#and for the sisters i want names that play off of each other.......

[morphodae]

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ღ HSR Men Becoming Parents (part 2) ღ

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(≫ Part 1 here)

≫ Note: some children of these characters are biological and some are adopted! :)

✦ CW: some related story spoilers for characters, non-graphic mentions of labor and delivery, pregnancy, fluff, light angst, suggestive in Jing Yuan’s part lol, spoilers for Otto Apocalypse HI3 in Luocha’s part (iykyk), no partner in Sampo’s it’s simply platonic parental fluff, creative liberty for Sunday’s destiny after Penacony, the Trailblazer/MC is Stelle in this

✦ Characters: Jing Yuan, Luocha, Sampo (platonic), Sunday x Reader all separate (gender-neutral for the most part as anyone can be a “mom” or parent!)

≫ Jing Yuan

“So… (Name) and the General go at it like rabbits? Not surprised, tbh.”

“Eww! I don’t wanna think about that! We already know they can hardly take their hands off each other when we see them together!”

A loud clearing of someone’s throat is heard as Dan Heng appears in the hotel doorway of the two gossiping girls. Arms crossed, expression unamused.

“Speaking so crudely about the General while we’re visiting isn’t exactly proper,” he admonishes, he turns to the pink-haired girl, “and I thought you’d know better than to encourage her behavior, March.”

March 7th waves her hands up frantically in defense. “I’m just as surprised as Stelle is, that’s all!”

As the young man turns to walk away, the thought of someone from his old life — an old friend — becoming a father was a thought that brought the faintest of smiles to Dan Heng’s face.

During your pregnancy, it was easy and lowkey. Your Yuan made sure to keep you out of his affairs as much as possible and you were grateful. Additionally, you had an easy process welcoming your little girl together into the world. The only thing was — your husband might have kept things a bit too secret.

——————

Yanqing is playing another game of chess in the General’s garden, asking question upon question about the newest bundle he saw his master carrying days ago.

“When were you going to tell me, General?! That’s huge news!”

“All in due time,” the white-haired man grins, taking another piece off the game board.

Yanqing was quite ecstatic, if not surprised, to find out his Master had a daughter behind the scenes. He respected you and the General greatly, so a part of the young boy wanted to get stronger so that he could protect the General’s daughter as though she were his little sister.

“Speaking of, there were rumors going around of you and (Name). And during one of our sparring matches, Yunli got embarrassed when I asked her what she heard about you and (Name)…” Yanqing trails off, gold eyes deep in thought. His expression far too innocent. “I mean, General, don’t babies normally just… come from an ancient bird? That’s what I heard, anyways. If that’s the case then maybe Yunli and I can raise one someday as our apprentice and—“

Jing Yuan cuts off his apprentice with a deep rumble of laughter. “—Perhaps that’s something for you to worry about in several decades time.” The General rises from his cushion gracefully, changing the subject on the endearingly naive boy.

“Speaking of Miss Yunli, weren’t you going to gift her a weapon you saw in a shop and then take her to see a new play?”

Yanqing’s eyes widen comically, his face turning a bright shade of vermillion. “Huh?! How do you know that?”

The General merely walks away, a knowing laugh and closed-eyed smile as the only response he offers.

“General? H-hey! General…!”

≫ “Luocha”

The merchant “Luocha” knew better than to stay too long in one place. To form attachments and risk the confrontation of heartbreak of the other party. The contents of his mysterious coffin kept him grounded to his mission that none should know about.

But yet. He met you.

Another merchant, one with a penchant for travel, like him. A Foxian with a natural sense of business relations and ensuring every customer could receive what they asked for; and if they didn’t, then there would also be an offered compromise. In a way, he was the one in the shadows, preferring to keep things simple, business-only, and secretive. You, however, would greet everyone as one would a friend; polite, direct, extroverted, personable. The sun to his moon. Yet, he had to admit: it was a perfect complement in terms of business.

The one day you take off and he’s left to finish up at your shared stall in Aurum Alley, is the day he finds his life changes forever.

Two young children; a girl and a boy, are being cornered by Cloud Knights who insisted they stole and by the looks of things, are being quite aggressive with the two children. The girl, the slightly taller of the two, is huddled protectively over the boy, trying desperately to shield his trembling form. The boy is coughing, clearly unwell and scared.

Usually, Luocha wouldn’t get involved in trivial matters. The galaxy is a vast place, and oftentimes, it can be cruel. Yet the sight of the two children mirrors a distant, hazy memory — and that is enough to get the blond man in action. With graceful steps, he approaches the Knights, assesses the situation, and fishes for information. Supposedly, the girl had been stealing food and medicine for the boy since they had no one but themselves, despite not being related by blood, the girl felt the need to care for him. The boy was born sickly and had inventions that he eagerly showed Luocha when asked, stating that no one wanted to buy them.

Leaning down to the children’s heights, Luocha reimbursed the Knights for any credits lost that the kids were responsible for and dismissed them. Taking a look at the young boy’s inventions brought a smile to his face. “You are quite the genius, you know?” With a beaming smile, the boy stood a little closer to the blond merchant and offered to show him more of his ideas.

“No need. Not right now, at least,” Luocha responds smoothly. “How about I treat the two of you to a proper meal? Then, I can show you the stall that my partner and I run.”

—————

The next day, the little boy’s inventions stood proudly on the display cases; garnering in several customers as Luocha and his partner swore that the two children, who were all alone in the galaxy with no one but each other, would never go hungry or want for shelter ever again.

≫ Sampo Koski

How does a Fool, one who lives for himself, his Aeon, and theatrics, ever find anyone to grab his attention permanently?

The truth is, it’s an extremely rare occurrence and not something Sampo Koski saw happening for himself. Still, one fateful day in the slums of Belebog changed the course of his life forever.

A young boy — a street performer, it seemed — was excited to show any passerby his tricks and jokes. Naturally, Sampo had to see what the fuss was about. With no Silvermane staff or pesky Captain Gepard to ruin his fun, Sampo felt compelled to join the show.

When parts of the crowd seemed bored or uninterested in stopping by, Sampo made sure to draw more attention to the boy’s performance. With a wink and a dramatic bow, the blue-haired man encouraged the kid to continue on; stating that his show was going to be worth it.

With newfound confidence, the boy continued the performance with Sampo; drawing in stray credits until the pair were eventually chased by off-duty Guards into a hidden alleyway.

“Nice going!” He offered the kid a fist bump as they caught their breath hiding from the Guards near some trash bins. “Name’s Sampo Koski, by the way!”

“I’ve never heard of you, mister,” the boy answered earnestly before shyly giving his own name. “Why would you do that for me back there? Grownups never pay me any mind…”

“Well, call it a bit of generosity on my part,” the man grins. “Say, do you have anywhere to go?”

“No, sir. My parents died long ago to the Fragmentum. It’s just me trying to make it in The Underworld.”

“Well, you’re in luck! Because if you come with Sampo, you’re bound to have endless fun and all the credits you can ask for!” He nudged the kid playfully with his elbow. “What do ya say? Wanna get off this ice rock and see the rest of the galaxy?”

The boy eventually nods, eyes sparkling with newfound joy at a chance of finding himself in the vast galaxy and seeing new sights besides Jarilo-VI.

≫ Sunday Oak

A deal between the IPC and the Family left Sunday at the mercy of those above him… those who were always above him. Yet again, he felt he’d never escape the confines as a caged bird. When the Astral Express offer him a place to stay with him, he’s hesitant before his pragmatism reluctantly agrees. Who else would he stay with? Where else could he go? At least with the Express, he’d have a chance at knowing the well-being and whereabouts of Robin from time to time.

When he meets you on board, he’s as dejected as one would expect; shy, moping, and not a single word uttered to you as he quietly adjusts to a room made just for him. He avoids you and the others save for a word or two out of a necessary response.

You didn’t know him well and met him once or twice in Penacony, so it was jarring to see the once confident Oak Family head so… defeated. But, that never stopped you. If anything, you took it as a challenge.

The Express also took you in and you saw them as family. You were going to do the same for Sunday, no matter what.

The Halovian frustrated you many days but you were slowly breaking down his cautious walls, reminding him of his sister, playing her songs for him to hear, and letting him call her on your phone as he pleased. As such, he found himself falling for you. It was a classic case of “you fell first but he fell harder” as March had said in passing. And so, sooner than later, the two of you became romantic. If anything, Sunday saw you as a savior, a soulmate. Despite kicking himself for becoming so attached, you were a delicious sin he couldn’t help but partake in.

When he received the news, he requested to leave at the nearest stop to clear his head. He knew it wasn’t fair to you and he was sure to get an earful from some Express members once he returned, but his mind was swimming with every possibility. Was he ready for a child? Would he be worthy enough to bring them into a cruel, unrelenting galaxy that he once tried to change for the better? Eventually, he returns back and hugs you wordlessly. You reassure him that if he wanted it too (he did, oh Aeons he wanted both you and his child), that things would work out. And yes, Sunday did receive a stern lecture for leaving from Pom-Pom, March, and even Stelle, but the entirety of the crew sat him down for a long, heartfelt talk to assure him that he was family to them now, and they’d be there for the two of you no matter what.

When the day comes for you to give birth, you’re taken to the best galactic doctor Sunday researched. He’s more nervous than you are and he can’t sit still. His wings flutter at every sound of pain you make and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. Fourteen system hours later and not one, but two little babies are placed on your chest; each with the tiniest wings sprouting under their ears. A girl and a boy — a subtle reminder of him and Robin.

Only this time, through blurry vision of nonstop tears, Sunday swore he’d never let either one of them succumb to a fate akin to that poor Charmony dove. Your children would have no cages, but instead, boundless freedom.

© morphodae (please do not insert any of my works into artificial intelligence programs or repost my works on any site)

[maleyanderecafe]

Hell Trap (Visual Novel)

Created by: marikatti

Genre: Horror/Thriller

The story and artwork in this game is gorgeous. I think this might be the same artist as Paper Cuts because the artstyle seems strikingly similar. This visual novel goes into rather dark topics like suicide, rape and revenge, and it is really beautiful how the story is written so far. There is a prologue and two parts of the story as of writing this.

The story starts out with Yul recalling a childhood memory of being in the snow and walking home. He is interrupted by his sister who teases him, but feels distressed that he cannot remember her name. After some comments about how they were opposites, yet they were two peas in a pod, Yul points out her mismatched shoes. His sister promises that the two of them will be together and that they will take care of each other, something that Yul is happy about. We get a time jump to when the two are in high school. His sister plays with a friendly cat at the front of the school before the two go inside. At lunch, his sister tries to talk about him getting more friends at school, something that Yul sees as useless as he already has his sister. During lunch, Yul's sister ends up in the infirmary, after throwing up, though tries to reassure her brother it was just lunch. Yul immediately doesn't believe this as not only did they have the same lunch, but his sister has a strong stomach. After school, as they walk home, the two lament about their current situation. The two of them are living by themselves, as their dad refuses to give money for them to live with him. The two talk about their future, about how his sister is trying really hard to study well and get good grades so that she can provide for them in the future, along with the various part time jobs that they've been taking. They know their father will stop sending them money the moment that they become adults. Yul tries to get his sister to tell him what really happened to get her in the infirmary, but she refuses. At night, she has a nightmare, and while Yul is trying to wake her up, she hears her talk about how she no longer wants to be at school. The next day, Yul ends up evesdropping on her sister talking to the principal. We see a flashback of Yul's sister working at school after hours on her homework, when a teacher named Blanche comes to talk to her. Blanche talks to Yul's sister about her troubles, and offers her a way for her to make her money. She agrees, desperate for some more money, but retracts when Blanche suggests her to use her body. Blanche then pounces on her and rapes her. Yul ends up bursting into the professor's office after hearing this, much to the principal and his sister's surprise. The principal doesn't help her and instead berates her, stating that women can't be rapist and that Blanche is a good teacher, much to the sibling's dismay. Soon after, Yul's sister jumps off of a building, dying in front of Yul, with Blanche coming over and scorning him.

After the death of his sister, Yul attempts to change his appearance by dying his hair so that he isn't reminded of her every time he looks in the mirror. He grows extremely agitated and distraught, and even starts killing animals, starting with the cat that Yul's sister petted at the beginning of school. He is still not satisfied, until he sees Blanche's daughter at school one day. Yul upon seeing this starts to formulate a plan on how to cause the most pain to Blanche- by killing her daughter. After graduating, Yul follows Blanche's daughter around. First by seeing that she hangs out with her mother on Saterdays, and then by following her and learning her schedule. He does this for three years, learning everything about her and what she does in order to find the best way to kill her. On the day of the kill, Yul follows behind her, planning to choke her and bash her head in when she goes into the alleyway. All seems to be going well, at least until she suddenly screams out that she forgot her phone charger and runs in the opposite direction, leading to her getting hit by the bus instead. In shock and horror, Yul is completely undone, angry that his kill was taken away from him. He ends up helping to call the ambulance and even gets to check in on her during the accident. In an attempt to revive, her he ends up staying and wishing that she'd wake, and she does end up doing so. While talking to the doctor about who to contact, she ends up responding very negatively to the suggestion to tell her mother, something that catches Yul off guard. Afterwards, she thanks Yul for saving her, even introducing herself as Mila. Yul starts to develop some mixed feelings on the scenario, though still decides to go with his plan of killing her. He ends up sneaking into the hospital and night and tries to choke Mila on her bed, but recoils, as he realizes that her reaction with her mother's mention was unusual. He ends up leaving her alive a bit longer to find out what exactly her relationship with her mother is like.

Starting out, this visual novel does a really good job of setting the tone of the entire story. The artwork is beautiful in each scene, with the start with various exaggerated and cute types of facial expressions from Yul's sister, symbolizing her innocence and her general happy outlook on life, contrasted with later after her assault. Most of the story is told from Yul's point of view, with vivid thoughts on his sister's death and his attachment to her, wanting to stay by her side, not wanting to be friends with anyone else and of course, seeking revenge for her after her death. We see that his sister's death is so painful that he can no longer remember her name, and even changes his appearance so he is not reminded of her when he looks into the mirror. Everything for these two has been pretty tragic for a while, having to live on their own, having little to no help from parents or other relatives and of course, the lead up to the sister's death and Yul's eventual lead to revenge. The dialogue and inner thoughts of Yul really give such a powerful feeling in this entire visual novel, with the kind of tension that really wants to make you see more of it, all with a beautiful and striking black and white artwork. It really is beautiful. It's hard to predict exactly what will happen next, as I did not expect Mila to be hit by a car and fully expected her to die or almost die by Yul's hands.

It's hard to say whether or not Yul is a romantic or platonic yandere for his sister, since she does die pretty early on. I will wager that Yul is more platonic though considering he does seem more dependent on her, rather than lusts over her but regardless, he does very clearly care about and love her. Regardless, much of his revenge plot is driven by the fact that Blanche caused his sister to die, and the agony he feels afterwards. Considering he doesn't kill Mila by the end of chapter two, it is possible that he could develop feelings for her as well, as his realization that her and her mother's relationship isn't as amicable as it seems. As a yandere, he's mostly just a bit clingy initially, but after her death pretty much goes straight into more sinister roles, killing animals to try to sate her hatred of Blanche and of course stalking Mila to kill her as well as meticulously learning her schedule just to kill her. Those last ones aren't specific to yanderes themselves, but he does incorporate a lot of traits from there to get his revenge. If he does possibly fall for Mila, then these traits might come back not to try to get her killed but possibly to protect her. It is always fun to see how these more thriller like stories go.

Overall, while this is still in a demo state, it is extremely promising and is a thriller/horror type story that really keeps you on your toes. As this creator did likely create Paper Cuts, I can see their expertise in writing this as the thriller aspect of Paper Cuts really kept you on your toes. I highly recommend it and look forward to new chapters coming out in the future.

[komeeder]

think im gonna make warrior cats versions of redacted characters for fun now. someone help me come up with a name for the horrible guy.

[tsaiko]

Okay. So I get on the subway right, and sit in an open seat. Across the aisle and one seat down is a man and a woman, mid to late twenties. They are having furious whispered conversation with each other. Like you can tell they are trying to be quiet but emotions are high. it's tense. Which I don't notice at first but quickly pick up on.

After being a nosy shit while pretending to play on my phone, I figure out what is going on. These two are talking about the future of their relationship. I mean, odd place to have that discussion on a subway during rush hour, but whatever. It's drama that doesn't involve me. He wants to move forward with their relationship, possible move or move into together, and she wants to slow down.

Suddenly, he breaks in with a story about how his mom hates the city but she moved to New York to stay with his dad and has lived there for twenty years now. Because relationships are about sacrifices. At which point girlfriend is like "Okay, what have you sacrificed for our relationship?"

And boyfriend's example involved the time he missed doing something - I couldn't hear what - with his friends to go with her to her sister's wedding. She was 100% not impressed with his answer and it showed on her face.

They go back to their whisper argument and I can't pick up what they are saying to each other. Then suddenly, clear as day, girlfriend asked him "Name one thing I am interested in."

Homeboy just froze. He had no answer. The lights were on and no one was home. You could hear the dial-tone noise coming from his brain. He couldn't name one single thing his girlfriend was interested in. Hell, he looked like he was totally confused as to why she was even asking him the question.

He tried to talk to her a few times after that, but she was just silent. And I mean angry silent. Train pulls up to the station and she gets up. "Babe, this isn't our stop." Her reply? "It's my stop now." Doors open and she just fucking walks off and leaves him on the train.

He stares at her for a few seconds and then scrambles off after her.

My dude, I don't think you are recovering from that.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can i request cregan stark modern au, with jaces younger or twin sister and maybe they like hide the relationship and its like fluffy and maybe smutty

Request: five times cregan and jace’s sister almost get caught and one time jace does find out about their relationship. I don’t think he would be too mad. He knows cregan is a good guy and would treat you well. 

I usually dislike body hair (personal preference) and beards, but Cregan has a short beard in this one (as he does in all of my fics for him) because I said so, and because he’s a Stark. I think it is mandatory and missing for his character — manifesting for a beard in season 3.  Also, this is 6.6k words...idk how that happened

p.s. You can find this fic on AO3 under the title Who are we to fight the alchemy

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), mention of a fight and blood, short appearance of Larys Strong (he needs his own warning),

—

When you started college and moved in with Jace, he had warned his teammates that his sister was off limits and that if he caught any of them looking at you, he would not be afraid to throw hands. He may be smaller than a lot of his teammates, but Jace was very protective of you. 

They were good guys, brothers to Jace, but he also knew their history with girls. He knew the dirty secrets; the dramas, who they had sex with, where, and details that he wished he could forget about. They were not boyfriend material — at all. 

You were not going to lie, Jace’s teammates were hot hockey players. It was tempting to turn your life into a cliché book trope and hook up with one of them, but you refrained from doing so. They were not worth being another name on their list. 

Until one of them changed your mind. 

It was a Tuesday night. You were in your room, reading on your bed while Jace had friends over playing video games. You could hear them shout at the TV and each other. After a few chapters, you wandered to the kitchen to get a cookie from the cookie jar, but found its content empty. 

‘’Jace,’’ you said under your breath. 

Living with your brother had a certain strange familiarity to it, a comforting echo of home despite the newness of being on your own. But some things hadn’t changed. Like how Jace never mentioned when he emptied something. Like that one time you wanted to make spaghetti, only to discover he had left an empty pasta box in the cupboard. Or when he used your shower towel because his was in the laundry. These moments made you miss your mom's presence — she’d always been there to keep the peace and enforce some order.

As you stared at the empty jar with frustration, one of Jace’s friends walked in behind you, his eyes immediately landing on the same spot. You could not see who it was, but his tall shadow was towering over you and you could smell a faint woodsy cologne. 

‘’If you’re looking for a cookie, Jace ate them all,’’ you said, throwing your brother under the bus.

‘’That was me, actually,’’ admitted a deep voice with a northern accent from behind you. You turned to see Cregan standing there, his expression sheepish. ‘’Jace said to get anything I wanted. Sorry.’’

You forced a smile, the irritation fading as your eyes met his gray ones. ‘’It’s fine. I’ll get something else.’’ 

Cregan watched as you moved to the freezer above the fridge to get the ice cream out. You opened the lid and saw that it was almost empty, so there was no need to put it in a bowl. 

‘’Did you make them?’’ he asked as you reached for a spoon in the cutlery drawer.

‘’I did,’’ you answered with a smile. 

‘’They were really good.’’ 

‘��Thank you. If Jace baked them himself, they would have turned out like hockey pucks: black and hard,’’ you joked.

Cregan offered a light chuckle as he stepped towards the counter, his gray eyes studying the details of your face. He hadn’t really looked at you until now, respecting Jace’s warning, but now he was struggling to look away and go back to the living room. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

Two months later, you found yourself making out with the Wolves’ captain in his big jeep. His hair was damp and he smelled strongly of soap and deodorant, having showered twenty minutes ago after practice. 

The windows were beginning to fog as you were kissing, your hands all over Cregan's shoulders and chest. His tongue slipped into your mouth, causing you to grip his shirt when it grazed yours. You could drown in his kisses. 

Getting frustrated by the gear shift separating you, you attempt to climb over it and fumbled your way to the driver seat onto Cregan’s lap without breaking contact with his lips. You bumped your head and legs along the way, and let out a little curse. Cregan laughed, pulling back his seat as far as it would go so the steering wheel would not press in your back. 

From his new angle, you could feel the warmth of Cregan’s body against yours. It wasn’t as effective as cuddling in bed, but Jace would get home soon and Cregan’s small dorm bed was not made for two. He barely fitted himself. 

He slipped his large hands under your shirt, his thumbs inching up and up your sides, feeling your soft and warm skin while his mouth locked itself to your jaw. ‘’Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,'' he said as his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses up to your collarbone.

You rolled your hips to meet his, the friction causing Cregan’s breath to stutter. His hands were still in your shirt, large and warm, leaving trails of fire over your back. He felt like he was sixteen and in high school all again, not twenty-one and in college. 

‘’Gods, you’re going to kill me if your hand keeps going rubbing against me like that.’’ 

You smirked and tipped your head back to give him more room. ‘’Jace is not the boss of my relationships. I can see whoever I please,’’ you replied, raking your hand through his hair and grazing the side of his short beard.

Cregan scoffed against your neck. ‘’Then what are we doing in my car instead of your bed?’’ 

He was only teasing, but it still made you sigh. You didn’t think living with Jace would put a wrench in your dating life. He meant well, but gods was it frustrating. 

Not waiting for your response, Cregan continued to shower your neck with kisses, his teeth nipping at the skin before his lips soothed it. You didn’t think kisses would make you feel like this, but this man had an effect on your body that you could not explain. You pulled at his hair when he bit at the sensitive flesh there, leaving a small mark you will have to conceal later. 

You wished you didn’t have to hide your relationship. You wished you could kiss him whenever you desired, go to his games and wear his jersey and cheer for him loudly when he scored a goal, cuddle with him on the couch without looking at the door every five minutes to check if Jace was coming home. 

Cregan pulled back suddenly, looking up at you with his gray eyes. ‘’I should go, Jace is gonna come home soon. Walking from campus to here takes less than thirty minutes,’’ he said in a hushed tone, his breath coming in short puffs. 

‘’Just a few minutes more,’’ you bargained, stealing a few kisses from his lips, not yet ready to part. ‘’I have a class at 8pm tomorrow and you leave for your away game Saturday morning. I won’t be seeing you until Sunday or Monday.’’ 

He let out a sigh, also dreading the moment he’ll leave you, and held you for a moment, his hands gently running up and down your back. You drinked in his scent and warmth, winding your arms around his neck and pressing your head in his neck. 

The moment was ruined as you shifted and accidentally hit the horn with your ass, the loud sound echoing  in the parking lot. 

Startled, you jumped and then burst into laughter, but Cregan didn’t join in. His expression was stone serious as he stared intently at something in the distance. Confused, you followed his gaze and spotted Jace standing by the doors of your apartment building, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He was scanning the parking lot, clearly trying to figure out which car had honked, but with the lights off and the evening darkness, there was no way for him to tell which one it was.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

The second time you almost got caught together was before a hockey game. The team the Wolves were playing against was strong and Cregan texted you to come outside the locker room and give him a good luck kiss.  

You smiled at the text and sent a quick ‘coming’ to your boyfriend. ‘’I’m gonna get something to drink,’’ you told your friends. 

You snaked your way through the students and families waiting in the entrance to get to their seats and quickly made your way down to the locker room. You knew where it was from bringing over Jace’s skates last Saturday at practice. They were essential for getting on the ice, how could he forget them? 

Family, friends — and girlfriends — were not allowed in that area of the arena, so you kept an eye out for anyone from staff. You could always play the ‘I was looking for the bathroom’ card, but it would add another lie on top of the others you and Cregan were piling up since the beginning of your relationship. 

You found him leaning against the wall, waiting. He was in his compression pants and an old Wolves tee shirt, looking like a complete snack. You could see everything in those tight pants. And the way his hair was tied at the back made him look sexier. 

He looked up when he heard someone approach and a soft smile curled on his lips. ‘’There you are,’’ Cregan said, his voice low and gravelly as he stepped to you and pulled you to his chest. You fit against him perfectly, like a missing piece snapping into place. 

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, his hand cupping your face gently. It was supposed to just be a quick kiss — a quick ‘good luck’ smooch, not anything too serious. But the moment your mouth met his, you both got carried away. 

Cregan grabbed you with ease by your thigh, lifting you up, and you winded yours around his neck, almost forgetting that he had a game to play in twenty minutes.  

‘’Okay, that’s enough,’’ you decided, breaking the kiss. ‘’You’re gonna be late for pre-game talk.’’

Cregan sighed but gently lowered you back down. Your boots hit the floor, but he didn’t let you go without stealing one last kiss. You smiled into it, then stepped back just as Jace came barreling down the hallway, clearly in a rush.

He came to a stop, frowning when seeing you. ‘’What are you doing here?’’ His gaze shifted to Cregan, suspicion creeping into his voice. ‘’And why are you talking to my sister?’’

Cregan didn’t miss a beat. ‘’She was looking for you, actually,’’ he lied smoothly. ‘’Baela asked her to tell you she wouldn’t make it to the game tonight. She and Rhaena drove home for the weekend for their dad’s birthday.’’

You made a mental note to thank him later for the quick thinking. Baela had mentioned her trip, and Jace had been sulking and pouting ever since, upset that his girlfriend would miss a big game. 

Jace nodded, still catching his breath. ‘’Yeah, I know. She already told me.’’ 

‘’Oh?’’ you played along effortlessly. ‘’She must have forgotten that she already told you. She has a lot on her mind right now, you know.’’ 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°  

Your breathy 'ah's and whimpers were bouncing off the walls as Cregan's strong hands gripped your thighs and held you in place while he lapped at your pussy like a starved man. The intensity of pleasure forced you to grip the headboard. The scruff of his beard was rubbing against your sensitive skin, chafing, but you kind of like it. 

It was your first time having the apartment to yourself for more than two hours, and you were going to make the most out of it. Jace was at a bar in the city with some guys from the team. He won't be back until at least 1am...or even later. 

When you heard about the night out at the bar, you texted your man and let him know so he could come over after Jace leaves. His teammates were disappointed that he was not joining, but Cregan told them to have fun for him. 

He’ll have his own fun with you in the sheets.

The moment he crossed the door, your mouth was on his and you were unbuttoning your shirt, eager to feel his hands on your tits. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mewling at the way he was suckling on your clit. No one ever made you feel this good before. Not that you had a lot of experience to compare with.

His sweet assault on your pussy continued, the sounds you were making making him rock hard. He loved it — pleasing his girl. 

''I'm gonna— I'm gonna come soon,'' you whined, feeling your core tighten and rocking you body forward in the same rhythm, fucking yourself on Cregan's tongue.  

The hockey player let out a low grunt below you, encouraging you to use him how you wished. He let go of one of your thighs to run the back of his hand up your stomach and grab your breast the way you liked, his calloused thumb and finger capturing your peaked nipple, rubbing it as he flicked your clit again. 

Your orgasm hit and you made circular jerks of her hips, pushing down on Cregan’s tongue and chin, drenching both. His name fell from your lips and you continued on like this for a moment, toes curling and legs tensing. Until you had nothing else to give.

He pressed a last kiss to your sensitive clit, then helped you clamber off him. ‘’You remember when I said the cookies you made were really good?’’

You hummed, although confused where he was going with this. 

‘’This is better.’’ 

Your face flamed up at his words, not expecting such a vulgar thing to come out. ‘’Shut up.’’ You smacked his chest, his laugh rumbling under your palm. 

The sheepishness he sported in the kitchen that day had disappeared, revealing a dirty sense of humor you never expected from him.

You thought you would get a breather, a moment to catch your breath between your last orgasm and the next, but Cregan — insatiable — had other plans. He rolled onto his side, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began kissing your body with a slow, deliberate intensity. His lips trailed all over your chest, down to your breasts, and then to your stomach, each touch igniting your desires all over again. You arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth and the gentleness of his caresses melting away any resistance.

Under his tall and broad stature, Cregan Stark was a teddy bear. A Costco sized teddy bear. On the ice, he was known for his strength and leadership, but off it, he was all heart. He was kind, caring, and protective. His caresses were gentle, and his kisses tender and loving. It was impossible to not feel his love.

Speaking of feeling his love, you felt his hardness twitching and poking at your thigh through his tight boxers. You reached down to slip your hand inside, jerking him slowly. In response, Cregan squeezed your hip and let out a low groan.

‘’I need you,’’ you gasped, feeling him suck at the skin under your left breast. 

It was one of your rules: no leaving visible marks that could raise suspicions. 

He gave one last swipe of his tongue over your nipple and peeled off his boxers, his delicious cock springing up immediately. Your pussy was weeping at the sight. 

You spread your legs to accommodate him, offering yourself to him. He teased at your entrance, his movements deliberate as he bumped against your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that made you whine. His amused chuckle filled the room, clearly tempted to draw out your anticipation even more, but as you shot him a warning glare, silently urging him to stop teasing. 

Cregan shushed you, rubbing your thigh, and just as he was about to breach your walls, you heard the door of the apartment open and Jace’s voice echoing. 

You froze, eyes widening in panic, and Cregan cursed under his breath, realizing that Jace was back much earlier than expected. ‘’Shit. That’s Jace.’’ 

He called your name again and you quickly slipped on a shirt and got out of bed, answering your brother's calls of your name. You couldn't risk him coming into your bedroom and catching his best friend in your bed in his birthday suit…with with a raging hard-on and your juices all over his beard.  

‘’You’re home early,’’ you pointed out, coming down the hallway. 

You studied him as he grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry, trying to guess his state of inebriety. He seemed barely tipsy. 

‘’Drama at the bar. Ben got into a fight with some guy over a girl — which he did not know was someone's girlfriend — and we all got kicked out,’’ Jace explained, rummaging through the bag of chips and taking a handful to pop into his mouth before leaning against the counter. 

You shook your head with a sigh. ‘’Typical Ben. He really needs to stop going after girls that are taken. Has he not learned his lesson?''

Your brother laughed, taking more chips. “Whose shirt is that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the large shirt you were wearing, then back up at you.

You followed his gaze and saw that you had grabbed Cregan’s tee shirt instead of your sleep shirt…

‘’Dad’s,’’ you blurted out quickly.

Jace frowned, not remembering your dad ever wearing that shirt, but let it go. ‘’What were you up to? I thought you would invite the girls over.''

‘’Eh, no. I...I was having fun by myself,'' you stammered, clenching your thighs and hoping your face was not too flushed. 

It wasn't entirely a lie, but it wasn’t true either. You were having fun, just not by yourself. 

His face twisted in disgust. ‘’Ew, that’s gross! I did not need to know about that.''

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°  

Unlike Ben, Cregan wasn’t the type to get into fights — especially on the ice. He thought it was stupid and pointless, a quick way to end up injured or benched for a few games. As the father figure of the team, he was usually the one stepping in to break up the scuffles, keeping cooler heads prevailing. But sometimes, no matter how careful you are, you get caught in the crossfire and take a punch that wasn’t meant for you.

You shot up from your seat immediately, your heart sinking to your stomach as Jason Lannister’s gloveless fist accidently connected to Cregan’s face. It was aimed at Ben — unsurprisingly —, who had played a foul, unnoticed by the referee, and got his brother Tyland in the penalty box.

Chaos erupted on the ice. The referees were shouting and blowing their whistle, trying to break up the fight. Seeing Ben implicated, Cregan had rushed over, taking it on himself to pull him back, but that's when Jason punched him. 

More players skated over, helping the referees. One grabbed Jason, and another went for Ben. He was lean but feisty, a scrappy fighter who never backed down. He shot a taunting grin at his opponent and spat blood on the ice, right at his feet. Jason tried to free himself, but the closest referee put his hand on his chest, shaking his head. Enough.

Cregan turned to Ben and wiped the blood off his nose, glaring at darkly.  

You didn’t see him until Sunday afternoon. You were coming back from the laundry room, arms full with a basket of freshly cleaned clothes, and forgot how to breathe when you saw Cregan sitting on the couch across from Jace. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie, and his pretty face was decorated with a bruise close to his nose. 

Your feet froze, unable to take another step. You wanted to fucking punch Jason Lannister.

‘’Hey, you’re back,’’ Jace noticed, turning his head towards you.

You nodded, trying to regain your composure. ‘’Yeah. I was doing laundry,’’ you explained, lifting the basket slightly as if to prove your point.

‘’Can you do mine next time? I’ll pay you ten dollars,’’ Jace offered with a grin.

You scoffed, shaking your head. What did he take you for, a housemaid? ‘’Ten dollars to wash your dirty underwear and smelly socks? Never.’’ 

‘’Fifteen,’’ he countered, still hopeful. ‘’My clothes smell better when you do it. It’s like when Mom used to do it.’’

‘’That’s because I use fabric softener,’’ you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jace frowned, clearly puzzled. ‘’What’s that?’’ 

Before you could explain it to him, his phone beeped with a notification. He paused the game and checked his screen. ‘’Food is here. I’ll go get it,’’ he said to Cregan.

The taller one nodded, waiting for Jace to be out the door to glance at you. Without saying anything, you set the basket of clothes down on the beanbag chair that had seen better days and went straight to Cregan, cupping his face gently. His eyes softened at your touch, seeing your look of concern. He reached up with one hand to lightly hold onto your wrist as you examined the bruise on his face.

Cregan gave you a soft smile. He could see that you were worried about him. ‘’I’m fine,’’ he said, yet you couldn’t help but notice a hint of stiffness in his expression. ‘’I’m fine. I promise.’’ He kissed the inside of your hand. 

‘’I’ll fetch you some ice.’’ 

He tried to protest, saying that it wasn’t necessary, but you were resolute. You hadn't been able to take care of him after the game, so you’ll do it now. 

You put some ice cubes that you used for your iced coffees in a plastic bag and brought it to the living room, gently pressing it to the bruise. ‘’Here.’’ 

Cregan winced at the cold, his face sensitive. ‘’Thanks, love.’’ He reached out and put a hand on your hip, tugging you closer, but retracted it as the door opened and Jace returned with the food. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

During the course of your relationship, you found yourself in a lot of risky situations, but letting Cregan sleep over was playing with fire. 

You didn't mean to. It was an accident. 

The two of you were watching a movie in your bed while Jace was on a date with Baela, and he fell asleep forty minutes in. You should have woken him when your phone showed close to 11pm, but you didn't have the heart to. You locked your door, turned off your laptop and cuddled against him. 

When you woke up to pee at 1am, you saw that your brother was back and was asleep on the couch with his phone in his hand, the TV playing some older kids cartoons and his leg off the couch. Jace was a light sleeper, it would be too risky to sneak Cregan out.

Morning came and you woke up alone. A sad pout graced your lips. It was your first time spending the night together and you didn’t even get to have morning cuddles or hear his sleepy voice. 

You grabbed your phone, checking if he left any messages, but there was nothing. Just a text from your mom asking if you were coming home for your dad’s birthday this coming weekend. You rolled over, breathing in the sheets where Cregan slept in last night, and left her on read and got up. 

Your morning coffee was calling your name.

Running a hand through your hair, you walked down the hallway, looking forward to that first sip of coffee, and grinned when you found Cregan in the small kitchen, standing in his tight boxers and a tee shirt and drinking black coffee from a Disney mug. It looked Polly Pocket sized in his hands. 

You wrapped your arms around him from the back, your body flush against his. You pressed your face into his back, and the warmth of your body against his made his shoulders relax. 

He smiled to himself, covering your hands with his free one. ‘’Good morning,’’ he said in a groggy voice.

‘’I thought you had left. What of Jace? If my brother sees you in your underwear in his kitchen he’s gonna flip.’’ 

Cregan set his coffee down and turned, his gaze soft as his eyes met yours. The bruise on his face had significantly faded, barely there. ‘’He’s not here. I heard him leave.’’ 

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, and you let yourself relax against him. The warmth of his body seeped through his tee shirt, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. Cregan's hand slowly traced down your back, his fingers rubbing gentle circles at the base of your spine.  

‘’Don’t you have classes?’’ you asked, glancing up at him with a small smile.

He hummed softly. ‘’Not until later. My 10am class got canceled. I thought I’d hit the gym instead...but there’s no rush.’’

‘’I’ve gotta leave in one hour,’’ you sighed, wishing you could linger in this moment longer.

Cregan’s grip tightened slightly, as if to keep you close for as long as he could. ‘’I can drop you off,’’ he offered. ‘’That way we’ll have more time together.’’

You nodded, pressing a kiss over Cregan’s sternum in thanks. ‘’I’ll make us breakfast...in five minutes.’’ 

To ruin the moment, you heard the loud buzz and a voice coming from the intercom. 

‘’Are you up? Please be awake. I tried texting you and calling but you didn’t respond so I’m taking a chance here.’’ Jace called your name again, louder. 

You groaned in annoyance and went to the door to press the intercom button. ‘’What do you want?’’ 

‘’Yes! You’re awake! Eh, I left my laptop on the counter, and I also forgot my keys...’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・° 

When Jace left for college, your parents didn’t see the use of getting a car when everything was close to campus and within walking distance. What they didn’t think through would be the possibility of the bus riding home being full and not being able to make it for your dad’s birthday. 

Jace: Pack your bag. We’re leaving at 4pm. I already told Mom

You: You found us bus tickets? 

Jace: No. I found a ✨chauffeur✨

You: Please tell me it’s not some random person you found on a co-driving forum. I don’t want to spend two hours in some creep’s car 💀

Jace: He’s not

You should have known it would be him. 

Jace called shotgun, forcing you to take the backseat. You didn’t mind. In fact, you preferred it. If you had sat at the front, you were scared your hand would have slipped and revealed your relationship. Or that Jace would have noticed the familiarity between you. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little sister, not someone he knew like the palm of his hand.

Although it was only two hours, the drive felt never-ending. Your back ached from sitting in class all day and your stomach was impatient to be filled with your mother’s cooking. Every now and then, Cregan would sneak glances at you through the rearview mirror, and each time you couldn’t hide your smile. Your brother didn’t see, too busy on his phone or switching the music. 

This weekend was looking to be long and difficult. 

Your mom was more than happy to have another guest over. Cregan was as polite and charming, easily winning her heart when he complimented her infamous lasagna and asked for a second serving. 

''Of course! Help yourself,'' Rhaenyra said, smiling warmly. She glanced between Cregan and Jace, who both emptied their plates quickly. ''It's like they don't feed you at college.'' 

''I live in a dorm,'' Cregan explained in defense. ''It's hard to cook when the only appliances allowed are a mini fridge and a coffee pot.''

Your mother turned to Jace with raised eyebrows, clearly waiting for his excuse. ''And you? What do you have to say for yourself?'' 

Jace grinned sheepishly, swallowing his last bite. ''Can I take the leftover back to college?'' 

At the head of the table, your father let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head.  

When you were seven, you used to sneak out of your bedroom at night to eat a bowl of cereal. It took your parents several months to figure it out. At eighteen, you were sneaking to join your boyfriend in the guest room. 

You waited for everyone to be fast asleep, and avoided the creaking floorboards in the hallway. It was dark inside as you closed and locked the door behind, but you made it to the bed without stubbing your toe on any furniture. 

Cregan stirred when you pulled the covers and slipped in, feeling your cold feet on his calves. ''What are you doing?'' he asked, half-asleep and eyes still closed. He didn't need to see you to know it was you. He simply knew. 

You said nothing and cuddled against him, sighing happily when he reciprocated. 

Morning came faster, the early rays of sun peeking through the curtains. You cursed at yourself, having once again slept longer than planned. You checked both sides of the hallway, and once you deemed it safe, you exited. What you didn’t see was Luke leaving the bathroom, his hair unruly and barely awake. 

‘’I…’’ you stammered, not knowing what to say. 

He was fifteen, you could not trick him like Joffrey. He knew what you were doing in the guest bedroom. 

So you bolted to your own, praying he would keep his tongue.

‘’Luke knows,’’ you blurted out as you descended the stairs for breakfast, the weight of the confession lingering in the air.

Downstairs, your mother had gone all out, setting up a massive brunch spread — eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and even pancakes. Grandfather Lyonel would be coming over...along with your uncle Larys. The thought of him made your stomach twist; you had never been at ease in his presence, but he was your father’s half-brother, and that meant you had to force a smile and be nice. 

Cregan furrowed his brows, concern creeping across his face. ''How?''

You quickly recounted the incident, watching as Cregan ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression growing tense. ‘’You think he’s gonna tell Jace?'' he asked, his voice dropping. ''Or worse...your dad? We got along well last night, but when he’ll find out—’’

‘’My dad is not the one we need to worry about,'' you interrupted softly, trying to ease his anxiety. ''Sure, he’s protective of us, and he might look like the kind of guy who could knock someone out with one punch, but he’d never do that to someone I care about. Not unless he had a damn good reason.''

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, Joffrey got down from his chair and dashed over to you, his small face lighting up with excitement. ‘’Mommy made pancakes!’’ he announced, his big brown eyes practically glowing. ‘’There’s blueberry ones, your favorites.’’ He grabbed both your hand and Cregan's, tugging insistently, messing up your plan to arrive separately.

At the table, Luke was talking — bragging — to grandfather Lyonel about school while Jace was helping your mom bring all the food to the table. And of course, Uncle Larys was just sitting there, observing everything with his usual quiet, unsettling presence.

At Joffrey’s urging, Cregan took a seat next to him. The little one had taken a strong liking to the hockey player, and you couldn’t help but hope that this budding friendship might work in your favor when it would all blow up. 

‘’Careful, it's hot!'' Rhaenyra called out, entering with a plate full of bacon. ''Jace, can you bring the orange juice? Oh, and a small fork for Joffrey?'' 

You interrupted Luke and made your way to Grandfather Lyonel, wrapping him in a warm hug like you always did. ‘’Where’s Dad?’’ you asked, noticing his absence.

The burly man looked around for his son, not knowing either. 

‘’I'm here, I'm here,'' Harwin’s familiar voice rang out from the sliding door as he entered, carrying a bowl of freshly picked strawberries. On top of his head was a handmade birthday crown, obviously crafted by Joffrey. ‘’Your mother forgot the strawberries. I had to fetch some from the garden.'' 

You grinned, stepping up to greet him. ‘’Happy birthday, Dad,’’ you said, kissing his cheek as you wrapped him in a hug. 

Everyone sat around the table, and began filling their plates with food. 

You mostly took blueberry pancakes, and some fruits from the garden. You had a sweet tooth this morning. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Joffrey talking a mile a minute between bites of pancakes and bacon. Cregan was trying his best to listen to your little brother — what he could make out of his words, anyway — but his attention was completely focused on you.

Two seats down from you, Luke was watching. You could feel his gaze on Cregan, and there was an unsettling tension beneath the surface. He knew something. He could let it slip at any moment and throw the whole breakfast into chaos. But, for now, he stayed silent.

‘’So,’’ Grandfather Lyonel began casually as he sipped his coffee, ‘’how's your first year of college treating you? Found yourself a boyfriend yet?''

The word 'boyfriend' had your bite of pancakes catching in your throat. Grabbing your coffee, you took a long gulp to wash it down, buying yourself a moment.

You shook your head, managing a calm smile. ‘’Not really. I’m keeping my focus on my academics,’’ you replied, briefly raising your eyes at Cregan, who was focussing on eating the content in his plate. The last time he had a home-made breakfast was with you. 

You thought you were being discreet, but your grandfather noticed the short glance, as did your father who was right next to you. 

Joffrey, oblivious to the tension, piped up, ‘’Jace has a girlfriend. Her name is Bella.’’

‘’Baela,’’ Jace corrected with a fond smile, shaking his head at the enthusiastic six-year-old.

Grandfather Lyonel smiled, happy for his grandson. ‘’That’s a lovely name.’’ He then turned to Cregan. ‘’And you, Cregan? Got a girlfriend? A handsome, well-mannered lad like you cannot be single.’’ 

Before he could answer, Joffrey piped up with the bluntness only a child could muster. ‘’I think you should date my sister,’’ he declared.  

Jace’s head shot up, eyes wide. 

Before him, Cregan chuckled uncomfortably, clutching his fork. ‘’Why is that, little one?’’

‘’Because you look at her like papa looks at mommy.’’ He said it so pure and innocently, yet it was true. 

The silence that followed was so loud it didn’t take long for Jace to connect the dots. The truth hung in the air, undeniable and clear. Cregan shifted awkwardly in his seat, and you felt your heart pound in your chest.

Jace glanced between you and the one he called his best friend. His nostrils were flared, shock and outrage painted across his face.  ‘’How long has this been going on?’’ His brown eyes glared daggers at Cregan, waiting for an answer. ‘’How long have you been keeping this from me?’’

‘’Jace,’’ your father’s voice cut through the tension, firm but gentle, an attempt to stop the situation from spiraling any further.

But Jace wasn’t listening, angry at his friend’s betrayal. ‘’How can you betray me like that? I would have expected it from Robb or Theon, not from you. You pride yourself to be loyal and honorable, but where is your loyalty in this? Where is the honor in disregarding my one and only rule?’’  

He was allowed to be upset that you and Cregan spent the last two months seeing each other behind his back. It’s a reaction that was expected. But you hated that he was painting his best friend as the villain. Cregan never used you, it was never his intention. He knew what he was risking when he kissed you back that rainy afternoon in his car. Yet, he couldn’t ignore his feelings — and neither could you. 

‘’How can you make this all about you?’’ you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘’Can’t you see past your own selfish feelings that maybe Cregan does love me for me and not just to piss you off? This is exactly why we didn’t tell you anything.’’ You gestured around the room.

Cregan, who had remained silent until now, took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm but firm. ‘’You know I don’t play around with girls. I would never use your sister the way you think I am. Come on, Jace. You know me.’’ There was a pause, allowing Jace to absorb his words, then he continued. ‘’I’m truly sorry for keeping this from you, but can you blame me? Put yourself in our shoes. You think I wanted to sneak around and lie to everyone about the girl I love? It might look cool in movies, but it’s not in real life. It’s just stress and pain.’’  

The room was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. No one dared speaking around the table. It was only silent glances. 

What a way to ruin your father’s birthday…

A few hours later, you found yourself sitting outside, your heart heavy. The house had grown quiet after the earlier commotion, the celebratory mood from the family gathering long gone. Grandfather Lyonel and uncle Larys had left. The former had apologized for starting the conflict, but you told him it was not his fault. It was bound to happen anyway. 

You apologized to your father — and mother — for ruining his birthday. It was his turn to shake his head and pull you in his arms. 

The air had gotten colder as it neared sundown, but you didn’t want to go inside. You liked the soft stillness of the open air. It was a calming contrast to the fight from this morning.

The drive back to college was going to be tense tomorrow. You already dreaded it. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jace was watching you through the glass of the sliding doors. He stood there for a moment, observing you and Cregan sitting quietly together on the patio furniture. Your head was leaned on his shoulder, curled up at his side, and his left arm wrapped around you. He recognized the Wolves hoodie on your back, Cregan’s number and name on it. 

It wasn't until he saw Cregan kiss the top of your head and the soft smile that instantly bloomed on your face that Jace realized that maybe Cregan was good for you.

—

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[ikeuverse]

NATURALLY — p.jongseong

PAIRING: chef!jay x fem!reader  GENRES: fluff, smut  WC: 6.0k+

WARNINGS: masturbation (m receiving), body marks like a hickey on the neck, jay is described as reserved, but he's a jerk in love with yn. lmk if i forgot any more.

SYNOPSIS: jay has always been very private about his love life and physical contact in front of his friends, but a comment from his work colleagues made him rethink some things.

NOTES: i wanted to write something for jay and i don't know if i'm satisfied with the result. to take my mind off the last story i wrote, i tried something and i promise to improve on the next ones. i hope you like it!

masterlist

“What's that hickey on your neck?” Jay stopped midway when he thought about adjusting his dolman, turning to face his best friend and partner in the restaurant.

Frankie's hysterical and excited scream caused other cooks and people working in the kitchen to look in her and Jay's direction, causing the boy to feel his face heat up. And it wasn't because he was close enough to the stove.

“Frankie, for God's sake” he said quietly, the collar of his dolman being pulled up a little more than usual, ”Keep your voice down.”

“It was my sister, wasn't it?” she held back a laugh as she finished chopping some herbs and put them in the steaming pot a few steps away.

“Who's to say?” Jay joked.

“Oh, I'll call her right away then” Frankie wiped her hands on her apron and turned to Jay. The smile played on his lips as he approached and gave her a gentle push on the shoulder.

“You're the worst best friend I have, you know that?” he whispered.

“And you're the worst best friend and brother-in-law I have, you know that?” she whispered back ”Finally you and Y/n are becoming more public. Tired of hiding?”

Jay didn't see your relationship with him that way, not least because the two of you weren't hiding from anyone. Quite the opposite. The people at his restaurant knew that you and he were having something, just as the people at your work also knew about Jay. The only difference was the public touching and fondling in front of people.

It was normal for a couple to kiss in front of their friends, exchange some affection, or become more affectionate with each other in front of people. Especially since two people who had feelings for each other tended to do this unconsciously. Jay got tired of seeing Heeseung, another cook and best friend, walk past Frankie and kiss her from time to time. Shouting love to her from across the kitchen as he prepared an order.

Of course, Jay felt responsible for bringing the two of them together and thought it was cute how they showed their love for each other.

Maybe that's how Frankie felt about having introduced you, her sister, to Jay at a get-together in their restaurant.

He had always been discreet about romantic relationships and anything that involved them, but Jay had also always been very observant and curious, wanting to get to know you a little more from the moment you told him your name and sat down in the restaurant chair to try the dish that Heeseung and Frankie had created.

You were beautiful. The most beautiful woman Jay had ever seen in his life, and he had traveled to other countries in search of innovations for his restaurant's menu, so he knew a lot of people. He worked with and talked to a lot of people, so he had a lot to say about that.

Jay's best friend and partner was the right-hand in this introduction between the two of you. She knew that your best friend was single – the only single guy in the group – and you, the sister, had never introduced anyone decent to your sister and mother. Jay was the complete opposite of any guy you'd ever had a relationship with, so who better than your sister to recognize that and give you a little push? She had no guarantee that you and he would work out because you were both too shy to start anything, but the night everyone organized to meet at Jake's house and you arrived in Jay's car, your sister knew she had made the right choice.

Since then, no one has ever seen anything suspicious between you and Jay when you all went out together. Over three months they saw, at most, Jay kissing the top of your head while you were all drinking in a bar. Frankie used to ask her best friend if he'd ever kissed you because she never got to see it. And you never said more than was necessary either, perhaps because Jay was always much more reserved about it, so respecting him in this respect was the least you could do.

“Come on, Jongseong, you haven't answered me” Frankie snapped Jay out of his thoughts when he bumped into him again. The smell of the spices she used in her dishes was unmistakable and he couldn't help but approach the pot and furtively ask for some of the sauce to try.

“What do you want to know?” he rolled his eyes in false drama, rummaging around on the worktop to find a spoon she wouldn't use. As soon as he found a small one, he silently asked permission and scooped some of the sauce into his mouth. It was delicious, as always. Frankie was great with the spices she made and that made her stand out even more in the restaurant. Jay loved that. He, Frankie and Heeseung had totally different ways of cooking and excelling in some aspects of the kitchen, which was why it had worked out so well when they opened the restaurant together.

“That hickey on your neck” she said, leaning against the counter opposite Jay as she watched him enjoy the sauce he had just tasted. Smiling with satisfaction at having achieved the goal of her seasoning “Was it my sister?”

“Who else would it be?” he saw Frankie shrug.

“It's just that in all these months, I've never even seen you two kiss on the mouth. Now you show up with a scar on your neck” and it was her turn to pick up a spoon to try out the work she had done. It wasn't as hard to find as Jay, since it was her worktop, so Frankie knew exactly where her utensils were. She picked up the spoon and put in a lot less sauce than Jay, just enough to see if she needed to get anything right “It's different, you know?”

Jay smiled, although she couldn't see the amusement in his eyes when he heard her. It was different, and he didn't blame her for asking. The two of them were interrupted by Heeseung's approach to the counter, the dishcloth in his hands to wipe something up.

“Have you two stopped talking? Because we have a lot to do” he joked.

“We're about to close, asshole” Jay pulled out the dishcloth and turned it to hit Heeseung weakly, who muttered in protest.

“Right, dickhead” he laughed lowly, approaching Frankie and hugging her ”Has he confessed about that hickey yet?”

“What's so horrible about me getting a hickey?” he lamented.

“It's not horrible, it's just…”

“Different?” Jay used the word Frankie had described seconds before, prompting Heeseung to agree as he hugged his girlfriend a little tighter. Looking at the couple in front of him, Jay grimaced as he thought about what he could say to them.

There was no other way out of that explanation because you were the only person who could do that to him. Neither of you was careless about it, but in the heat of the moment, Jay didn't even mind being marked by you. He would never have minded. Knowing that the way you sucked on his skin or scratched him was the result of his persistent and precise touches on your skin. From the movement of your bodies and the synchronicity you two had.

Thinking about it, Jay began to feel hot, taking deep breaths to try and dispel the thought of the night before that had resulted in the hickey on his neck, the big topic at the end of the night.

“That was our first visual confirmation that you two have something going on” Heeseung cut the brief silence when he heard one of the waiters call out. There were only a few other people in the restaurant and the dishes were relatively simple. So no one had to do anything on the run. He let go of Frankie and kissed her quickly before returning to his worktop on the other side of the kitchen.

“So I have to let her give me more hickeys so you can confirm that we're together?” Jay commented a little too loudly, forgetting that there were other people in the kitchen besides Frankie and Heeseung. The two people who had caused the whole thing laughed at the boy's desperation as he tried to talk his way out of it and forget about the malicious looks and teasing noises from the other staff.

“You just need to stop turning redder than the pepper I'm going to use for the sauce” Frankie whispered to him after a short bout of laughter.

Jay just obeyed, no longer wanting to go through all that banter in the kitchen of his restaurant.

Jay didn't want to be the type to overthink things, but talking to Frankie and Heeseung sparked something in his mind. It wasn't a bad thing that he was always secretive about his love life and what he and you did, it never seemed to be a problem for you because he saw the way you behaved in front of your friends and sister. You were never able to initiate any caresses on Jay either, the most you did was bump into his hand when you handed him something or slide your hand around his waist when you passed him in the same space.

Physical contact in public wasn't something that made you uncomfortable, maybe you'd heard how quiet he was about it from your sister – being Jay's best friend – so taking her words at face value was the least you could do.

He found himself standing in the car before entering your apartment with the bag of food he always carried after a tiring day. The night before had been at his place, and as a silent combination over the months, the next night was always spent at your apartment. Jay wanted to ask you so many things, to know if it was a problem for you that he was secretive like that or if Frankie had said something about it so that you could take the hint without him having to say anything. Communication was the key to a relationship working, right? And everything was going too well between you and him, so why not ask?

Jay got out of the car and walked up to your apartment a little faster than usual, his hands firmly gripping the bag he was carrying with his dinner as he exited the elevator and went straight to your door. Even though he was the only person arriving at that time and also had a spare key to your door, Jay never entered without knocking. And that's what he did.

He knocked lightly on your door before taking the key with his free hand and unlocking it, entering your dimly lit and silent apartment. As it always was when he arrived after work at the restaurant. Jay went into the kitchen and put the bags in the fridge, going up to your bedroom to see the familiar sight of almost every night he was there in your apartment.

Your wet hair cascaded down your back, covered by the thin layer of clothes you were wearing. Tonight it had been a light-colored sweater, which Jay couldn't quite identify because his eyes were focused on how you were spreading the cream over your arm.

“Hey” you greeted him slowly, looking at him in the reflection of the mirror and smiling in Jay's direction. He smiled at you too. A tired smile, but so beautiful. You called out to him with a gentle gesture, watching him walk towards you and stop right behind you in the reflection of the mirror.

Jay didn't say much, leaning in to place a kiss on the curve between your shoulder and neck, inhaling the vanilla essence of the cream you were applying. Your distinctive scent made him sigh.

“Tough day?” you asked, ignoring the slight shiver that formed on your skin when Jay placed another kiss on your neck, resting the tip of his nose against your cheek.

“Too much to do” Jay whispered against your skin, one of his hands snaking around your waist to pull you against him without much effort “And they bothered me for a long time!”

“My sister?” you asked, hearing Jay's whimper and his grip on your waist intensify. Your laughter echoed throughout the room and, putting down the bottle of cream, you turned to Jay. His hand was still on your waist and now his other hand was on your cheek “What did she do this time?”

For a few seconds, Jay stopped answering that because he wanted to focus on you. How your clean face and the sparkle in your eyes made his heart beat faster. Jay knew that his best friend's sister was beautiful, he just didn't know that he would hold you in his arms after so long. It was a dream to be able to share every little thing with you.

“She was playing with my face because someone left me a present” he whispered, his eyes dropping down to your lips. He noticed how apprehensive you were when you bit your lower lip and then put your hands flat against his chest “Turn down the collar of my shirt” Jay still kept his voice down to a whisper, tilting his neck a little to give you access to what he wanted.

Your fingers seemed a little shy at first when you went to the collar of his shirt as if that path was unknown to you. Although it never was since you had touched him so many times that you had even memorized every little part of Jay's body. Holding the collar carefully, you lowered it to the point where you saw the purplish skin just below his Adam's apple, almost near his collarbone.

“Oh my God” was the only thing that came out of your mouth, your fingers pulling away from the fabric of his clothes and you curled up in Jay's arms ”I'm so sorry, Jay. I—”

“Hey, it's okay” he said, silencing your whining as he leaned his forehead against yours ”I actually wanted to talk to you about it.”

You didn't want to admit that your heart had raced at that. So that's when you and he were going to break up? Jay got angry because Frankie probably made fun of the hickey you gave him, not knowing that someone would see.

Your slight panic, coupled with past traumas from failed relationships, made you just follow him to bed in silence. Jay held your hand with the tenderness he had in any moment the two of you spent together. He was the first to sit down, leaving the space at the head of the bed for you to sit and lean against, facing him. Now your gaze had dropped to your lap and Jay noticed how quiet you had been since he had said those words.

“Y/n” he called you in a calm tone, although he still whispered every word. Even though it was just the two of you in the apartment, it was as if he didn't want anything else to hear you and him.

“Hi” you looked up when he called you, feeling your cheeks burn at the sensation of Jay looking at you like that.

“You…” he didn't want to show that he was more apprehensive than you, nor did he want to say that he was thinking about too many things at once. Sharing frustrations was fundamental and perhaps he would say that another time, but right now, he just wanted to know one thing “Do you mind if I'm not so physically affectionate with you in front of others?”

For a moment, your mind went blank, not knowing how to respond to the question he had asked. Your eyes searched his for a fraction of a second before fixing them and paying even more attention to the man in front of you.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” you asked.

“It happened, and… I wanted to know.”

Jay didn't want to make the mistake of not being honest or not sharing his frustrations with you. The thought of seconds ago had dissipated when he almost ran over himself with the words to tell you everything that had happened. From the moment he walked into the kitchen to the little chat he had with Heeseung and Frankie, the physically affectionate couple on any occasion. It was cute to see how affectionate Heeseung was with your little sister and you even commented on it to Jay and your other friends. But it wasn't as if you felt jealous of her or envious because she had it and you didn't. You listened attentively to Jay telling you everything.

You listened attentively to Jay saying everything he felt and his fear of you caring ate away at him. Because he didn't know how to act and had never said anything to you about that kind of thing. As you watched him lose himself in his words, gesticulating a little more than usual and starting to get euphoric, your mind worked on the opposite.

You slid across the bed to sit on Jay's lap, crossing your legs to either side of him and holding him by the collar of his shirt. At that moment he stopped talking and paid attention to what you were doing.

“Go on” your voice was soft, although you were a little agitated at being on Jay's lap and with your face so close to his.

“I can't concentrate with you sitting like this” he admitted, his hands running down to your waist and pressing into the sides of your hips.

Your smile was mirrored by his as you leaned in a little closer and brushed your lips against Jay's. The slightly cracked crevices of his mouth passed through you smelled of the lip balm you had applied earlier. Jay knew how soft your lips were and how much he wished all day that he could kiss you, but when he went to do so, you pulled back a little more. Your head hung back just enough so that he couldn't kiss you. A little teasing game and he didn't even know why, but he was getting impatient.

Maybe you wanted to see how impatient he would get and you were just testing his limits, but Jay proved he wasn't very good at this game because the second time you brushed your lips against his and pulled away, he couldn't take it anymore.

One of the hands-on your waist moved quickly up to the back of your neck and pulled your face close enough to collide your lips with his. The sound of Jay's muffled moan echoed in your mouth as you opened slightly to greet his tongue urgently and desperately. He just wanted to kiss you and taste you on the tip of his tongue. As the kiss intensified, feeling your tongues wrap around each other, you felt your body slide down, Jay laying you gently against the mattress and climbing on top of you.

He seemed to fit perfectly between your legs every time the two of you got into this position. It was as if Jay knew exactly at which angle to lie down and place you, how he should sit between your thighs, and the exact place his hips should press against yours. Everything was millimetrically calculated as he continued to kiss you. Mouths moving against each other, ragged breaths, and hands rushing for more contact.

You unbuttoned each button on his shirt until his chest was exposed, sliding your hands over the tanned skin that had been addicting you for the last few months. Jay smiled against your mouth, loving the warm contact of your fingers against his skin, causing him to slide his teeth against your lower lip at the same second that his hips pressed against yours.

Your moan was music to Jay's ears, and seeing the effect he had on you with a few kisses was breathtaking.

“Babe” he called softly, his mouth still against yours as he slid it up to your chin and placed a small kiss there.

“Yes?” you tried to muster all your strength to reply, your fingers stopping in the middle of his chest.

“Can I mark your neck too?” the way Jay looked at you was so innocent and cute, in stark contrast to the way he was now. Between your legs, with his cock hard and pressing against your clothed pussy. You genuinely laughed when he looked at you like that, the question coming out so quietly “Are you… Are you laughing at me?”

“What? No!” you tried to say, but you couldn't tell yourself. So you pulled him a little closer to kiss Jay's lips a little more slowly “You can… Do it.”

It was like giving someone the best news in the world. The way he smiled at you felt like you'd just told him you'd bought his favorite manga collection.

Jay just nodded at you, leaving a small kiss on your lips and slowly making his way back down to your chin. Thinking about getting back at you for laughing at his request, or leaving a mark that you made on him too. Even if yours wasn't intentional, but he wanted his to be. Didn't know why he needed to show that the hickey on your neck had been made by him. Only he could mark you like that.

Jay's thoughts ran wild and he went back to working his lips against your skin, down your jawline to just below your ear. Your sweet spot was the ideal place for him to start distributing slow kisses as if he were kissing you. At that moment a moan came from your mouth and he unconsciously pressed his hips against yours.

“Jay” you moaned his name softly as he moved up to your earlobe to slowly suck on the skin. The light taste of vanilla against his tongue indicated that your cream was an illusory barrier between your skin and his mouth to kiss you. Jay didn't care, just focusing on sucking on your earlobe.

He knew you weren't going to stand still and thank God for that, your hands quickly running to the zipper of his pants to undo any ties between the fabric and his hips. Jay lifted up enough for you to pull down what was necessary of his pants and underwear, freeing his cock that needed to be out of the grasp of clothing. He sighed against your neck, swallowing a moan as your fingers gently gripped his cock.

“My love, you…” Jay didn't hold back and moaned close to your ear as your thumb circled the head of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that was forming there. He bit down hard on your skin for the first time since he'd started kissing you there “Fuck, Y/n” Jay wanted to concentrate as much as possible on kissing your skin and marking you in a good way, but he didn't count on your mind working as well as his.

You masturbated him slowly while Jay tried not to bite you hard again, knowing that his teeth were already marked on your skin. You held back from making a sound, loving the way you were catching him off guard as you ran your hand up and down his cock. Wetting your fingertips with pre-cum as you used it to slide more easily along its length, feeling the veins under your fingers.

Jay took a deep breath, not bothering to control any more sounds coming out of his mouth. He let the moans out freely and tried to concentrate on the kisses, apart from your hand, which was doing a great job. He circled his tongue over your skin, making irregular designs with the tip of it until it came down near your collarbone. There he moaned once more as you squeezed the head of his cock just as your fingers reached the top, your fist working just as slowly as Jay's lips worked on your skin.

“You want to drive me crazy, don't you?” his panting voice made you smile, even if he couldn't see it. You moved your fist up and down again, gripping his cock more firmly to jerk him off a little faster.

“I want to give you a boost, love” you said quietly, close to his ear as you heard the wet sound of Jay's pre-cum between your fingers each time your hand moved up and down his cock.

“Fuck” Jay's hands roamed your body, touching your sides and gripping the fabric of the nightgown you were wearing tightly.

He wanted to rip everything off you and fuck you right there, take your hand off his cock, and shove it deep into your pussy until your whole body was marked, not just your neck. But Jay had to concentrate, he had to do this before he could fuck you properly. Then he connected his lips to your skin again and kissed you even harder and faster.

Jay sucked on the skin of your neck and let go with a pop, seeing the reddish mark that formed when he did so. The ball of saliva against your soft skin made him suck on the same spot again, noticing the red spot becomes a little darker. You squirmed beneath him, shivering every time Jay's mouth came into contact with your skin. Your fingers squeezed a little tighter as you reached the head of his cock and slowly descended to his balls.

He swore he was about to come, his hands squeezing your hips and his hips fucking your hand as he started to move.

“Y/n, I…” Jay straightened his face to rest his forehead against yous. He was panting and his lips were red, the crack in his mouth completely wet from the saliva that had spread across his skin by then. Jay was completely divine on your lips. His cheeks flushed and his chest rose and fell frantically as he continued to fuck your hand.

“Do you want to cum?” you asked in such a sweet whisper that he felt his cock twitch all over. Jay just nodded and pressed his hands even tighter against your hips, wanting to release quickly from how good you were doing jerking him off like that.

It didn't take a verbal request or anything you said to him to make him cum, just the way your hand went up and down, paying equal attention to the head of his cock, which was drooling more and more pre-cum, and his balls that you made sure to caress every time your fingers went down. Jay was on the verge of madness and he only managed to be quick to lift your nightgown, showing the skin of your belly enough so that he could cum there without dirtying your clothes. And that's what he did.

Spurts of thick, hot, white cum bathed your skin as he came, moaning your name continuously as his lips ran to your neck. Giving a long suck against your skin, in erratic movements with his hips against your hand. His cock throbbed between your fingers until you milked the last drop, cleaning the cum with your thumb from the head of his completely sensitive cock.

Jay whimpered at the sensation, almost cumming again when you brought your fingers to your lips to completely clean what was left there. His eyes were shining, his mouth wide open and his breathing was completely uneven. Jay was on cloud nine and didn't know what to say at that moment.

You made a move to move beneath him, maybe you were going to get up or something, but he wouldn't let you move with so much cum in your belly.

"Wait a minute" Jay kissed the tip of your nose before running to the bathroom and grabbing a towel. It didn't take him long to wet the cloth and run back to clean you. You bit your lower lip to try to suppress the smile that was about to spread across your lips at the care he took in cleaning you and making sure everything was okay before getting out of bed and putting the towel in the laundry basket.

When Jay came back, he just discarded his already open shirt and pulled up his underwear, getting rid of his pants and throwing himself on the bed next to you.

His arms wrapped around your body to pull you closer, nuzzling his face close to your neck where he had left that hickey.

“Why… Did you do that?” he was still trying to recover from what had just happened, his heart racing. You smiled as you turned to face him, your hands holding either side of Jay’s face.

“Because if you don’t remember when this happened…” you removed one of your hands from his face to point to where the hickey you had given him was, running your thumb against Jay’s skin “Your fingers were inside me, so I just wanted to return the way I felt.”

“Oh” Jay felt his cheeks burn suddenly. Of course, you had done the same to him. He didn’t remember why you had left that hickey, but to refresh his memory, the two of you were in his room and while his fingers were going deep inside you, your moans had been muffled like that. Just like he had done minutes ago against your neck. He laughed along with you and pulled you a little closer, wrapping your body between his arms.

“Now how about I mark you in other parts too?” he asked.

“And how would you do that?”

“I don’t know” Jay pulled you on top of him, wrapping your legs around his waist “But I want to be inside you when it happens this time.”

Trying to reassure Jay that you didn't care about the way you two acted in front of your friends was hard work. The conversation he had with your sister and Heeseung seemed to have gotten to him somehow, and you felt obligated to tell him what you had learned before meeting him.

You had heard from Frankie and Heeseung that Jay was reserved and quiet, that they needed to make the boy meet someone who would make him smile a little more. Or even be more affectionate, but that it would be hard work. When you met Jay, you didn't see anything like what the two of them had told you before.

Jay smiled easily at you, treated you well, and was generous and gentlemanly with everything he did for you. Meeting him and getting involved with him was a bonus that you didn't think would happen, although your head was still pounding from the conversation you had with your sister and brother-in-law. This was something you kept with you for the months that followed as you got to know and get involved with Jay. And that was what you told him after that confession. You didn't want to cross the line that you thought he had sat quietly. And you also didn't mind not having physical touch in front of your friends, especially since Jay was the complete opposite when it was just the two of you. And you appreciated that.

“Here” he called your attention as he returned from the kitchen to the backyard of your parents' house. Bringing a drink that you had ordered while he was diverting from his duty to stay at the barbecue with Heeseung and Sunghoon.

Your sister was in charge of making the drinks with Lucy, Sunghoon's girlfriend, while you talked to Jake and Crystal right in front of you.

“Thank you” you smiled at him and took the glass, trying the mixture that your younger sister had made.

When your eyes returned to Jake and Crystal to resume the conversation, you felt Jay's hands on your shoulder. Maybe he wanted to say something silently or just get your attention. Or he wanted to try your drink since your sister could have made something completely different for him. Not knowing what Jay wanted, you turned to him to find him smiling at you.

Without saying anything, Jay leaned down enough so that his face was close to yours.

"Jay, what…"

"What's your drink?" he asked quietly.

"Watermelon, why?"

He didn't answer, moving a little closer to you to touch his lips to yours. The shock evident on your features gradually dissipated as Jay's lips moved against yours. Your free hand went to his face when you felt Jay's tongue ask for entry for a kiss, which was soon given.

It didn't take long, especially because you knew that kisses with him were always slow and needy, ending somewhere else that you were both far away from. So Jay quickly pulled his lips away from yours.

“Really, your drink is watermelon” he smiled and walked away.

“Holy shit!” Heeseung shouted the moment Jay passed by him, calling Frankie's name inside the kitchen with excited shouts.

You tried to process what had just happened, that Jay had kissed you in front of your friends who were amazed and excited about it. Your eyes searched for Crystal who had been the only one left there, because Jake got up and ran with Sunghoon to the kitchen too.

“Come on, they look like teenagers” she rolled her eyes, laughing while you were still in shock about everything that happened.

Your lips tingled where Jay had kissed you and your mind was spinning with the fact that he made it seem so natural that you didn’t even know what to say. Walking with Crystal to the kitchen where everyone was, your eyes ran to your younger sister.

“I can’t believe I fucking missed that” she whimpered.

“You two need to kiss again, seriously, it was so cute” Heeseung jumped, looking like a child who had just received the best present in the world.

You just rolled your eyes and tried to ignore your brother-in-law’s excitement, although it was funny how he was dealing with all of this. Jay also tried to ignore it as he walked around the kitchen counter to stand next to you, hugging you from behind and giving Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon even more reason to scream hysterically.

“Why are you all screaming? Oh my God!” you tried to look serious as you felt Jay’s arm around your waist.

“What? Are you seriously going to ask us that?” Jake looked at you.

“They’re all excited about the kiss I didn’t see” your sister pretended to be angry, looking at you and Jay.

“Just wait until you see that I’m not the only one with a hickey now” Jay hummed and pulled away from you, smelling the barbecue that had been abandoned by Heeseung.

“No fucking way!” Frankie yelled and looked at her boyfriend, exchanging glances with you.

Your eyes rolled back and you tried to ignore them when they started yelling excitedly again and talking at the same time about you and Jay and how beautiful you two were together.

“You’ll pay for this, Park Jongseong” you said as you passed him at the barbecue.

“I’ll take that risk, love” he said back, smiling widely as he turned the meat that had been forgotten by Heeseung.

Jay thought that being affectionate with you in front of people, thinking about the kiss he gave you a few minutes ago, seemed so right and natural. As if it wasn’t something rehearsed, it had to happen.

So maybe having more physical touch was common between the two of you and his reserved persona could be being left behind by someone who did it without even asking.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: How to get under your enemy/rival's skin? Charles answer was to start dating his younger sister. But now, he's glad he found love along the way. He only had to tell Max about the relationship when you won a race. That's won't be any time soon though . . . right?

*in honor of Lando's first win - here's this next installment of Reverse Tropes! I know that Max and Charles really aren't enemies. Maybe I should have done like a Pierre and Esteban thing, but I don't write for them. So here we go and please enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. 

Predestined rivals, written in the stars, invisible string, yada-yada-yada. 

Putting it simply, Charles had an apt for pissing Max off and vice-versa. The world thought they would kill each other in karting, especially after the 2012 incident. The population sighed in relief when Max was taken from F3 and put in a Formula 1 car, while Charles took a bit longer. 

And then Charles made it to Formula 1 in 2018. However, he was put in a HAAS, a car that was not really made to play with the other cars in the front of the pack. The earth was saved yet another year. 

Well, until 2019 when Charles suddenly became the “It Boy” for the Prancing Horse. Meaning, that he could finally go back to terrorizing the grid and Max. But with terrorizing the grid came loads of trouble and hatred. 

And more pissing off your rival. 

Charles seethed on the podium as he listened to the Dutch national anthem and watched Max point to the stupid “H” on his race suit. He held in a scoff. At least the Ferrari logo was much better looking than that. 

It wasn’t fair. He had the racing line and Max pushed him off. If his mind wandered, it would go back to a certain kart race back in 2012 where he pulled the same move. But that didn’t count because the race has already finished. Charles would have rather been disqualified instead of having to go through the torture of being up on the podium in second. 

First loser as they call it. 

The Monegasque driver held no happiness in his body as Max started spraying his winner’s champagne. Charles just picked up his bottle and drank it. 

Still wasn’t as sweet as victory champagne would be. 

He deliberately separated himself from Max as they stood for a picture. The visible gap made it much more hilarious for everyone around them. 

When the festivities finished, he hightailed it out of there, just wanting to avoid the Dutchman presence. Charles sighed loudly as he walked back to the garage, definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone. 

“Charlie!

The Monegasque stopped in his tracks, annoyance almost wracking his entire being. Can people just let him wallow in defeat? He straightened his shoulders and turned around, PR smile plastered on his face. However, the very fake smile turned into a real one when he noticed that you were almost jogging to catch up with him. 

Y/n Verstappen. 

You had always been a part of his childhood. Where Max was, you were one step behind him, following him in your small racing overalls. He remembered how little you always seemed compared to your brother. But size didn’t matter on the karting course. 

Most of the time, the two boys found themselves trying to shake you off and others were behind your kart, picking up the dirt that you sent their way. And that’s why Charles put your name down as recommendations for his Prema seat after he won the championship in 2017. Because of him, you were able to graduate to Formula 2 and were on the track to make a debut in Formula 1 in the coming years. 

“Hey Y/n,” Charles said softly, still not in the mood to really talk to anyone. But for you, he’d always make an exception. And he was supposed to fly back with you and Max, something he was still dreading. 

You look at the Monegasque with sympathy. Charles wasn’t able to find any type of pity in your blue eyes (that matched Max’s). 

Your brows furrowed as to talked to him. “What Max did wasn’t the right way to race. But Formula 1 is getting more and more competitive.” 

The man, er boy, wanted to huff. He did not need this conversation from you. He almost turned around, but the next few sentences stopped him from making any motions. 

“Charlie, you’ve always found ways to beat him. If he wants to play like this, then you just have to give him a taste of his medicine, get under his skin. Do what you always do and somehow get around him.” 

He cocked his head, before his eyes lit up. 

Get under his skin.

You watched as Charles’s eyes filled up with some light, making the green in them really shine. You could almost see ideas concocting in his head.

Charles went to say something, but was interrupted by his team principle. He swerved to respond before he turned back to you. There was a glint in his eyes that you really couldn’t put a finger on. 

His took a deep breath before asking, “Do you want to maybe get dinner with me?” 

Your eyes widened. Sure, the Monegasque was very attractive, but those were not the words that you were expecting to come out of his mouth. 

Oh. 

Now you got it. 

Your facial expressions melted a bit, eyes pointed toward the ground as you kicked at it. Your arms crossed as you huffed. 

“Using me for gain over my brother wasn’t what I was meaning Charles. I was thinking more like unfollow him on social media while we’re on the plane or something.” 

The harsh “Ch” that began his name had him wincing. Like your brother, you had a small lisp which normally softened the two consonants to the point where his name sounded like it was supposed to be. And what was “Charles?” You rarely ever called him that, choosing to pick the more boyish nickname. 

Although, your idea about Instagram wasn’t a bad one. 

Charles looked a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. He honestly was endeared by you and your determination to never give up. He found you, well, cute. You were still 19, younger than him by a bit more than three years. 

But if you were cute back in 2012 hanging on to Max’s wet overalls after the puddle, and you were cute now trying to console him instead of celebrating your brother’s victory, you would still be cute in the following years. 

He sighed, knowing that he had to leave soon or he was going to get an earful from Sebastian for being late to yet another meeting. The Ferrari driver stepped forward a bit, getting closer to you. He looked down at his helmet before looking back to your eyes. 

“When I win and when I beat your brother, then can I take you out to dinner?” 

You mulled over the question in your head. 

If he beat Max before you went out with him, then that meant that he was actually genuine and wasn’t using it to his gain. You also smirked, knowing that indeed it would piss Max off whenever he found out. Your position as an annoying younger sister would still be intact and possibly stronger. 

You held out your hand, which Charles took in an instant. 

“Deal Leclerc.” 

“Deal Verstappen.” 

When Charles took the top step in Spa, pride filled his chest when he noticed Max’s glare at him. He had beaten the Dutchman at his home race. Albeit, it was a DNF for Max, but a win either way.  He swayed back and forth as his national anthem played and then sang quietly along with the Italian anthem. Deep in his heart, he knew the true weight of the win. 

For Anthoine. 

He knew somewhere he made his French friend proud. Just like Jules. And Just like Papa.

Charles watched down below as you looked like you could hardly keep a smirk off your face. And it was bad too as you stood next to Max, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there below Charles. 

The Monegasque raised his eyebrows when you locked eyes. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t catch on that he was staring right at you. Thankfully, you were right next to a Ferrari manager, so Max could guess that Charles was looking at him. 

When the winner finally got ready, you were waiting outside his garage. 

“Hi,” you whispered, putting your phone away. Charles didn’t verbally respond, but he wrapped his arms around you. You melted in his arms, still smelling a bit of the champagne in his hair. 

He looked down at you. 

“Are you ready for dinner?” 

Your eyes held a playful glint. “I hope you chose a good restaurant Leclerc.” 

He scoffed, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you turned to leave. “Only the best Verstappen.” 

The dinner went really well, but you weren’t expecting it to be a continual thing. 

And then Charles won in Monza the next week, and he once again asked you to dinner. And once again, the Monegasque set expectations higher than you every imagined. You were saddened when Charles wasn’t able to win any more races while your brother seemed to get better and better each race. 

You could only giggle while you watched them still avoid each other in Singapore. 

But, the dinners turned into texting, and texting turned to other dates, and dates turned into dating, and dating turned into a relationship, and the relationship turned into an almost five year commitment that you or Charles weren’t planning to end soon. 

The relationship saw your brother become a world champion in 2021, Charles becoming a world champion in 2022, and you joining the grid as a rookie for McLaren after a disastrous attempt for an Alpine seat.

Charles had been furious and Max had almost found out about the relationship. The two of you were still scared that Max might hold some coldness for the past. But when he called Charles “Charlie,” the special nickname that you had for him, you thought that it might be a good idea to tell him. 

“But mon ange, he will run me off the track if he finds out,” Charles whined into your stomach as you played with his hair before the Miami Grand Prix. 

You rolled your eyes and tugged at the strands. “No he won’t. You have to worry about your teammate doing that to you instead.” 

Another whine left Charles making you giggle. 

“At least you’re starting on the front row. I have to start P5! Oscar has been making fun of me all weekend.” 

The Aussie had been such a God send for you during your rookie season. The elder by a few months had taken you under his wing. The two of you had been so close to a win last year, and with the upgrades this weekend, you were sure that you or him would start on the front row. 

And then you had to be hit during the sprint, which didn’t help the mechanics in the hours before the race quali. That in turn made your car feel weird and P5 was the best you could do. Maybe Charles was secretly transferring his unluckiness into you. 

The Monegasque turned his head to look you in the eyes. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head. 

“We’ll tell him when I win a race. How about that?” 

Charles knew that you were just unlucky as he was when it came to winning a race. Last year,  you had been close in Spa, but a rouge rainstorm saw you spinning out on the second to last lap. Austin you had pole, but Max fought you on into turn one, making you go wide. You never saw your brother after the first lap as you fell down the grid. Charles held you each night as you cried. 

The red-clad-driver sat up and held your head in his hands. “You’ll win soon enough. Maybe not this weekend because I don’t have any time to prepare.” 

You laughed and just brought him in to a kiss. There was literally no way you could win this weekend. Beating Max Verstappen with pole from P5 on a track that he had a 100% win rate at? 

Impossible.

Charles thought he was going to cry as he crossed the line in P3. From you winning or having to tell your bother that he defiled his baby sister, he didn’t know. 

What he did know was that he was going to get out of his car and congratulate you immediately. What were the odds that you won on the anniversary of the stupid inchident, the first time that Charles had ever seen you with Max. 

(And yes, he did remember the anniversary but didn’t want to bring it up.) 

You, however, were frozen in your car. You took some deep breaths as you took the steering wheel off, stood up a bit, bent to put it back on, and straightened, holding your pointer finger up. Your fists clenched as you raised them, automatically hearing the crowds roar when you waved. 

A tug on your sleeve brought you down into Max’s arms. You were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Charles, but that would be too obvious. 

“YOU DID IT!” Max yelled in your ear, well, your helmet as you hadn’t taken the neon thing off yet. 

You really didn’t want people to see the tear stains on your face. But right now, you’d just stay in the protection of your brother’s arms. When he let go of you, he lifted your visor, twin eyes meeting yours. 

“You did such an amaz-”

“I’m dating Charles.” 

Blink. 

Blink. 

Blink. 

You took the moment of a frozen Max to turn to your team. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Dutchman was still stuck in his place as you got farther and farther away. You grimaced, knowing what was to come if Max and Charles met at any time when you weren’t there. 

An arm around your shoulders brought you out of your head. The light blue caught your eyes, signaling that it was Charles. He patted your shoulders, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You did feel a bit of pressure move your helmet, so he must have quickly smushed his face into the black swirls. A helmet kiss if you would guess. 

You wanted to turn around to warn him of the imminent danger that was waiting for him in the form of Max Verstappen, but you were led away before you could. 

Your fears immediately went away though when your eyes finally landed on your team. Helmet thrown to the ground, you made the decision to throw yourself at them as well. Your laughs could be heard as your mechanics lifted you higher as everyone seemed to want to congratulate you for their first win since Monza 2021, which you weren’t even on the team then. 

When Charles stepped into the cooldown room, he could feel the awkwardness. It also didn’t help that Max was glaring at him from the corner. Charles was a bit worried. He thought that Max was fine with him now after they had both sort of mended their weird friendship during 2023. 

He turned to you as you walked in, all sweaty. 

Charles still thought you looked very pretty. 

“Eyes off Leclerc.” 

Charles froze in his place and looked between the siblings. He looked at you, then Max, then you, and then Max again. You winced, not looking him in the eyes. Realization flooded his body and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out.  

“Mon Dieu.” 

“We will be talking after this,” Max pointed, drinking from his water bottle, not taking his eyes off Charles. 

When you were called to the little Jeeps, you quickly got into the bright pink Barbie-esque looking one, still buzzing from your win. Even if the two men behind you had put a damper on it. 

Charles’s eyes only fixed on one of the cars, not even seeing the third one behind the second. He climbed right in, eyes closed as he sat down. However, his eyes shot open when the car tilted and a thigh was touching his. He gulped rather loudly, refusing to look to his right. 

This was Vegas all over again. 

Max kept his voice low. “When did it start?” 

“2019. After Austria.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to get to know her more.” 

“What was the reason Charles?” 

The Monegasque sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “I was angry at you and wanted to get back at you somehow.” 

He knew he was about to be punched on live television, but he continued hoping for redemption. 

“But, I knew that was wrong. We didn’t even go out until Spa. And then again in Monza. And then it just happened.” 

He turned to look directly at Max, knowing that he only had a few more moments before they had to go out onto the podium. 

“Max I love your sister. I have the ring and everything. We’ve been happy for 5 years and have made it work. Please, she’s really all the good I have left. I would throw everything away for her. And-”

Max’s laughs stopped him from continuing. The Dutchman slapped a hand on Charles’s thigh, making him wince a bit. 

The Red Bull driver’s eyes were crinkled with a smile as they pulled up to the parking spot. 

“Just keep her happy, or I will run you off the track.” 

“Y/n! I told you he’d threaten me!” 

“Max!” 

“Oh come on I did not!” 

y/nverstappen4 has posted

y/nverstappen4 WE DID IT! P1 BABAYYYYYYY 🏆

nothing beats a podium with me on the top step surrounded by my boys 💙🧡❤️

liked by mclaren, team_quadrant, charles_leclerc, and 2,903,940 others

queeny/n LETS ACTUALLY GOOOOOOOOO

mclaren that's our girl 🧡 well deserved

lecstappenshipper this is basically a hard launch

y/nhaswins such a beautiful race y/n!!!!

charles_leclerc so so proud of you mon ange 🧡❤️ *liked by y/nverstappen4*

charles_leclerc celebrations tonight? 😈

y/nverstappen4 but of course

maxverstappen1 I know where you sleep leclerc 🙂

y/nverstappen4 DRINKS ON MAX TONIGHT

oscarpiastri YEAAHHHHHHH 🍾

maxverstappen1 what?

charles_leclerc thank you max ☺️

maxverstappen1 I NEVER AGREED TO THIS

oscarpiastri mega job mate 👊

y/nverstappen4 ossieeeeeee 👊 don't worry, you'll be up there soon! just gotta wrap your car in bubble wrap to protect it from evil ferrari 😠😤

charles_leclerc ☹️

y/nverstappen4 NOT YOU CHARLIE - THE OTHER ONE (LEWIS HURRY UP)

lewishamilton you don't think I'm trying 🤨

mcy/n she's so funny what the heck?? 😂

chefy/n we said - LET HER COOK

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[coldfanbou]

It Started as a Rental

So to explain this piece, me and @i-am-lifeform24 were both struggling and decided to challenge each other with a concept decided by the other person.

Length 2.9K

Hanni X Mreader

Waiting outside the cafe, you look around, waiting for your date to arrive. You flick through your phone, looking through her profile again. “Hey? Is this you?” You look down at the petite woman in front of you, her long, straight hair swinging as she comes to a stop. It was your girlfriend for the night, Hanni. She held her phone up to you, showing your profile. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Let’s head inside,” You say, opening the door to the cafe and letting her in first. As you order and sit down, you think about your situation. It was a bit pathetic having to rent a girlfriend, but you thought it necessary. Your sister’s wedding was coming up, and you didn’t want to be the only one without a partner; you had bluffed your way into making your family believe you were dating. You just need to find the right woman to bring with you, and Hanni was the first profile you liked after a friend told you about the website for renting girlfriends.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say nervously, trying to start a conversation. 

“Let’s get down to business before this date really begins,” she says politely, with a hint of amusement. Getting this part out of the way first is a lot easier. So, you hired me for five days, one of them being a wedding. I hope you're prepared to play the role of a loving boyfriend." She ruffles through her purse as she looks for something. “You saw my rate on the website; there is just the matter of extras that I personally provide.”

You give her a quizzical look, “Extras? What do you mean extras?”

“Well, most guys want to have sex, and that costs extra. The website might say sex isn’t allowed, but I’m willing to make some…under the table deals. There are limits to what I’m willing to do, and each thing will raise the price, so I just need you to fill this out so I can name a price.” Hanni hands you the piece of paper with kinks listed on one side and prices on the other. 

“Uhm, I’m not interested in this. I just need you for the wedding and these few days to get to know you.”

“Oh, well, that's alright then. I’ll just bring this along with me if you change your mind,” Hanni says, somewhat surprised. She grabs the paper and places it back in her bag. Let’s have fun these next few days.” Hanni puts her bag down and gives you a gentle smile as your drinks arrive. The next few days, you and her go out to different places, and you learn more about her. After your initial worry melts away, you begin to feel close to her.

The day before the wedding, you meet with Hanni again. As you walk by your cafe meeting spot, you find her munching on a piece of bread. She excitedly waves at you, “Right here!” She yells with a mouthful of bread. You take a seat beside her, feeling a little shy as you feel her kiss your cheek. “Did you sleep well?” 

You give her a nod, “Yeah, I slept well. Thanks for asking, did you?” 

“Mhmm! I dreamt of you last night.” She says with a giggle. 

“The wedding is tomorrow. Are you ready?”

“Ready as can be,” Hanni says, taking a sip of her coffee before returning to her bread. “I have my dress picked out and everything. She grabs your hands suddenly; you can feel the crumbs on her fingers as she intertwines your hands. “I’m really nervous about meeting your family. Do you think they’ll like me?”

“I’m sure they’ll love you, Hanni. Come on, we have a busy day ahead of us.” You say as you stand up, taking Hanni by the hand as you walk out of the cafe. Spending the day looking at clothes for the wedding, you can’t help but think about Hanni’s beauty and just how cute she was. Hanni lifted a dress off one of the racks, placing it in front of herself and imagining how she looked in it. 

“Do you think this is okay?” The dress she chose was a simple black one; it had oval gaps along the chest as a distinguishing feature. It wouldn’t attract any attention at the wedding otherwise. “I think I’m going to try it on,” Hanni says before scurrying to the closest changing room. She comes out a few minutes later wearing her chosen dress. You looked her up and down; she looked cute. If she had a different shirt under it, it would look better, and you told her so. Hanni pouted before looking around the store and finding a shirt she thought would look better. It had some slight frills that she liked, and as she came back out of the dressing room, you thought she was right. Her outfit was nearly perfect. “How about now?”

“You look great,” you gulp, “Really pretty.” You bring a smile to Hanni's face. She jumps toward you, wrapping her arms around you. You slowly wrap your arms around her, enjoying the hug until you feel her arms tap your side. You let her go, and she changes back to her regular clothes before you begin to search for your clothes. You’re forced to change into several outfits as Hanni hands you several different pieces of clothing, unsatisfied with each one. “Hanni! We’ve gone through so many clothes. Is there nothing that looks good?” You complain.

She brings you another outfit and kisses your cheek as she hands it to you. “I’m sure this is the one.” Her soft smile is enough to convince you, and you head back into the dressing room. As you come back out, Hanni claps her hands, her teeth shining, and she smiles. “That’s the one!” Hanni walks around you, looking it over one more time as she compliments it. As you head to the register, you pay for both sets of clothes. “I can pay for the dress and shirt.”

“No, I got it. Let me take care of it.”

Hanni looks at her feet for a second, and a small sniffle escapes her before she meets your eyes. “Thank you.” After you leave the building, Hanni spins around on her heel, beaming a smile to you.“We have everything now.”

“Yeah, I can pick you up tomorrow for the wedding.”

“No, no. I’ll meet you at your place. Just give me the address. I’ll be there early in the morning.” 

You nod your head. “Alright, that sounds good.” After you give her directions, you and Hanni part ways for the day. 

As you walk away, Hanni grabs your arm, turns you around, and presses her lips onto yours, having to stand on her tippy toes to do so. “There, now we can say bye. Get home safely.” She says with some concern in her voice.

“You get home safely, too.” 

Early the next morning, you wake up after hearing a knock on your door. Hanni is waiting in her wedding outfit. You blink a few times and rub your eyes as you stare at her. She had added a pair of thigh-high socks with a small bow design around her knees and a bow around her head. She gives you a simple smile. “Wake up, sleepy head.” She says cheerily. Today’s the big day, and we need to get you ready. I’ll make you breakfast while you get yourself dressed, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, Hanni.” You say before kissing the top of her forehead. 

She playfully pushes you away, her small hands cupping your cheeks. “Stop!” She yells, a smile on her face. “You’re going to ruin my makeup. Go change already, mister.” She watches you walk into your room, looking over her shoulder to make sure you didn’t sneak up on her. When you come back out a few minutes later, Hanni is sitting by the counter with an omelet. “You…didn’t have very much in your fridge.” She says weakly.

“Today is when I normally go for the groceries,” You reply. 

Hanni pats the seat next to her, “Sit. Let me feed you.” You follow along, sitting next to her as she stabs into the eggs and brings some to your lips. “Say Ahhh.” You open your mouth and take in the freshly cooked eggs. Hanni giggles as she watches you chew. “How is it? Good?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Thanks, Hanni, you’re a pretty good cook.”

“You have to be when you like food,” she says with a chuckle. Now, eat up; we have to get there early.” Hanni takes the time to wipe your face. “You look very handsome in this,” she says as her eyes meet yours.

“You look beautiful too. I really like the bows; they’re cute on you.” You pinch Hanni’s cheek; it’s squishy. You finish breakfast before heading to the chapel, where you introduce Hanni to your family. She greets them well, making a good first impression. 

“I think they like me.” She says as she sits next to you on the bench. 

“Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re so cute and cuddly.”

“Don’t embarrass me!” Hanni slaps your hand away as you try to pinch her cheeks. She gives you a cute pout, her eyebrows furrowing as she tries to look angry. A few seconds later, she breaks, smiling and laughing, and she links her arm around yours. “I hope this part isn’t too long. I get antsy if I sit for too long.” Lucky for the two of you, it was a short ceremony, and you were soon off to the party.

You felt happy with Hanni by your side as you made your way to your seat. She attracted some attention as people asked how she ended up with you. It hurt your pride that they would ask that in front of you, but Hanni’s response made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Why wouldn’t I be? He’s kind and makes me feel safe. He makes me feel special when we’re together. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.” She’d say those words while she held your hand, sometimes holding your arm tightly. As you sat down with her, Hanni scooted her chair closer. “Some of your family can be very mean. Do we have to stay here for a long time? I’d rather just spend my time with you.” 

“Just a little while. They’re going to want to do a few dances.” Hanni nods her head, staying by you the entire party. When it was time for the couple dances, Hanni gripped you tightly; your hand and shoulder felt like they were going to be crushed. “A little looser would be great, Hanni.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hanni says as she loosens her grip. You stare into her eyes, knowing she’ll be gone after this. You can’t help but get a little teary-eyed as you look at her. Hanni tilts her head, giving you a confused look. “Don’t cry. There’s no way it hurt that much.” She says, wiping away your tears with one of her hands. “There, all better.” She places her head on your chest as the dance continues. Once it was over, you and Hanni took your leave, wishing everyone well before making your way home. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” She says as she kicks her shoes off. 

You take a seat on the couch, taking a deep breath before looking over at Hanni. She strolls over to you, her hair swaying as she comes to a stop in front of you. She places a hand over your chest and straddles you. You’re caught off guard by her actions. “Hanni?”

“Just this once, I won’t charge you,” You’re confused by her words, but your train of thought goes off the tracks when you feel her press her lips against yours. Her hands move down your biceps to your forearms before she places your hands on her waist. Her hands shift to your shoulders, holding onto them as you feel her grind against you.  

You hold your lips against Hanni’s, your hands digging into her. When you finally break apart, you stare at each other in silence. Hanni undoes the buttons on her dress and lifts it over her shoulders, leaving her in her shirt. You kiss her neck softly as she begins to lift her shirt; your hands snake under it, and you squeeze her modest chest through her bra as she throws it off. Your eyes move up and down her body, taking in her perfectly smooth skin and the clothes she was left in. All that remained were her bra, panties, and her thigh highs. You run your fingers along her spine, moving up toward her bra. You can feel her shiver. Unlatching her bra, you drop it to the floor. You lean in and kiss Hanni’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses as you move upward. She cranes her neck back, cooing. “Take your clothes off, too.” She whines. 

You stop for her, throwing your blazer and shirt off with haste. Hanni helps you with your pants, having to stand up to pull them off you. Now clad in only your underwear, you stare into Hanni’s eyes again. You both knew what you wanted. You leaned down and picked Hanni up. Carrying her to the bedroom, she wrapped her arms and legs around you, clinging to you as you kissed her neck again. 

You dropped Hanni onto your bed, on top of her, before you stripped her of her underwear. She was shaved. As your eyes wander upward, you notice her breathing heavily. You take the time to get rid of the last piece of clothing keeping you from one another. Crawling back over her, you press your lips against hers, your hands running up and down her thighs. You felt her thigh highs; the thin fabric was smooth to the touch, allowing your hands to continue gliding over her. Hanni spreads her legs slowly, and you take notice. You glance down and reach for her slit. Hanni trembles as she feels your fingers run along it. A gentle moan escapes her lips as you tease her.  Hanni holds onto the bedsheets as her mind becomes filled with the pleasure you’re giving her. 

Your fingers were becoming slick as you teased Hanni, your cock began to ache as you watched the petite woman enjoy herself. Your cock tapped against her belly. Hanni looked down and reached for it, her small hand struggling to wrap around it. You groan as her palm rubs against the head. “Don’t tease me anymore,” Hanni moans. She stretches her legs outward and pulls apart her lips. You take a step back, taking in every detail. “Please…fuck me.”  

You gulp and nod your head slowly. Aligning yourself with Hanni’s cunt you push the head in slowly, watching her reaction. Hanni cranes her neck, her eyes closed as she grips the sheets and lets out a deep groan. You hold onto Hanni’s waist, shuddering as you feel her walls squeezing your cock from all sides. You push more inside of Hanni, feeling her walls split apart as you move deeper into her. You moan her name, feeling her walls tighten around you as you do. 

Hanni grabs your wrists, gripping them tightly. “Keep going; I feel so full.” You thrust the rest of your cock inside. Both of you moan loudly, filling the room with the sound. Hanni wraps her legs around your waist; you can feel her feet trying to push you further inside.  You remain buried inside Hanni for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath. You thrust slowly at first before picking up some speed. Hanni’s warm and wet walls rub the head of your cock as you push in, granting you great pleasure. Her moans are like music to your ears, but you can’t resist her lovely lips. You steal a kiss from her, muffling her beautiful moans. Her arms wrap around your head, keeping you connected to her. 

The rhythm of your thrusts breaks down as you go on; you can feel yourself nearing your climax. Hanni’s walls began to squeeze you tighter as well. You met her eyes and saw she was reaching her limit. “Hanni, I’m going to cum.”

“Me too,” She whimpers; her hands wrap around you tightly, and she pushes you in deeper with her legs. “It’s okay if you cum inside,” She whispers into your ear.

You give her a few more thrusts before cumming inside of her cunt. Hanni’s wall clamps down on your cock as you trigger her climax. You paint her walls white as her cunt greedily takes it all. 

Pulling out slowly, you stare at Hanni’s body. She had a thin layer of sweat over her. You fall beside her, staring at her. She turns onto her side, staring back at you. A soft smile forms on her face. “I’d love it if we could meet again.” She says with a hint of shyness in her voice. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, “I…um, had a really good time with you these past few days. You weren’t like the others.” Hanni pauses again, “I meant what I said at the wedding. You’re really a good guy, and…” Hanni struggles to find the words. “Do…you want to meet again? I mean…without the website.”

You caress Hanni’s cheek, your thumb moving across it gently. She places her hand over the top of yours. “I’d love to go on another date.” Hanni gives you a sincere smile and moves closer to you, burying her head in your chest as you both drift off to sleep.

[rafecameroninterlude]

cockwarming stebro!rafe but he can’t take it anymore and ends up pounding you from behind💗

warnings: stepcest, cockwarming, unprotected sex

rafe’s days of feeling guilty for wanting to fuck his bratty little step sister was long gone the second you stepped into his room wearing the skimpiest night gown he’d ever seen. “why are you still awake?” rafe got up, poking his head out the door to see if anyone might’ve seen you before locking it behind him. “can’t sleep..” you trailed off, doe eyes glancing up at him through your lashes. he studied you for a moment. “and what am i supposed to do about that?” he crossed his arms over his chest, the sight of his muscles making you swallow nervously. “can i sleep with you?” you leaned back, fully aware that your step brother could see your nipples through the sheerness of your top.

rafe glanced down, all his blood rushing to his cock. as if he needed another reason to let you be in the same bed as him, he watched as you crawled under the sheets, giving him a full view of your bare ass. he knew you knew what you were doing, but where’s the fun in not playing along? see just how far you’re willing to take it. “that’s some night gown you got on there.” he walked around to his side of the bed, turning the lamp off before getting under the covers. you smiled to yourself, your fingers fiddling with the small bow that was stitched at the hem. “yeah? you like it?” you turned your back to him, biting your lip as you felt the warmth of his body against your skin.

“yeah, it’s real pretty..” he pulled you against him, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt his erection resting on the curve of your ass. “you feel what you do to me?” he ran a hand down your side, lifting your thigh as he took himself out of his boxers. “rafe,” you whispered breathlessly. “don’t act coy. what else could you want when you walk in here with no panties on, huh?” he teased, “i’m gonna give you what you’re asking for.” you whimpered when you felt the head of his cock run across your clit. “please, ‘want you inside me so bad.” rafe shushed you as he entered you slowly, a groan falling from his lips as your hand found solace on his.

“don’t think i forgot about you mouthing off to me earlier today in front of my friends.” he used his other hand to wrap around your throat. “i don’t like bratty little bitches, you know that? i should punish you for that shit.” his words had you squeezing around him, desperate for any kind of friction you could get. “so do it.” he laughed bitterly, nodding his head before whispering in your ear. “that mouth is gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” rafe turned you over, the lack of movement making you groan in frustration . “i see the way you look at me, rafe. you’re punishing yourself too.” he hated that you were right. it was taking everything in him not to fuck you with your ass in the air.

you kept moving your hips, suddenly stopping when you felt his hand snake under your tummy, his fingers rubbing your clit. he stayed still as you clenched around him, the wet sound of your slick filling the empty air in his room. “please move.” you cried into his pillow. rafe looked down, regretting it almost immediately when he saw how desperate you looked back at him. “are you gonna learn something from this?” his restraint was dwindling down with every nod of your head. “yes! i promise i’ll be good from now on, ‘just want to be fucked rafe.” he cursed, holding onto you from the curve of your waist as he started thrusting into you.

the pressure in your stomach was building fast and it was becoming harder to stay quiet with each stroke of his cock against your velvety walls. with your hips meeting his, and the pretty little sounds coming from your mouth, rafe’s head rolled back as he struggled to keep his eyes open. rafe’s digits moved faster over your clit, his hand pushing your head into the sheets as you came with a cry of his name. he watched you tremble and shake, his thrusts turning sloppy as he pulled out, painting your cunt with his seed. “shit,” he groaned, still gripping his base as he continued to tease your entrance. “why didn’t you finish inside me?” you pouted. “we’ll save that for next time.”

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part three

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: nothing much yet expect that Lando is a player + i don't proofread + smut will come next chapters!

You haven’t done anything useful today. After last night, you really don’t know what to do. Should you talk about this with Lando or let it be? You have no idea. At this moment he isn’t home, you heard him leave pretty early this morning. Maybe he’s ignoring you? It feels like he is. There’s this part of you that understands him ignoring you. What would you do if you moaned out Lando his name and he heard? This has to be pretty awkward for him. 

You still can’t decide if you want to talk about it with Lando or not. It annoys you that you can’t think about anything else then Lando. And the worst part? Every time you think about him moaning out your name, you feel yourself getting flustered. That can’t be good. You can’t feel like this while thinking about Lando. It’ll make things only more confusing. 

Since you have met Lando, you think he’s a very confusing person. It’s mainly because he always seems to be in a different mood when he’s around you. Whenever you see Lando, you don’t know in which mood he will be. Sometimes he’s acting nicely, but other times he’s making you crazy with his teasing and rude remarks, and then you still have the moments when he’s flirting with you. It’s confusing. Lando is confusing. 

Thinking like this makes you remember earlier meetings between Lando and you. With nothing better to do, you let yourself think back about things that happened between the two of you. 

——-

“Lando, meet my sister y/n!” Max introduces you to a nice looking boy who’s standing closely to your brother, “and y/n, meet Lando Norris. He drives for McLaren and is one of my friends.” You take your time to look at Lando. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is. You try to shake off those thoughts, thinking about your boyfriend instead of the good looking boy in front of you. 

Lando is taking his time with looking at you as well. It isn’t the first time he sees you. Or at least, it’s the first time he sees you in real life and will talk to you. He never told his friend, Max, about the way he stalks your Instagram almost every day and how he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he has ever seen. 

He gives you a hand to introduce himself as well, you show him a small smile. The two of you make a bit of small talk. You slowly start to like Lando, he’s nice. You can understand why Max is friends with him, you hope you can become friends with him. It’s your phone which interrupts your conversation with Max and Lando. When you look at the screen, you notice it’s your boyfriend who’s calling. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s my boyfriend,” you apologize before picking up the phone and walking away from Lando and Max. 

“Boyfriend?” Lando asks disappointed when he looks at you walking away. That wasn’t on your Instagram. It’s at that moment that Max starts to suspect that Lando already knew who you were and that he’s interested in getting to know you more.

+++

The following time Lando and you talk to each other, things are less nice. He’s spending time with your brother, playing some game on the playstation. You came home a bit ago, it was a harsh afternoon for you. After doubting for multiple weeks, you decided to break things off with your boyfriend. It wasn’t a nice breakup. Things got messy when your now ex-boyfriend started screaming at you. 

You greet Lando and Max, but you’re quickly interrupted by your phone once again. It’s your ex. He has already send you a couple messages and is now calling you. You’re quick to deny the call. 

“Boyfriend again?” Lando asks you jokingly.

You know that he couldn’t know what happened earlier today, but you can’t help yourself and sneer at him. “Ex,” you sneer. Max wants to ask you a thousand questions, but Lando is the first one who speaks up again. 

“Good.”

That didn’t make your mood better.

+++

Lando and you don’t click. Every time you’re in the same room with him, he seems to act all awkward or weird. Sometimes he teases you, other times he seems to shy to say anything. When you walk inside the living room, you notice him and Max looking at you. 

He can’t look away from you. Fuck, Lando thinks he’s going to lose it. You’re dressed in a tight fitting nude dress. It looks stunning on you. He wants to know where you’re going dressed like this, and even better he would want you to stay right here so no-one else will see you like this. Since you’re single, he’s trying to find a way to ask you on a date but he hasn’t succeeded yet. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say and acts all shy, while other times he can joke around with you for a bit but can’t come to his point. It’s the worst. 

“Where are you going?” Max asks you before Lando finds his tongue back. 

“I’m going on a date,” you tell Max. 

Lando doesn’t even realize that he’s speaking up what he’s thinking. “Already?” He asks confused, “It’s not even a month since you broke up with your boyfriend.” Fuck, when he realizes that he actually said those words he’s quick to feel ashamed of himself. Before he can apologize to you, you’re already replying. 

“Are you implying something Norris?” You ask him angrily.  Lando tries to deny it, but you’re quick to walk away from your brother and him. When they hear the door slam, Max sends his friend an confused look. 

That day Lando can’t stop thinking about you being on a date with someone. He wants to forget about it, but the alcohol doesn’t do anything. Standing in a club with some friends, his mind is still hang up on you. How would you date go? He was so glad about you being single, but it seems that it will be over soon. 

Later that night, with even more alcohol in his system, Lando dances with a nice looking girl. He drinks until he can’t walk straight anymore and takes the girl home with him. Is it bad that he can’t even remember her name? He can think about one thing only. Even when he’s balls deep into the girl, he can only think about you. Or more specifically, you in the tight nude dress. He’s fucked. 

+++

When he tells Max about the girl and the way he send her home after the sex, he didn’t knew you were listening as well. Before Max can respond, you’re picking an argument with Lando about the way he treated the girl. 

The following hours Lando realizes that he has fucked up things too many times around you. He should forget about you. It’s not like he has any chances left. Since that day Lando fell in some weird pattern of getting drunk whenever he could and fucking some random girls as a distraction from his feelings for you. Not that it helps. Whenever he sees you, he always feels ashamed about himself and his actions. Not that you know everything about it, but still. He doesn’t know how to behave around you. Sometimes he tries flirting with you, other times he tries to keep his distance. The worst times are when he argues with you. 

It’s not like you know about his feelings and why he’s acting like this. For you everything is just confusing and weird. 

——-

Mindlessly you’re swiping on Tinder. Since you’re still not doing much, you decided to swipe a bit on the app. You could use a date, it’s been a while since your last one. Not that you will be successful on Tinder, since everyone is accusing you of being a catfish or is sending dick picks within seconds after the match. You really should find another way to find dates. When you hear a soft knock on your door, you feel confused. Could it be that you didn’t notice Lando coming back home? 

You stand up and open the door. Apparently you really did miss Lando getting back. He’s standing in front of you. It takes you back to the dilemma you’re still having. Confront Lando or not about what happened? 

“Do you want to have dinner together?” Lando asks you. He almost seems nervous, but you guess that you’re imagining that. 

“That’s fine,” you tell Lando, now you think about it - you could eat something. You’re getting kinda hungry. “Should I cook?” You continue to ask. 

“No,” Lando quickly replies, “I’m going to cook.”

“Can you?” You ask surprised. You can lie about it, but your socials are often filled with content about Lando. Lately it has even been worse. TikTok has shown you multiple ‘thirst’ edits about him, which made you feel things you don’t even want to think about. And if it isn’t content like that, there’s also the videos of his streams, interviews and video’s. And those are exactly why you don’t think it’s smart for Lando to cook. 

“I don’t know,” Lando confesses with a soft laugh, “but how hard can it be to make a pasta?”

“I can help you if you want?” You offer. 

“That sounds like a safe thing to do,” Lando jokes.

Together you walk to the kitchen with Lando. He proudly shows you everything he has bought from the grocery story. Confused you look at all the stuff. You can’t even guess which pasta you’re about to make. There are so much groceries. He even has multiple sorts of pasta laying on the counter. 

“How many people are eating here?” You ask Lando confused. 

“Just us,” Lando informs you. 

“So, you bough four different pasta shapes, every vegetable that there is and three kinds of grated cheese for just the two of us?” You continue to ask.

“I didn’t know which one you liked,” Lando confesses.

“You could have called?” You laugh. 

Lando doesn’t respond anymore. He makes you chose which pasta you want to make with him. After choosing you ask Lando to chop up some onions. Something he clearly struggles with. you’re trying to hold back your laugh, but when Lando almost cuts in his own finger, you let out a loud laugh. Lando is quick to join you. Together you continue cooking. This time you don’t ask Lando to do anything else. Meaning he’s just looking at you while you’re cooking. Lando can’t stop staring at you. He can’t hold back his feelings when he looks at you finding your own way in his apartment. How nice would it be if you were always here? If this would be your home as well? 

When the two of you are eating together a bit later, Lando is showering you in compliments about the pasta. Eventually he even lets out a soft moan while taking a bite of the food. It reminds you of last night. Only thinking about the way Lando moaned your name, makes you feel all kind of things. Fuck. That can’t be good. Lando also thinks about last night, he still feels ashamed about what happened. He wants to apologize for what happened, but he can’t find the right words.

“So, are you already getting used to the apartment?” Lando asks you eventually. It’s not the subject he wanted to speak up about, but maybe he can talk about this first with you? It would be nice to have a normal conversation with you. 

“Kinda,” you answer honestly, “It doesn’t feel like home, but it’s not bad.” Lando nods understandingly in the mean time. “A good night sleep will probably be nice as well,” you add jokingly. 

“Yeah, about that,” Lando starts unsure, “I’m sorry about the last two nights.”

“It’s still your home Lando,” you tell him, “It’s already nice of you that I can stay here, you don’t have to change everything for me.”

“Still,” Lando sighs, “I’ll try to better it, okay?”

“That sounds nice,” you softly say. 

Lando shows you a small smile. “And I want you to feel more at home here,” he continues to tell you, “Does it already feels a bit like home for you?” 

“Not yet,” you confess, “I miss the way my own room looks and the decor stuff and things.”

“You know you can decorate it here as well, right? I really don’t mind if you change some things around the place,” Lando tells you.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask surprised.

“No babygirl,” Lando is quick to reply, “I wouldn’t even care if you painted the whole living room pink if that would make you feel more at home.”

At that moment you didn’t really think about what Lando said, but later his words would repeat themselves in your head. Does he really care that much about you feeling at home here?

+++

“Lando?” 

He doesn’t hear you. There isn’t any response coming from the other side of the door. You don’t know what is happening in Lando his room. You only know that he’s alone and that you heard him scream. What’s going on? You knock loudly on his door, but there’s still no response. When you call out his name again, it doesn’t change. You do however hear him yell again. It’s loud and almost feels painful. 

You decide to open the door and to get inside. What if Lando is hurt? When you open the door, Lando is laying in his bed. He doesn’t move up. It seems like he’s asleep. His breathing is loud and fast, maybe even too fast? You wonder if he’s having a nightmare, that would explain the screaming from before. 

Slowly you move yourself closer to Lando his bed. Should you awake him? When you hear him softly whimpering, you decide to awake Lando. You walk until you’re next to his bed, softly you grab his shoulders and start to shake him.

“Lando,” you say a couple times.

Then he’s finally awake. 

“Y/N?”

Lando gives you a confused look. He has no idea what’s going on. Why are you standing in front of him? How did you even get her? Minutes before you were yelling to him, right? The realization hits him that none of that really happened. He just had a bad dream. Maybe you heard him and came to check? 

“Hey,” you softly say, “are you okay?”

“I guess,” Lando mutters, “Did I keep you awake again?” 

“It’s no problem,” you quickly reply, “it sounded like you had a bad dream.”

“Kinda,” Lando confesses. He thinks back about his dream. Even his bad dreams are about you. That’s pathetic. You were screaming and yelling at him, he tries to remember why. Then he remembers the context of his dream. What started like a nice dream in which he was dating you, ended with him disappointing you and having a fight with you. 

“Want to talk about it?” You ask Lando.

“It’s not like you care,” Lando replies without thinking about his words. When he looks at you and notices the hurt expression on your face, he can slap himself out of frustration. Why does he always do this? “Fuck. I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly apologizes, “Sorry babygirl.”

You try to ignore his earlier words. “Maybe we can watch something together? Take your mind of the nightmare,” you suggest. 

Lando feels himself getting excited. “That sounds great,” he tells you happily, “Do you want to go to the living room or?”

“Or?”

“I have a tv here as well,” Lando tells you while pointing at the television on the wall behind you. “So we can also watch here in my bed,” he explains. 

“What do you want?” You ask Lando. The idea of getting in the same bed with him scares you, but also seems nice. Lando is rather quickly with his answer. He moves himself more to the side of his bed and makes room for you. Without any words you get yourself on his bed. 

Together you search a video on YouTube to watch. You try to get comfortable in Lando his bed, but you can’t seem to find your comfort. Lando watches you. He tries to figure out a way to get you in his arms, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s still distracted by the thought that you came here to figure out if he was okay. That must mean something right? Not something big, but at least you don’t hate him? 

“Come here princess,” Lando eventually says with a soft voice. He lifts his arm up. Hopefully you understand what he means. You doubt for a few seconds, but the need for a comfortable spot is high and Lando looks pretty comfortable. So you move yourself closer towards Lando and search for a position in his arms. When your head is laying on his chest, Lando drapes his arm around your body. Softly he plays with your hair.

“Thank you for coming here to check on me,” Lando tells you. You show him a small smile, “Of course Lan.”

“Lan?” He asks you confused. Since when do you have a nickname for him? 

“Is it bad?”

“No,” Lando quickly says, “please keep calling me that.”

The two of you focus on the YouTube video again. When it’s over Lando wants to ask you what you want to see next, but when he looks at you he discovers that you’re already sleeping. There’s a smile growing on his face. Fuck, you look cute like this. And even better, you’re in his arms. Lando puts the television off. Then he’s quick to join you and falls asleep. He wonders what tomorrow will bring, but after today he finally has the idea that he grow a bit closer towards you. Now he needs to make sure he doesn’t fuck it up again. 

part four

a/n ; bit of a background story, next chapters will have more tension :)

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[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

[facefullofsadness]

Could you do a giselle dom pervy step sister(female reader) smut where they don’t like each other at first but ig giselle found a way to turn that hatred into them fucking in secret while their parents are in the house

ANONNNN!!! YOUR MIND!!!! I've been thinking ab this ask for WEEKS and I finally have time to write about it omg obsessed

content - stepcest, blackmail, smut (pervy!giselle, cunnilingus, fingering, face sitting, squirt, voyeurism/public(?) sex)

wc - 2739

a/n - catching up slowly but surely on asks, I have no school this week so imma try my best!

you never really warmed up to giselle.

you never really WANTED to ever warm up to her. she was mean, annoying, obnoxious, and greedy. I mean, how fucking self-centered do you have to be to make your baby stepsis call you by another name because she "doesn't deserve to call me by my real name" as giselle had said. what infuriated you was how pretty she was too. someone who was such a bitch shouldn't get the benefit of being attractive, especially since aeri knew and definitely used it to her advantage. whether it be to the people around her like friends, classmates, teachers, or even your parents, she finessed them like no one's business.

but she could never trick or fool you. you were a challenge to her, and it pissed her off not getting what she wanted. giselle HATED your guts. you were smart, sweet, cute, and generous, traits she simply was not. she hated how your guys' parents eyes' would light up in excitement when you came to them with an academic achievement, looking at you with admiration and love, eyes that would look at aeri with annoyance and disappointment.

aeri's not stupid, she knows why she's disliked, but she doesn't really care. it only really started to affect her seeing YOU be soooo liked by them. she simply hated you because you weren't easy, and you hated her because she saw everyone as easy. though, however much it upset you, it upset her to a degree you couldn't even imagine. she had to win the invisible game, and she was going to get her way with you, one way or another. so she devised a plan, which was to put simply, blackmail.

one day when you were gone at school, she set up a secret camera in your room facing your bed. she laid back on the living room couch in content, watching you come home from school, shooting each other a painfully fake greeting, before you ascended upstairs to your room. during nightfall, you would of course, fulfill your physical desires while everyone was asleep in the house, unaware of the recording device from across the room. and in the morning when you left, your wicked stepsis would sneak back in to retrieve the footage, playing it back and giggling to herself, knowing this would ruin you.

giselle's sweet baby stepsis, a sexual deviant during the after hours, shoving a huge dildo into her pussy to force multiple orgasms from her own body.

aeri was giddy with joy, now owning what single-handedly would win her the upper hand. the day continued as normal, but as you were about to go to sleep, there was a knock at your door. you rolled your eyes when you opened it to find a smug aeri, her phone in her hand with a play button over a still image of you in your room. your eyes shift between her and her phone confused before she pushes you inside and shutting the door behind her.

"what the fuck is that aeri?"

she huffs and sits comfortably at the end of your bed, "first of all, it's giselle to you, don't forget. second, how 'bout I show you?"

playing the video on max volume, your muffled moaning erupting from the small screen, watching a video of yourself masturbating. your ears ring and your cheeks flush, pouncing onto the older girl and trying to tear the phone away from her. your older stepsis is far stronger than you and easily you get overpowered, her hands pinning your wrists together and against the bed, her legs straddling either side of your lap.

with one large hand gripping your wrists together and the other hand hovering the still playing video against your face, she smirks, "what? shy? you weren't so shy last night when you were shamelessly fucking yourself, now were you? hm, y/n-ie? my sweet little sister?"

you grit your teeth and shake your head back and forth to deny the accusation, as if it weren't true. her dark chuckle fills your ears and the room, joined with the loud squelching of your pussy coming from the video. you feel tears start to well in your eyes and you plead with her.

"unnie, please... delete that!"

she coos at you, "awww sweetie, you think I'm that easy? not without a price, I won't."

you continue to plea in a desperate voice, "unnie please! I'll do anything! just please, delete it, or don't share it! anything you want!"

her lips curl into a sinister smirk that you can see even in the dark. you feel your heart drop to your stomach at the thought of what she must've suddenly imagined, immediately regretting your choice of words. before you could even consider opening your mouth to take back what you said, aeri drops the phone and covers your mouth.

"anything huh? will you behave for unnie and do anything I want?"

you debate shaking your head no, but when you hear a particularly loud moan come from the video playing next to your ear, you nod your head yes.

"good girl, you may be stubborn but you're not stupid. a little bit dumb for your choice of words though," she hums above you and trails the hand over your mouth downwards, dragging her long slim fingers across your sensitive body, jerking with every inch of contact she makes.

you whine as her fingers circle your hardening nipples and pinch them between her fingertips, giggling at how your body reacts to her touch.

"sensitive little baby, aren't you y/n-ie? fuck you're so cute, you shouldn't be so fucking cute."

aeri hated how much she was enjoying this almost as much as you did. she hated how cute her little sis was, writhing under her, eyes welling with tears in fear, body reacting to every subtle brush, thighs rubbing themselves together to suppress the ache at her core. and you hated it too, you hated that your older sister made you feel so fucking good, how her touch ignited flames in your stomach, how you panted into the air the more intimate her touch became, how you anticipated and needed more when you realized how disgusting this all was.

you both hated it, but you both couldn't get enough.

looking up into giselle's eyes at the same time she looked into yours, locking onto one another and gazing into lustfilled stares, the tension filling the air. the hatred boiled over and morphed into a new emotion, desire. a compromise emerged, and mentally, you both knew what it was. it all felt too good to want to stop, so you gave in.

leaning up and smashing your lips against aeri's, her immediately pushing back into you, pressing you down into your mattress. sloppy wet kisses loud and echoing through the room, both your moaning filling your ears and drowning out any possibility for moral dilemmas to pierce your mind. the hand pinning your wrists down, traveling up to hold your hand, interlacing her fingers through one and letting the other one go.

you let your free hand shoot into her hair, pulling her closer into you and shoving your tongue into her mouth, eliciting a whine to escape giselle's throat, accepting the intrusion. her other hand finds your thigh and brings it up, wrapping your leg around her waist and grinding her hips against your clothed core, making you both groan out into each other's mouths.

"fuck, you're good. why are you good?" she moans into your mouth.

"I'm not- a fucking- amateur." you pant out between kisses.

"yeah? then tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?"

she questions, almost as a challenge, and you're scared to answer knowing it's just another piece of blackmail to hang over your head. you both already know the truth, obvious by your hips rutting back against her, your sweat dripping down your forehead, neck, and chest, your core aching with need, and your eyes blown to oblivion.

"fuck you," you answer instead.

she chuckles lowly again, the tone and vibration in your mouth when she does it making your pussy throb between your legs.

"not before I fuck you."

flipping you over and onto your hands and knees, tearing your shorts and panties off, throwing them to the ground. she wastes no time shoving your legs apart and licking along your leaking slit, making you moan out and bury your head into your pillows.

"you're so fucking sick, do you know that? being so wet and horny for your unnie like this, you disgusting little whore."

giselle says as if she's not soaked in her own clothes, nipples hard and hole clenching around air. she feels so powerful, so in control, and it feels so good to have you whining under her. sticking her tongue out and getting to work immediately, dragging her wet muscle greedily and swiftly against your pussy, drinking in all of your slick. muffling your moans into your pillows and clawing at your sheets hard enough to rip them.

her strong grip on both of your legs forcing you to keep them apart, slapping your ass every so often and making you scream out into the pillow. her tongue moves around your core so fucking good, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit to thrusting and licking inside of your cunt, the sounds unbearably sinful and delightful to especially aeri's ears. she's drunk, on the taste and feel of your pussy, the way your body reacts, and the muffled cries being torn from your mouth.

she closes her eyes and relishes in your delicious juice swishing around her mouth, moaning into your pussy at how fucking good it feels to have you like this. her core aches and throbs so painfully, she clenches her thighs to hold it in. she lands another slap on your ass before shoving three fingers into you, already starting with an unforgivable pace, curling them and finding that spot in you easily. you scream and claw at the sheets, almost assuredly knowing your pillow wasn't muffling your cries anymore, not like either of you cared. aeri was going insane and felt herself becoming more and more addicted to you. addicted to ruining you, addicted to having power over you, addicted to owning you.

with the arch of your back and body stilling, you gush cum all over your stepsister's face, thighs trembling and chest heaving, moans slipping out of your mouth like a waterfall, your pussy mimicking the motions of one too. giselle drank all of it, everything, licking all over your leaking cunt and wiping her face of it too, sucking her fingers dry to not leave a single drop wasted.

she didn't even let you rest as she flipped you over onto your back, quickly stripping of her pajamas and lingerie, before climbing up to your face, her thighs resting on both sides of your head.

"use your tongue for something useful, pervy slut."

pfft, hypocrite.

she gives you no time to respond or think before shoving her fat pussy into your mouth which you immediately start to drag your tongue all over, coating it in her slick. your hands grip her juicy thighs and you dig your nails into them, her wincing above you and gripping the headboard with one hand, the other hand in her mouth to muffle her sounds.

you never rip your eyes away from her face for even a second, obsessed with how much sheer pleasure rests on giselle's face, her mouth biting down on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and eyes clamped shut. your nose hits her clit repeatedly with your tongue buried deep inside her cunt, flicking it to stimulate inside her tight walls. she tastes so fucking divine, cum directly entering your mouth and your spit drooling out the sides of your lips.

her hips quicken and she fully rests her weight on your face which makes you delighted, drinking her up and pulling her in, suffocating between her thighs. not that it mattered, you loved it. you couldn't breathe but you pushed through, thrusting your tongue in her and maneuvering her hips as her clit hit the tip of your nose.

"drink my squirt you little bitch, take it! don't waste a drop! fuck!"

she demands you as she cums in your mouth, her pussy squirting onto your tongue. her thighs shake in your hands and you close your eyes to avoid squirt getting in them. you feel like your drowning in the sheer amount of liquid coming from aeri's pussy, but you obey your sister, drinking everything that slides down your throat. she finally calms down and you tap on her thighs in a panic, literally not able to breathe. she laughs above you and stays there, watching color drain from your face before she lifts herself up, watching you cough and gasp for air.

"sick fuck," she says before smashing her lips against yours' and digging her tongue into your mouth again.

suddenly, she pulls away and gets dressed, picking up her phone and waving at you with that infuriating smirk on her face as she opens the door and leaves, "see you again, baby sis!"

and from then on that's when it started, fucking your step sister in secret. at first it was only at night, every night since the first time. then it progressed to whenever your parents were out of the house, fucking on the couch in the living room, on the kitchen island, in the shower, in each other's rooms. at some point, she started to get more flirty with you, her touches lingering for too long when she held your hips in the kitchen to move past you or sliding her hands up your shirt when she'd greet you with a hug when you came home from school, whispering an "I missed you" into your ear, her breath against it making a shiver go down your spine, which always drove you insane.

at some point though, giselle couldn't give less of a fuck if your parents were home or not, she just wanted to fuck you. your family would be having a movie night in the living room and you'd go to the kitchen to get more snacks, the older girl following you to "help." then she'd pin you to the kitchen counter and slip her fingers down your underwear, dipping them into your already wet pussy.

"really y/n-ie? you're fucking wet? were you eye fucking me all night that you couldn't help yourself get horny? let me help you with that baby."

she would whisper breathily into your ear before fingering you right then and there, you clutching the popcorn bag in your fingers and biting down on your lip, trying so hard not to moan and get caught, thankful the movie was loud enough.

or during a dinner party WITH YOUR RELATIVES, she would "accidentally" drop a spoon on the ground and go to retrieve it, only to separate your thighs and trail a long tortuous lick across your exposed pussy, aeri having demanded you to wear nothing under. you're suddenly gripping your utensils and coughing on the food in your mouth, acting like it went down your throat wrong. your sister climbing back up from under the table with a lost spoon and a smile.

and of course, she fingered you under the dining table that night too, your face red and physically incapable of eating for about twenty minutes, clutching her forearm as you came around her fingers in front of everyone. you had bit down on your lip so hard, blood had started dripping down your chin and onto your dress, excusing yourself to clean up. panting out of breath in your room and ripping the dress off of you, your sister following behind you and pinning you to your bed with a smirk.

"that was impressive baby, you were able to keep in all those delicious moans huh? well, don't you dare fucking keep them in now, they can't hear you from here, and we're not even close to finished."

smashing her lips against your blood stained ones, the taste of metal filling her mouth.

and while you're not sure if you're starting to like your sister or not, you definitely start getting used to it (maybe obsessed).

a/n - the other night when I was looking at this ask, I suddenly had the urge to write a "rich girl aeri x reader fic where they both fucking despise each other and are just rich bitches until one night they both break from all the sexual tension and fuck in the back of aeri's car" fic... I'll get to work-

[ak319]

Yan Socialite Brother x reader x Yan?Hubby

YOUR LITTLE EZZY'S BACK! So I couldn't help but write more about him. I will also write a version with the reader's wife. Enjoy reading ♡ Ezra Headcanon

In the dark hours, the Alvarez estate was shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Shadows stretched across the grand, dimly lit room, adding to the air of peculiar mystery that seemed to cloak the entire estate. Ezra sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames that flickered with a restless energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The news you had shared with him still echoed in his mind, fanning the fire of his emotions, making it burn hotter, fiercer.

"Amir?.." his eyes were fixed on your back as you scrummaged through the bookshelf. You replied back gently. "Yes, Amir. The boy who works on one of the farms."

So a slave huh?

And then you explained everything to Ezra, from how you saw Amir, appreciated his gentle nature, and were now thinking of bringing him here as your groom. Ezra’s rage simmered beneath the surface, though his fake smile and curious eyes never left your face. But your tone didn’t match the word "thinking", it clearly said, "I am bringing him as my groom." He was happy… happy for you. But on the other hand, he wasn’t happy for himself.

This was the day he had dreaded. For his own peace of mind, he sent one of his attendants, Rowan, to inquire about this so-called Amir. The report? Amir was a poor servant with three siblings and parents who also worked on the farm. Amir was the oldest. Hm. Poor, innocent, loyal, and not too bad-looking, though in Ezra's eyes, everyone pales in comparison to Alvarez's. Nobody can ever be good enough for you. He just didn't want his sister to marry a dirt-face. After all, their family has a certain dignity in society. There was something he relished in this situation, Amir’s meekness, bred by his lower status, was something Ezra could use and if his sister were to marry, it should be to someone who knows their place.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Amir couldn’t shake the memory of the way you approached him that day.

“M-my lady-”

“It’s okay, relax. Just came to greet you and see how the work is going.” His hand continued to glide through the horse’s mane, though his gaze, filled with shyness and respect, lingered on you. You loved that. “What’s your name, boy?”

“A-Amir…ma’am.” You asked him more questions, and with each one, his initial fear of you began to fade. Eventually, he even dared to ask some of his own. He didn’t realize that he had backed away to the fence, cornered by your every step forward.

“I don’t think a…” You gently removed a leaf from his silky hair. “A pretty thing like you belongs on a farm.” His quick breaths brushed your face before he turned away. Did you just compliment him?! How could you not? He was so unique with that snowy hair and those pale green eyes. “U-um, but I have to-w-work to earn-for-”

“What if I say, not anymore?”

On that very day, you boldly asked his parents for his hand in marriage, right there on the farm, while Amir stood paralyzed in disbelief. His parents, naturally, agreed without a moment's pause, and his heart raced as he caught your final glance over your shoulder before you rode off with your men. How could a humble servant like him ever be worthy of becoming your husband? The idea felt impossible, undeserved. But as the reality settled in, he came to see it not as a blessing but as a test---a daunting trial between love, loyalty, hate… and obsession.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

'Time to play some games' Ezra smirked in the mirror as he gave himself a once-over. "Nobody can outshine you Ezra or take your place, nobody."

The grand staircase of the mansion, lavishly adorned for his sister's wedding, became the stage for Ezra's entrance. As he descended, everyone’s eyes were drawn to him. His gaze landed on you seated beside Amir on the sofa, and his smirk widened at the sight of Amir’s expression. Those doe eyes that have seduced his sister were now filled with embarrassment, as they should be.

Amir was at a loss. His brother-in-law, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to his own--albeit more glamorous and in a different color--had just exposed Ezra's facade. All the sweet words and actions before the wedding had been an act. Ezra settled onto the cushion next to you, casually nibbling on some food from the table, savoring the revelation of his little game.

"Ezra, you should have rested," you said, your tone carrying a hint of concern. Amir was taken aback, noticing your relaxed demeanour. It seemed you hadn’t caught onto Ezra’s stunt. It wasn’t your fault, after all. Maybe you are too tired to notice or don't want to scold your brother, whom you cherish deeply, especially in front of guests—many of whom were now eyeing Ezra with a mix of admiration and curiosity. His display was a calculated reminder that he would always eclipse Amir. Ezra had even missed the official ceremony, claiming illness as his excuse and retreating to his room.

"Nonsense!. How could I have missed my own sister's wedding? And did you forget that I managed all these preparations?. I would never miss it."

'Oh, but you missed the vow ceremony, how convenient and now he's here to remind everyone how he managed all of this and such a good brother-in-law he is by being sweet to me and my family.'

"Do I look good, sister?"

"Of course you do. When have you ever looked bad?" You reached out to pat his head affectionately before pulling a small pouch from your pocket. "This is for you Ezra, a token of appreciation for your efforts, as tradition dictates."

Ezra’s eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted the pouch of gold. "It was nothing. Thank you so much. I just did my duty."

He got up soon to cater to guests including Amir's family probably to show off how humble he is.

The only thing keeping Amir sane and easing his worries was you. Your hand held his gently, and he felt comforted by the ring you put on his finger. He placed his other hand on yours, needing the reassurance that you were there for him.

‘As long as you’re here,’ he kept praying silently.

However, as days passed since the marriage, Ezra's facade toward his brother-in-law began to crumble in your absence. Amir couldn’t understand why Ezra, who had been nothing but nice to him, now seemed to act cold and distant.

The taunts, the disgusted glances, and the deliberate ignoring of Amir had become a painful routine. What troubled him the most was Ezra’s ability to put on a friendly front when you were around. He wondered how a person could even do that? Can he be this deceitful too? His parents always taught him to be kind and true to people. That is why he bared himself to you, he opened his heart to you and gave himself completely. By now he had come to terms with it that Ezra won't ever see him as part of the family much less as an equal. But he remained focused on making sure you were happy with him, that he never made you upset with him because that is what Ezra wants but with Amir's modest and docile nature, it was nearly impossible,

"You know, Amir, since my sister is away on a business trip, you might as well stay with your parents for a while." Amir looked up from his untouched breakfast, confusion and concern etched on his face.

"U-um... why?"

"Why?" Ezra's lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "Well, your duty is to her, and since she’s not here, you might as well go. It’s not like you’re doing anything important around here."

"But—"

"I’ll have the carriage prepared." And just like that he got up and left, Rowan tailing behind him. And so, Amir found himself spending days with his family. His spirits lifted somewhat in their comforting presence, but his thoughts were always clouded by how much he longed to be in your arms. However...

"You don’t just get up and leave like this. Did you even realize how badly this reflects on me? My spouse just vanished after a few days of marriage. I expected you to be waiting for me at the door, but instead, you were here." Your words felt like sharp needles piercing his heart, making him clutch the carriage’s cushion tighter. His mind was filled with images of Ezra welcoming you back, whispering deceitful tales of how he had left.

'He was bored.'

'He doesn’t like it here. I think he doesn't even want to make an effort to adjust.'

'He didn’t even bother to greet you. What kind of husband is he, sister?'

"(Y/N), I d-didn’t mean to leave. It’s just--" What could he say to avoid further anger? Should he blame Ezra? The thought of making excuses or casting blame only added to his distress.

"I don’t care. Next time, don’t leave like that. And if you feel the need to, ask me first. Got it? Also, you can just call your family to visit there. That’s your home now, you don’t have to keep coming back here." He nodded, biting his lip. 'As if your brother would ever let my family feel welcome there. I would never subject them to that mansion of thorns, to be insulted. That’s something I won’t tolerate.'

"Forgive me?" he asked softly, leaning closer to you. "Please, I missed you with every breath." A tired sigh and a gentle caress on his face were all he received, but even that was more than enough for him.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time seemed to pass slowly for Amir, each day filled with torment and venomous words from Ezra. He hid his tears, letting them out in some corner of the mansion , so that when you returned, he could greet you with a smile. He didn’t know what to do. He didn't want to stress you by complaining about your brother or involving you in this petty game. He felt like he was going mad as he dwelled on his thoughts. The books offered some solace, but he wished his life were more like a fairytale.

“Well, I thought you should take care of the household budget now, but I think it’s too soon for you to handle this. There are a number of reasons for my distrust, which... I would prefer not to share.”

“It’s alright... I just joined the family, so I think it’s inappropriate for me to take on that responsibility. And brother Ezra is handling it well anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding.” You gently played with his hair as his head rested on your lap. “I love how understanding you are.” He melted under your compliment, the magical touch adding to his contentment.

“Anything for you, wife. You know better than me. Whatever decision you make, I’ll always accept it.” He kissed your finger, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of the ring you wore. The ring his family had bought with whatever they could afford, and yet you wore it. You were the only one who hadn’t looked down on him because of his status. You even cared for his family, sending them provisions and gifts.

Actually, there was another person who hadn't looked down on Amir--your mother, Ms. Grace. She was a woman who preferred solitude, keeping herself busy with her hobbies after her husband's death. Whenever Amir felt alone, he made sure to check on her, offering company and conversation.

“You’re a really good boy. My daughter found a gem.” Amir smiled, but his eyes told a different story. They were seated in Grace’s study, having tea. “Something troubles you, and I know what it is. It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” Damn it, is it that obvious?

“N-no, no, he’s nice. I’m just--”

“Oh, save it. He’s my son, I can smell his shenanigans from miles away. And that daughter of mine—utterly stupid!. She’s the reason he’s like this. Either she’s too aloof or just chooses to ignore it.”

“No, no! She has a lot on her plate. I just don’t want to burden her with such petty problems. She brought me here so that she could find peace, not for me to disrupt it.” Grace’s heart swelled with pity and love at his words. “You are my son too, okay? And I’m just trying to help you understand that you’re the only one who can help yourself.”

“W-what does that mean?”

"It means you have to be strong. You’re not some piece of garbage my daughter picked up. She brought you here, gave you a title, and bestowed you with respect--so honor it, and don’t let anyone take it away just because they think you don’t deserve it. My in-laws were a piece of work too. May their souls rest in peace, but I went through some tough times with them. What kept me firm was my husband. Do you get my point?"

Her in-laws--oh, what a tragedy that befell them on that ferry. The whole town was shaken. Perhaps it was their karma.

“Yes.”

"You love her, right?" His head snapped up to meet her eyes. Was that even a question?

"More than anything! Always."

"Then don’t beat yourself up like this. Just do your part and leave the rest to God. Everything will be alright one day." Amir nodded and took a sip of his remaining tea, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful. She was right. Being depressed and crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Worse, you might even leave him because of his sulky behavior. His fingers tightened around the saucer.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Sir Ezra has called for you," Rowan informed him as he was putting on his shoes. The two of you were getting ready for dinner. "Me?"

"Yes, you, sir. In his room."

"I'll be there." He glanced at you as you were fastening your coat. "Yeah, go ahead, I'll be waiting downstairs." He nodded and left, but not before helping you with your sleeve buttons and giving you a quick peck.

"You called for me?" His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room, his eyes finding Ezra nestled in his giant bed.

"Oh yes, you two are going out, right? Could you tell (Y/N) to bring back those pastries that I love?" Something felt off.

Amir swallowed the uneasiness and glanced between Ezra and Rowan. "Sure. Anything else?"

"No. That would be all, thank you."

As always, you had chosen a high-end restaurant, and your presence and attention made him forget all his worries. This was what he cherished the most, his time with you. Your care, your love. He felt, no, believed that he was the luckiest man alive. Contrary to Grace's words, you did pick him from the trash and made him your treasure.

When you both entered the mansion hand in hand, your smile immediately faded into a worried frown.

"EZRA!" Amir barely had time to react as he saw you rush up the stairs where Ezra was now slumped against the railing. The bag of pastries had been thrown from your hands and lay at his feet.

"ROWAN! CALL THE DOCTOR! What happened, Ezra?!"

"Di-did you bring the med...?" Ezra's one hand gripped your collar as the other his stomach.

"What medicine?!"

"The one I asked for..." Ezra's weary, hollow gaze turned to Amir, sending a chill through his very core. "Rowan, help me carry him." You shot a sharp glance over your shoulder at Amir as you hurried up the stairs.

'He did it again... God,' Thought Amir as he bent down to collect the crumbles scattered on the carpet. They mirrored his own shattered emotions and the fractured state of his new life.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I swear he asked for pastries... you believe me, don't you!? Please!"

"I said, let it go. Just shut up." You settled onto the bed, sighing as you saw him standing in the corner, emotionless.

"Amir, come here. There is something you should know." Your tone was soft, almost apologetic.

He sat beside the bed, his eyes cast on the floor. "Listen, I feel like you both don't get along, but that needs to change, okay? He is my brother, and you are my husband. Both of you are important to me. And I wanted to tell you that soon after having a talk with him, I will ask Mother to find a suitable bride for him. This family needs an heir."

Wait...

"Heir?"

"Yes, an heir. Even though, as you know, I'm not a fan of children in any shape or form, the line needs to continue. That is Ezra's duty, so he is essential to me. This whole tedious business of having children...ugh." You rubbed your forehead in frustration. "Whatever. But we will also treat them like our own, okay?" You loathed the idea of carrying a child yourself, and Amir was just as opposed to the thought of you experiencing any discomfort. The thought of losing you over that made him shiver. The business was more important to you than anything, and you made that very clear before marriage. Your word was law. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

"C-can't we both... adopt, though?"

"That's for another day and why adopt now when we can have our own? Ezra has to marry someday. It’s completely fair. He needs to grow up now."

Your tone and earlier outburst made him nod frantically, but a new emotion stirred within him , something close to amusement. Oh, how will Ezra react when you make him marry someone. Maybe it’s for the best, 'At least he’ll get off my back, hopefully.'

Yet, he also felt pity for the woman who would be bound to that two-faced bastard. Is your only goal to use your brother as a breeder? That’s even more amusing.

As you lay down, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. If Ezra were to provide you with a child one day, wouldn’t that make him more honorable in your eyes?

'No, after today’s stunt, I’ve had enough of this.'

You want a child, an heir--that’s clear, that's fine. But he won’t let Ezra exploit this situation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I--I mean--" Ezra stammered, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words.

You held his face in your hands, your grip firm yet gentle, your eyes searching his. "It's not like I am asking for something outrageous here," you said, your tone soft but laced with expectation.

Ezra's eyes darted away for a moment, then back to you. "I get you, but isn’t it too soon? I mean-"

"You're of age," you cut him off, your tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance. "You’ve never rejected anything I’ve asked of you before, and now you are?"

"NO! No, absolutely not, sister!" Ezra's voice was a mix of desperation and determination. "How can you even think that? I will do it. I will." Inside, though, his mind rebelled. It’s not the marriage that Ezra hates, it’s the idea of spending his life with some annoying woman. What if she turns out to be a snake too?! Oh, he won't forgive that, ever. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dread before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Great, then. Mother will surely find the most amazing match for you," you said with finality, turning to leave. "Just make sure to tell her what your type is. Remember, she shouldn’t just be a good wife but a perfect mother for my heir too."

Without another word, you exited the room, leaving Ezra alone with his spiraling thoughts. Did Amir put this idea in your head? Sometimes, Ezra just wanted to kill that son of a-

"Deep breaths, Ezra, deep breaths," he muttered to himself, trying to quell the surge of frustration. Yeah, his sister wouldn’t be happy if her husband was torn to pieces. 'This is your life now', seeing Amir’s face in this mansion every single day, and soon enough, a wife’s too. Ugh! He threw a vase at the wall in a fit of irritation. He won't ever be in peace until you divorce Amir.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on that for now. He had to carry out your order, even if he despised the thought of dealing with an annoying woman and whining babies. You had given him a task, a job, and he couldn’t let you down. He would never let you down.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Ezra's bride, Jean Aston, had been chosen--an arrangement made with a family friend. While Ezra couldn't have cared less about the choice, he at least appreciated that Jean stood out with her striking red hair and green eyes. His wife needed to be of some caliber, though in his view, only one person could be the true beauty of the marriage, and that person was unquestionably him. However, he also acknowledged the importance of passing on good genes to the heir you desired.

What he hadn’t expected was Jean’s bubbly demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had been too shy to meet him before the wedding?

"Can you be quiet? Can you be a bit more demure?" Ezra snapped, his patience wearing thin as she chattered incessantly, sitting beside him after their vows. "Look at me--am I being so chattery? Bride and groom are supposed to be graceful, woman."

Jean’s expression soured beneath her veil. "Wow, I was just trying to make small talk. I’ve been quiet since our engagement, so I’m going to talk now that we’re married. Also when is the food going to served?I am starving, how can-"

'God, just let this ceremony end already.'

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Amir sighed, silently wishing Jean the best. Poor girl didn’t know what she was in for. His mind wandered back to his own wedding, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard not to compare the two experiences and feel a twinge of sympathy for her. At least you are way better than Ezra. A lot...no, perfect in his eyes. Always.

Once they retreated to their room, Ezra lifted Jean's veil with a cold, expressionless face, cutting her off before she could utter a word.

"There are some things you need to engrain in that skull of yours. First, always show respect for my sister. Always. You know that, don’t you? Secondly, try talking less and listening more."

"Got it! Now, where’s my wedding gift?" Jean’s cheerful interruption made Ezra’s jaw tighten, but he quickly masked his irritation with a smooth composure.

"No, you tell me first--who advised you to wear a harvest gold veil with such questionable embroidery? Huh? Such a poor fashion choice. I’ve explicitly told your family that gold is my color, I wear it. I don’t want to see you in it again." His fingers traced the material with a disdainful touch. "This abomination definitely needs fixing ." Though the veil was actually quite pretty, he couldn’t accept the fact that she looked good in it-- perhaps more than he did which is a big no.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Months later, the mansion, once quiet and dull, now echoed with the cries of a baby boy whom you named, Joseph. Ezra handed you the baby first which you were hesitant to hold but did anyway, after all you asked for this. It only lasted for a few minutes before he dozed off in Jean's arms.

"Jean," you said, gently patting her head. She looked up at you with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, her eyes brightening with anticipation. You took the papers from Amir and handed them to her. "Here's a gift. A plot, in your name and another in dear Joseph's. You’ve earned it."

Jean’s eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. "Y-you didn’t have to, (Y/N)-"

"Jean," Ezra scolded gently, his tone surprising you. It seemed that your brother had softened a bit since Joseph’s birth.

"Don’t refuse (Y/N)'s gift. Accept it," he added. Jean nodded, her shyness evident, but her gratitude clear as she met your gaze. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Good, now rest. The nanny will arrive soon," you instructed, leaving with Amir in tow. Ezra shot a disapproving look at Amir as they exited.

"Don’t be rude to Brother Amir like that," Jean reprimanded.

"It’s none of your concern. Stop being his defender, anyway. Focus on the child, his upbringing must be perfect. And take care of yourself too--I don’t want you fainting while feeding him." With that, Ezra stormed out. Jean sighed, finding him as unpredictable as ever--hot one moment, cold the next.

The tragedy that struck when Joseph was just six months old was unexpected. The poor child fell gravely ill, and even the doctors couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with his stomach. But by some blessing, everyone's prayers were answered when Amir's remedy worked, one his mother used to give when they were sick as children and Joseph was saved. Had it been a moment later, who knows what could have happened. Even though Ezra didn't bother to thank Amir, it didn’t matter. Amir did it for you, for your child.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, I think it's been a while since I married you," you murmured, lost in thought.

Amir looked up from his book and chuckled, "Oh, you realized it now? I think it's been more than a while, my dearest."

"I know, I know." You now stood where he was seated, gently caressing his cheek. "I think it's time you start doing your duty here." You handed him the seal, "You're in charge of the household's budget now." Amir's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but brother Ezra--"

"Shush," you interrupted. "I decide how things are run here. And I’m giving you this responsibility. Don’t disappoint me."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he kissed your knuckles. "Never, I won’t ever dream of it."

From within, his heart was bursting with happiness. At last, he had something--something he wanted, something he could use as leverage against Ezra. His plan had worked flawlessly. His hidden knowledge of botany had made it all possible; plants to make poison, plants to make antidote. A soft giggle escaped him and so did some tears, as you left the room, the seal twirling between his fingers.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him as he saw the pain etched on everyone’s faces over Joseph. His own tears stung with remorse, but he believed it was a good plan--a necessary one to win your trust, your love. He hadn’t wanted to be so heartless, to poison his own child, but he felt he had no choice. Being Ezra’s doormat for so long had worn him down. And for once, watching Ezra in distress was so worth it. Amir couldn’t help but relish every moment.

(AN: OmG, Amir really turned dark, the poor innocent boi. Look how Ezra massacred my boy)

[oukabarsburgblr]

honestly would love a continuation from the karasuno version, but like at the same time i want the seijoh version 😭😭

i cant choose huuu, tho whatever u decides to write im sure it'll be great (still tho karasuno continuation got me vv 🥴🥴)

Bullying the First Year Pt. 2 [ONESHOT] [HQ KARASUNO]

I'll give you both💜 but the seijoh part will probably take a few days since i dont want the seijoh ver. to be an exact replica of karasuno with diff names and i want to finish watching s2 so i can capture their character properly. I hope you enjoy!

FEATURING : DAICHI SAWAMURA, SUGAWARA KOUSHI, ASAHI AZUMANE x male reader

Continuation of Part 1! Set in Season 2 during Away Games. Drabble!

NSFW stuff, DUBCON AF

Find out more under the cut!

"Ne, Sugawara...Looks like you guys finally got along with (m/n) huh?"

The setter who was drinking from his water bottle turned to Tanaka. The second year glancing at the male manager who was being harassed by Hinata about how cool his spike was. Sugawara only tilted his head in innocent faux. "What do you mean?"

Tanaka hummed as he swirled his bottle. "Well...usually you guys have this weird tension. And Daichi doesn't talk to him but yesterday I saw the captain and (m/n) walking home together and they looked like they were fine." Ennoshita chipped in. "So I wasn't imagining it. Asahi seemed like he always tried to provoke (m/n), but now they're okay with each other. Did anything happen between you guys?"

Tanaka and Ennoshita only asked Sugawara because he was the most approachable out of all the third years. The second years have noticed the beef between their manager and the seniors although they only discussed it in secret. Currently, they're at their away training camp in Shinzen and everything was running smoothly, albeit their losing streak and the fact that (m/n) couldn't make it to their first training camp in Tokyo.

It was weird to think that (m/n), who was not even a player meaning he had more time to study, had failed two subjects and had to take the supplementary exam. Although he denied the offer of riding to Tokyo with Tanaka's sister with Kageyama and Hinata in tow. Daichi didn't give much of a response, only saying he would talk to the (h/c).

That same night they heard Kiyoko scolding, and the beautiful manager never gets mad, but oddly Kiyoko was reprimanding the rest of the third years. Although they couldn't quite capture why was she mad but apparently it involved luring and trapping someone?

Sugawara's face didn't falter as he waved off their concerns, assuring the second years that they had a minor misunderstanding at the start of their introduction and it was all settled.

Free practice ensued as Karasuno went on with their respective goals, Sugawara and Daichi doing a synchronization attack with the others although Asahi was nowhere to be found.

"Sorry! Got caught up with something." The ace sheepishly entered the gym, looking eager and fresh to hit some sets. Nishinoya glanced behind Asahi to see a panting (h/c) who was all sweaty. "What were you doing, (m/n)? You looked like you did a major workout!" He teased the manager who only scrunched up his nose and limped his way to the rest of the managers.

"Huh? Is he injured or something? Why is he walking like that-" "Don't mind him! The night isn't going to be young forever. Let's practice!" Sugawara cut off Nishinoya's sentence as he pushed the libero towards the court, his eyes flickering to Asahi getting smacked by Daichi.

"See (m/n)! Told you, you would get along with us!" Hinata cheered behind the (h/c), who didn't say a word as he accompanied Hinata to the third gymnasium, where Kuroo and Bokuto is playing as well as Akaashi and Tsukishima. "Although it seems that you're more close to the third years than I am. Even though I've known them longer..." The ginger mumbled as he twiddled his fingers.

Again, the manager didn't respond as they entered the gym and (m/n) helped them by collecting stray balls and tossing it to Akaashi. Tsukishima would glance at him a few times before getting lectured by the Nekoma captain.

Daichi stared at the gym doors where (m/n) had exited before turning to Asahi. "...I told you to go easy on him." "Sorry. Got a bit excited. He's cute these days, all fidgety around us." "Do you want to blow us over? Cover your tracks, you idiot." Sugawara hissed as he jammed his elbow into the ace's side.

"The others said that we look like we're all getting along, especially you Daichi." The setter spoke as he ignored the crestfallen ace on the floor. "Really? I didn't think there'd be that much of a difference." The captain tapped his chin, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"You were the meanest out of all of us. I guess he was scared of you the most." Asahi propped himself up as he spoke, ignoring the glaring ravenette.

"...he's obedient now. I prefer it that way."

The setter only laughed as he waved them off. "I'm getting dibs on him in the showers. Don't you dare try to join us." He hissed at the two before hopping off to drag Tanaka into another set, leaving Daichi and Asahi to themselves.

If any other normal person would have listened in on their conversation, they would've been creeped out with how normal they spoke as they danced around the topic.

The boy manager of Karasuno, (m/n) (l/n) who has been reduced to a quiet footman for the seniors. Daichi wouldn't say 'reduced' but more to 'tamed'. It was known that the (h/c) is a brash person, especially around people his age but he would watch his mouth more around his upperclassmen...until he gets angry that is.

When Daichi first saw him stumbling through the gym doors, making a scene, he was quite annoyed, reminded of Hinata and Kageyama's first introduction. He thought it would be another rude junior that would ignore him and the obligated seniority but he was impressed to find that he was a reliable manager and an overall pleasant person to be around.

Maybe he was in a bad mood on that specific day, but he wasn't up for playing 'nice' nor welcoming someone new. His players were already a handful, especially the four idiots and he simply lacked the energy to usher someone around in the already socially established club.

Usually, he would apologise the next day, saying his head was clouded but he saw how annoyed (e/c) leered at him whenever (m/n) thought he wasn't looking or the silent curses he would mumble. That ticked him off and he was cold ever since. And when he found out they were neighbours-

"Daichi. Don't you think you're being...malicious to the new manager?"

The captain turned to the long-haired ace. He didn't respond, only raising an eyebrow to Asahi. Sugawara cut in. "What he meant was why are you acting like a little bitch to our new member? Ignoring him and stuff. The others are starting to ask." He teased the ravenette.

Daichi didn't say much, he only stared at his gym shoes and glanced to the (h/c) who was conversing with the second years. He scanned his figure, his eyes wandering a bit too long on his face and frowned. "He's rude." Sugawara wanted to roll his eyes and spite the captain.

"I want to ruin him."

Both Asahi and Sugawara immediately turned their heads to the captain who held a nonchalant look, a foreign expression for him, while still staring at (m/n). "...Or to see him cry, at least." "..."

The setter scoffed. "I always knew you were a sadist, Daichi." The captain only hummed as he knelt down to tie his shoelaces. "Don't act as if you're oh so innocent, Mr. Refreshing." "Shut up." He stifled a chuckle and stood up again.

"So are we gonna do it?" Asahi turned to glance at the (h/c), gazing at his glistening (s/c) and his fluttering eyelashes on his (e/c) eyes. Sugawara rolled his eyes. "I think he already started it." Daichi was silent, his eyes unwavering.

He didn't think much of it back then. Bullying was always a functioning outlet anyways.

Slaps of skin resonated through the small clubroom with a crying naked manager who was too aroused from the heavy thrusts he was receiving. His back was sore against the wooden table in the middle of the room and his throat was parched from all the screaming and wailing he had done.

"You're so adorable, (m/n)." Asahi groaned into the manager's ears, holding him down and kissing down his neck. The (h/c) only squirmed against the strong brunette, helpless against his ticklish facial hair as his hips stuttered against Asahi's. "-'s too much-ngh! Too much fu- achkk!"

He choked as the brunette sped up his motion, increasing his tempo as he felt his release. "You're our junior and manager, (m/n)." Sugawara cooed as he jacked off the (h/c)'s dick. "This is practically your job, don't you think? Helping us release some steam."

(m/n) wailed as he felt Sugawara squeezing him, he shivered as he felt his hole filled and Asahi biting into his shoulder. His pants were getting heavier as he placed his hand across his face. "I-I don't want anymore..." He whimpered as fingers shoved into his ass, digging out liquids that were stuffed deep into him.

Daichi trailed his fingers over (m/n)'s neck as he took Asahi's spot, pulling the (h/c) closer by his waist. "Be good and we'll play nice with you." Partially a lie, the captain was talking about himself. If the manager was compliant, then he'll be gentle. Not that he hated the contrary.

The manager only cried into his hands as he shakily nodded, not that they could see. "Please b-be gentle to me...Daichi- hiks!" He wheezed as the captain pulled him onto his lap, his naked thighs shivering and Daichi only gripped his hair, already holding his favourite spot.

The captain didn't say anything, only crashing his lips on the (h/c)'s who mewled against his mouth, Sugawara and Asahi smearing their hands all over the pair, drowning them in debauchery and temporary bliss.

Ever since then, (m/n) had been more quiet and polite, especially around the third years. Hinata was confused when the (h/c) mentioned about a study group and at that moment something clicked inside the (h/c)'s head.

He tried avoiding the trio truthfully, it wasn't that hard outside of club hours but he dreaded stepping inside the gym or the clubroom. Sugawara was a clever person, always whisking him away to fuck him under a staircase or asking him to stay after practice and would double penetrate him with Asahi inside the storage room.

He would walk home with sticky cum running down his legs or being cleaned by Sugawara who would take his time with him inside the school communal showers. Asahi would only bother him when he was frustrated, either from studies or not being able to hit his spikes right.

Daichi wouldn't join on their frisky escapades. But Sugawara knew that the captain preferred to be alone with the (h/c).

-

Training camp was over, Coach Ukai finished the debriefing and everyone was dispersing to go home in their respective ways in the late night. (m/n) cursed to himself as he accidentaly slipped on a rock. A hand reached out to stabilise him and the (h/c) glanced to see the captain pulling him up.

"Be careful. It's dark and dangerous right now."

They did live close after all.

"...Thanks." (m/n) mumbled as he pulled his arm back, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continued his way. Daichi silently followed, two steps behind the (h/c).

Their relationship had progressed significantly, after...midterms. (m/n) didn't know what to call it. What he had with the other third years. And it was especially passionate with the captain.

(m/n) was sure his body would give out one day, or one of the second years would find out with how frequent they would pull him in an isolated area and was determined to make him cream his pants as much as he could. At first, he resisted and melted every time one of them would shove their deep fingers into his hole or fucked him nice and slow that would made all of his rebellion disappear.

Sometimes, he caught himself looking forward to those moments. Wondering when will one of his seniors pulled him so they could shove themselves into him, letting him drown in that sinful pleasure.

The grey area he was shoved into was suffocating and risky, but lust conquered all and it conquered him.

"Is anyone home?" (m/n) hadn't noticed that they had arrived at the front of his gates. He turned to see Daichi looking at him, the streetlamp next to them illuminating his handsome features. The captain rarely divulge himself with (m/n), not as frequent as the other two. The scariest of the third years definitely had something in his mind.

"..."

-

"Urmmff- mmng haa ah ah anghh!!" (m/n) moaned as he Daichi pounded his penis into the (h/c)'s hole that was so wet and puckered from the unnecessary amount of lube and fingering the captain did. He definitely appreciated foreplay.

Both of them were in (m/n)'s room, on his bed missionary and only the (h/c) was fully naked as Daichi immediately ripped off all of his clothings as soon as they stepped inside his room.

(m/n) wasn't sure why he let Daichi step in his house. His family was gone, visiting their relatives up north while (m/n) was away at training camp. He could've lied to the captain. Rejecting his advances although he wasn't sure it would be as effective but the fact that he willingly let Daichi enter through the gates of his home and let him follow to his room wasn't so much of a wonder.

Daichi huffed as he gripped one of (m/n)'s thighs, giving it a slap as he watch the flesh bounce from the impact. The (h/c) had his arms around the ravenette's neck as his legs was pushed upwards. His hole tightened around Daichi's cock as he cried when the captain began to shove himself in harder and deeper, going in as far as balls deep inside (m/n)'s puckered and reddened hole.

The captain gazed down at the (h/c)'s face, his eyes wandering and scanning his features as he felt his release nearing. "(m/n)." The manager huffed as his own (e/c) stared down black ones.

Daichi leaned down to kiss the (h/c), pressing his lips oddly in a gentle manner but pushing his legs to his shoulders roughly. "I think you should raise your tongue a bit more." The captain stated as he fucked the manager faster.

(m/n) stuck his tongue out with a confused face although his bottom was shaking from all the sex Daichi shoved into him. The ravenette licked and pressed his tongue all over (m/n)'s who was whimpering feverishly.

The (h/c) doesn't know what to do. What to do of him. What to do of them. But for now, all he could do was to play the nice little junior for them. He was also no longer allowed to show support for his cousin at any volleyball event.

Daichi pushed (m/n) into a mating press, making sure his cum filled the manager all the way in, not wanting for any of it to go to waste. The (h/c) whined as his own penis spurted white semen.

The manager could not see him running away from the third years any time soon.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

aftermath

I am literally falling asleep as I write this but I wanted to post it asap. I will fix it dwdw although I felt this didn't align with the first part very well. I'll add tags tmrw. Next up is Seijoh

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[12:41 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a child, pregnancy complications, "Mommy" and "daddy")

"Mommy is tired?" dad!Jaehyun heard his little girl ask.

"A little bit, princess. The baby is getting bigger so Mommy just needs to lay down more, but she's not sleeping," Jaehyun explains in a sweet voice, pushing her unruly hair away from her face.

This was tough to explain to a 4 year old. Your first pregnancy had been a breeze compared to this one. Your first pregnancy almost five years ago came with some nausea that plagued you for the first few months, labor was long and arduous, but there was nothing that really hindered you from going about life as normal as possible. This pregnancy wasn't the same.

This time around you came down with gestational high blood pressure, which at your last appointment didn't look to be getting much better, so your doctor had put you on bed rest. You were doing your part by taking your medication daily and staying off your feet, but man was this a pain. You hated laying around and doing nothing, especially when your need to nest was nagging at you. You hated it, but you also knew that you wanted to avoid the induction being too early.

Jaehyun grabbed some food from the fridge and played it for you, lunch time. A healthy meal that he himself knew didn't sound super delicious, but he was being just as cautious as you were, if not more. "Let's take Mommy her lunch, princess," Jaehyun told his daughter.

She squealed excitedly, running to the bedroom with her Belle costume swishing around her legs. She pushed the door open and ran to the bed, climbing up onto the foot of the bed before settling beside you. Jaehyun smiled at the sight of his two girls. You were sat up against the headboard, folding laundry- which you had insisted on doing, Jaehyun didn't want you lifting a single finger, but you were stubborn.

"Lunch time, my love," Jaehyun smiled, walking over to you and handing you the plate. He tried not to laugh as your face scrunched up into a look of disappointment and smidge of disgust.

You stabbed the fork into the food and sighed before bringing the food to your mouth. If the bed rest worked, you'd be back on your feet in a week. Your doctor wanted to see if the bed rest would prove useful paired with the medication she'd put you on. You couldn't speak without the medical knowledge she'd possessed, but your blood pressure was going down and staying consistent. Your legs weren't as swollen and when Jaehyun took your blood pressure each morning it wasn't as high and remained consistent.

"I gave you your medication this morning right?" Jaehyun asked while holding up the pill bottle.

You hummed in agreement, swallowing your food, "as if you'd let me forget. I took it with a whole glass of water and ate it with my avocado toast. Hey, have you not been doing her hair? She looks like the brush hasn't touched her hair since I brushed it after her bath last night."

Jaehyun looked away, avoiding your gaze. Doing his daughter's hair wasn't a skill he had perfected yet. So yes, you were right, a brush hadn't touched her hair since last night. On the other hand, everything else had been taken care of. Your daughter didn't spend the whole day in her pajamas, she was dressed in real clothes, even if her Belle costume covered it up, she had brushed her teeth this morning, already eaten two meals today, and Jaehyun had her practice writing her name. On all levels, besides hair, he was killing it.

"Bring me the brush and some rubber bands please," you asked him sweetly, using your hand to tame the hair on the little girl's head.

He raised a brow, "finish your lunch and then I'll get you what you asked for."

You rolled your eyes, stabbing the fork into the food more harshly with a look that asked 'happy?' Your daughter turned her eyes away from the show on the TV and rubbed your belly, placing a small kiss on the apex. "Sister is making you tired, Mommy?" she asked, laying her head on your stomach.

You sighed tiredly, "yeah, princess. We don't want sister to get here too early so the doctor says I have to rest."

"But I want sister here already," she tells you with a pout.

Jaehyun takes the now empty plate from you while you brush your fingers gently brush through some of the tangles in her hair. "If the baby comes early, she won't be healthy, princess. We want her to be healthy right?"

"Yes," she sighs out, "Mommy, can you do my hair? Daddy doesn't know how."

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he hands you the things you asked for, watches as his daughter willingly lets you comb the tangles from her hair gently, and watches as your fingers work deftly to braid it away from her face. He loves it.

He presses a kiss to your stomach, not trying very hard to keep the words that slip from his lips low and quiet, "if you want to give us a surprise and come out as a boy, that's fine. I'll still love you. Save me."

When two similar slaps to his arm come at the same time he can't help but laugh, if he's surrounded by girls that act like you and are the perfect mix of your genetics, he'd die a happy man.

[sapphire-writes]

Pretty Little Thing

summary: After finding yourself at a holiday party you hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Aemond Targaryen makes it worth while.

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, praise, slight dirty talk, overstim, kissing, love bites, hand over mouth, titty play, allusions to Aegon being a creeper, alcohol, smoking, langauge

word count: 7.2k

note: im back! grad school didn't kill me! hope you enjoy!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

—

Be there soon.

Alysanne had texted you nearly an hour ago, and with each passing minute you became more doubtful she’d be making an appearance at all.

You hadn’t even wanted to come. It’d been her idea and now she was blowing you off.

“We’re just exchanging the last of our things,” she’d promised on the phone several hours earlier, “You go on without me and I’ll meet you there.”

Yeah. Because it takes three hours to give your ex-boyfriend his stuff back. Totally.

Alysanne and Cregan Stark had been on and off again since you’d known her; this time was no exception. You knew from her first running later than I thought text that the night wasn’t going to go as you’d hoped. 

You decide to like her most recent message instead of replying, unable to stop the wave of annoyance cresting inside of you. 

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

An end-of-semester holiday party. Thrown by the elder Lannister siblings; twins Jason and Tyland. The kings of Casterly Rock are well known for their extravagant get-togethers and the unimaginable generational wealth that funds all their exploits. 

They’d long graduated from King’s Landing University, but you and Alysanne scored an invite courtesy of Cerelle Lannister, their younger sister, whom you’d been trying to avoid since you arrived. If Cerelle didn’t see you, perhaps you could escape the party unscathed.

That hope proves too good to be true as your name is called from across the room. You slide your phone back into your pocket as Cerelle approaches you. Her blonde hair hangs in effortless curls down her back, the emerald green top she wears accentuating its golden hues, along with her bright green eyes. 

You’re not exactly close with Cerelle, though she appears to enjoy your friendship, at least on a surface level. She’s part of the weekly book club you attend. Her grin widens as she reaches you, eyes drinking you in. 

“Darling!” she muses, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“You wore it!” she says, fingers ghosting across the cashmere cardigan you’d chosen to wear that evening. Cerelle had bought it for you a few weeks ago, though you’d begged her not to; the price was more than you made in a paycheck.

Alysanne once referred to you as Cerelle’s Polly Pocket.

“She pulls you out of her pocket and plays dress up. It’s fucking weird,” she’d said. 

Cerelle’s lips curve upwards in a Cheshire cat grin as she slings an arm around your shoulder, bringing her glossed lips next to your ear.

“Stop moping in the corner like some dreary wallflower,” she purrs, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Have some fun! It’s winter break!”

Goosebumps break out on your skin at her affections. You laugh breathlessly shrugging away from her touch causing her to frown. 

“You haven’t had enough to drink,” she insists, reaching for another glass, “You’re much too antsy.”

“Alysanne was supposed to be here,” you tell her and she nods understanding, looping her arm through yours and giving your forearm a comforting pat. 

“Fashionably late as always, I suppose,” Cerelle drolls, pointing across the room, “There are lots of fascinating characters here who’ll distract you. Shall I spin a bottle to decide?”

“Hilarious,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I never joke about a good shag,” Cerelle argues, gaze flickering about the room, “From the looks of it you could use it.” She turns back to you, matching your pout. “Don’t frown, you look too lovely.” She places her hands on your cheeks, thumbs tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

“Much better,” she praises as you hold the smile she’s decorated your face with, “Come on let's find you someone…don’t look at me like that! Someone to flirt with, that’s all. A bit of harmless fun.” 

You roll your eyes earning a pitch on the arm and you swat Cerelle’s hand away.

“There’s no one here I want to flirt with,” you insist, following her gaze around the room, “Let alone shag.”

“You’re too picky,” she muses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin as she scans the room, “What about Greyjoy?”

A shiver rolls through you, “No thank you.”

“Heard he’s good in the sack.”

You’d heard a lot of things about Dalton Greyjoy. None of which made you want to spend an extended period of alone time with him. You glance at Cerelle giving her a firm look. She sighs, returning to her mission.

“You need someone,” Cerelle insists after you shoot down several more options, “You haven’t been with anyone since—what was it again?”

His face flashes through your mind before you can help it. 

“Unimportant,” you quip, “Cerelle, I just want to—” Your words die as two new guests bound up the stairs into the main hallway. 

Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears the only sound you can hear. You tug Cerelle closer, eyes wide.

“You invited them?” you hiss, as Cerelle frowns, following your gaze.

“Not me. Jason must have,” she answers, “It’s not a party without Aegon. Jay swears he has the best coke on this side of the Keep.”

Aegon Targaryen is relatively harmless as long as you keep your drink close. You’re more concerned with the tall figure who lurks closely behind him. Though the younger, Aemond Targaryen towers over his brother; his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder than it was moments ago. He’s dressed in all black, as he usually is, the silver chain around his neck the only other color. His long snow-white hair is braided down his back, an eyepatch securely covering his left eye.

He never takes it off.

Aegon pushes by his brother making a beeline for the kitchen where most of the chaos is localized. You can tell a new drinking game has begun by the sound of cheers and the echo of glasses clinking together. Aegon’s eyes lit up as he disappeared down the hall, eager to join the miscellaneous fun.

Aegon loves a good party.

Aemond watches his brother but lingers behind in the living room leaning against a wall. He extends a long arm to the bookshelf retrieving one with his long fingers. He flicks open a few pages, lips pursing. He glances up, violet eye meeting yours for the briefest moment. 

Your lips part and you look away, warmth flooding your cheeks. You had shared a couple of classes with Aemond, nothing more nothing less. He was quite mysterious. 

“Anyway,” Cerelle says, her attention wavering with each passing second, “Back to you drinking. I’ll get you another glass. Loosen up, pet.” 

—

You try to, you really do. No matter what her intentions are, Cerelle has been nothing but nice to you, so you allow her antics. An hour has ticked by and Alysanne has yet to respond to your latest text message. Squeezed between Cerelle and Sabitha Frey during another round of quarters you decide to plan your escape. 

“I’m going to get some air,” you tell her, rising from the couch. Cerelle rolls her eyes, “I’m not leaving, I swear!”

“You better not!” she says, perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together, “I’ll come to fetch you if you’re gone too long—you know I will.”

She’s telling the truth. 

“Five minutes,” you insist, forcing a smile.

Cerelle’s nose twitches but she lets it go and nods, returning her attention to the game.

Weaving through the sea of people you make your way outside letting the door shut behind you as you walk down a few steps of the front stoop. It’s colder than you expected, you can see your breath in front of you. 

You stand shivering, trying to decide what to do next. Reaching into your pocket, you check your phone for the time. You could leave, make your escape down the steps, and catch the last bus back to Maegor’s Holdfast. 

If you stay any longer, you’ll be forced to spend the night or dip into your savings to splurge on an Uber. It’s always crazy expensive on this side of town as if the drivers know the neighborhood is full of rich kids. 

The door opens and noise from the party fills the cool night until it slams shut once more. You roll your eyes expecting Cerelle as you turn your head. 

Only it isn’t her.

Aemond Targaryen lingers on the top step, reaching into his jacket pocket and placing a cigarette between his teeth. He finds a lighter a moment later, a nice expensive one, flicking it open with a sharp click. Fire blooms in the palm of his hand and you can just make out the three-headed dragon branded on the side of the silver lighter before it disappears into his pocket again.

He releases a cloud of smoke into the air, mimicking the one your breath makes. You turn away as he walks down a few steps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“You were in my class,” he says suddenly, his head tilting to the side, “History of The First Men, right?” 

You force your lips together. “Mhmm,” you answer, surprised he recognized you.

Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem the type to remember a random girl in his class. Smart as hells, he focused solely on his grades, paying little attention to the rest of the student body. He seemed to be the antithesis of his elder brother. Though incredibly different, supposedly they had similar lustful appetites. 

One for pleasures of the flesh, the other for academic validation.

Aegon Targaryen was a known party boy and ran in multiple social circles. He didn’t care about class or popularity; if there was sex, liquor, and drugs around, Aegon Targaryen would be there. 

However, there were stories about Aemond too that made their way around campus. 

“You alright?” he pressed, the silence laying heavy between you. 

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” you breathe, chuckling slightly as you rub your arms as the frigid air bites into your exposed flesh. 

Aemond quirks a brow at that, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Why’s that?”

“You’re sort of a banned topic at book club,” you admit, causing his lips to curl into a small smirk. 

“Am I?”

“Mhmm.”

Another moment of silence goes by before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Because?”

“Maris runs it,” you tell him, and he clicks his tongue, nodding to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Maris Baratheon, the elder of a pair of Irish twins. Floris Baratheon, once the object of Aemond’s affection for about a half second, was royally screwed over when he left her for none other than Alys Rivers. Adjunct Professor. It was quite the scandal at the time.

You’re not exactly friends with Floris; closer to Maris if you had to choose. But it's the principle of things—girl code. 

“Floris and I were never exclusive,” Aemond comments.

“Yikes.”

So maybe Aemond Targaryen is just like every other guy. Though, you’re mostly sure he’s telling the truth. The story you’d heard was that he ghosted her. 

“She shouldn’t have assumed,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes, blood boiling at his statement as annoyance begins to quicken in your belly. Aemond Targaryen seems more like his elder with every word that leaves his curved lips. 

“Right, of course not, how dare she,” is your sarcastic reply. 

Aemond tilts his head toward the sky, speaking around the cigarette. 

“You seem rather upset,” he accuses, “Funny, Floris never mentioned you.”

You turn to face him fully and he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. Folding your arms across your chest you jut your hip out. “We’re not friends. It’s the principle of it all. I don’t like assholes.”

His perfect lips curl slightly. “I’m an asshole?”

“Mhmm. At least Aegon owns up to his behavior, he doesn’t pretend he’s some suave guy doing nothing wrong.”

You swear a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he plucks the cigarette from between them.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sure seems like it.”

Aemond takes a step closer then. You have to tilt your head to look him in the eye. Something about being this close to him is almost unnerving, your stomach drops slightly as you focus on his prominent cheekbones. 

“It’s not my problem if a girl gets her hopes up after getting fucked properly,” he counters.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you back up, slightly slipping against the icy railing. Aemond reaches out, his hand curling around your bicep to steady you. It’s warm, almost hot; the heat seeps through your thin sweater in the shape of his fingers. 

There’s a tension between you as he holds your arm for a second too long, before the door opens and several partygoers stumble down the steps, forcing you to break apart. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette from across the stairs as they laugh tumbling into the street. You’re grateful for the distraction, taking a moment to slow the frantic beating of your heart, and the slight flutter in your stomach. 

“So,” you begin, trying to break the awkward silence the partygoers left behind with their departure, “How do you know Cerelle?”

Aemond looks at you quizzically.

“How do I know Cerelle?”

You jerk your chin up in a hasty nod. Aemond chuckles, shaking his head and taking another drag.

“Family friend,” he answers, “Old money likes to stick together.”

You nod again, unsure of how to answer as he observes you. 

“Surely you’ve heard of the Westerosi Seven?” he asks.

You haven’t.

“The what?” 

“The seven families,” Aemond says, his tone indicating that this is somewhat common knowledge, “Generational wealth that can be traced back to medieval times. The higher lords and ladies. Near royalty.” He takes another drag.

“And you’re one of them?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

“My family, yes,” he answers, “And Cerelle’s. The Baratheon girls. Stark. They’re all quite close.”

“Interesting,” you tell him, glancing down the street again, “You sound like the mafia.”

Aemond holds your gaze, not denying your allegation. You release a breathless laugh, but unease settles in your gut. 

The door opens as if on cue, and Cerelle pops her head out. 

“Darling! Come back inside you’ll catch your death,” she calls, waving you forward. She spots Aemond out of the corner of her eye, and you don’t miss the look of interest that gathers in her green eyes as they flicker between the pair of you, “Targaryen.”

“CeCe,” he politely greets, choosing to use the nickname Cerelle often kept reserved for her family only. She doesn’t comment on Aemond’s choice. 

“Hope you’re being nice to my girl,” she says, the words clipped.

“Of course,” Aemond comments and you can’t help but feel like you aren’t there. 

Cerelle glances back at you, a smile decorating her face once more. 

“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”

Her blonde hair disappears in the door. Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it beneath his heel. 

“Best run along,” he muses, not turning to face you, “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Annoyance prickles under your skin.

“She’s my friend—”

“You have got a very generous friend,” Aemond comments, turning to face you. He motions at your sweater. “Myrish, isn’t it?”

You cross your hands over your chest. 

“Mhmm,” Aemond hums glancing up at you from the bottom step, “I’d just be careful if I were you. Accepting gifts from rich strangers is a lot like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds.” 

You scoff at the implication before turning away and heading back into the townhouse. Aemond does not follow; you don’t hear the door open as you hurry back up the stairs. 

The party has since moved completely to the kitchen, sans a couple making out on the living room couch. You enter the crowded space and crane your neck to see what everyone is cheering at.

It’s something happening on the marble island, but you don’t see what—that is until Cerelle sits up, her blonde curls cascading around her face, a lime between her pearly white teeth like a cat with a mouse. 

She smiles curling her finger, beckoning Aegon Targaryen forward. He leans against her, bringing his mouth to hers and stealing the lime. The juice flows down his chin before he lets it fall, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cerelle’s lips, earning several cheers. 

As she breaks away she notices you, eyes lighting up as she slips off the counter. 

“Good, you didn’t leave!” she says giggling, “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” you ask, heart dropping into your stomach. 

“Mhmm,” she says, dragging you forward, “Up now!” 

“Cerelle, I don’t—”

“Hush! Qyle Martell is doing it,” she says biting her lip suggestively, “Let the sexy Dornishman take a shot off you, alright?”

Your cheeks darken as he appears before you, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you onto the counter like a lamb for slaughter. The crowd cheers and your eyes widen as you meet Qyle’s warm brown eyes. 

“Your sweater,” he says, motioning to it with his hand that clutches a bottle of tequila. 

You glance at Cerelle and she nods encouragingly. Over her head and in the doorway you spot Aemond. He didn’t leave after all. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, observing the chaos with a curled lip, as if the entire thing is beneath him.

Qyle whistles, drawing your attention back to him. He motions to your sweater yet again.

“Oh,” you tell him, moving to unbutton it. 

Thank goodness you wore a tank top underneath. Your fingers slip with nerves as you struggle to unbutton it. You’re the center of attention, peers cheering and chanting around you as you struggle with the bottoms. 

Quite the sacrificial lamb you are. 

“Here, can I help?” Qyle asks, reaching toward you, his fingers bumping against your own. The bottle of tequila sloshes. 

“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”

You’d moved wrong, done something wrong—or perhaps someone pushed him you’re not sure. Your head is buzzing with the noise of the room and suddenly the front of your sweater is doused in tequila. Qyle’s eyes are wide as Cerelle pushes him to the side as the smell of alcohol fills your nose. 

The room quiets momentarily until Cerelle’s bell-like laugh pierces through the silence. 

“Qyle you idiot,” Cerelle sneers, nose wrinkling with playful distaste, “You’re supposed to wait till she’s laying down—”

“It was an accident!”

“—and her sweater!” Cerelle growls in annoyance, “Go upstairs, pet, my room. Pick anything you like.”

You slide off of the counter, hurrying from the room, leaving the sound of music and chanting behind as you move deeper into the labyrinth of the Lannister home. 

—

Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth. 

You’d spent the night once here before, crawling into the white feather bed after too much mulled wine. Cerelle had stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with a severe headache and a churning belly. 

Popping the rest of the buttons, you peel the soaked sweater from your body and throw it in the hamper. You then walk over to Cerelle’s closet—double doors—and open it. Expensive. Perfumed. You’ve already ruined one pretty thing. Though Cerelle could hardly care about the expense, you do. You sigh, gently pushing through the soft fabric.

“Playing dress up?” a voice calls, and you turn to Aemond at the door. 

You close the closet door. You’ll just have to survive in your thin top. Aemond holds a glass of whiskey between his long fingers.

“Well, I suppose that was a given,” you answer him, sitting down on the bed.

Aemond watches you from the doorway, his arm raised above his head, fingers tapping nonsensically against the frame. 

“D’you want to see how you’re supposed to do it?” he suddenly asks.

“Do what?” you question, tilting your head to the side. 

“What Qyle was going to do,” he answers, and you understand his meaning. 

Aemond walks over to you, the ice rattling against the glass he lazily grips between his fingers, coming to stand in front of your legs. You’re not sure why he’s asking, what interest he has in you. But something in your belly tightens the closer he gets.

“Alright,” you give him a quiet answer, the word barely slipping past your lips. 

Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs. 

“Spread them,” he says softly, motioning with the cup. Warmth creeps up the back of your neck and blooms on the apples of your cheeks. You lock eyes with him, focusing on the ring of violet that surrounds his pupil. You do as you’re told, knees parting; his gaze hypnotizing. “Wider.” 

Your skirt tightens against your thighs as you do so, but you spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between them. He takes a step forward and you’re forced to look up at him.

“Lean back,” he instructs. You’re beginning to notice how easily he slips into the domineering role. Again you follow his instructions, cheeks burning as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows. 

You’re much more exposed without your sweater, the tops of your breasts visible in the thin top you wear. Aemond steps closer, looming over you, heat radiating from his tall form.

He reaches out, fingers caressing your cheek. You hope he can’t feel how warm they’ve become, feel your pulse fluttering against his fingers as they trail underneath your jaw and down your neck until they reach your collarbone.

“You’re to put salt here,” he murmurs, pressing against the dip of your collarbone for emphasis, “That’s first.” He leans down then, fingers trailing over your shoulder and down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Though we’re without.”

You swallow as his fingers continue to trace your collarbone. His violet eye watches you carefully before he pulls his hand away. He brings them lower, ghosting down your ribs until they reach your waist.

“May I?” he asks, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You give him a wordless nod, not able to trust your voice. Aemond pushes the fabric up slightly, revealing your navel. He holds the glass above your stomach; a drop of condensation falls causing you to flinch at the cool sensation.

Aemond flicks a brow at the constriction of your abdomen, “You’re quite sensitive.”

“It’s cold.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees, turning the glass so more condensation falls; little raindrops begin to adorn your skin, “The liquor goes here.” His fingers ruin the pattern he’s created, rough fingertips swirling the dew drops around your navel, “Tequila.”

“We haven’t got any,” you breathlessly tell him, his touch leaving a scorched trail across your belly. 

Aemond brings his glass closer, pressing the edge against the beginning of your belly button, letting some whiskey pool there. Your hands clenched into fists as the cold liquid fills you up; you watch as it shakes slightly, overflowing. Aemond leans forward, catching the spill with his mouth causing a gasp that sounds more like a moan to leave your mouth. His mouth covers your navel and you can feel his tongue swirl around, collecting the liquid he poured there with hot, calculated strokes. 

His violet eye peers up at you from behind silver lashes, half-lidded as he hollows his cheeks sucking harshly. He reaches toward the side table, mouth never leaving you, to place his glass on the edge freeing his hand. You can feel his tongue circling your navel, gently probing the sensitive skin. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at the ticklish sensation. Aemond presses his hands against your obliques before releasing you with a pop, his chin and lips shining. 

“That’s how it's supposed to be,” he murmurs, not moving from the spot between your legs. Some of his silver hair has fallen across his brow, and on instinct you reach forward, brushing it from his eyes. 

“There’s one more part,” you tell him, fingers grazing the beginning of the scar that mares his left brow before disappearing behind the patch.

“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze revealing he knows the answer. 

He just wants to hear you say it, you realize. 

Your lips part, fingers still somewhat tangled in his hair; the strands soft as silk between your fingers. 

“There was a lime,” you tell him, “The person….holds it in their mouth.”

Aemond pushes up then, his hands sliding up your sides until they’re pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from your own. 

“Have you got a lime on you?” he asks, his breath warm on your face, the scent of whiskey strong between you.

“No,” you murmur, not knowing where to look. He’s so close you can see the flecks of blue and gold in the lilac iris of his eye, count his silver lashes, and notice the small indentation on the tip of his prominent nose.

He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.

“Pity,” he says, lips down turning into a pout.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with the way it's pounding incessantly against your ribcage. He’s so close your chests are practically touching; your nipples straining against the fabric of your top. His chain peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue darting out to wet your own and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands wrap around his neck as he kisses you; his lips so soft and firm against your own, skilled tongue parting them with ease to deepen the kiss. A moan doesn’t make it out of your throat as his hand cradles your jaw, the sound of soft kisses is the only thing you can hear besides the muffled hum of the music playing downstairs. 

Aemond pulls away then, the look is his eye ravenous as he lowers himself between your legs once more. For a minute you think he may grab his glass and do the party trick all over again, the kiss just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Instead, he pushes your skirt up, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs. You realize a moment too late what he’s doing.

Riiiip!

“Aemond!” you squeak, as he rips the seam of your tights, “These were a new pair!”

“I can buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss against the smooth newly exposed flesh, “Or perhaps CeCe can. You’re her favorite plaything, aren’t you?” 

Your cheeks burn at the statement, your mouth pressing together in a tight line. Aemond grins, nimble fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt and wiggling it down your legs along with your ruined tights.

“Oh she doesn’t like that,” he says, clicking his tongue, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” His hands are roaming higher now, grazing against your clothed center. You’re certain he feels the evidence of your arousal but he stays quiet about it. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? A pretty little plaything.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, humiliation seeping into your veins, though it does little to quell the desire pooling in your belly. 

“No shame in that,” he says, shaking his head, “I understand Cerelle, entirely.” His fingers tug your panties down your bare legs, exposing your wet center. Aemond’s eye locks on it, lips quirking upward. “I like pretty things as well.”

“So I’ve heard,” you quip as Aemond’s second-hand joins the first. He swirls a finger low against your entrance and you clench as he drags it upwards.

“Have you?” he muses, circling your clit with minimal pressure, “And what have you heard?”

“That you’re as insatiable as your brother,” you manage to choke out as his thumb continues to tease your clit, “You just hide it better.” 

Aemond cocks his head to the side in silent agreement before pressing his face against you. A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue explores from your entrance up to your clit, the tip circling the sensitive button. 

Eyes rolling back in your head, Aemond nuzzles his face against you, tongue slipping down and pressing into your clenching hole. He hums in approval as you make another desperate noise as his tongue curves upwards inside of you. 

Seven hells, how is anyone’s tongue long enough to do what Aemond’s is doing? Your toes curl as his tongue hooks upwards against the front of your pelvic bone, thrusting against the sensitive patch of nerves that resides there.

“Oh gods—fuck—fuck!” you cry as he continues the repetitive movement of his tongue, waves of pleasure lapping up your spine, sending shivers through your whole body. “Hells Aemond…”

His nose presses against your slippery clit, rubbing against it in a way that stokes the pleasurable fire burning in your belly. His hands hold your thighs open and you throw your head back against the bed as the pressure inside you builds and builds and builds. Your back arches and your thighs tremble in his bruising grasp.

You lean up on your forearms to watch him, his violet eye intently watching your face, studying your reaction. You can tell he’s smug at the effect he’s having on you. He would often get that same look in his eye in class after he proved someone wrong or made a more intelligent point. How you must look to him now; all spread out before him, flushed and slack-jawed, dewy-eyed and pretty. 

You’re a pretty toy to play with. Just want he wanted. 

His tongue leaves your fluttering pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like needy before two fingers sink inside your warmth to replace what he took away. 

Aemond’s tongue returns to its place around your clit as his fingers curve upwards replaying the motion from before. The stimulation now is much harsher, the pads of his fingers dragging effortlessly against your spongy walls, curling with brutal intention; relentlessly pressing against the swelling spot inside of you. 

His warm, wet tongue against your clit only hastens the tightly winding ball of pleasure in your gut and you feel your walls swelling around his fingers as your release knocks the wind out of you. 

You come with a strangled cry, hands gripping the bed sheets as your abdominal muscles contract to the point of pain, all your muscles going taut as warm waves of euphoria rush through you. 

Aemond releases a choked chuckle of appreciation as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He fucks you through it, stretching out the wave of your orgasm until your legs are trembling and the overstimulation causes you to hiss at him.

“Stop, stop, please.”

“Alright…shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound and gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, “There you go, that’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

You can’t help but warm at his praise, the ringing in your ears fading as your chest swells. Aemond is on you once more, lips pressed to yours the mingled taste of whiskey and you hot on his tongue. 

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs between sticky kisses, “Hmm?”

“Aemond…” you breathe into his mouth, hoping that is enough for him.

You can feel him smirk against your lips and know instantly it's not. He tuts disapprovingly, pushing you back against the mattress, his face dipping into the crook of your neck.

“What would Floris say?” he teases, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. His braid is all but ruined. “I thought you said something earlier,” he continues, nipping and sucking at different spots on your neck, humming with pleasure when he locates a spot that has your back arching. 

“I don’t—”

“Loyalty, I recall,” he purrs, his hand snaking down your side, gripping the meat of your thigh and hoisting it around his waist, “Something like that.”

“Aemond,” you whimper helplessly as he grinds against you, the feeling of his hard cock concealed by his trousers driving you close to madness, “Aemond please.”

“You’re going to have to say it,” he insists, kissing your cheek, “Come on, say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, “Please Aemond—gods.” 

“They can’t hear you,” he taunts, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, “You’re all mine.”

You frantically nod, nose bumping against his as his lips curl into a greedy smile. He removes his shirt with one hand before he rolls off of you and onto his back, motioning to you with his hands. 

“Go on then,” he says, “Take what you want.”

With shaky hands, you undo his belt above the sizable tent in his pants before dragging the zipper down and releasing his cock. He’s bigger than you expected, both in length and girth, the reddened tip already weeping in anticipation. You stroke his velvety shaft once before he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him. 

His hands pull your shirt from your body as you straddle him, his cock nudging at your folds. Aemond’s hands slide up your back, undoing your bra and freeing your breasts. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands cupping the sizable mounds, “Gods, you’re so lovely.”

Your face burns at his praise as you raise your hips before gripping him in your hand and guiding him inside of you; gently letting yourself slide down his length, inner walls fluttering around him at the new sensation. Shuddering on top of him you whine at the stretch. “Gods—”

“You can take it,” he murmurs, squeezing you softly in encouragement, “Come on baby, that’s it, just like that.”

Slowly you let him bottom out in your warmth, happily seated on his cock feeling incredibly full. You brace your hands on his chest as he pinches both of your nipples, your jaw slacking in response. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, gauging your reaction as your eyes screw shut.

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, slowly starting to ride him, hips lifting and returning to his with a soft smack. 

“There she goes,” he murmurs, hands dropping to your hips, squeezing, “Take what you need, gevie.”

A breathless moan escapes you as you ride him, his hands guiding you through the movements. The hum from the music downstairs matches the ringing in your ears. 

Aemond drops his hand from your waist bringing it to the apex of your thighs. His lips part as he watches you rise and fall on his cock, his length coated with your arousal. 

“That’s it,” he coos, his tone bordering on one of condensation, “Just like that—there’s a good girl.” His thumb brushes against your clit as he says it, a broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure ignites your veins. 

His movements are soft, tantalizing, and brutally calculated as he circles the sensitive button; his other hand clings to your waist, hard enough to bruise. Surely they’ll be memories of his touch when you wake; dark purple petals blossoming on your soft flesh at first light. He guides your movements as they become sloppier the closer you get to your release. 

It sends tingles up your spine, your chest and neck growing warmth as you edge closer to the precipice of pleasure.

No other man has made you finish before.

“Are you close?” Aemond murmurs, never stopping his attention to your clit, the subtle movement of his hips thrusting up into you, “I know you are—can feel you clenching around me.”

Your head falls back, mind foggy as you desperately grind against him, trying to ignore the burn in your hamstrings. Aemond’s hand leaves your hip crashing down against your ass with a loud smack. You yelp in surprise, head jerking forward, nails clawing into the hardened muscles of his chest. Aemond’s hand remains where he’d spanked you, fingers curling into the meat of your ass as he releases a breathless laugh; his eye flickers to where your nails dig against his pale flesh, leaving a trail of red behind as they scrape down his chest.

“Answer me,” he demands, and you quickly nod earning another stinging slap, “With your words gevie. Use those pretty lips.”

“Yes,” you practically gasp, “Yes, Aemond I’m close—”

“And you want to cum, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk, “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Aemond please—” the sentence dies with a moan as he plants both feet on the mattress, bucking his hips up against yours at an inhumane pace. Your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging open in ecstasy as all the muscles in your body tense followed by a sudden burst of euphoria pulsing through you. 

Aemond hums in satisfaction as you ride your high, blood rushing in your ears as you shake on top of him, clenching around his thick length. He’s careful to pull his thumb away from your sensitive clit as your eyes flutter open, eyebrows scrunched together at the overstimulation. But his compassion is short-lived as he hooks his arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting his body on top of yours. 

His cock is removed for merely a moment at the switch of positions before it’s stretching into your once more earning a sharp gasp. Aemond’s hand covers your mouth in an instant, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more. 

“Shhh,” he coos, placing a kiss under your ear, “Hear that?” he asks, thrusting gently into your warmth causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “Listen.”

His hips continue their gentle roll against yours, slowly stoking the pleasurable fire that is reigniting in your belly. Limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you blink rapidly trying to focus on what he’s asking. 

The music downstairs has died.

“Everyone’s going home,” he murmurs, through another kiss, “We’d best be quick. Would hate for lovely Cerelle to find her pet in such a position.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks and he chuckles, keeping his hand over your mouth as he slings your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot almost lovingly as he drags his cock in and out.

“Keep quiet,” he murmurs, the sound of silence deafening with the lack of music, “Can you do that?” He’s rather cruel with his question, delivering a particularly harsh thrust as he asks, then clicking his tongue in disapproval at your muffled moan. “Thought not.”

So his hand remains as he plows into you, the sounds of your pleasure muffled but still desperate as you claw at his shoulders. 

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Cum for me again, just like that.” His pelvis grazes against your clit, the friction only aiding in his efforts of making you reach your release once more. His violet eye scans your face before he dips to your collarbone, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth and you cum with a desperate cry against his hand. 

“There you go,�� he coos, the words breathy and broken his hips faltering as your walls clamp down around him, “Squeezing me so fucking tight—fuck.” He regains his pace with renewed enthusiasm as your walls continue to flutter around him. Aemond removes his hand from your mouth pressing it into the mattress beside your head. 

Nerves raw from the continued stimulation a tear rolls down your cheek as he chases his own release. Aemond leans forward, hot tongue darting out to catch the salty stream as he hums in satisfaction. 

“We’ll have more time next time,” he whispers the promise against your cheek, “I want to explore what other pretty noises you make.” His lips capture yours then, swallowing the whimper you release. 

“I’m very curious,” he murmurs against your lips, slinging your other leg over his shoulder, pushing your knees back beside your ears. “And I’m very thorough.” A silent scream leaves you as he slams back into you, toes curling as you cum again, vision going white with the force of it. 

Aemond’s hips meet yours a few more times and then you feel his cock pulsate inside of you before the warmth of his release fills you to the brim. You’ll need to make a trip to the pharmacy, but you’ll think about that later. He stays like that for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you as you both try to regulate your breathing. 

Aemond lowers your legs gently from around his shoulders and brushes some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod as he kisses you sweetly.

“Just fucked out,” you assure him, a pleasurable ache radiating down your thighs. Aemond hums, carefully pulling his softening cock from your warmth.

The emptiness takes your breath away as he stands. “Wait here,” he orders, walking towards Cerelle’s bathroom. He returns a moment later, washcloth in hand. You push yourself onto shaky forearms as he carefully cleans the mess between your thighs.

“Thank you,” you tell him, face burning from his attention.

“No need for thanks,” he insists, “It’s the bare minimum.”

“For you maybe.”

Aemond flicks a brow toward his hairline, his violet eye meeting yours. His expression is curious, but you sense he’s not going to push you to elaborate. You hold his gaze. 

Not tonight.

“Are you staying here?” he asks, standing when he’s done, handing you pieces of your clothes.

“I think I have to,” you answer, putting your skirt back on and glancing at the clock, “The last bus is long gone.”

Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.

“I’ll have my driver take you,” he says, unlocking his screen.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s no trouble,” he insists, placing the phone against his ear, “Cole. Ten minutes. Thank you.” He hangs up quickly leaving no time to argue.

“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly while finishing dressing. You walk to Cerelle’s large mirror and attempt to fix your sex hair. Your eyes widen in horror as you tilt your head to the side, leaning closer to get a better look. 

“Aemond,” you hiss, fingers pressing against the three red marks sure to bruise, “I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”

Aemond walks up behind you dragging his fingers down the curve of your neck and over your collarbone. Goosebumps appear in their wake. Three more red marks lead a path down to the top of your right breast. Several sizable mouth-shaped love bites. 

Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Think of them as a gift,” he tells you, the curve of his lips pressed against the skin of your neck.

His hand curves around your waist, the other slinking up to turn your face towards him. He hums appreciatively, kissing your lips, then your cheek. Down your neck to your shoulder. You glance in the mirror once more, catching his eye. 

There’s something new there. Almost possessive. 

His grip on your waist tightens and he presses his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

Outside, snow begins to fall.