leaving your face. He can see the tension in your body, the discomfort in your eyes, and it only adds to the anger and agitation that’s been brewing inside him for weeks. The smoke fills the space between you and he exhales slowly.

“You gonna ignore me all night?”

He mutters, his voice a rough, gravelly sound.

"I'm not ignoring you."

You state, in a hardly believable tone before raising the cigarette to your lips, taking a long drag. You need more time to figure out what to say, god, you should've prepared yourself for this.

“Bullshit.”

He scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he takes a step closer to you, invading your personal space with his tall frame.

“You’ve been avoiding me like a bloody plague for three weeks. You're always there at the UK shows but not this time, no.”

He can’t keep the frustration out of his voice, a mixture of anger and hurt in his eyes.

He knows you're lying, of course he does, he's not an idiot but you keep pretending.

"Very self-absorbed of you to think it has anything to do with you."

You snap back trying to keep the distance, trying to remain cold.

“Cut the bullshit.”

He hisses back, his patience running thin. He closes the already narrow space between you, his body mere inches from yours. His eyes are fixed on your face, his jaw clenched.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed? You don’t think I’ve seen you dodging me, avoiding me, pretending I don’t exist? You think I’m daft? You’re a terrible liar, love.”

The nickname slips out his mouth again, almost effortlessly.

"Why do you care so much..? To my best knowledge you don't even like me. It should be a blessing that I'm ignoring you, don't you think?"

You're still buying time, unsure of what outcome you want for this situation. You look at him with intense eyes, exhaling the smoke out your nostrils.

“Don’t play dumb…”

He growls, his eyes hardening as he tries to keep himself under control.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I care."

He swallows hard, fighting the urge to touch you.

"I just want to know why you can’t even look me in the eye after what happened that night.”

His voice gone soft with his last sentence and it throws you off your balance. You're not used to him like this, you know him as cocky, as kind of hostile, you can work with that.

But not this.

"I was drunk that night, I didn't know what I was doing."

The fuck were you drunk, you were merely tipsy but you won't admit that.

His heart stutters in his chest, a brief flash of hurt and disappointment passing across his face. He tries to mask it with a scoff but he’s not quick enough and you see it.

“Are you serious? You’re pulling the ‘I was drunk’ card on me?"

His voice is low and harsh, his jaw tight. He hates the sound of bullshit as much as he hates how much he wants to shut you up with his lips.

“Drunk my arse. You weren’t drunk and we both know it. Don’t insult me by assuming I'd believe it.”

Killing your cigarette you're staring at the ground, you have to admit that he got you cornered both physically and logically.

"What do you want me to say then, huh?"

You lash out, not so much on him but rather on yourself out of frustration.

"That I got scared? That I got confused by you so much that I couldn't carry on with what I truly wanted to do..?"

Your voice is trembling.

III’s heart nearly explodes at your words and it makes something snap in him, his self control disappearing.

"What exactly did you want to do, huh?"

He grabs your elbow, his grip tight, pulling you against him in a desperate bid to make you look at him.

"Let me go."

You hiss.

"No."

He almost growls as he wraps his other hand around your other elbow, yanking you even closer, your body slamming into his chest causing him to let out a shaky exhale. He’s got you right where he wants you, trapped between him and the wall, no escape.

God, he's stronger than he lets out, you're taken aback by the intensity of his grip though you'd hate to admit how much you love his hands on your body.

"I wanted to kiss you, I wanted you to kiss me, anything to be close to you."

The words fall out of your mouth, feeling a strange sort of relief finally saying them out loud you continue.

"I wanted you not to leave me, to come up to my flat.."

Fuck.

He nearly growls as he hears your words, every one of them stabbing through his chest, his eyes burning with desire and something more… something dangerous.

“Why didn’t you then?”

He mutters, his lips only inches away from yours. He’s breathing so hard his chest is heaving, his words coming out in short puffs of hot air.

"Fuck, why didn't I then..do you hear yourself? You.. you actively insult me, belittle me and make me feel unwanted, what do you think I feel when despite all these things I still want you?"

You're almost tearing up from the frustration.

"And for fuck's sake, you can have anyone, why would you want me, don't make me laugh."

Your voice is quiet, you're unable to mask how hurtful the thought is to you.

"Now let me go."

His blood runs cold at your words. It feels like someone has just stabbed him right through the heart, all the guilt and frustration he suppressed bubbling to surface, threatening to tear him apart.

"You really need me to spell it out for you?"

He growls, pulling you to him roughly, pinning you against the wall, his body flush against yours, his breath hot on your skin, his eyes burning with intensity.

He continues, his voice low and ragged, his mind clouded with desire.

"I want you. For some insane, inexplicable reason… I want you. Do you know what I fantasized about, for weeks? I've got this perfect imagination…"

His voice is barely above a whisper now, his lips grazing against your neck, not quite touching your skin, just close… so close.

“I imagined how your skin would feel against my fingers… how it'd look with my marks on it…”

He moves to the other side of your neck now, his body pressing hard against yours, his muscles taut, his heart racing, like he’s about to run a marathon.

"Oh fuck..."

You whisper, you're clinging to him, your hands coming to his shoulders.

He growls at the sound of your voice, low and needy. His hands are on you like he just can’t get close enough.

“I’ve had images in my head… of all this beautiful hair spilled over my pillow, of you coming undone under me…”

He whispers as he moves his hands to your head, his fingers combing through your hair gently.

“Of those lips, of this gorgeous mouth…”

He moves his thumb across your lower lip before pulling it down gently, his gaze focused on your mouth. His breath hitches as he continues.

“Of how my name would sound on your tongue...”

He's acting so different, so out of character that you honestly don't know how to react to him other than moaning softly. Your hands are on his now, the feeling of his fingers moving under yours driving you crazy, craving more. As his thumb grazes your bottom lip again you involuntarily place a soft little wet kiss on it, surprising yourself.

The moment your lips meet his thumb, he nearly growls again, his body feeling like it's on fire. His eyes are dark pools of desire, his whole being screaming to take, to claim.

"Holy fuck.."

He mutters in ragged breaths as he pushes you harder against the wall, the sound of your moan shooting straight to his cock. His hand leaves your hair and goes to your hip, holding you tightly to him.

"Do it again...please.."

You do as he says, this time looking into his eyes as you kiss his thumb gently, fighting the urge of sucking it into your mouth.

He’s breathing so hard it’s like he’s sprinted a marathon, his eyes dark and unfocused. Seeing you look at him so intently, so open and needy… it’s too much.

"Bloody.. Jesus, fuck.. "

He says softly, his hand slipping from your hip to your ass, his grip tight and possessive. He closes his eyes tight, his face close to yours.

"Don’t look at me like that."

His grip on you softens a bit but he keeps you pinned against the wall, his body still pressed tightly against yours from head to toe.

"Makes me crazy, thinking… imagining things…"

He mutters, his hand slipping into your hair, his fingers tracing your neck in a maddeningly soft manner.

"What..what things..?"

You ask whispering, relishing in his attention, how his every movement is almost reverent, he's touching you sensually. The fact that you haven't kissed yet is making this whole situation even more heated, erotic even.

His breath hitches as he hears the words spill from your lips, his eyes fixated on yours as the memories of the fantasies he’s been having wash over him.

“Filthy things. Naughty things.”

He mutters, his fingers tracing down your neck, his body pressing impossibly tighter against you. he moves in closer until his lips are almost brushing against your ear.

His hot breath against your ear combined with what he's saying makes you shiver, you can't take it anymore.

"Tell me, please...I deserve to know.."

His brain seems to be short circuiting at the sound of your pleading voice, his eyes fixed on your face, the way your lips look so damn kissable, pink and pouty and oh so soft… he wants to taste them so bad it physically hurts but you’re asking him to talk, you’re asking for him to spill his mind, his most shameless thoughts and feelings, and in return…?

God, this is insane.

He hesitates for a second before he swallows hard, and whispers in your ear, his words coming out in a ragged breath.

"I imagined you on your knees, looking up at me just like this..with your lips around my.."

He doesn’t finish sentence, he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead he lets the words hang thick in the air between you while leaning closer to you, his lips hovering over yours for a few seconds before he places a hesitant little peck on them, his former confidence long gone.

He’s trembling, his body shaking, he’s not looking at you as he speaks, he’s avoiding your eyes, his tone is rough and breathy, like each individual word is a struggle.

"You want me to tell you more, huh? You want to listen to me spilling all the filthy things my sick mind’s come up with..?”

You kiss him back, just as softly as he did before.

"Yes..."

He swears under his breath, his entire being consumed by the sensation of your lips against his, even just for a split second. It’s making him want more, he wants to taste every inch of you, he wants to drown in you.

"You’ll regret it if I do."

He mutters against your mouth, his hands shaking as they rest on your face, so close to claiming your lips again.

"I highly doubt that."

You dart your tongue out, making contact with his lips in a quick lick. You enjoy how slowly you're moving, you hope no one interrupts you, you want to keep going for as long as possible.

His eyes widen at the feeling of your tongue on his lip, the small, soft, barely-there touch makes him moan despite himself, his fingers digging hard into your skin.

“Fucking little tease….”

You smirk as his fingers are gripping your chin and jawline, keeping you in place as now he licks into your mouth slowly. You feel like never before, this is the single most erotic experience you've ever had and you hardly even kissed. You can't swallow your moans, imagining the work of his tongue somewhere else too.

His brain feels like it’s going to explode when he hears that moan spill out of your mouth, his own lips parting with a gasp. Hearing you whimper and moan has him rock hard in his jeans, his hips involuntarily bucking against you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, his thoughts getting dirtier by the second. He’s going crazy, the wet softness of your mouth against his making his mind spin.

“Fuuuuck...”

He moans, his lips moving desperately against yours now, his control slowly slipping away.

"You think I wasn't imagining things about you..? That I wasn't fantasizing, creating fake scenarios in my head nearly every night about you..?"

You've found your confidence and it feels liberating.

He can barely breathe, his mind and body consumed by what you’re saying. Hearing how badly you wanted him, how much you craved him… He’s almost panting now, his fingers sliding into your hair, his body pressing closer to you like it’s trying to melt into you.

“Fuuuuckk, tell me….tell me what you were imagining… Please.”

He begs, the words sounding so foreign on his lips.

He's showing a new side of him, needy, desperate, vulnerable. Traits you've never seen him present before.

"The same thing as you.. what you didn't dare say out loud.."

Your hands cup his face, pulling him closer to you, your breath fanning over his lips.

"On my knees in front of you..wrapping my lips around your cock.."

Your voice is painfully quiet but you know he hears you all too well.

His head is spinning, his mind reeling with the image of you like that, he wants to ask for more specific details but his words are caught in his throat. He’s completely coming undone, at the mercy of your every word.

“Oh… fuuuccck…”

He stutters, his mind replaying the same image, over and over, of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“Please….please….”

He’s begging now, his eyes begging for something, desperate.

"Please what..? What do you need..? I'd give anything.."

You say in a breathy voice, placing a soft kiss on his lips again, short enough to ruin his chance of kissing you back.

His mind is filled with thoughts he can’t begin to comprehend, your words and your kisses are a drug, he’s addicted already but he wants more.

"You...I n-need you..."

He mutters as he tries to catch your lip again, only to be denied.

"Fuuu-ck...please, let me kiss you."

His voice sounds pathetic, pleading, desperate.

Good, you got him begging for you, who would've thought. You open your mouth slightly before biting down your bottom lip as an invitation, waiting for him to kiss you properly.

He practically growls at the sight of you biting down on your lip, the urge to taste it too strong to ignore. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dives in, his lips claiming yours with an almost feral intensity.

The kiss is hot and messy, sloppy and needy. The way his lips are moving against yours is borderline unhinged, it’s like all the frustrations of the last three weeks has finally been unleashed in this one kiss.

His grip on you tightens, his hands almost desperate to touch every inch of your body, to claim it, to make it his. He moans into the kiss, the sound low and feral, his body moving against yours with purpose. One of his knees moves between your legs, pushing up, just enough to press against your core, to let you feel how badly he wants you.

You gasp into his mouth as you feel his knee between your legs. Fuck, this is getting too heated, you're in public and it's almost a miracle that no one has caught you yet.

His body feels like it’s on fire, the heat from your core is driving him mad. He bites down on your lower lip, his tongue flicking against it as he pulls back for a split second.

“Bloody hell….”

He grunts, his knee pressing against you even harder, desperate to feel as much of you as possible. He buries his face in your neck, his lips hungrily attaching to the sensitive skin of your throat, sucking and licking it with fervor.

"Aahh..."

You moan into his ear as you're grinding against his knee, your body's out of sync with your mind. You know you need to stop, you need to be the voice of reason for both of you, but boy is it hard.

He presses his knee harder against you, enjoying the way you're grinding against him, the sound of your moans sending chills down his spine. He bites down on your neck, hard, the need to leave his mark on you overwhelming.

"I want you so fuuucking bad..."

He moans against your skin, the words coming out as a guttural growl.

"Please...let me take you home."

"Yes, please... we shouldn't be doing this here.."

You whisper, stopping the grinding you pull away from him quickly, as if it was forbidden to be this close to him.

He feels a pang of disappointment as he feels your body pull away, a sharp feeling of emptiness taking over him. He wants to pull you back, to hold you against him, to keep the moment going, but he’s also right, you’re in public after all.

"Yeah... yeah, you’re right."

He says, taking a step back, his eyes still hooded and dark.

"You… you’re ok coming to my place?"

At the same time you're opening your mouth to reply we hear IVy calling for him from the corridor.

Thank god you stopped doing what you were.

You quickly put another cigarette in your mouth, offering one to him again, as if covering your tracks.

"My place. Text me when you're finished here."

You say hastily before IVy steps out the back door and joins you.

III's eyes dart between you and IVy, his mind still a bit rattled from what just happened. He takes the cigarette you offer him, grateful for an excuse to act normal, to cover up the tension that's still between you. He nods slightly in agreement, his mind still reeling from the intensity of your moment together.

"Yeah… I'll text you."

He mutters, his gaze lingering on you for just a second too long before IVy's voice snaps you both back to reality.

"Hey, there you are."

IVy says with a smirk, noticing the tension between you two, but not fully grasping the situation.

III quickly snaps back, shaking off the intimate moment with a casual demeanor.

"Yeah, just grabbing a smoke."

He says, his voice a bit tighter than usual.

You're grateful for both how quickly he can switch back to somewhat normal and how IVy is almost oblivious to what is going on between you. You're chatting casually, smoking when IVy asks you about the after party.

"So, what’s the plan for the after party then?"

He asks, his tone somewhat playful. III, still trying to play it cool, responds with a casual shrug.

"I think I'm skipping it tonight, I'm tired as fuck."

You say trying to sound indifferent but inside you're screaming. You know III can't dodge it but all you can think about is him in your apartment, in your bed, in your arms. You know he wants the same but he has to show face.

IVy nods, taking another drag of his cigarette, his curiosity piqued by your response.

"You’re skipping the after party? That’s not like you."

He comments, his eyes flickering between you and III, trying to read the situation. Meanwhile, III’s heart is racing as he hears your words, his mind still replaying the intensity of what just happened. He wants nothing more than to ditch the after party and go to yours, but duty calls.

"I know, I know, but something's off, feeling a little bit under the weather."

"Damn, that’s too bad."

IVy says with a slight frown, his concern for your health evident. Meanwhile, III's heart is thumping in his chest, his fingers twitching at your lie, trying hard not to smirk.

After a while IVy goes back inside and you know III has to go with him, there's no excuse for him. When he starts walking inside you squeeze his forearms quickly, stopping him in his way.

"Text me, when you're finished. I'll be waiting."

Your tone is low, you speak catiously.

III nods, the touch of your hand sending sparks through his body. He meets your gaze, his eyes burning with intensity as he responds in a hushed, deep voice.

"I will. I’ll be there as soon as I can."

There’s a part three coming! Stay tuned loves.

My lovely tag list so far 🖤

@yeehaw-my-guys

@iiischeckeredsocks

@kenjipepsi1

@prettypinkporkchop

@moonlightstels

@newport23

@antoniamarie1989

@yandere-wishes

#iii #iii sleep token #iii x reader #iii sleep token x reader #sir token the third #iii imagine #sleep token fanfic #iii sleep token fanfic

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luvyeni · 2 years ago

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hi!!! omg i’ve been a fan of your blog for a while now, and i really love your writings! was wondering if you could possibly do a changbin work? maybe he’s super open and lovey with his members but when it comes to you, who he’s in a new relationship with, he pulls away bc he doesn’t want to overwhelm you and smother you/drive you away but you end up taking it as him not being that into you, and it’s just one big angsty ordeal of miscommunication, and he makes it up by showing her he adores her by giving her many orgasms and just indulging in having her in every way he’s wanted???

❛ADORE YOU❜ ( s. changbin )

p. seo changbin x fem!reader wc. 2.3k+

warnings? angsty, oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk

— 𖦹 ( changbin showing you he really loves you ) !

“you must have to pry changbin off you all the time.” you turned to chan, confused. “what do you mean?” you asked, he shrugged pointing to over to where changbin smothering hyunjin in a hug, the younger boy trying to pull away. “he must be like that all the time when you guys are home.” you nodded, smiling – but the truth was, he’d never done like that.

you and changbin had only been dating for about 4 months, but you were so deeply in love with him already, and you do desperately wanted to show him affection and for him to show you affection.

you noticed quickly after that exchange with chan that changbin was more affectionate with his members than he was with you ever, he held your hand sometimes when he was driving and he kissed and hugged you sometimes, but that pretty much was it – but with his members he was way different, he was more open with them too, han was the one to break this to you, accidentally letting something slip that he’d never even told you, you had to play it off like you knew what he was talking about.

even your sex life – honestly you couldn’t even call it that, you had only had sex once. it was nice, but you just tell he wasn’t really into it, he even lied and said he finished, but when you turned over to ‘sleep’, you could hear him go into the bathroom, his moans indicated your suspicions that he didn’t finish confirmed true.

you weren’t sure why he was acting like this, when he pursued you he seemed so interested into, but now you weren’t so sure, maybe you just were seeing things because you liked him so much, so you deluded yourself into thinking he was just interested in you as you were in him.

“look what yongbok sent me.” he pulled you from your deep thought, showing you a random tiktok that the younger boy had sent him. “that’s funny.” you said, picking his hand up, intertwining it with his – but to your dismay, he just kissed your knuckles, unlacing your hands, going back to what he was doing.

you frowned, he didn’t even notice to busy typing away on his phone, laughing. “what are you doing?” you wrapped your arms around his bicep, cuddling into his side. “texting lix, he was just telling me what he did today.” he never had these conversations with you, he hardly ever texted you first. “uh baby?” you turned to him. “yes?” he smiled, removing his arm from your clutches. “my arm is falling asleep.” he chuckled, but you had enough at this point. “you know what.” you scoffed, standing up. “i’m done.”

changbin looked up from his phone confused. “what’s wrong?” he was so clueless, and it made you even madder. “why did enter a relationship with me if you were just gonna treat me like a friend – not even a close friend, like a distant friend.” you didn’t mean to blow up, but you were hurt.

“baby what do you mean, i don’t treat you like a distant friend.” he said, putting his phone down finally. “yeah, you probably treat them better too.” changbin was taken aback by your words. “baby what has gotten into you?” he reach for your hand, but you pulled away. “talk to me.”

“we’ve been together for 4 months now, and i can count on my hands how many times you’ve hugged me, and i bet you that the number of times you hugged your members is 3x more.” you said. “you don’t let me hug you, or kiss you, you don’t even talk to me.”

“that’s not true.” he said. “why did I find out by han you were sick last week, and that’s why you canceled our date?” he didn’t want you to find out about that. “i didn’t want you to worry.” he said. “but i want to worry, i want to worry about you, i want to worry if you’ve eaten or if you’re getting enough sleep – i want to care about you, and i want to care about me.”

“i do care baby, i do it’s jus– i just want you to hug me and kiss me and love me, we don’t even have sex.” you exclaimed, your lips quivering, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “the one time we did it, you lied and said you came, when you didn’t i heard you go into the bathroom.”

his heart was hurting, he didn’t even realize he was hurting you like this. “are you just not into me, it’s okay if you aren’t but don’t lead me on please.” you said. “it hurts.” you walked away, going into your room closing the door.

soon after that, he got a text from you saying that he could leave if he wanted, just make sure the door was locked. he didn’t want to leave though, this was all his fault. he let his stupid insecurities get to him.

believe it or not , he did really love you, he was the one who pursued you after all – he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid his eyes on, you were kind to everyone, he desperately wanted to get to know you. he was ecstatic when you agreed to go on a date with him, and fell even deeper in love that he asked you to be his girlfriend only after 2 dates.

now that he had you, he wanted to keep you – and he knew that a lot of people would be overwhelmed by his amount of affection and he didn’t wanted to do that for you, so he didn’t get to close or smother you, he now see how he fucked up.

he was about to put his shoes on, when he decided no – he wasn’t gonna walk away from this so easily, he was gonna work this out with you, he was gonna show you.

he made his way to your room, knocking softly on the door. “baby?” you didn’t say anything. “baby i’m coming in okay?” he slowly opened the door, your back was facing him. “i said you could go.” your face was muffled from your face being muffled in the stuffed animal he bought you – it was the only thing he’d ever given you, giving changbin another reason to hate himself.

“i don’t want to.” you heard his light footsteps coming closer, the bed dipping indicating he had sat down. “can you look at me baby?” you ignored his request, he frowned, you felt his hands on your waste. “please baby, look at me.” you slowly turned, his heart shattering – your eyes were red, indicating you had been crying, he had made you cry. “i’m so sorry.” he said wiping your cheeks. “i didn’t mean to make you cry.” he whispered.

“do you not want to be with me?” he shook his head. “of course, i do, i really do.” he said, you sniffled, sitting up. “then why are you acting like that?” he sighed, embarrassed. “because i didn’t want to overwhelm you with my affection, it was stupid and i was being insecure, but i just didn’t want you to get freaked out and drive you away.”

he grabbed your hands, “i promise you i will never hurt you like this again, i’ll never make you feel unsure of my love for you.” he kissed your knuckles. “please forgive me.” his wyes were pleading with you, you felt how sorry he was. “i’ll forgive you this time, don’t do it again.” he nodded, eyes widening in excitement. “thank you baby, thank you so much.”

he pressed his lips against yours , his lips molding against yours perfectly, you sighed in content. he didn’t bother pulling away, climbing on top, your lips still glued together. he finally pulled away, missing your lips already. “i’ll kiss you like this every single day to make up for lost times.” you looked so cute laid under him, eyes fluttering. “mo-more please.”

he had to calm himself, another one of his qualms and the reason why he didn’t want to have sex with you, he knew he could be rough sometimes, and he didn’t want to hurt you, that’s why the first time you had sex he lied and said he finished, you had already came and he didn’t want to overstimulate you. “binnie?” you gently touched his cheek. “talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“i want you, fuck i want you so bad.” he said. “but i don’t want to hurt you, be too rough.” he held himself up, looking down at you. you bit your lip, the need bubbling up in your stomach. “i can take it, i promise, please.” he groaned, you didn’t even notice you were subtly grinding against his clothes cock. “please binnie, i want it.”

your whining did it for him, he held your waist down. “i got you.” he kissed you again, working down your neck. “gonna treat you so well.” he pushed himself off of you, you sat up, pulling your shirt off, throwing it to the floor. he hungrily grabbed your face, kissing you.

you laid against the pillow, his lips working down your stomach, you sighed as he reached the band of your shorts. “can i take them off princess?” you nodded; your breathing staggered. “please.” he yanked your shorts down, leaving you in your underwear. “look at that, so fucking pretty baby, i’m such an idiot for ignoring you.”

he came face to your clothed cunt, the wet spot in your baby blue underwear making him curse. “you’re so wet princess, so riled up just from some kissing.” he bumped his nose teasingly against your clit. “y-you haven’t touched me in so long, a-anything could turn me on.” you pouted, whimpering. “i know baby, i know.” he pulled your panties to the side, your cunt glistening and puffy. “i’ve neglected this little pussy for too long.” he inhaled, your scent filling his nostrils. “never again.”

he kissed your cunt, you moaned, he took that as a sign, fully attaching his mouth to your mound, making out with your clit. “changbin fuck!” you moaned, his face was pushed against you, lapping at your cunt, eating you like a starved man. “fe-feels so good.” you tugged at his hair, he groaned against your heat.

he engulfed your clit, sucking harshly on it. “w-wait -fuck- m’gonna cum if you do that.” he ignored your please, holding your legs open to keep you from closing them. “binnie, binnie i’m cumming!” you tried to warn him, but it was too late, your stomach tightening, cumming – your juices coating his face, he lapped up everything, leaving little kissing on your clit before he pulled away.

“you taste so good.” he used the pad of his thumb to continue the assault on your clit. “like candy baby.” he pushed a finger into your hole. “such a tiny hole.” you whimpered, his other hand coming up to your bra, pulling it down, your boobs spilling out. “an-another one.”

he added another one, stretching your hole even more. “sh-shit.” you mewled, he held your waist down, fucking his fingers into you. “that’s it, take my fingers, gotta get you ready for my cock.” you moaned, one thing you did remember about the time you had sex with him – he was huge, his cock was the perfect length and thick.

“you thinking about it baby?” he smirked. “thinking about my cock filling your tiny pussy hm stretching it past your limits?” you nodded. “p-please.” you felt your second orgasm approaching, your cunt tightening around his fingers. “you’re about to cum again princess, i can feel your cunt tightening my fingers, cum for me love.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, cumming.

“there we go, cum for me again.” he pulled his fingers out, covered in your juices. he undid his pants, along with his underwear. he wrapped his hand covered in your cum around his cock, stroking his length. “you’re drooling baby.” you covered your face in embarrassment. “no don’t hide your pretty face.” he pulled your legs apart, folding your body in half. “i wanna see your face when i split your tiny pussy with my fat cock.”

he rubbed his cock on your folds, your soft moan quickly turning into a scream as he pushed his thick cock into you. “so-so big.” you moaned. “fuck.” he cursed; your cunt was sucking him in. “your pussy is so fucking tight, i’ve been missing out on this cunt.” he sped up his movements, holding your legs open. “f-faster binnie.”

he sped up, his thrust becoming rougher, his balls slapping against your ass, your cunt choking his cock, he felt like he was losing himself, getting too drunk on your sweet cunt. “such a good baby, fucking cunt is so good, squeezing me like that.” he grunted, speeding up, you were now screaming his name, gripping the sheets as he abused your cunt. “never gonna neglect this cunt again, gonna stuff you full of my cock every night, make sure you still feel me inside you in the morning.”

he pushed deeper inside you, hitting your cervix. “so-so deep.” you moaned. “yeah, you can feel me in your stomach baby?” you nodded dumbly. “you’re drooling baby, did my cock make you dumb?” you tried to answer, but he just fucked deeper into you , wiping the drool from your lips. “messy baby.”

you felt it bubbling up in your stomach, your third orgasm approaching. “ch-chang- i know baby -fuck- i know, go ahead and cum, cum all over my cock.” Your back arched off the bed, thighs shaking as you came, a white ring forming around his cock as he chased his orgasm. “fuck princess, your cunt is still sucking me in, gonna cum inside of you don’t let me out.”

“pl-please i want it inside.” his mind went blank, his hips stuttering as he came, his cum filling you up, a warm feeling spreading through your body. “fu-fuck baby.” he sighed; his forehead pressed against yours. “i’m sorry baby, but you sounded so fucking pretty begging me to cum inside, i couldn’t help it.”

he tried to pull out, but you stopped him. “baby we gotta clean you up.” you shook your head no, pulling him as close as you could. “i wanna stay like this.” you sighed, he was on top of you, his body weight was comforting. “okay baby if that’s what you want.” he said. “we can stay like this for as long as you want.”

he didn’t mind at all , you guys had a lot of lost time to make up for.

©️LUVYENI

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