#and so this is maybe different than what it used to be

[neopuppy]

Agora Hills (M)

pairing. step-dad Johnny x step-daughter female reader

genre. arrest me daddy officer AU, cop Johnny, angst, M/F, pwp, one shot

warnings. age gap(y/n: 18, Johnny: 38), y/n is manipulative(and has extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms), multiple hook ups, death mentioned, y/n dealing with the loss of her mother by acting out, peeping, boxer-brief snatching, side characters: Jaemin Jeno Jungwoo, this gets pretty nasty. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

word count. 16k+

now playing. Agora Hills//Doja Cat

smut warnings. dom/sub dynamics, masturbation, stepcest, loss of virginity, heavy on size difference, daddy kink/use of ‘daddy’ + pet names, dry(wet) humping, fingering, face fucking, face slapping, squirting, possessiveness, overstimulation, spitting, choking, handcuff use, multiple orgasms, sex in public, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, etc

—————————————-

There’s no denying how hard this year has been, each day feels more and more like a battle. It’s hard to wake up, hard to put a brush through your hair, hard to bother with putting away your laundry. Little things really, they feel meaningless, everything generally feels meaningless.

“Hey, it’s already half past noon and you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Concern rings between each word, dragging your body to the side to blink your eyes open and peer over to where he stands. There’s those same eyes that droop at the corners, never bright or optimistic anymore. They used to hold a softness, love, adoration, never toward you romantically, but still enough to make you feel special. 

You are special to him though, that’s why he’s concerned. Even when he has to look away, maybe because you remind him too much of her. Of the woman you both loved more than anything, the loss you both continue to suffer from. 

“Not hungry.” You mutter, pulling your blanket on tighter as soft fabric rubs against your hips and sets off warmth between your chest.

He sighs, head knocking on the door frame. “You know, I won’t let you deteriorate, your mom would—“

“Mom’s not here.” You say, cutting him off. A small pang of guilt hits when he nods solemnly, chin tucked to his chest without looking at you again.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Letting go of your door handle, he shrugs and shakes his head. “I’ll leave my card and cash out on the counter if you change your mind and get hungry later. Have to get ready for work, I’ll be home late so don’t.. worry about me.”

You’d be lying if you said you won’t worry. You always worry. Always fear the thought of receiving a late night call that he didn’t make it, that he’s on his deathbed hooked up to life support leaving his fate in your hands. Instead you nod and barely raise your fingers out of your blanket to wave goodbye.

It’s always the same routine when he has these night shifts. Pester you about eating, about getting some fresh air, doing something productive with your free vacation time, just being a damn nuisance you don’t want to deal with. You have to get through it, act like you don’t care too much, keep up a calm facade despite the anxious way your heart begins to race.

It’s been weeks of planning, trying to figure out what it would take to make your sweet nurturing step-father finally snap. 

Jaemin: Swing by to get you tonight around 10?

Yeah. That should be late enough, and from the clues you’ve gathered, you know exactly where to go.

The sound of the shower turning on from the master bedroom alerts your ears, jumping out of bed and into your slippers to tiptoe down the hall and twist your mom’s key through the lock to allow yourself in. It’s lucky you’d found it mixed in with a bunch of her items, making it easy to pocket and hide in case you’d ever need it.

He’s already inside of the shower by the time you’ve rounded the corner and crouched down by the connected bathroom door. It gets steamy, but the glass still clears up enough to take in his long muscular legs, sleek lean back, thick arms curling up to run shampoo through his hair.

It’s different today, having to cover your mouth to hold in your gasp when you spot him leaned back against the wall. His eyes are shut tight, sharp eyebrows furrowed together frustratedly, arm jerking furiously. The fog clears up along the glass with each hit of water, making the view of his large hand stroking up and down his length vividly clear. 

To your surprise, he never brings anyone home. Many would consider him to be a young handsome eligible bachelor still, a good career, attractive face, fit body. You certainly wouldn’t be shocked if he decided to start dating again. The sad truth is you often find your step-father still mourning the loss you both took. He cries through the night, wakes up with swollen eyes and dark circles, he plays it off and puts on a smile for your sake but his pain is evident. 

It’s hard to watch him struggle. The way he pulls on his cock seems painful, writing his internal guilt with each whimper and groan that squeezes from his tucked in lips. He doesn’t want you to hear him, he doesn’t want to experience pleasure through his pain. Doesn't think he deserves it.

You wonder what brought this on, what set him off enough to finally break the silent celibacy pact you assume he’s held himself accountable to. Today’s different from the way he barely touches his cock whenever washing suds off his body, scrubbing himself clean in such a robotic way without any expression. 

Sliding onto your knees, you have to adjust the oversized boxers hanging from your hips, rolling them up tighter to squeeze around your middle. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his underwear going missing yet, hasn’t had the nerve to question you about the different items from his closet that he can’t recall seeing for weeks now. It’d be too weird to suspect his step-daughter of invading his privacy and personal belongings while at work. 

Johnny’s always been too nice to ever think you could do anything wrong. Not you, not with the angelic side of yourself you grace him with. It’s almost too easy messing with him, rolling around on his freshly washed sheets when he leaves for work, spraying his cologne on your pillows to feel closer to him.

He won’t say anything even if he notices a familiar print of his underwear peeking out from your pajama bottoms.

“Shit.” You murmur, pushing back on your legs to inconspicuously crawl your way out before he can exit the bathroom. Too fast to sneak out to take in the evident failure pulling his cheeks down into a frown.

Johnny’s lonely, he’s real lonely, and you can fix that. You want to fix that.

A knock rasps down your door minutes later, halting your hand from traveling past the waistband of your stolen boxers after burrowing back inside of your bed. “I’ll be heading out now, if you need anything I’m only a phone call away.” 

Staying silent for a moment, you decide to get up and listen at the door for his breathing. Keeping your movements light enough to not make the floor creak as you make your way over. His breath comes out evenly, fingers tapping a couple of times along the doorbed before he lets out a quiet sigh and turns to leave. 

It’s better for him to believe that you went back to sleep, lessen any possible suspicion, cover your ass if you ever fuck up and accidentally leave evidence. He’s too good at his job.

The cop car stays parked across the street from your house most days when he’s working a lot, not helping the ongoing joke you hear about how your step-dad does that on purpose to ward away the men who want to date you. For the most part it worked too, living by his rules to focus on your education throughout high school and not waste your time fucking around with teenage boys.

Times have changed though, and with this year long break you both agreed would be best for your mental health, you have gotten bored.

Beyond bored. 

Sneaking over to your window, you watch as he takes one last glance back at the house before getting inside of the car. He’s handsome as ever in that stupid pig uniform, the halster cinching his waist in further really accentuating his build.

Jaemin: Your step-dad’s not roaming the streets tonight by chance? 

Watching his car drive off you reply with an angel emoji, exclaiming how excited you are to get out.

“I’ll see you later Johnny.”

—————————————-

“Didn’t think you’d ever agree to going out with me.” Jaemin grins from ear to ear. Rounding his car to get the passenger door opened for you. 

“Don’t be so modest, you know I’m into you.” You say flirtatiously, settling into the car seat. His eyebrows raise, grabbing onto the roof of the car to duck his head inside. 

“You seem to be into a lot of guys.”

That’s true, you can’t lie about that. Opting to offer him a coy smile, you shrug and tap the tip of his nose. “And you’re at the top of that list.”

Scrunching his nose back at you, he nods acceptingly. “Not only that, but your dad—“

“Step dad.” You’re fast to correct, clearing your throat. “He’s not my father.”

“Right, that, well..” Jaemin stands up straight, cooling his hands off on his jeans from the hot car roof. “Isn’t he like, a cop?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Thought you told Haechan last semester that you’re not allowed to date..” walking around, he gets into the driver seat and reaches over to buckle your seatbelt. “Didn’t you say that’s his rule? Your step dad?”

“You sure do have a lot of questions, Jaemin.”

“I’m not trying to piss off a cop.” He chuckles, gripping onto the steering wheel. “Silly if you ask me. You’re 18, he can’t expect you to stay abstinent until marriage.”

“Well he does.” 

“Oh.”

“And I don’t care.” Leaning over the middle, you grip onto his thigh. “Right now all I care about is you and me.”

Jaemin’s mouth falls open with a hidden smile, eyeing your hand inching up his thigh. “Someone’s eager.”

“Let’s go to Agora Hills.”

“What??” Snapping his head up, he stares at you with blown out wide eyes. “Oh I thought—“

“You thought wrong, let’s go.”

Slowly nodding, he releases the brake to pull out of your street. Shaking off his shock as he pulls onto the freeway toward the notorious spot up in the mountains. “Well, if I had known, I wouldn't have made a reservation for us at that new Italian pizza spot.”

“Not really hungry,” you shrug, gripping at his inner thigh. “Not for food anyway.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows raise all the way up, a grin spreading on his face as he steps down on the gas pedal and switches to the fast lane. “Don’t think I’ve ever made it out here this fast.”

Directing him to park off in the more secluded area, you smirk and push your way past him to the backseat. “Let’s not waste time.” You say with a wink over your shoulder at him. “I’m so wet already.”

“Fuck.” He practically howls, using the door to get out and climb into the backseat with you. “You really weren’t playing with me with all those slutty pictures, huh?”

“Want you so much.” You say huskily, climbing onto his lap before he can fully even settle into the backseat. “All I can think about.”

Jaemin’s state of shock can’t leave him fast enough, groping his palms up and down your sides. He grabs onto your hips and squeezes, hissing between his teeth. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Been waiting for you to be legal ever since I saw you last summer at my little bro’s party.”

That’s when it all started. Last summer when Jisung invited you to his graduation party. The group of guys you’d come to know as his older brother and college friends couldn’t take their perverse eyes off of you. The appeal of your innocence had struck a nerve for every single one of them, desperate to stay in touch with the forbidden fruit they knew better than to dare to take a bite of.

“You’ve been so good,” you hum, grabbing onto his bare biceps. Gripping the smooth soft skin between your digits. “So patient, waiting for me like such a good boy.”

Jaemin’s head falls back against the seat, front teeth exposed between his plump pink lips. Thick eyelashes fanning heavily over his lust-filled gaze. “You still a virgin?” He questions curiously, sliding his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. “Never heard a virgin talk like that..”

“I watch a lot of porn.” You say cheekily, running the tip of your nose against his. “And I’m so fucking horny.”

Jaemin’s throat bobs, hips jerking up under yours. “Fuck, you’re seriously something.”

To reaffirm that, you roll your hips down against his. Building up a fast and hard rhythm against his crotch. “Didn’t Jisung tell you about me? I gave him his first blow job.”

Letting out a howling laugh, he cups over your bra and squeezes your breasts. “Of course you did, that little fucker can’t believe he never mentioned it.”

“So greedy, wanted to keep me allll to himself.” You moan, wrapping around his built shoulders. “Fuck, that feels good.” Grinding down your hips faster, you fall into a rapid bouncing motion. Assisted by his large palms clutching your hips to rock you up and down his clothed hard-on even faster.

“Bet you can cum like this, nasty slut.” He pants between his teeth. Hammering his hips up to meet your middle with each slam against his cock. “Fuck you’re really dripping baby.”

The flimsy pajama shorts you snuck out in hardly do anything to conceal the thin material of underwear plastered to your cunt. Soaked through and pressed directly against Jaemin’s sweats as your shorts move to one side and fully expose your panties. “Making a mess all over me.”

Biting down hard on your lip, you nod against his forehead and swallow down throaty whimpers. “More more, gimme more!”

Jaemin slinks down into the backseat more, wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. He pulls you to his chest and rams his hips up faster. The sound of your covered bodies slamming down on each other fills the car between groans and stuck inhales of breath. Digging your nails into his shoulders as the friction builds and rubs your underwear against your clit painfully. “Ah! T-that hurts!” You whine, not stopping your lower half from fucking dowm against the material of his drenched sweats. “You’re so big!”

“Fuck, ah yeah.” He grunts, reaching lower to bury his hands inside the back of your shorts and grab onto your ass. “G-gonna fill you up so fucking good baby. Make you take my cock like a real whore.”

“Ah, please please.” Scrabbling at his chest, you circle your hips down with rabid need. Pressing your clothed clit right against his throbbing length to reach your orgasm. Sucking at his bottom lip, he concentrates on rolling you up and down on his size. Jerking up each time your pulse against his cock.

“Fuck yeah baby, just like that.” He nearly drools, shoving your shirt up with one hand to place his palm against your stomach. “Faster!”

Getting his other hand on your lower back, he ruts you against him vigorously. Mouth hung open as pre-cum drips out of his cock and makes his boxers sticky. 

“Ah!” Falling against him, you tremble and wrap your weak hold onto his thick biceps. “I’m—I’m—“

Jaemin sits the both of you up straight again, jabbing his cock between your ruined panties. “Good fucking whore.”

“Fuck, ahh!”

Shaky hands run up his shoulders to his neck. Latching your lips onto his for a kiss that turns hungry within seconds. Seeking out each other’s taste through your release spilling out onto his groin. He licks at every crevice, sucking your tongue to steal your moan as he continues to fuck your clothed cunt after you’ve finished.

“S’too—“

“Shut the fuck up.” He spits, more aggressive as he slaps his hands down on your ass and throws you down against his cock. “Make me cum, virgin slut.”

Lights blare into the rearview window followed by the sound of rubble and rocks under rubber tires coming to a stop nearby. The bang of a door and heavy footsteps play between the sounds of your heavy panting, mixed moans and tongues gliding against each other. 

“Shit babe, stop. It’s the cops.” He says in a breathy panic, gripping onto your hips with extra strength to stop your grinding. “Fuck, what the fuck.”

“Open up.” A tap tap tap hits against the backseat window, freezing both of you in place. “Police.”

“Shit, shit, oh my God.” Shoving you off, he quickly readjusts his hardened length. Swiping a palm down his face to clean off the sweat dripping down from his hairline. Sitting up and clearing his throat, he rolls down the window with a shaky smile. “Officer.”

A familiar face pops into view, bending down with his arms rested against the car window. “Do you know that you’re on private prop—“

“Hi daddy.”

Johnny’s face goes near white when you sit up behind Jaemin’s broad frame. Speech cut off by his loosened jaw hanging his mouth open.

“Ah, fuck.” Jaemin whispers under his breath, scratching at his neck nervously. “Officer, I’m sorry, I didn’t see any signs.. it’s so dark out here.”

“Get out of the car.” Johnny points at you, directing you toward the door at your side. “Now.”

“Okay.” Hiding a smile, you press to Jaemin’s side to leave a kiss against his ear. “Sorry about this, I’ll text you.”

Too afraid to speak, he nudges you away and frantically nods. “Just go, oh my god.”

“Ugh.” Rolling your eyes, you slide out of the backseat to be greeted by your step-father half-sat on the trunk of Jaemin’s car. “Didn’t know you parole the hills too.”

“I don’t normally.” He says much too calmly for your liking. “Officer that usually does has been on leave because his wife just gave birth. That’s why I’ve been working more this last week.”

“Oh.” You knew that, of course. Having stood in the hallway sneakily while he went over his extra hours with his lead. “I had no idea this was private property.”

Pushing off the car, he hooks onto your elbow. “Let’s get you home.”

“What?” Ripping out of his hold, you shove him away. “I’m on a date.”

“It’s 1 in the morning.” Deep lines resembling whiskers appear on his cheeks, sucking at the backs of his teeth. “Now,” opening up the passenger seat door to his cop car, he tips his chin toward you. “Get in.”

“Such bullshit.” You mutter, plopping into the cop car petulantly. 

“Language.” Slamming the door shut, he rounds to the driver side, tapping the drunk of Jaemin’s car. “Get out of here boy.”

“Yes sir!” He calls out, running back to the front of the car to get his engine warmed up.

“Pussy.” You scoff to yourself, turning your torso to glare at your step-father. “Thanks for ruining my night.”

“Last I checked, you’re not even supposed to be out this late.” Reaching over to click in your seatbelt, he begins to drive off. “Since when do you sneak out past curfew? Is this something new I should look forward to now that you’re an adult?”

Johnny’s jaw twitches, tapping along the steering wheel without taking his eyes off the road. Tension between the passenger and driver seat grows thicker by the second, forcing your hands to ball up into tight fists.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask quietly, keeping your gaze lowered to your balled up hands. 

“No, I’m not mad.” He sighs, gripping the wheel tighter. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Clearing his throat, he hums and squints. “Are you dating him?”

“No.”

“Right.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” He huffs, exiting the freeway that takes you back home. “You snuck out behind my back to meet some guy that isn’t your boyfriend, why would I be mad.”

“Well you have no right to be mad, you’re not my fath—“

“I’m not your father.” Johnny finishes for you, pulling into the same empty spot on the street out in front of your house where he always parks the cop car when he’s working overtime. “But I am your legal guardian.”

“I’m eighteen.” 

“I’m aware, you haven’t gone a day without reminding me.” He smiles softly, turning to face you. “Listen, I’m happy to see you out of your room, living life. Even if it means finding you at Agora Hills of all places with some boy.”

“He’s 21.” You mention to annoy him, unable to catch any sign of change in his calm expression. 

“Yes, I saw his drivers license.” He informs, tight-lipped. “You still live under my roof and therefore must adhere to my rules.”

“I don’t want to.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you slump into the passenger seat. “Your rules are dated and overbearing.”

“Okay, which of my rules would you like to negotiate to change?”

“A ten o’clock curfew is ridiculous, I’m not a child anymore Johnny.”

“It is a bit late right now.” Motioning to the time on the car's dash, he runs a hand through his hair. A anxious habit of tugging at the ends. “How about midnight?”

“That’s still too early.”

“That’s two extra hours.” He says firmly. “And if you’re going to be out at these late hours with 21 year old men, I’d like to meet them first. For your safety, I’m not asking for anything outlandish here.”

“I already told you, he’s just some guy I’m fucking.” Sitting up, you make sure to emphasize the end of your sentence. “Well, would be fucking right now if you hadn’t interrupted.”

Johnny visibly swallows, tucking his bottom lip under the top row of his teeth to not respond abruptly with any anger. “You can’t expect me to be a virgin until I get married, Johnny. I’m an adult now, I have to go out and explore! It’s part of growing up!”

“Midnight, and no later. If you plan to stay out any later, I at least want you to come back home where I know you’re safe. And if I’ve already met him, he can even come over.”

“To my room?”

“With the door open.”

“Come on man!” Smacking the compartment between you, you lean closer to his face. “Would you rather me run out to Agora Hills every night behind your back to get railed in the backseat of some guy’s car? Or at least come home where you know my whereabouts?”

Pursing his lips tight, he leans away from you. “I have to get back to work, please, don’t sneak out again. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.”

Giving him a look that could kill, you grab onto the door handle to exit. 

“By the way,” he looks over you much too fast. Turning away, showing off his perfect sharp jawline. “You can do much better than some 21 year old loser that’s going to take you out to Agora Hills of all places.”

“Whatever.” Shoving the door open with too much force, you kick it shut like a total brat. “You’re ruining my life!” Storming to the front door, you glare at him over your shoulder for one more look.

Fuck he always looks so criminally good in his stupid uniform. Another night with your vibrator attached to your clit for hours until you go near blind would have to get you through this, again.

Flipping him off, you slam the door shut behind you and make the walk of shame to your bedroom with clenched thighs. Arguing with your step-dad always managed to get your blood boiling, heat churning through your stomach. He never argues back, never raises his voice at you, hardly ever even displays much of a reaction.

It’s sickening how watching this big hunk of an authoritarian man act so weak with you always gets you going. Crawling back to your bed, you search for the dildo you purchased using his account to ensure he’d see it in his purchase history. Johnny never said anything, he never does, practically allows you to walk all over him. Especially ever since your mother passed away. As fucked up as it is to take advantage of his kind heart, you can’t feel bad. 

Turning to face your window, you wait for the sound of his engine to exit the street. Sighing to yourself as the buzz between your thighs gets louder and you turn on the highest setting. 

You’re going to need it after that.

—————————————-

“So what is this? I thought you were dating Jaemin.”

“Dating?” You question with raised eyebrows full of sarcasm. 

“You know what I mean..” he remarks equally as sarcastically. Leaning against the hood of his car. His baby really. 

Everyone knows about Jeno’s legendary sports car that he spends hours working on. The exterior beams shinier than any cheek highlighter could ever with the amount of time he spends waxing it. Endless summers of working odd jobs that hired underage teenagers with a permit for some chump change finally garnered him enough to set down a decently size down payment. 

The ridiculous sports car zooming around your town always seemed to piss off the local police, most specifically your step-father.

“I want you to take me to Agora Hills.” You say cheerfully, tapping at his thick arms crossed over his chest. 

“Pfft, I don’t go up there.”

“Why not?” You pout, making him roll his eyes.

“So your daddy can prowl my ass and slap me with a ticket? No thanks.” Jeno scoffs, grabbing your wrists before you’re able to smack his biceps again.

“Don’t call him that.” Unable to tug yourself out of his grip, you lean in closer to his chest. “He’s my step-dad.”

“Narc is what he is, I swear that dick head pulls me over at least every other week.” Jeno grunts, tugging your arms down to pull you closer to him, chest to chest. “We can go to my place, sneak through the back. My parents won’t know you’re there.”

“Nooo, I wanna go to Agora Hills.” You whine, continuing to pout with a stomp of your foot. “Wanna suck you off in the backseat of your fuck-mobile.”

Jeno’s eyebrow raises, half-laughing with a curious glint in his gaze. “Never heard that one before.”

“You’ve also never given me a taste before.” With a cunning smirk, you press in closer. Teasing his chin with a flick of your tongue. “Stop being so selfish.”

“What’s with you and that spot? I don’t get the big deal.”

“Every girl wants to lose their virginity up at Agora Hills.”

Jeno seems awestruck for a moment, nudging his nose against your cheek. “You’re a virgin?”

“Did Jaemin tell you that I’m not?”

A pleased smirk slowly creeps onto his face, lowering his gaze to your lips. “If every girl dreams of getting fucked out there, I can only imagine how often you dream about getting fucked in the backseat of my car.”

“Let’s go.”

—————————————-

“I like your lips.” Jeno leans back against his seat after parking. Slowly dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lip gloss lathered mouth. “Bet they’d look really nice, all swollen and red, wrapped up pretty around my cock.”

Smoothing a hand down his stomach, he runs his bony long digits down the zipper of his jeans. “Do you like sucking cock?”

He’s already hard, rubbing over the bulge that’s pressed against his crotch. Lazily teasing at himself as you check him out and your eyes bounce over his lower half. “I haven’t.. done it too much.”

“Pftt..” his tongue clicks, tracing the outline of his member along the material of his pants. “That’s a shame.. I like girls with experience.”

“I like to learn.” You say abruptly, dropping your chin shyly. “I may not be experienced but you can teach me how to do whatever you like..”

“Are you asking me to train you?” He asks smuggly, smirking to one side. “Train you on how to suck my cock?”

“If that’s what you want..”

Jeno seems pleased by your response, eyes bouncing and sparkling with intrigue. Seemingly enjoying how embarrassed and humiliated you’ve become from his questions. “Show me your tits.” He says flatly, leaning deeper into his seat. 

Anything Jeno says to you right now has to be done. You’re here with a mission and it’s to make sure you get caught, even if it means taking off your top. Throwing it aside, you sit up on the passenger seat on your knees. Dragging your hands up your stomach to cup under your bra-clad breasts. Shoving your cleavage up together, bouncing your perky mounds of fat for his enjoyment.

Jeno reaches out to land a slap on one of your tits, humming and moving your hand out of his way to cradle one of your breasts. Sweeping his thumb down, he presses roughly against your nipple. Smoothing his fingers over your chest to squeeze and pinch the hardened bud through the fabric of your bra. “You have great tits.” He notes, all while focused on your chest. His other hand reaches out so that he can massage both of your breasts. “Nice and big.”

It’s hot in his car now, arching your back forward for him to enjoy your chest more. Nipples tugged at, lowering the cups of your bra underneath your tits so that he can properly flick and squeeze at them. Underwear grows uncomfortably damp pressed against your core, gripping your thighs together harshly to stop yourself from bursting out a tunnel of hot liquid. “Like how I play with your pretty titties?”

“Uh-huh..” you mutter quietly, looking down at how large and veiny his hands look while squeezing your fleshy fat. Digging the tips of his fingers into your tits as if you’re some type of stress ball.

“Bet they’d look so good milking my cock.” He hisses between his teeth. “You wet for me now, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you nod eagerly. Throat dry, voice shaky to hold in your moans. He continues to pinch, rolling your nipples between his fingers.

“Bet your wet pussy’s throbbing, aching to feel my cock.” He says, hands dropping back to his crotch. Inhales of air fight your dry throat, watching as his hand drags down his zipper once again. Tented large against his tight jeans, he sits up straight and slowly begins to free himself; sucking in a deep breath as he gingerly pulls his cock out.

Heat flushes down your chest, struggling to take your next breath. He strokes once, twice, three times to spread around the precum gathered at his slit. Veiny cock pulsating against his palm with each drag, the glistening head so flushed it looks near red. 

“You’re really.. fucking big.” You drool, spit pooled all around your tongue. “I always thought you would be, with how cocky you are.”

“You talk too much, you know that?” Jeno scoffs, flicking your chin. “Show me that mouth is useful for something more than yapping.” Pinching your chin, he shoves his pants down lower and settles back with his hands behind his head. “You wanted to suck my dick? Start sucking, and be careful to not use your teeth.”

Dropping your jaw open with a thrilled nod, you bend over to get your mouth positioned above his erect cock. Drooling for a taste with your tongue lolled out over your bottom lip.

Gripping around the base of his size, he slides his other hand into the back of your hair and grips tightly. “Keep those pretty lips open nice and wide for me baby. Lay your cheek down on my thigh like this.” Pulling on your hair, he angles your face to the side so that he can watch the tip of his dick drag along your upper lip. Smearing your glittering lip gloss all over his already shiny cockhead. 

“You look so fucking cute like this.” He grins, biting back a groan when you start to flick your tongue out against his slit. “Wanna see you take every inch.”

The angles not the best for your neck, especially positioned in his car to not jab your stomach with his shift. You open wide for him to begin feeding his length inside of your mouth. Eyebrows furrowing once he gets a few inches in and you feel a painful stretch pull at your lips. Pushing in past the gagging sounds that reverberate around him, he aids the glide with a press of his hand to the back of your neck. “Come on pretty, take all of it.”

Already taking in loud deep breaths through his nose, he grits his teeth and releases the base of his size. Sliding the last few inches in despite how you choke and tighten up around him. It feels too good to stop now, fucking spit out past your mouth with his thick cock filling you up. The tip meeting his palm laid out on the back of your neck. “Sucking dick like a pornstar.” He rasps. Deep tone falling even lower, husky and thick with horny lust.

Gathering a bundle of your hair, he pushes against your stuffed mouth once more. Testing out how much your gag reflex can handle with half of his dick already resting heavy in the back of your throat. The extra gurgle of spit that spills out around him allows his hips to speed up and thrust in and out. Using the extra lubrication to thrust again and again and again. Holding you down roughly as a throaty deep groan exits his lips and you suffocate on his cock. Lurching around the massive intrusion, flailing your hands and slapping his thighs.

“Holy fuck that’s so good!” Jeno cries out. Lifting his hips off of the car seat as he bottoms out inside of your mouth once again. Tears spring free from your eyes, panting heavily through your nose. The biggest cock you’ve ever swallowed fucks your throat hard enough to leave it’s shape behind. The heady scent of tangy ball sweat and soap fills your head, forgetting that you’re here to piss off your step-father as your hair gets pulled at roughly once more.

Wet gagging fills up the car, the sound of skin clashing against skin emitting with the forceful thrusts he delivers. Cum-filled sack slapped against your cheek each time further solidifying what a whore you are right now. 

Jeno throws his head back letting out another howled moan. Holding your head down and grinding his cock in your throat with circling hips. Agonizing seconds go on like minutes, and all you can do is swallow and heave around him. Making the biggest mess of drool and tears beneath his ass. The resistance to gag again becomes weaker the longer he keeps you there, nose pressed up against the stubble of pubic hair left from shaving a few days ago. 

Finally hauling your mouth off pours out an obscene amount of spit. Drenching his thighs and groin with tons of it as you continue to hold in your gag and cough, gasping for air with wide teary eyes. “J-Jeno—“

“What a fucking good cock slut you are.” He sneers, brutally grasping your cheeks. His fingers dig into the hollows, shaking your head side to side. “Tried to lie to me, sucking dick like it’s oxygen.” He scoffs, releasing your cheeks with a wet slap to your face. Not too hard but enough to shock you, turn your neck to one side. “If I’d known you could take cock like this..”

He whistles, cupping your face with both hands to look at him. “Look so pretty like this.” Picking the wads of spit clinging to your chin, his palm rubs all over your face. Mascara stained down your cheeks, lips dried of gloss and swollen from painfully stretching out.

Smacking at your cheek again, he pulls your bottom lip open for your tongue to hang out. Kissing at the backs of his teeth as he presses down the center of your tongue. “Fucking nasty.” 

Without another second to waste, he shoves your head back down and kicks his hips up. Lining his cock up to your mouth with ease, no guided direction needed. Fucking deep into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat again. Swallowing around his cock sliding through your wet mouth, pulsating on your tongue, trapping your air to the point of feeling lightheaded. His hands slap down on the back of your head, pushing his hips up with violent thrusts.

“Throat taking me so fucking good.” Jeno’s teeth grind. Hips falling back down to the seat with wet splats only to thrusts even rougher into your mouth. Heavy sack slapping your face harder than before. “Slutty throat, just another hole for me to use and ruin.”

A loud broken groan leads to him pulling you off, smacking his fat wet cock down on your cheek. Shoving your messed up hair out of your face to begin dragging his long girth down the center of your nose.

Lights streak through the car window, an alarm ripping you both out of your horny daze. Jerking through your spine as you cough under his length and squint up at the bright’s illuminating his face.

“Fuck. Shit. Get off of me!” Jeno curses, shoving himself away from you with his hands pushing against the backseat. “I fucking knew I shouldn’t have come up here with you.”

Your step-dad’s timing is really something. Not that you planned everything perfectly to make sure he always finds you before anything can actually escalate and go too far between you and whatever guy you’ve managed to lure up here.

No, that would be diabolical wouldn’t it? Your step-father would be the last to believe that any of this could possibly be on purpose. He loves you too much to believe negatively of you. That’s what eats away at you sometimes. He’s just too damn nice to you to the point that it drives you insane. Because you want him—no, you need him to be anything but nice to you. Your mother would have scolded him for spoiling you all of the time, for accepting what an insolent brat you’ve been ever since her funeral.

Knock knock knock taps at the backseat window on Jeno’s side. You ignore it and continue to search for your top, knowing this is likely where your night ends.

“It’s your dad.” He says under his breath, pushing down the window button to open. “Officer.”

“Lee.” He sounds calm and easy as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary, no tension or frustration there. It’s infuriating, he should sound fucking pissed. His head pops into view, leaning over the car window with a soft smile and nod in your direction. “Hello, again.”

“Daddy.” You smile coquettishly. Wiping your chin off with the back of your hand and leaning over Jeno to get closer to him. “Is there a problem, officer?”

“Get out of the car.” Johnny says deeply. Tone falling into a serious one before tapping the hood of the vehicle and pulling away to stand up straight. “Right now.”

Jeno snickers quietly, nodding his chin for you to exit his car. “Whatever.” You mumble, using extra force to slam his backseat door shut. 

“It’s 1am, you know?” Your step-father asks, eyes dragging down your frame. His eyebrows furrowed together as he takes in how crumpled and strewn your t-shirt looks. How obscenely tiny and tight your shorts are. How he’s never seen your eyes and lips this swollen before. The light makeup you had on earlier ruined and smeared down your cheeks. “What did I tell you about coming out here?”

“Oh come on, you want me to be the only freak in this town that never visits Agora Hills? So I can be ostracized by every girl when I start school up again? What if I want to join a sorority?!” You complain, huffing past him with a roll of your eyes. “God, you seriously expect me to be known as some damn loser too depressed to ever go out ever since my mom died.”

Johnny grabs a hold of your arm before you reach the passenger door of his vehicle, spinning you around to face him. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried the other kids in school will judge you for being.. sad?”

“I’m not a kid!” Shouting at him, you stomp angrily. Further proving how immature and volatile you still handle your emotions. “I’m eighteen!!”

Taking a deep breath and a step back, he nods and releases your arm. “Yes, I know.” His eyebrows wrinkle together, rubbing at his cheeks hard enough to drag the aged skin down. Pulling at his face with a frustrated sigh. “I’m doing my best.”

“You think you are? You think this is your best?” You poke at him, stepping into his space to look up at him. Having to crane your neck to keep direct eye contact. “You can’t even bring yourself to punish me daddy.”

Johnny staggers for a moment, cheeks hallowed, droopy eyes darkening for a flash of a second. 

“I—I don’t want to punish you.” He whispers. Dropping his hands down to his hips defeatedly. “You’ve been through enough.”

“Then maybe you’re not fit to be a father. Certainly not my father.” You say snidely, turning your back to him to get inside of his cop car.

Johnny watches you fold your arms over your chest, slamming your back into the passenger seat. Shivering at the sound of the car door rattling shut from the forceful impact you use to shut it. If he was stronger, he’d be able to say something, to do something about your behavior. 

Instead he opens the passenger door to open up the glove compartment to retrieve a pack of tissues. He won’t ask anything, he won’t even speculate or allow himself to imagine what could have ruined your mascara like this. He dabs your cheeks clean instead, leaving the rest of the tissues on your lap for you to use before buckling your seatbelt in and rounding the car to drive you home.

You’re right, he’s not fit to be a father, especially not a widowed one who's been deprived of the touch of another for months now. He can’t even figure out how to deal with his own morbid thoughts, the sad empty black hole that’s formed in his heart. How is he supposed to do what’s best for you? And what is best for you exactly...

Can’t be the thoughts he shoves aside that keep him up at night. The quiet things he envisions when his eyes finally fall shut. The way he buries his face into your basket of dirty laundry, spends extra time folding everything up for you just so he can vividly imagine what you’d look like in all of the different pairs of underwear he washed for you.

He’s only surprised the spirit of your mother hasn’t stricken him to suffer an eternity in purgatory yet..

—————————————-

“Oh, you’re not working today?”

Johnny’s head lifts from the couch, his sleepy eyes blinking a few times before unblurring the image of you in nothing but his boxers and a baggy old tshirt of his.

“I’m off today.” He mutters quietly, tight-lipped as he looks you over again. “Where did you find that?”

Making your way to the couch, you pull on the hem of his shirt. Scrunching up the worn down fabric between your fingers and tugging. “Oh this? I think it got mixed in with my laundry a few months back.” With a smile you plop down right next to him. Avoiding the massive empty space on the couch you could have taken up, instead nestling into his side. “What should we watch?”

He frowns, not wanting to question why you’re wearing a pair of his tattered checkered print boxers. The same way your mother often would in the past, along with his old band shirts.. 

You probably just miss her is all. He misses her too, every hour and minute of his life. Not that seeing you resemble her almost down to a tea makes him feel any better, only consumed by guilt as he steals another look at you.

“Dad?” You speak up, wrapping around his arm to alert him. “You’re zoning out again.”

Again, yes. He does that a lot these days.

“Sorry, uhm, your choice sweetie. Been working so much these days I’m not even sure what’s new on tv.”

“Good thing for you, all I do is watch TV.” You grin, cuddling into his side more. Draping your head and neck along his shoulder.

Johnny’s used to it, you’ve always been rather touchy with him. He doesn’t mind it at all, always took pride in how comfortable you felt around him. He’d never want to make you feel any other way. More than honored to be referred to as your dad when you introduce him, he hums and smiles. Leaning back against the couch cushion with his half shut eyes. “Nothing too scary, I don’t want you staying up having nightmares all night again.”

“Oh come onnnn dad I was like thirteen!!” You whine, slapping his chest. “Besides, you’d let me sleep with you if I got scared, right? Just like back then.” You add with a sneaking smile, nuzzling in even closer.

Your mom had seemed slightly annoyed back then when you came into their room crying during the middle of the night. You’d climbed between them in bed and curled into Johnny’s front, wrapping your small arms around him. He’d never known what it was like to be a father until he had the chance to help raise you. Even now he’s not sure he’s really doing this right..

Ignoring how warm and small you feel pressed to his side, he clears his throat.

“That boy last night..” he says softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Do you like this one?”

A playful glint in your gaze finds his look of confusion. Directing the remote toward his face, you smile. “I like something about him a whole lot, more than any other boy.”

“Is he—this one, your boyfriend?”

“None of them are my boyfriend.” Turning toward him to face him better, you lay a hand against his chest. “None of them really deserve to be my boyfriend.”

It’s normal to experiment and make experiences to learn what you like, what you’re looking for. He has to bite his tongue to keep that to himself. It’s not actually any of his business who you end up forming a relationship with; not unless that boy wants to make it his business. Pursing his lips, he nods firmly, changing his focus back to the tv to drop this topic.

“Besides, Jaemin, Jeno.. they’re not exactly my type.” You add with a flirty tone. “Like Lana sang, I got a taste for men that’s older.”

Johnny’s spine freezes at that, not wanting to engage you anymore. “Should probably find something to watch before it gets too late.”

“What about you daddy?” You practically squeak, crawling your digits up his chest. “You haven’t tried to date at all since mom passed. I wouldn’t judge you for dating someone younger.. I know men have needs.”

Taking a quick hold of your hand, he has to control himself from crushing your palm in his. A serious gaze silently warning you before clearing his throat. “I really have no interest in dating anyone else. Losing your mother has been one of the biggest most unforeseeable losses I’ve ever experienced. No one will ever match up to her for me.”

A look of disappointment paints across your face, turning your lips downward as you slowly nod. “No one?”

“No one.” Johnny says between gritted teeth, releasing your hand. “Let’s watch something already, alright? I need to catch up on sleep tonight.”

The same solemn pout stays on your face even after finding a movie to watch. Some cheesy romcom that Johnny can’t help to think your mom would have loved, you always would spend your weekends watching them together with her. Now you only have him, it’s only normal that you’re acting up more than usual. You always were a good girl, never disobeyed your mother’s rules..

He can’t let you walk down the wrong path, it’s not what she would have wanted for you. Getting caught in the backseat of random boys cars up at damn Agora Hills of all places. She’d be let down, likely punish you and ban your phone privileges for weeks..

He can’t do that to you though. Not when he’s hurting this much and knows inside of his heart that you can only be hurting so much more.

At least he’ll be able to keep an eye on you if you do sneak out there again anytime soon. The one privilege he has over your life as a cop on duty, to at least stop you from trespassing and breaking any laws. 

These thoughts riddle him more and more to the point of exhaustion. Lightly snoring halfway into the movie before the lead actors can even share their first kiss. The sound of his huffed breaths between soft snores catches your ear, gingerly picking your head up from his shoulder to look at him.

He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. High sculpted cheekbones, beautiful long brown eyes, his straight nose and jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. And his lips, his thick pouty lips that linger through your mind day and night. They tease and taunt each time he talks to you, whether he’s tucking in his bottom lip or speaking with extra emphasis on his juicy pout. You can’t stop dreaming about what they’d feel like against yours, how soft and yet powerful a kiss from your step-dad could be..

Hovering your fingers near the tendrils of hair that have fallen over his forehead, you slowly ease them back. Stroking through his scalp softly much like your mother used to when Johnny would come home late from working, exhausted and resting on her lap, lulled to sleep so easily. 

He can’t really believe that no one will ever peak his curiosity or make his heart pound again? He’s too young to live so miserably.. to never love again. A push in the right direction is all he needs, someone to set off alarms inside of him that have stayed dormant for months. If anyone can make him happy again, it’s you.

You can fulfill that emptiness in his chest, bring butterflies back to life in his stomach, give him a sense of worth to take care of somebody else..

He stirs after a bit, blinking slowly, reaching to wipe drool away from the corners of his lips. Tired droopy eyes failing to stay open when he sees you still by him. “Fell asleep, sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re tired. We can go to bed.”

“Sorry.” He mouths again, groaning as he sits up and you latch onto his arm to help him stand.

“You don’t have to apologize for being tired. You’ve been working really late.”

“Mmm… we both have been up too late these days, haven’t we?” Johnny stops at his bedroom door. Leaning against the wall with a stern raised eyebrow. “Should I expect to catch you out past curfew again?”

“Curfew doesn’t matter anymore daddy.” You smile sweetly, poking his chest. “I’m an adult now.”

He frowns for only a second, looking away as a deep exhausted sigh exits his mouth. “Might be corny to hear, but you’ll always be a little sweet girl to me.”

He isn’t watching to see the sheer look of disappointment dragging your smile away. Having to bite down on your teeth to contain your annoyance, you force an amused smirk. “Your little girl? Will I always be yours?”

Johnny’s tired sleep-ridden gaze trails upward, blinking away from your lips to your sparkling awaiting eyes. Pressing the side of his head to the door, he shrugs and nods. “Of course sweetie, for as long as you’ll need me. I’ll forever be indebted to you.”

It’s not exactly what you want to hear, but it’s enough. Reaching for his waist, you slink your arms through to wrap around him. Smashing your cheek to his chest for a warm hug. “You mean everything to me daddy, you’re the only reason I’m still here.”

There’s more implication behind your words than he’d prefer to fully understand. Floating hands hover over your back, slowly shutting his eyes as he succumbs and squeezes you close to himself. Maybe this is why he lets you get away with everything, your mom would berate him for it. Say that he was far too easy on you, all it took was one cute little smile from you and he’d be wrapped around your finger. He just wanted to be a good father figure for you, that’s all..

“I’ve been having nightmares again.” You whisper, rubbing your face against his chest. “Like before..”

“Like before?” 

After your mother had passed, he heard you crying in the middle of the night. Pushing your cracked door fully open to find you curled up in bed shaking and wracked by sobs..

Johnny had held you and tried to comfort you as you wailed, screamed your cries and clutched at him desperately. It was the hardest few weeks he ever had to endure. Staying up for countless hours to make sure you eventually would get some sleep. You shared with him eventually that you’d see her everytime you tried to sleep. Met with the visual of your mother whenever your eyes would fall shut. 

He didn’t know what to do back then other than hold you and repeat that everything would be okay, he’d always be here for you.

“Can I sleep with you?” You ask against his chest, sliding your hands down to his waist. Johnny shivers under your touch, batting his eyes open.

“In my room?..”

“Please daddy, I don’t want to be alone tonight. I feel.. lonely.” 

Between fighting off how exhausted he is and the pathetic sad look on your face, he sighs. Losing the ability to keep his back straight and shoulders broad. He rubs up and down your spine and nods. “I can sleep on the floor.”

The look on your face morphs in less than a second, from distressed to furious. You push away, quickly wiping at your wet eyes. “Actually, it’s okay. I’m being dramatic.”

“Hu—what?” Johnny grabs at the door frame to stand up straight. Shaking his head to be more alert.

“You need to sleep good tonight, you have work tomorrow.” Tight lipped, you force a smile and take a few steps back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—————————————-

“What are you doing here?” Wiping a cloth down his chest, the tall blond cleans the stains of oil and dirt. Mixing his sweat with the mess that working on his car has created on his long torso. He squints at you standing by the end of his driveway, the sun going down behind you making it harder for him to really get a good look at you.

Such a shame that he can’t appreciate the cute summer dress you planned just for today, how you spent over an hour doing your hair, the new lipgloss you used to make your lips shine and pop. 

“Didn’t your daddy tell you to stay away from me?” Jungwoo smirks, tossing the used towel on top of the hood of his car.

“Wanted to see your pretty car, you’ve been working so hard on it all week.” You say flirtatiously, moving closer to hug the driver door. Leaned against his classic Cadillac like a vixen straight out of a model car show. 

“My pretty car,” he chuckles, stretching his arms up to show off how defined his stomach muscles are. “You mean my pristine mint condition 1959 series 62 cherry red Cadillac?”

“Yeah, that.” Rolling your eyes with a smile, you round the car to poke his navel. “When are you taking me out?”

“You’re hilarious.” Jungwoo shoves your hand away, nodding his chin to your house down the street. “What? Daddy’s on duty or something?”

“Who cares.”

“Last time he saw you around me, he waved handcuffs in my face and told me to keep my distance if I don’t want to wake up with my car impounded.” Grabbing onto your wrist, lifts an eyebrow. “You might have some corruption kink, but no pussy is worth losing my car over.”

“I’d give you more than just my pussy.” You lie, scooting back to press your ass against the hood of his car. “Come on, he’s out of town. Now’s probably one of our only chances.”

Jungwoo grins, stroking up your lotioned smooth calves to your knees. “When’s he come back?”

“Late tomorrow, but we can’t do anything at my place.. he has security cameras.”

“That’s not a problem.” Jungwoo shrugs, pushing your thighs open. “That why you came over here all pretty? Smelling all nice for me.”

“We can go out to the hills, I know you just moved out here but it’s pretty common.” Pushing your thighs open more, you gather your dress to show off your pretty baby pink lace panties. Uncomfortable as hell, but they spark his interests, caressing up your inner thighs softly with a hum. “Everyone goes out to Agora to fuck..”

“Yeah? To fuck?” 

Your step-dad had complained about how rundown your neighborhood had become in the last few years. Allowing any old trash to move in. He certainly was not a fan of your newest neighbor Jungwoo Kim, rolling down the street with his obnoxiously loud engine revving up loud enough to shake each house he drove by. Johnny wouldn’t stop complaining about him for the rest of that day, throwing out comments to you that it’d be best if you avoid ‘men like that’. If only he had any idea that all you wanted after that was to do the complete opposite.

“Fine, I gotta take a quick shower.” Licking at his lips, he swipes a thumb over your clothed slit. “Come by to get you in an hour.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

—————————————-

“So, Agora Hills? I thought shit like this only existed in stupid sitcoms.” Jungwoo laughs, setting his car in park at the top of the hill overlooking the entire town. 

That’s the point, someone decided to claim this large space of land up on this hill as a place to lose your virginity. To enter adulthood, to check off the right of passage that changes one from sexually inexperienced to a lush. It’s been known as the spot for as long as you can remember, that’s the only reason Johnny’s even aware of what takes place up here.

He used to venture with different girls up to Agora Hills throughout his high school and college years. He can’t really blame you for doing the same, it’s simply the way things go here.

“It’s nice up here.” You smile, peering out of the front windshield at the city lights that burn bright from this high. The greenery that creates more shadows in the dark. The starry sky dimly lighting up the area around you. “The energies different, right?”

Jungwoo bites on his bottom lip, leaning over the front seat of his car with ease since the old model has nothing to stop him from getting closer to you. He drapes an arm around your shoulder, presses in to drag his nose down your cheek. “It’d be nicer if we were fucking.”

Plush lips find yours, using his tongue right away to lick between and garner access inside of your mouth. Freshly washed up after working on his car all day, he wafts the aroma of body wash and clean soap smell around you. Minty tongue still carrying traces of mouthwash. Jungwoo’s not interested in wasting time or getting to know you. Only in one way really.

Johnny was right to tell you to keep your distance from men like him. That’s why you had to go for him. In less than a minute he’s already swiping between your thighs, cupping over your lace covered mound. Shoving his tongue deep inside of your mouth with more confidence and aggression than Jaemin and Jeno had initially. 

He’s older(25 to be exact), Johnny hates that. His car is absurdly noisy, Johnny hates that. He blasts music loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood early in the morning every weekend, Johnny really fucking hates that.

“Jungwoo,” you moan softly, pushing at his chest. “S-slow down a little.”

“Pft, come on. Don’t give me that shit, you’ve been teasing me for weeks.” He mutters against your lips, biting on your lower one to let you know how annoyed he is. 

“Please, I’m—I’m a virgin.” You whisper feebly. 

“What??” Jungwoo pulls back, ragged and out of breath. Lips all pink and swollen from kissing you roughly. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“N-no, my step-dad’s really protective..”

“The cop.”

“Mhmm..”

Shaking off an annoyed laugh, he rubs the top of your thigh closest to him. “I hate using condoms. Not gonna fuck you with one your first time either if you’re expecting some kind of princess treatment from me.”

“I don’t..” 

But you also have no intention to actually lose your virginity in the front seat of his Cadillac. Not when you know your step-father started his rounds a little over an hour ago. From your estimation, he’ll be on his way up the hill in no less than 15-20 minutes. If finding you with the neighbor he can’t fucking stand doesn’t break him, then maybe it’s time to give up.

“You ever touch yourself?” Jungwoo asks, interrupting your thoughts. Gripping the hem of your dress before dragging it up and off of your body. He reaches between your legs again, rushing to scoop your cunt with the entirety of his large palm. Digging the heel of it against your covered clit. “Like this?”

“Unghh..” you nod slowly, grinding against the pressure. 

“Tell me more.” Jungwoo’s nose flicks against your chin. Applying pressure down on your clit. “What turns you on? I want you dripping wet.”

Your step-father, Johnny. Unbuttoning his uniform. Sat stressed out at the kitchen island with his head hung between his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed together. The way he looks fresh out of the shower when he doesn’t know that you’re watching him. Droplets of water cling to his smooth bare skin, the tattoo on his bicep rippling with each movement, the pink blotches sprinkled across his back and chest from using boiling hot water. 

Johnny’s always on your mind when you touch yourself. He’s the first thing you see when you shut your eyes to fall asleep. He’s the first face you envision when you wake up and rub your eyes, sighing and whimpering to yourself. How he could be one room away and still so far drove you crazier by the minute. Creating more outlandish scenarios in your head as hours went by throughout your day and he’d be hard at work protecting the streets.

It may seem sick to some but your step-father has always been a man you could admire. He never failed you, even now when he should punish you, lock you up with no access to your phone- he doesn’t. He loves you too much to make you suffer anymore than you already have. Do you deserve his patience?

Jungwoo’s teeth nip at your cheek, shoving his hand inside of your panties when you fail to answer with a dazed look in your eyes.

“Y-you,” you mumble, stroking down his forearm to his wrist. “Older guys like you.”

It’s not a complete lie. Most of your wet dreams consisted of your step-father reminding you of how much older he is than you. How much bigger he is than you. How wrong this is. What a disappointment your mother would deem you. She’d be so upset with you, exploiting yourself like this just for your step-fathers attention. She didn’t raise you to be this way, but she’s not here anymore. You only have Johnny now, his presence and existence in your life. Nothing more, nothing less.

But you need all of him. You want it all.

“Slut.” Jungwoo sucks at his bottom lip, pinching your clit between two of his digits. “Only eighteen?”

“Mhm..”

A sadistic smile grows on his face, sliding two digits lower between your folds. “And a virgin, fuck. I can’t remember the last time I fucked a virgin.”

and he still won’t remember after this, judging by the time.. your step-dad will be here soon. At least you hope he will be…

Tips of rough calloused fingers tap against your tight hole, sucking in a deep breath as he adds a little pressure. “Fuck.. you’re so small.”

Licking down your cheek, he nibbles his way to your jawline. Teeth dragging and layering kisses down to your chin. “Messy as fuck, virgin cunt soiling through my car I bet. Wanna eat you out, bet you taste so good.”

Blood rushes to your ears, firmly shutting your eyes and slumping deeper into his passenger seat. “Anyone ever ate out your tight pussy before, angel?”

Jungwoo’s tongue flicks out, lapping up your chin to your mouth. Swallowing the moaned muffled ‘no’ you let out.

“I get to do the honors.” He trails off, prodding at your sensitive hole before sliding his hand free. “Come here.” Grabbing onto your hips, he manhandles you into a better position. Back leaned against the passenger door, cupping under your thigh with a large hand to pull you apart. “Open your pretty cunt for me just like this.” He huffs breathily, gently placing the back of your calf onto the seat. Obscenely sprawled out with your other leg on the car’s floor still.

Not bothering to pull off your panties, he shoves them to one side. Quietly whistling between his pink lips, he drags a thumb down the center of your parted open folds. “Fuck, you’re really..” his head shakes, bending in closer to gawk at your cunt up close. The dim light entering the car makes your arousal appear more as a glossy coat on your thighs. Glistening under the bright lit moonlight. “So wet. Can probably make you squirt so easily.”

Squirt? You think you mutter, dragging the back of your head against the car window. 

A gruff sound leaves his lips, lowering his mouth to your pussy without another second to waste. His tongue pokes out, gently tracing between your wet folds. Teasing side to side until your hips squirm and he lets out a pleased rumble. “Fuck, you taste better than a dream.” He gasps, eyes rolling up to meet yours from the angle he’s at. 

Dropping his mouth back down, he keeps his gaze fixated on your. Sharp eyes lazily hooded, pressing firmer licks between your pussy folds. Rolling the muscle of his tongue up and over your swollen clit. He teases there until your toes curl, reaching your hands out toward him helplessly in search of something to grab onto. 

The thick width of his tongue drags down, laps at your entrance. Testing the stretch with the tip of his tongue pushing inside with a vibrating groan that has you reaching for his hair.

It’s too much after edging yourself for hours to the thought of your step-father today. After sneaking into his bedroom as he showered to lick at his gun, sucking at it before shoving the barrel inside of your hole while Johnny jerked himself off in the shower. 

“F-fuck, I’m—I’m cu—“

Gravel. Tires skidding. A harsh pull of a car brake. Bright lights and a loud clash from a door slamming. He’s here.

The knock at Jungwoo’s car window is incessant, rapid and angry. Ripping himself off of you, he loudly curses, smearing the back of his hand across his lips before yelling for your step-father to stop out of fear that he’ll shatter the glass. “God fucking damnit.”

Rolling it down manually with renowned speed and a frightful gaze, he locks eyes with Johnny’s thinned out furious ones. Sinking down and reaching inside of the car to grab his neck with one large hand. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing boy?!”

Jungwoo squeals, eyes bulging out of shock and fear. He slaps at Johnny’s wrist, trying to call for your help.

“Daddy! Let go of him!” You shriek, grabbing your dress to hold against yourself. Trembling at the sight of your step-father in this state. He’s never looked so angry, terrifying really..

“Get out of this car. Right now.” He says sternly, burning into you with a laser focused look in his eyes. “Now.”

His demanding tone has you racing to reach the passenger door, not even bothering to get your dress back on before running over to where he still stands hunched over with an unyielding chokehold on Jungwoo’s throat. “Daddy, please! Please stop! Let go of him!”

Wrapping your arms around his bicep, you try to pull. Failing to make him budge and losing your footing when he stands up abruptly. “You, right there.” He points to the hood of the car, reaching for his back pocket to retrieve a pair of handcuffs.

“I told you I’d be on your ass if you ever came near my daughter.” He sneers at Jungwoo, grabbing his arm by the car door. He drags the younger’s wrist to the seatbelt, latching the handcuff shut to trap him to his driver seat. “And you.”

Turning toward you, he points to the hood again. Grabbing your shoulders to spin you around and bend you over, chest pressed flat to the car hood.

“Daddy!” You squeak, breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t.” He growls, slotting his hips to your bottom to keep you in place. Using one large powerful hand to lock your wrists together against your lower back. The feeling of his big warm body sends your mind into a frenzy, pressing your cheek down on the car as a whimper slips free and you meet Jungwoo’s petrified gaze through the windshield. “What did I tell you about the Kim boy down the street?” Johnny asks, controlling the anger in his tone.

“T-to—stay—away from h-him,” you whine, slamming your eyes shut. “T-too old for me.”

“But you like them older, right?” Weight drops down on your back. Heavy and crushing, pressing his hot mouth to your ear. “You love to disobey me, why is that?”

“N-no daddy..”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He bites, teeth snapping down loudly. The dominant tone melting you down, struggling to breathe with his chest on your back, the full weight of his groin shoved against your ass. “What happened to being a good little girl?”

“I-I—I—“ speechless is what you are. Not processing one single clear thought under him. The cool car hood encasing night air keeps you sane enough to stop losing your mind to the heat taking over your body. This isn’t really happening, your step-father.. he’d never act this way. Unless you finally succeeded, you got your wish, you broke him down..

“Tell me the truth, you’ve been a bad girl.” His free hand snakes to your throat. Knocking the breath out of your chest as his palm lays flat and everything around you reminds you of how much fucking bigger he is than you. How much older, stronger, more powerful he is. It’s every horny dream that’s ever interrupted your sleep, but so real, so fucking real. “That’s what you want to be now? Daddy’s bad little girl.”

Oh fuck. This can’t be really happening.

“N-no, daddy’s good girl.” You cry, turning your head enough to look at him from the corner of your eye. “Your g-good girl.”

“It’s my fault. I gave you too much. Let you think you could do whatever the fuck you wanted without any repercussions.” The bridge of his nose presses to your cheekbone. Electric eyes filled with flames locked on yours. “Need to put you back in your place, don’t I sweetheart?”

Tears dribble from your eyes beyond your comprehension. Falling down a dark hole without escape, you nod slowly, whimpering through your choked sobs. “Daddy.”

“I know, baby.” Soft lips drag down your cheek, firmly pressing a kiss at the corner of your mouth. 

Everything about him feels so dizzying, knowing your head would roll off of your neck if he wasn’t choking your throat right now. His fingers trail up to your chin, turning your face to look at Jungwoo’s large eyes reflected in the windshield. “You’re better than this.”

“I’m not, I’m bad. I need to be fixed.. corrected.” You manage to whine, innocently blinking over your shoulder without a care in the world for the man you manipulated into this situation. They’ve all been pawns in your game, your step-father included. All to get what your heart and body desires. “Punish me daddy!”

Johnny’s soft eyes darken in an instant, coated by a shadowed film covering his iris. His nostrils flare, laying all of his large size on top of you. “Why are you asking this of me?”

“B-because, I love you.” You sob, bouncing your lower half against him. “I love you daddy, so much!”

The last bit of fight he had left exits his lips with his next breath. Slowly dropping his eyes shut as he stays still and lets the sensation of your ass grinding back on his cock wash over him. He tried to deny, tried to ignore, berated himself for allowing such indecent thoughts about his step-daughter to enter his mind.

Ever since your behavior became more concerning, he had to set up hidden cameras around the house. He was worried, that’s all. Worried of what harm you could cause yourself when left alone with your sadness and thoughts. He wanted to tell you, he did, but it was only for your own good. And for the most part he felt at ease while he patrolled and left you alone at home. You mostly slept, laid around, occasionally made yourself food. He saw when you’d sneak around.. steal his clothing, but that never bothered him.

Today though, what he saw today, only an hour ago as he fast forwarded through the footage documented today. He saw you on his bed, the one he shared with your mother once. Tracing your fingers along his work uniform, picking up his gun to pose with in the mirror. All normal, until it wasn’t.

“What did you do with my gun?” He asks slowly, shoving your hair away to one side. “Tell me.”

Color drains from your face, wide eyes peering up at him. “I—I—“

“Why did you do it?” He continues to question, having to swallow to calm his dry throat. “What’s gotten into you sweetie? What do I need to do to fix this? To fix you?”

What has gotten into you? Depression, malignant fantasies, emptiness. Really, that's it, emptiness. Every part of you feels so empty, so hollow, unalive. The only time a shred of life shows itself is when you see Johnny, when you’re with him, when he smiles at you, when he touches you, when he wraps you up in his large arms. “Because I love you.”

One solo tear trails down his cheek, slowly nodding as he pulls you up and wraps around your waist from behind. Soft full lips press to your cheek, the lips you crave and lose your mind over. Safety, that’s what he is. Your step-father, he’s the refuge you pray for, the comfort you can’t find anywhere no matter how hard you search. “If you love me, you’ll stop doing this.” His voice cracks, shaking as he finds your watery eyes.

“And if you love me,” your lip trembles, teeth chattering. “You’ll love me.”

If there is a God, he’ll never forgive him.

Strong working hands, dangerous hands that have handled firearms for years, that have locked up wrong doers, that have nurtured and fought hard for you; strong hands squeeze your waist. Slowly turning you around to face him. “I want to take you home.”

“No daddy, I want you, here.”

Here at Agora Hills, the exact place you have been luring him to night after night. “Here?” He questions almost pathetically, rubbing down your bare stomach to the frilly material of your panties. His eyes slide over to Jungwoo’s near haunted face, jaw hung open so wide he can see all the way to the back of his throat where his tonsils hang. Surely he’ll tell everyone in the neighborhood about what he’s witnessed here tonight. May as well make it a good story. 

“Here.” Johnny repeats more assured, nodding to the hood of your neighbor’s ridiculous car. “Lift your legs up sweetie.”

The backseat of his patrol vehicle had definitely been the layout for your fantasy, skittish as you allow him to mount you onto Jungwoo’s car and the hood gives under your weight. Denting your knees in place, echoing a pitiful cry from inside of the car. Johnny’s hold around your stomach tightens, resting your back to his chest so that your legs can bend open in front of the windshield. “You let this idiot touch you baby?” 

“Y-yes..” you admit, flushing from head to toe as you meet your neighbor’s miserable expression. He really really had pissed off your daddy..

“You let him touch you here?” Longer fingers drag across the top of your lace panties. Biting down on his lip with his chin perched over your shoulder. He slaps your trembling inner thighs, reaching lower to drag a thumb down the seam of your panties stretched against labia folds. “Let anyone touch you, don’t you?”

“N-no daddy..”

“Don’t lie to me.” Johnny’s usual soft spoken voice is long gone. Falling into a deeper and raspier speech as he skirts around your panties. Tapping the tip of his nose against your cheek. “No more, you let anyone touch you again and daddy will make you regret it.”

Fuck. Shivers explode down your spine, frantically nodding as he suddenly rips your soaked underwear to one side. Exposing your blood engorged cunt to the cool night air, pornographically spread open on the hood of some classic automobile. “N-never!”

“That’s right.” He hisses, eyebrows furrowed, leaning into your back more until you fold in and can’t lift your neck. Forced into a nearly pretzeled position with no choice but to watch as his large hand lowers past your navel and he splits open your pussy folds. “Shaved yourself all pretty, I know that’s not for him.”

Erupting with a fresh batch of tears, you struggle to shake your head. Rambling a spatter of ‘nonono’ because nothing has ever been for anyone else. Only for your step-father, only for him.

It’s beyond painful how desperate you sound, losing your sight through wads of tears that won’t stop filling up your eyes. “What should I do baby? Your panties are so wet.” He tsks, tugging the worn down material bunched up in his fist even harder. Ripping a sound of lace shredding through the night air. “Want me to touch your little pussy? To use your cunt in front of your random boy toy?”

“Daddy, p-please!” He’s driving you crazy. Slamming your socked feet against the car hood, you let out the most feral of moans. Jerking your hips up with a shout

“Want me to touch you here?” Johnny murmurs, sounding on the brink of insanity himself. Tiptoeing two fingers down your cunt to your opening, spewing slick out onto his digits. “To shove them deep inside of you?”

A moment of cold silence rinses down on you, craning your neck back against his chest to look at him. Nuzzling and nodding against his throat, you whimper feebly, placing a scolding kiss on his Adam’s apple. “Please daddy, p-please fuck me.”

Shit, that’s not what Johnny expected to ever hear. The beating of his heart goes wild, throbbing its way up to his brain, filling his ears full of static noise. He’s panting heavily, winding down to your entrance in search of what can only be wonderland. Fully hunched over you, he watches with intent as the pads of his digits push against the tightness of your hole. Hissing between his teeth at the resistance he’s met with. 

There’s no way you’re still this tight if you really let the neighbor boy fuck you. How tiny can his dick be? Johnny grimaces, pushing in past the snap of skin that sucks around his fingers. Propelling spikes of adrenaline and hunger through him that scream to go harder, faster, deeper. The bend in your knees goes limp, kicking out against the car windshield, garnering another shattered cry from inside of the vehicle. 

Entranced by how you squeeze around two of his digits, your step-father stabs them deeper inside. Thrusting them in harder only to hear your cunts wet echoes splatter around his hand onto the hood of Jungwoo’s car.

“Daddy!” Exhaling something between a moan and a cry, you pant heavily under his upper body. Convulsing and shaking into him, forced to take the two long fingers jabbing in and out of you at a rapid speed. He flicks at your swollen clit, in disbelief at the way your pussy hasn’t stopped spasming since he started fucking past your holes squeeze. 

“You're so close, princess.” He huffs raggedly. Snapping his fingers in and out at a blinding pace. Pumping more wetness to stream out onto the hood of the car. The teasing flicks at your clit turn furious. Pinching your stuff bud between his thumb and pointer finger, tweak your raging nerves into a frenzy. Shots of electricity burn through your limbs, curling your toes in with a scream out to the night sky. 

It’s hot and blinding, punching your chest with cold all at once. The force of your orgasm pushes against his fingers, halting Johnny’s motions as a powerful rush of clear liquid rips out around his digits and your pussy walls grip around him. The thought of his cock filling you up next has him pulling out. Slapping his hand down to rub at your clit furiously, concentrated and focused as he watches in awe. The squirting stream shoots out harder, raining down on the car’s windshield.

“Holy shit.” Jungwoo cries out from inside, struggling to breathe.

“Knew you could do it.” Your step-father praises, kissing the side of your sweaty forehead. “My good girl.”

Johnny does the unthinkable, swiping your drenched cunt before lifting his hand up, gaze on yours with his tongue lapping at his fingers. “Tastes so good.”

Just like heaven.

“D-daddy?” You sniffle, pouting your lips out toward him with the largest saddest eyes he’s ever seen. Bloodshot, cheeks stained with tears the same exact way they were when your mother died.

A kiss, a kiss is what you beg for. A kiss from your daddy.

And Johnny, how could he ever deny you? How can he stop himself from scooping you up, wrapping your trembling thighs around his waist. Cupping your ass as he leans in and gives you one of the softest lightest kisses, leaving one on the tip of your cold nose after. He presses for more, a firmer kiss, longer contact. Rubbing your ass between his greedy hands, asking for entrance to your sinful mouth with his tongue. 

Denying you has never been an option. 

“D-daddy,” you cry between hot kisses. Overwhelmed by his dominant mouth, how easily he takes control. The suck around your tongue and lips ready to burst from how swollen they are. “Please, please fuck me. Want you to be my first, please.”

“First?” Stepping back, he looks over your naive expression. Your flushed cheeks, your beating chest, your hands trembling against your thighs. “First.”

You’re a virgin, an eighteen year old virgin. His step-daughter, pure, untouched, barely legal. Begging him to be your first.

If anyone should be your first, it’s him. He practically raised you, has the best interest in mind for you. He loves you.

“Show me.” Licking at his lips, he swallows hard. Throat clamoring for some saliva. “Show me your virgin pussy.”

And you do, you listen so well. Almost too perfectly as you place your feet flat to the car and grab your knees to hold them open. Your pretty lace panties ruined, blood-filled cunt pulsating at him. It’s a sight he hasn’t seen in years, virgin pussy. Hairless in all the right places, hole barely visible because of how fucking tight you are.

It’s wrong, he’s so big it’s going to hurt you so much. “Daddy.” But the way you whine for him. How you proudly sit there pumping your cunt at him. You need to be punished.

He wants to take you home, fuck you right on the same bed he took your mother on for years. Bend you into every position, make you scream all night until the neighbors make a fuss and turn their lights on at 3am. Nosey and curious, whispering about a murder taking place.

Wrapping you back up in his arms, he spares Jungwoo’s sobbing face one last look. Nodding with a smirk before turning around to his vehicle. At least he’d taken the SUV for patrol tonight, unbeknownst to himself of what would soon unravel. 

“You deserve the world baby.” He whispers, unlatching the back door open to climb inside with you. It’s spacious enough, thankfully, because despite how badly he needs to get you home, he needs to know how you feel even more. Fighting with each step to his cop car with his swollen sack, he’s proud of himself for not turning you over and taking you on that asshole’s car. “And daddy’s going to give it to you.”

Writhing against his back seat, you lay flat and unhook your bra, throwing it to the ground. “You’re so so pure.” He almost growls, unbuckling the large metal buckle of his belt. Blazed eyes dragging down your body, your pinched waist, round hips, panties barely holding on for life. “So beautiful and good to me.” He nods, shaking his shoulders free from his holster. Working to unbutton his long sleeved uniform shirt. “So good for me, my angel.”

Johnny means every word. You’ve never done wrong in his eyes, always his sweet little girl. Even now you’re giving him everything, all of you. An angel sent to take care of him through his misery. 

Getting down to his constricting work slacks, he situates himself between your thighs. Having to hunched in due to the shirt ceiling height. The touch of your flesh beneath his fingertips heats up like a furnace. “Your pussy, your virgin cunt..”

Eyes drunk on nothing but need, lust, desire, love stare up at him. Continuously rolling tears down your glowing cheeks. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, never having had sex.. you just want him.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He asks brazenly, surprising himself. Caressing the insides of your knees and he peers down at your cunt that seems to have a heartbeat of its own. “Who’s is it, baby girl?”

“Your!” You cough, falling into a mewl. Moaning lewdly as he nods above you, broad and large. Slinking his hands to his zipper to slowly glide down. 

“Yeah,” Johnny sucks in a deep breath, nodding slowly. Shoving his pants and briefs down past the middle of his thighs. “After I fuck this pussy, no one elses but mine.”

“Daddy’s pussy.” You moan, legs spread out for him. Grabbing your panties to tug at roughly. “Only yours.”

A glob of wet arousal pulses from your hole as you say it, and it’s enough to drop his body forward. To circle the base of his cock with one of his sweaty hands, eyes on yours. The way your cunt drips, he can only hope you’ll feel nothing but pleasure. Slapping the thick girth of his meat against your wet pussy, he hisses. Having to hold himself up with one arm bracketed by your head so that he can look down at his length covering your center. “This might hurt, baby.”

“P-please.” Make it hurt. That’s all that Johnny can hear. Your pleads for punishment, for pain, for something to heal and fill up your empty soul.

The head of his cock feels the true warmth of your cunt, your tight suffocating grip, wrapping around him like a perfect cock sleeve. 

And it’s right, it’s so right. Rolling his eyes shut, groaning as he feeds you more of his size despite your cries. The scrabbling small hands scratching his chest, your clinking teeth and sniffles. He fits the entirety of his cock inside of your pussy. Mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, wettest cunt he’s ever fucked. 

Sinking into the hilt, he meets obstruction. Mouth hung open panting heavily on top of you. He can’t take his eyes off of it, how his cock disappears inside of you, how connected you both are right now. Creeping an angry groan out of him, curling up his spine as his balls smack against your rim.

“My angel, my baby.” He pants harshly. Using his flexed abdomen muscles to hold himself up and slide both of his hands beneath your neck. “Look at us, baby.”

Johnny’s strong hands hold your head up off of the backseat, folding you in as they wrap around your neck and squeeze. The crushing weight on your throat chokes your breath, wide eyed as you look down at what he wants you to see. Fucking into you with brutal determination when he finds your gaze where he wants it to be. His glossy wet cock, pummeling in and out of you as if you’re a pro at this. 

Your cunts just too good, sucking around him like nothing ever has. He draws in and out, plunging in madly. Pulling out to the tip only to slam back in and make you take, shape you to take his cock.

Creamy wetness splurges out around his size with each stroke. Spilling out beneath your ass, filling the vehicle with a splattering sound of your arousal. The smack of his balls on your ass, hips hitting the backs of your thighs. Coughed and gurgled moans, scratching at his forearms the more he tightens around your neck. “Daddy!”

Fuckfuckfuck, you’re driving him insane. Bonkers, off the walls, throwing his head back releasing the loudest pleasured moans. Each one making your pussy squeeze and grip around him tighter. He moans louder and louder, reminding you with each that you’re the best, so good and amazing for him. 

“Da-daddy—is—is—“ you splutter, jerked up and down under the force of his hips jackhammering into you. 

Johnny’s wild eyes meet yours, loosening on your throat to let you breathe easily. His pace never falters, pushing his cock through your kissing cunt. Through your delicious maddening heat, through the milking grip trying to make him cum. “Baby wants it even deeper, huh?”

“I-is—“ you mumble incoherently, squeezing your eyes to blink away tears. Fluttering open to find his. “M-my pussy—better t-than mommy’s?”

FUCK. 

Why would you say that?! Why would you ask him that?! Johnny can’t stop his hips from stuttering, slamming in and stilling. Filling your cunt with a hot load of cum, sticky and wet. Too much for your tiny little hole to handle. He’s never lost himself like this, never emptied his balls so fast. Never came too quickly.

“What’re you doing to me.” He whimpers, falling flat and heavy against your chest. Ragged breaths punch out of his lungs, practically vibrating on top of you. His cock twitching inside of your squeezing hole, not softening up for anything.

“Say that again.” He sighs, reaching to cup your face. Nose shoved against yours. “Say that again for me baby.”

The sad desperate tone he asks you in has your pussy squeezing around the wet gush of sperm and slick filling you up along with his fat cock. Losing your strength to hold your eyes open, you slowly fade. Heavy lidded and croaking. “I-is my pussy b-better than mommy’s?”

Johnny’s bulging biceps cage your head. Pressing a searing hot kiss on your saliva drenched lips. “So much better, my fucking angel. My fucking sweet angel with he best pussy, can’t get enough of you. Will never be enough, need all of you.”

Licking at the drool covering your chin and neck, he begins to grind his hips in circles. Stretching your cock to take him again and again. For as long as he can keep it up for you, he’ll keep fucking you. Fuck all the pain away with more punishment. 

“Daddy’s gonna mold your tight little pussy.” He grunts, sitting up to haul your legs up. Laying your limp limbs against your chest with no struggle. “So flexible.” 

Of course you are, a young eighteen year old girl, good for nothing but taking cock. “Want you only taking my cock from now on, no one else’s.”

“Y-yes daddy.” You whisper, throat burning from screaming and moaning. Face scrunched up trying to hold back your urge to cum again, too swollen between your thighs to squeeze any harder. “Only yours.”

“Such a good pussy. So fucking soft and wet.” Johnny thrusts in slowly a few times. Catching his breath before slamming down, circling his thick arms around your shoulders to completely fold you in. Suffocated by his masculine body wash scent filling your senses, his deep grunts, the deep set lines taking over his forehead with every exerted movement. 

Furious thrusts only build and build to a violent speed, aided by the endless stream of slick lubricating his cock. He can’t stop fucking you, can’t make himself stop.

“Daddy, daddy!” It’s all you can say, repeat and scream. Too lost in your pleasure, the numbness coursing through you, your blacked out mind that needed this. Needed to feel whole to feel empty again, to relax your brain and scorch endless amounts of endorphins through your system. 

“Come on princess, let me feel how good that pussy cums.” He growls, chasing your orgasm for you. Grunting and fucking through your pulsing heat, hot slick pussy walls gripping him so tight. 

“A-ahh!” The drag of his length pauses, fluttering his eyes open. Letting out a cracked howl as you cum. Tossing his head back to fully take in how clench around him akin to a chokehold. Wailing and whimpering beneath him as streams of hot clear liquid shoot onto his pelvis. Too limp and out of it to break free from his position even through your writhing. Your step-father suffers through it, the best suffering he’s ever experienced. Biting down on his lip with a deep breath as he curses and fucks through the last seconds of your climax. 

He tries to stave off his release, tries to stop himself from finishing too fast again, but you’re just too good. Never letting his dick breathe with the way you milk his cock.

“Fuck shit, f—fuck. G-gonna cum.” He says between clenched teeth. Groaning from the back of his throat, digging his fingers into your thighs hard enough to bruise. “Take all of my cum baby, it’s all for you.”

All of it for you, from now on he won’t go a day without spilling himself empty inside of your pussy. Fucking his seed deep inside, painting your cervix without any concern of you getting pregnant. You belong to him now.

“Fuck that’s it.” He grits, groaning loudly with shaking thighs barely holding him up. Cock sheathed deep inside of you painting your cervix in strings of white hot cum. “Take all of it, my good girl.”

His good girl, you hum quietly. Using your last bit of energy to clamp your cunt around him and snatch every last bit of cum for your greedy hole. 

The night feels endless in the backseat of his patrol car atop of Agora Hills. Just the two of you, lost in each other’s bodies, fucking your pain and anger away. 

“Let’s get you home.” He finally finds the willpower to say after filling you up two more times. Finding a blanket in the trunk to wrap around you. “It’s too late, way past your curfew.”

The comment brings a lazy smile to both of your faces. Curling into his side for comfort.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, princess.” He sighs, rubbing at his forehead to ease whatever anxious thoughts attempt to enter now that the haze of lust and sex has cooled down.

“I love you.” 

Johnny frowns, turning to cuddle against your side. His forehead presses against your shoulder, placing a light kiss on your collarbone. “Daddy loves you more.”

—————————————-

[systlin]

I've got a question about beekeeping that I think is probably dumb, but I couldn't really find a definite answer anywhere online. And you keep bees, so I figured you might know. Some background:

A friend of mine recently told me she doesn't eat honey because she was told beekeepers kill their bees at the start of winter because it's more lucrative to start the new year with a fresh hive, apparently because the one they used that year is supposedly to exhausted from being overworked or something.

now from what I know about bees, that is probably bullshit. I think someone somewhere might have confused the thing about all the drones getting chased out at the start of winter maybe? But the point was made that maybe hobby beekeepers don't, but industrial beekeepers do. I can't find anything anywhere about how industrial beekeeping works and if it's any different from hobby beekeeping apart from in scale. And I do always think it's weird how cheap honey in stores can be if I look at the work that goes in honey and the fact that I think you can harvest honey from a hive 2 times a year or so?

basically, I think she's very wrong about this and want to be able to convince her otherwise. (or be very very surprised and learn she was right but I doubt it) I don't want to be a bitch about it to her because you can't really fact check everything you hear all the time. but this is just. such a weird idea to me.

(this may have turned into more than one question and I'm now interested in bees a lot, so if you wanted to infodump about a ton of bee related info I didn't ask for too I certainly wouldn't mind)

It is 100% prime bullshit

Bees are fuckin expensive. A package of 3 pounds of bees is $160+. A nuc is $200+. New hives usually don't even produce honey the first year. The first year is letting them settle in and build up. Hives that have wintered over at least once are the ones you can actually harvest honey and wax from.

No beekeeper is going to kill their bees. Even if they're utterly amoral profit driven weirdos, that's simply not how it works. It would be absolutely absurdly expensive.

Most beekeepers who do it professionally don't make money from honey. They make their REAL money from pollination services and from selling bees. AKA, swarms. AKA, those things you only get from overwintered hives. See prices of a new colony above.

The older a colony is, the more valuable it is!

[seafarersdream]

The Art of Braiding (Cregan Stark x Y/N)

In the harsh, unfamiliar North, Y/N Tully struggles to understand the strange customs that surround her. One of them, however, her new husband Cregan Stark knows all too well—and he’s not above using it to his advantage. The Wolf of the North, as it turns out, has a cheeky side.

*Inspired by the braiding traditions of the Vikings

TW // Strong language and profanities, possessiveness, non-consensual restraint.

“Bloody wind,” Y/N muttered under her breath, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders as another frigid gust swept through Winterfell’s courtyard. The North had its own bite, and it wasn’t just the cold. It was in everything—the stone walls, the silence, and even the people.

Especially the people.

Especially Cregan Stark.

Her husband.

That cold bastard. Honorable, sure, but colder than the winds battering against her face.

Y/N blew a strand of hair from her eyes, resisting the urge to curse her luck again. The riverlands were nothing like this. In Riverrun, there was warmth. Rivers that didn’t freeze over in the middle of freaking summer. Men who smiled, told bawdy jokes, laughed loud enough for the gods to hear. Here, everything was different. Even the laughter, when it happened at all, felt muted by the heavy weight of the Northern sky.

But this was her life now. A wife of the North. Lady Stark. By the gods, it was still strange to hear it. She knew the match had been made for peace and alliances—marriage between a Tully and a Stark was good for the realm, or so her father had said. But no one had prepared her for the rest of it. The weather. The silences.

And Cregan himself.

He was unlike any man she had known. Rivermen were warm, boisterous. Cregan was the opposite. He was distant, cold at times, the weight of Winterfell and the North resting on his broad shoulders. But he was fair, she’d give him that. And gods be damned if he wasn’t handsome. He had that Stark look, all strong jaw and piercing eyes. If only he’d smile a little more, maybe she’d feel less like she was wed to a block of ice.

Not that he wasn’t good to her. No, Cregan was kind in his way. Gentle in the nights they shared, even if he was quieter than she liked. He was a man of few words, unlike the men of her home, who’d fill the halls with stories and laughter. Still, he made sure she had everything she needed. He listened, even when he didn’t have much to say.

But gods, she missed warmth.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow caught her attention, and she glanced up to see him approaching. Cregan. He walked like he owned the place—because he did, of course—but it was more than that. There was a confidence in him, a certainty in his steps. He didn’t need to announce himself. The wind, the snow, the very stones of Winterfell seemed to bend to his will.

He came up beside her, his breath clouding the cold air. “Still not used to it?” His voice was a low rumble, almost lost to the wind.

Y/N snorted, rubbing her hands together. “Used to it? It’s like a gods-damned frozen hell up here.”

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ll learn. In time.”

She shot him a look. “And when exactly will that be? Because I’ve been waiting for weeks, Cregan, and I’m about ready to march back to the riverlands and throw myself into the water. Ice be damned.”

His brows arched just slightly, amusement flickering in his gray eyes. “The riverlands? You wouldn’t last a day without the North, now.”

Y/N scoffed, turning to him fully. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Stark. I was born by water, not ice. I think I’d manage just fine.”

He said nothing, but the smirk returned. Silence fell between them again, but this time it was… different. More comfortable, somehow. She studied him, wondering what was going on in that head of his. He always seemed to have something weighing on him, some unspoken burden of being a leader at such a young age.

Before she could press further, he stepped closer, reaching out. Her breath caught, not because of the cold this time, but because of the unexpected closeness. His hand brushed against her hair, fingers moving with surprising gentleness.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hold still,” he murmured, focused on her hair. His fingers deftly gathered strands, working them with a skill that surprised her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, confused, but she stayed quiet, feeling the tug and pull as he braided her hair. Her pulse quickened as his fingers brushed against her skin, the sensation at odds with the chill around them. There was an intimacy in the act, in the silence that hung between them. And yet, it was just a braid.

Wasn’t it?

“There,” he said after a moment, stepping back. She reached up instinctively, fingers touching the braid he’d woven. It felt tight, but not uncomfortably so. She had no idea what to make of it. “What… is this?”

Cregan shrugged, that infuriating smirk still lingering on his lips. “Just a braid.”

“Just a braid,” she echoed, unconvinced.

His eyes flickered, something unreadable in their depths. “You’ll see.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “What exactly does that mean, Lord Stark?”

But Cregan was already turning, heading toward the main hall without another word. Y/N stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. Just a braid? She huffed, shaking her head as she followed him inside. Northerners and their damn cryptic ways.

It wasn’t until they entered the hall that Y/N realized something was… off.

Eyes turned toward her. And not the usual fleeting glances. No, these were lingering, assessing stares. Several of the women whispered to each other, and a few of the men gave her respectful nods. She caught the eye of a servant who quickly dipped her head in what almost seemed like… deference?

Gods be good.

“Why is everyone looking at me like that?” she muttered under her breath, shooting a glare at one particularly nosy maid.

Cregan didn’t answer, his lips twitching as though he was trying very hard not to laugh. The bastard was enjoying this.

“What did you do?” she demanded, her voice sharper now.

Finally, he met her gaze, and there was that smirk again. “The braid.”

“What about the bloody braid?”

“It’s… a tradition,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stone wall. “In the North, braids have meanings. Especially for women.”

Her stomach sank. “What kind of meaning?”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “A braid like that? It tells everyone that you’re… claimed.”

Y/N blinked, feeling her face heat despite the cold. “Claimed?” she echoed, her voice rising a pitch. “By whom exactly?”

Cregan’s smirk deepened, and he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “By me.”

Her mouth fell open. “You—what?! You did that on purpose? You—sly, stubborn—”

His laughter was a rare, low rumble that warmed the cold space between them. “You’ll get used to it, my lady.”

“Used to it?” Y/N fumed, her cheeks burning as the reality of what he’d done sunk in. “You can’t just—ugh!” She shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a damn wall. “This is the North, Y/N. My North,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you are mine.”

A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, mixing with her frustration. The audacity. The nerve.

And yet…

Y/N's face burned hotter than the hearth fires in the Great Hall as Cregan’s words echoed in her ears: You are mine. Claimed. Oh, she was mortified.

She reached up, fingers fumbling to undo the braid that now seemed to burn against her scalp. “Absolutely not,” she muttered, her nails scraping against the tight weave as she tried to pull it apart. “I am not walking around Winterfell with everyone thinking—"

Before she could finish, Cregan’s hand shot out, closing around her wrist, firm but not rough. “What are you doing?”

She glared at him, teeth clenched. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m undoing this bloody braid before everyone in this hall assumes I’m some conquered—”

“You’re not,” he cut in, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. “And you won’t undo it.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden command in his tone. “Excuse me?”

His eyes were intense, a storm brewing behind the calm gray. “The braid stays.”

She tried to yank her wrist out of his grip, but his hold was iron. Not painful, but resolute. “I didn’t agree to this—this.. this claiming nonsense,” she snapped, feeling a wave of embarrassment creep up her neck as she noticed more eyes turning their way.

Cregan leaned in slightly, his gaze unyielding. “In the North, it’s more than just words. It means something. You’re my wife. And you’ll wear that braid like it.”

Her heart pounded, heat flooding her chest. “I’ll wear what I damn well please—”

“Oi, Lady Stark!”

The loud shout from across the hall made Y/N freeze, her head whipping toward the source. One of the Northern men, a burly soldier with a wild grin on his face, pointed at her braid. “That’s a fine weave, my lady!” he hollered, winking.

The hall erupted into whistles, cheers, and hollers. Several of the men banged their fists on the tables, laughing and calling out words Y/N could barely make out. Some of the women were whispering behind their hands, giggling and exchanging knowing looks.

Y/N felt her face go crimson, her fingers still trapped in her hair, halfway through her attempt to undo the braid.

“Looks like the Warden’s laid his claim!” another man shouted, and more hoots followed.

Her stomach dropped. This was a nightmare. Mother save her, this is worse than a nightmare.

She tried again to pull at the braid, but Cregan’s hand didn’t budge from her wrist. “Cregan, I swear to the gods—”

His voice was maddeningly calm, but there was a cocky edge to it that made her blood boil. “You’ll leave it. And if you somehow forget, remember—we’ve got different gods, love. And mine? They’re backing me up.”

Y/N’s mouth opened to protest, but when she met his eyes, something in her faltered. He wasn’t just being possessive. There was something more there—something ancient, deep-rooted. A tradition that ran through his blood, through the very stones of Winterfell. She wasn’t just in his home. She was part of his world now.

But hell if she’d admit that to him.

“Cregan,” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying once more to yank her wrist free. “Everyone is staring!”

“And?” he asked, with that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Let them.”

Her eyes widened. “You—this isn’t funny! They’re hooting at me like I’m some prize at the fair!”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her pause. “You are no prize, Y/N,” he murmured, leaning close enough for his words to be for her ears only. “But you are mine. And in the North, we show it.”

Her breath caught at the warmth in his voice, even as her frustration grew. She had no idea what to say to that. What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t want to be claimed? That she didn’t want him? But the problem was… she did. And that was the most frustrating part.

The hall’s noise only grew louder. Some of the men had started clapping, whistling at them like they were some grand spectacle. Y/N wanted to sink into the stone floors.

“Let go of my wrist, Cregan,” she said, her voice quieter now, though it still carried her annoyance.

“Only if you stop trying to undo it,” he replied, his tone softening.

Y/N glared at him, her lips pressed into a tight line. But the heat of the stares, the teasing from the Northerners, was overwhelming. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her hands from her hair.

“There,” she grumbled. “Now let go.”

He released her wrist, and immediately she wanted to punch him just a little bit. That cocky bastard.

“Was that so difficult?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “you’re lucky you’re my husband, or I’d throw you from the Wall.”

He leaned in, that smirk still present but softer now. “I’d like to see you try, wife.”

The word ‘wife’ sent another ripple of warmth through her, and she cursed silently under her breath. Why did it have this effect on her? And why did he have to look at her like that, with those damned Stark eyes, all cold and piercing but somehow still full of heat?

She crossed her arms, trying to hide her embarrassment under a glare. “Don’t expect me to be all smiles and sweet words because you’ve won this little battle, Stark.”

Cregan chuckled softly, his breath warm in the cold hall. “Who said I needed sweet words? You’re a Tully. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t fighting me.”

Despite herself, Y/N felt the smallest hint of a smile tug at her lips. Damn him. He knew exactly how to pull her in, even when she wanted to stay mad.

The cheers and whistles finally started to die down, though the teasing looks from the men and women of Winterfell didn’t. She sighed, looking up at Cregan. “You’re going to owe me for this.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “For the embarrassment. You’ll owe me.”

Cregan grinned, his cold facade cracking just enough to show the warmth beneath. “Fair enough, wife. I’ll owe you.” He paused, a glint of mischief in his eye. “But that braid stays.”

She rolled her eyes. But a small smile tugged at her lips.

As they finally made their way to the high table, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at the braid once more. The claiming. It was still ridiculous. Still infuriating.

But gods help her… it felt good—brutishly, maddeningly good—to be claimed like this. She was going insane, because part of her didn’t mind it half as much as she pretended to.

A treacherous part of her silently hoped that Cregan would braid her hair again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the next. For as long as they both lived.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

🎃 ga ming from genshin impact in encountering a monster male reader and gets butt fucked

Author's Note: One butt fuckin' coming up! I made the reader some type of bird monster, to hopefully do something a bit different from my other monster readers 😅

Pairings: Gaming x male reader

Warnings: Male bird monster!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Gaming, noncon, no prep, primal sex, too much cum

In his line of work, Gaming has to have sharp senses. Anything could happen while he's making a delivery or escorting someone back to their village. Kids get into trouble all of the time — if your hearing isn't trained well enough, you might not pick up on someone's cries for help.

Anything could happen as the sun beats down on the energetic man who walks along a riverbed. His hands absentmindedly mess with an empty food wrapping and, in his trance, he doesn't notice the large shadow closing in on him until–

“Whoa! Hey!” Gaming shouts, steadying himself after your gust of wind nearly caused him to topple over into the river.

When he finally sees what almost flew into him, Gaming's hand reaches for his weapon.

A man… no, a bird– or maybe… a birdman? A human-bird hybrid stands before him; taller than him and rather imposing. Its facial features sharp, and a deranged look in its eye.

Your knees bend, then you once again take flight — this time, you do manage to knock the smaller man over. He tumbles to the grassy area below, but before he can stand back up, you rush over and pin him by his shoulders.

“Ah ah ah! Struggling never helped anyone!” you squawk. Keeping him pinned, you use your talons to rip a hole in the back of his pants.

The action startles poor Gaming. The open air hits his vulnerable hole, and his blood freezes thinking about all of the potential scenarios that could come next.

Anything could happen as your wild, grating laugh pierces his ears — your sharp talons dig in, marking the flesh of his ass cheeks as you spread them apart. “Nononono just hold on a sec—!!”

Gaming cries out as your wet tip slides against his ass; searching for his entrance. You thrust at the air a few times, trying to line yourself up and make it inside. Meanwhile, your prey looks like he's about to cry — large tears pool in the corners of his eyes and his limbs flail around as he searches for an escape. But you both know there isn't one.

He chokes on his words as your cock finally pushes in. Every new inch that enters him burns as your impossibly long monster cock stretches his muscles wider. Your dick only swells more as the human's tightness squeezes it without mercy.

“This is so much better than those winged mates from before! Do all humans have a pussy this tight?” But your prey doesn't answer. His voice has seemingly left him too soon. Only sobs and moans find their way out of him as you continue to ram yourself into his little hole.

Gaming can easily feel every vein on your dick. The shape of the head, and the way it seems like your entire length is going straight through his body, are forever etched into his memory.

His ass bounces with every snap of your hips, turning his skin a darker shade of pink as the abuse goes on.

You speed up, ignoring the human's pained voice as you use his insides to pleasure yourself. Finally, you spill inside of him — shooting an ungodly surge of cum into his womb. Not even human sperm, but thick, fertile monster seed that sloshes around with his every move.

With a wet plop noise, you pull out. The human's hole is gaping, pulsating as some cum dribbles out and creates a small puddle between his weary legs.

But everyone knows that most monsters have far more stamina than humans do.

Gaming's ass is ravaged once again as you slide back into him with an insatiable hunger. Your cum acts as lube this time, and every deep thrust inside is sickeningly wet — the sheer size and length of your cock simultaneously fucks the sperm further inside, and pushes the excess out, leaking down his trembling thighs.

Again, you spill your heavy load inside, adding to the gooey mess that's crammed into his tiny hole.

Anything could happen as Gaming's voice becomes scratchy from all of his crying and screaming, and you slide back in for another round. Pounding and pounding, with no obvious end in sight.

[sirfrogsworth]

sirfrogsworth please i am begging to know your boomer uncle’s thought process when he installed all those spam search bars what on earth was he TRUING to do

This was my Uncle Larry. He died in 2014 from a lifetime of smoking.

But while he was alive, he was what my grandma would refer to as "a character."

I feel like seeing his photo gives a partial explanation of the toolbar fiasco.

He was a man stuck in the 1960s but extremely curious about new things.

It was the early 2000s and I was trying to make some extra money. So when he was interested in getting a computer I offered to build him one from scratch.

What I didn't consider about this arrangement was that I was basically signing up to be my uncle's IT person. If something went wrong, it could possibly be due to a mistake I made.

He called me up complaining he couldn't see his websites and that the computer was running slower than normal.

I boot up his system and it takes 10 minutes to get to Windows. The desktop was filled with random programs he installed. And when I opened his web browser I was immediately greeted with a dozen pop up advertisements. Once I nuked them all, all of the different search toolbars were revealed. There was maybe a few inches of space for viewing websites and he had just been looking at photos a segment at a time for weeks before wondering if maybe it wasn't supposed to work like that.

I asked him why he installed all of this crap and he told me he didn't realize he had a choice. He just thought you had to say yes to everything that popped up on the screen. He also opened every spam email he received.

To make matters even worse, when he was searching for lewd pictures of Catherine Bell (aka the "JAG lady" with nice cans), he ended up on various softcore porn sites containing ever more dangerous pop up ads. And he clicked on all of those as well.

He loved the internet. It was a wonderland for such a curious person. He loved typing in random things and just reading and looking at pictures for hours. Aside from Maxim photos of TV celebrities, his searches were pretty innocent. He looked at old cars he used to own and lawnmowers he wanted to buy. He read old war stories and found websites helping him learn how to whittle walking sticks.

But he had no sense of danger. He had a Leroy Jenkins approach to life. He just sort of jumped into whatever without any fear or caution. Which is probably why my parents were so pissed at him when he offered 8 year-old me a ride on his new motorcycle. He immediately took me off-road and up a steep hill without a helmet or telling me to hold on. And it was a Harley, so not really meant for that terrain.

I tried a virus scan and it just said "You have every virus." So I had to nuke his Windows install from orbit. I then gave him computer lessons, which he paid me for, so that sort of worked out despite how frustrating it was to keep him from clicking on random things.

Uncle Larry taught me an important lesson.

Never tell your family you know about computers.

[ccccatttta]

just started thinking about modern black brothers with a wider age gap, maybe ten years in between.

sirius being thrust with raising regulus, helping him with everything and trying to lure him away from their parents beliefs, doing his best to make him kind and good. but he, himself, doesn't know how to do that, he's still a child, but he tries and tries.

regulus seeing him more like a parent figure than anyone else. knowing that being under his mother's fist and father's indifference is regular, just like being with sirius is safe, and warm, and nice.

it's not always good, they are different in so many ways, and in making regulus like himself, sirius sees that he's putting a target on his little brother's back. he doesn't know how to fix it and it pains him, but he can't let his brother become like his parents. it's torture.

then sirius has to go away for college, and it's hell for both of them.

sirius misses so many birthdays and special occasions, and regulus is nothing but a kid still, so his parents can still get their claws on him. sirius has to watch how his little brother, that he has raised, is pitied against him, and in trying to search for comfort in that horrible house, is turning into what his parents want to.

and regulus is just doing what he can, every birthday wish goes to begging for sirius to come home and take him away, every punishment leaves him missing the warmth his big brother used to provide.

it's still not enough, regulus just searches and searches for the same sense of comfort in the dark walls of grimauld place, and finds a cheap copy of it when his mother praises him whenever he does anything she approves. it's not the same, but it's better than nothing so he keeps doing it and doing it until he loses everything his brother taught him, and therefore, loses himself.

and sirius has to watch it firsthand, how the little baby he used to feed, bath, teach and take to sleep, is no longer his.

so he runs away, because seeing it just hurts too much.

[littlereddream]

To Love in Brutality

Gn!reader, whether Jason is Red Hood or Arkham Knight in this is up to you! Please support creators by reblogging :)

Jason isn’t used to cradling fragile things in his palms, not when he’s spent his entire life clutching at all he’s managed to get his hands on. With hands so rough, so calloused by the brutality of the world around him, it’s only fitting that everything he holds onto is just as dangerous.

He’s killed with those hands, held weapon after brutal weapon in his grasp. Blood dries underneath his fingernails no matter how many times he washes his hands, staining his skin even after the red is long gone. There’s always something dirtying his skin, whether it be sticky, crimson liquid or dark, gunpowder residue.

Jason’s learned to hold onto things tight, to put his strength into making sure whatever he’s gripping can’t escape from his fingers.

Every life lesson he’s ever had the misfortune of learning has reinforced the idea that it’s all he’s meant to do. The life he’s living doesn’t allow room for anything else. A man as rough as him can’t possibly hold something so gently. It would be unfitting, like two pieces from separate puzzles trying to make sense together when neither were manufactured to be within the other’s company.

Then Jason meets you, and it’s like he has to learn how to hold all over again. His bone-crushing strength isn’t meant to pair with your gentle hands. The soft skin of your jaw isn’t meant to be grabbed as tight as he would a weapon, not when he’s afraid the blood he’s stained with will stain you too.

For a long time, Jason thinks that he’s not meant to defy what he’s been taught. His life is meant for something different than yours, violent to violent and gentle to gentle.

Then, between countless dates and hours spent in your company, Jason finds that he’s not even close to willing to let you go. He doesn’t care how selfish it might make him, going against what he thinks would be better for you. After everything, Jason thinks he deserves to be a little selfish.

Instead, Jason teaches himself a new way to hold. He teaches himself how to cradle instead of clutch, how to embrace instead of squeeze. He teaches himself how to fit to a different puzzle.

Every touch to your skin is careful, like you’ll shatter if he holds you too tightly. You teach him what it’s like to sway with someone, to dance on fire escapes to music neither of you can hear. He teaches you how to defend yourself, to block all of his careful swipes lest he get the opening to tickle your sides till your positively sick with it.

With his influence, you fit perfectly into the same puzzle he does.

So maybe Jason wasn’t forged to love, but being with you made him realize how much he needed to.

[thinkinginpen]

Unexpected Company

a/n: It may not be the holidays yet but who doesn't love some good Christmas spirit in the fall? pairing: old!logan x reader w/c: 3.2k warnings: romance, hinting, love, fake dating, age gap, etc. summary: You went to Logan's house, your grumpy old neighbor, to bring him cookies and get away from the Christmas party. Little did you know this grumpy old man would take a turn.

"What is all this racket-" Logan muttered as the doorbell rang again for a third time in a row. With a groan, the old man heaved himself up from his armchair. He hadn't had a single minute's rest today, what with the kids home from school on winter break, and now some nosy neighbor was bothering him when it was starting to get late.

He reached the door and yanked it open, intending to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. Instead, he was greeted by a familiar face. You were standing on his porch, holding a plate of cookies.

He had seen you many times but always avoided you.

"What are you doing here?" he said gruffly, his voice rough and full of suspicion. He didn't want to start another fight with the neighbors.

You smiled sweetly, not at all bothered by his harsh tone. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Logan," you said, holding out the plate of cookies. "I brought you some cookies."

He didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever brought him anything before. He was a difficult old man and he knew it. He wasn't used to such kindness.

"Why?" he asked gruffly.

You chuckled softly, the sound light and sweet, like music to his ears. "Just a little neighborly gesture," you said, tilting your head to the side.

He found himself oddly captivated by the sight. You were so different from him. You were so… soft. And those eyes…

He shook himself out of it. He was too old and too grumpy for nonsense like that. "Neighborly gesture?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you know I'm not the friendly type?"

You shrugged, still smiling. "I don't care," you said cheerfully. "Everybody deserves cookies on Christmas."

Logan snorted. "That's a load of Hallmark nonsense and you know it."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh please. You're not as grumpy as you pretend to be."

He felt a twinge of surprise at the unexpected tease. Nobody ever called him on his bluff.

You chuckled softly and took a step closer, peering up at him with a smile. "You know, Logan, I've seen you around the neighborhood. You're always scowling and growling at people. But I can tell. You're not really mad, you're just lonely."

He blinked, taken aback by your perceptiveness. No one ever saw through him like this before.

"I am not lonely," he said, trying to keep his cool. But the words came out more forcefully than he intended, betraying his true feelings. He felt exposed, like you were holding up a mirror to his deepest fears.

You didn't even bother to call him out on the lie. Instead, you just held up the plate of cookies again. "Have a cookie, Mr. Scrooge," you said with a small laugh.

He glowered at you, tempted to slam the door in your face. But there was something in your eyes that he couldn't ignore. It was understanding, or compassion, or maybe a bit of both.

For once, he didn't feel the urge to push you away.

He reached out and grabbed a cookie from the plate. "These better be good," he grumbled.

"Oh, they are," you said, a note of triumph in your voice. Good. You knew he couldn't resist homemade cookies.

He took a bite and found himself surprised. They were good. Really good. Like, the best cookies he had ever eaten.

"These are actually edible," he said grudgingly, trying to keep up his grumpy act.

You just laughed. "Told you."

There was a moment of silence as he finished his cookie. He could feel your eyes on him, watching him closely. As if you were studying him, like he was a curious specimen or a rare animal.

It bothered him, but not as much as it should have. There was something about the way you looked at him…

He cleared his throat, trying to break the spell. He needed to get rid of you before things got out of hand. "Alright, that's enough. Go bother someone else."

But you just laughed again. "Oh, come on, Logan. I know you don't mean that. You like me around."

Logan bristled, feeling stung by your words. He wasn't used to someone seeing through him like this.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly. "I don't need company."

But you didn't even flinch. "You're lonely," you said gently, your eyes full of compassion. "And it's okay to admit it."

He felt a pang of vulnerability. Was he really that obvious? Had he really been that lonely for so long, and no one had noticed?

He tried to push down the feeling, tried to cling to his anger. But he couldn't do it. Something about you just made him feel… vulnerable.

"I don't need your pity," he grumbled, looking away.

"It's not pity," you said, stepping closer. "It's just the truth. You need someone to talk to, someone to comfort you."

His eyes flicked to your face, watching your expression closely. You were so sincere, so open. It was like you had no idea what a danger he could be.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he said gruffly. "You don't want to get involved with me."

"Why not?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

He had to admire your courage. Most people would have run away by now, intimidated by his gruff manner. But not you. You just smiled at him, like he was some kind of puzzle you were determined to solve.

"I'm not a good person," he said gruffly, narrowing his eyes at you. "I've done things I'm not proud of."

"Don't we all?" you asked, your smile just growing wider. "Nobody's perfect, Mr. Logan. We all make mistakes."

He grunted, frustrated that you refused to take his warning seriously. "You don't understand," he said, his voice thick with warning. "I've done things that would make your skin crawl. If you knew the real me, you'd run away screaming."

"Is that right?" you said, still smiling. He found himself almost mesmerized by the sight. How could you be so cheerful when he was trying so hard to scare you away?

He nodded once, his expression grave. "It's true."

You tilted your head, still smiling. "And yet, I'm still here."

He felt a pang of frustration. Why were you so damn stubborn? Didn't you understand the danger you were in?

"You're a fool," he grumbled. "You're not scared of me at all, are you?"

"Not even a little bit," you said, your smile growing even wider. "You think you're tough, but I can see the real you underneath all that bluster."

He felt a pang of surprise, followed by a surge of irritation. How dare you psychoanalyze him like this? Who did you think you were?

As the conversation went on, you suddenly shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

Logan noticed the movement and raised an eyebrow. "You cold?" he grumbled.

You nodded, your breath coming out in a visible cloud in the cold air. You had been outside for too long.

Logan grunted, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Why the hell didn't you say something?" he said gruffly.

You just shrugged, trying to play it off. "I didn't want to bother you."

He grunted. Typical. You were too nice for your own good.

"Come inside," he said gruffly. "You're gonna catch your death out here."

You seemed surprised. "Are you sure?"

He grunted again. "Just come in before you freeze to death, for fucks sake."

He stepped aside, letting you into his house. As you moved past him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being drawn in by your infectious warmth.

You looked around the interior of his house with interest. It was just as you had expected – sparse and utilitarian, with few personal touches. He clearly wasn't one for decorating.

He watched you silently as you looked around, wondering what you were thinking. You seemed so out of place in his home, surrounded by his rough edges and lack of comforts.

"It's cozy," you said, trying to make conversation.

He grunted. "Don't lie. It's a dump."

He gestured to the old couch. "Sit down before you freeze. I'll make some coffee."

You walked over to the couch and sat down, feeling the cushions sag under your weight. The old fabric was worn smooth, like it had been used every day for decades.

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You looked around, feeling a pang of pity for him. It was obvious that he didn't have guests often, if ever.

As you looked around, you noticed something strange. There was no Christmas tree.

Sure, Logan wasn't exactly a festive person, but it seemed odd that he didn't even have a small tree or a few decorations. It seemed like the kind of thing you would expect a lonely old man to have, just to pretend there was at least a little holiday spirit in the house.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of sadness. He was lonelier than you had realized. A small Christmas tree in the corner wouldn't have made much difference, but it would have been something, at least.

You heard the sound of footsteps, and turned to see him walking back into the room with two mugs of coffee in hand.

"Here," he said gruffly, handing you one of the mugs. The coffee was black and steaming hot.

You thanked him, wrapping your hands around the mug to warm them. He sat down in the armchair across from the couch and sipped his own coffee, watching you closely.

"So," he said after a moment. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing bringing cookies to a grumpy old bastard like me?"

You smiled, feeling oddly comfortable with him despite his gruff exterior. "Just spreading some holiday cheer," you said. "Everybody deserves a smile and a cookie this time of year."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're a real bleeding heart, aren't you?"

But there was no malice in his voice. If anything, he almost sounded fond.

You chuckled at his gruffness. Despite his tough exterior, you could tell he wasn't really that angry. He was just surprised by your kindness, and maybe a little uncomfortable with it.

"It's just a few cookies," you said, taking a sip of coffee. "Not a big deal."

"No, it is a big deal," he said, his tone growing more serious. "People don't just do nice things for no reason."

He looked at you closely, his gaze intense. "What's your angle, kid? What do you want from me?"

You laughed, surprised by his bluntness. "I don't want anything," you said, shaking your head. "I just wanted to be nice. It's Christmas, after all."

He grunted, still looking suspicious. "You're telling me you just wandered over here, knocked on my door, and gave me cookies because you're just that nice?"

As he kept watching you, you suddenly found yourself feeling self-conscious. Those intense eyes were so sharp and perceptive, like he could see right through you.

You felt your cheeks growing warm and you started fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves. You looked around the room, trying to avoid his gaze, before finally looking out the window at your own house across the street.

As you glanced out the window, you saw that there was a small crowd of people on your front porch. Most of them were laughing and talking, but one figure stood out from the rest.

Your ex-boyfriend was standing on your front porch.

You felt a pang of nausea as you saw him. He was the last person you wanted to see right now, especially on Christmas.

When Logan saw your expression he leaned forward, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "What's going on over there? Who is that?"

You took a deep breath, trying to control your emotions. "It's my ex," you said softly.

Logan frowned, his eyes narrowing. "And why is he at your house?" he asked gruffly.

You bit your lip, feeling conflicted. "My family is having a little Christmas party," you explained. "He's friends with my brother, so he's invited too. I was hoping to avoid him, but…"

He grunted, understanding what you were getting at. "He's already making a scene."

He didn't need to ask any more questions. He could see the situation clearly enough from your expression. It was written all over your face. You were clearly uncomfortable and unhappy having him here.

"What does it look like?" he said gruffly, slipping on the jacket. "I'm coming with you."

"B-but everyone knows you're the grumpy neighbor Mr. Logan…" you stuttered, "And… And my parents, what will they think if I bring you in, ten times my age. Mr. Logan I-"

He rolled his eyes as he put on his shoes. "Who cares what they think? You need someone to drive that idiot away, and I'm volunteering. Now let's go."

You bit your lip, feeling conflicted. On one hand, you knew your parents would absolutely lose it if you brought home an old man like Logan. But on the other hand, you really didn't want to spend any more time with your ex than necessary.

Finally you nodded, making up your mind. "Alright," you said. "But I hope you're ready for my family to be nosy as hell."

He grunted and stood up, adjusting his shirt. "I can handle nosy. I've been called a few things a lot worse than that in my life."

He gestured to the door. "Lead the way, kid."

As you walked outside, the streets only lit up by the street lights you spoke, "Mr. Logan what are you gonna say if they ask what you are doing with me… Are you gonna say we are-"

He grunted, thinking for a moment. He knew your family would start asking questions the moment they saw him.

"We'll say I'm your boyfriend," he said, his tone firm. "That'll shut them up real quick."

He shrugged, a hint of a smile crossing his face. "Hey, they don't know that. It'll be plenty believable. I mean, look at me."

He gestured to himself, still looking faintly amused. "I'm a catch, right?"

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. "Oh, of course. A silver fox, and probably three times my age… the perfect young woman's boyfriend," you said dryly.

He chuckled at your sarcastic tone. "Hey, I'll have you know I'm aging like a fine wine," he grumbled. "Besides, it doesn't need to be that convincing. We just need a cover story that'll get rid of your little pest problem."

As you crossed the street, you felt a flicker of nervousness. You knew that everyone would notice the two of you walking up to your house together. You could practically see the questions forming on their lips already.

But Logan walked beside you, his steps confident and unhurried. He was unbothered by the stares from your family and friends.

As you and Logan approached, there was a sudden rush of noise as everyone turned to look at you both. Several people were drinking, and a couple others were already pretty buzzed. Your parents were among them, and their eyes widened as they saw the grumpy old man walking at your side.

Your mom rushed forward, practically elbowing her way through the crowd. She came up to you with a strained smile.

"Sweetie, you told me you were just delivering cookies," she said, her eyes darting to Logan. "What is he doing here?"

You felt a sudden stab of guilt under her glare. You had told her a little white lie, saying you were only taking him some Christmas goodies. You swallowed, suddenly feeling very young and very stupid.

Logan, however, seemed unbothered by her questioning gaze. He just looked at her with a bored expression, his hands in his pockets.

"Mom, be nice he is our neighbor!"

Your mom narrowed her eyes at Logan. "Neighbor or not, I don't want some strange old man on my property without a good reason."

She looked between you and him, her expression suspicious. "And why, exactly, are you here, Logan?"

Logan raised an eyebrow, unintimidated by her questioning. "Can't a man visit his girlfriend's house on Christmas?" he said gruffly.

Your mom sputtered, completely taken aback by his blunt answer.

"Your- your girlfriend?" she repeated, her face reddening. She looked around wildly, as if looking for some hidden cameras watching her reaction.

Everyone else was watching intently, clearly interested in the conversation. Your ex boyfriend, off in the corner, looked particularly outraged.

Your face felt hot, and you knew your cheeks must be bright red right now. "Oh my God," you muttered under your breath.

Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "That's right," he said gruffly. "We've been seeing each other for a few months now."

Your mom was lost for words. Everyone else was silent as well, stunned by the revelation. Even your ex boyfriend looked baffled, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"He's an old neighbor honey!"

"He's handsome, charming, and he has a stable job and income," you countered, trying to sell the charade. You felt bad lying to your mom, but this was better than dealing with your ex again.

Logan looked slightly smug at your compliment, enjoying the shocked expressions on everyone's faces.

"But he's old enough to be your father!" your mom said, still incredulous.

You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to come to terms with this new development.

"Age is just a number," Logan said bluntly, unconcerned with her objections. "Besides, I look good for my age, don't I?"

He flexed his right bicep, showing off his muscular forearm.

Your mom's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as he flexed his arm, and your dad quickly stepped in before she did something drastic like collapse.

"Alright, alright," he said, laying a calming hand on her shoulder. He turned to look at Logan, a wary look on his face.

"Now, I don't have any objection to you as a man, Logan," he said carefully, choosing his words. "But I have to admit I'm a little confused about why you'd want to date my daughter. No offense to her, but there's a large age difference between you two."

Logan shrugged, unconcerned. "What can I say? I've got a thing for younger women. And she's a sweetheart, isn't she? Who could resist that smile?"

He grinned at you, and you felt a pang of gratitude. He was really selling the whole relationship thing.

Your dad looked between the two of you, clearly suspicious but not knowing what else to say. Your mom was still just gaping at the two of you.

Finally, you ex spoke up from across the room. "Excuse me," he said, looking furious, "Can I speak to you for a minute?"

You felt a pang of dread as you heard your ex's voice. You knew it was only a matter of time before he confronted you.

Reluctantly, you sighed and nodded. "Yeah, sure. We can talk."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 1 Part 2

[justagalwhowrites]

Oral Fixation - A TLOU One Shot

It's your boyfriend Joel's birthday but what do you give the man who has given you so much? AKA You learn how to give Joel a blow job. A one-shot set in the Lavender universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

CW: Oral sex, mild age gap (Joel is turning 33, reader is 21 almost 22), mild description of past sexual encounter involving oral sex that wasn't the best, Joel is almost disturbingly happy because he hasn't been traumatized yet RIP trauma-free Joel, unprotected P in V sex, no use of Y/N, 18+ only minors DNI

Length: 4.5k

A/N: The final part of the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration! Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's nanny and has been seeing Joel for about six months.

Masterlist | Lavender Masterlist | AO3

September, 2000

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you said, all but clinging to Cassie’s arm as the two of you made your way through the adult store. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t this, neon colored silicone penises and intimidatingly tiny scraps of lace everywhere you looked. 

“And I can’t believe you don’t own a vibrator,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude, with the way you and the DILF go at it I’m pretty sure you’ve had more sex than I have at this point.” 

Your cheeks got hot but… she was probably right. You and Joel had sex a LOT. So much that it was hard to believe that, just six months earlier, you’d still been a virgin. Sure, you doubted that sex with anyone else was even half as good as it was with Joel but it felt like you’d been denying yourself a whole world of good things because you’d been reluctant to make that leap for so long. Now, you wanted to make up for lost time, something that Joel was happy to oblige. 

But, because you were so new to it, you didn’t really know much and, what’s worse, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. 

Which is why you’d turned to Cassie in the first place. Joel’s birthday was coming up and you’d drawn a complete blank on what to get the man. You’d never gotten anyone a birthday gift who wasn’t your grandmother or your friend. What the hell did you get a boyfriend? What the hell did you get a man? 

“You, naked, ready to recreate the filthiest porn the guy’s got,” Cassie said, not even looking up from the latest issue of Cosmo as she did. “And, because it’s you, bake him a cake or something. He’ll be thrilled.” 

“I don’t know that Joel watches porn,” you crinkled your nose. That made her look up. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked, incredulous. “Babes. He’s a man. Of course he watches porn.” 

“I’m sure he would if things were different,” you said. “But he has a kid at home, we have to fight for privacy, I don’t think he’s exactly sitting down and putting on some…” 

“He is,” she said, closing the magazine now. “I promise you, he is. Maybe less now that you’re in the picture but he definitely is. Stashed under his bed or in some shoebox at the back of his closet is a pile of all his dirtiest fantasies and all you have to do is gift wrap yourself, ready to fulfill them.” 

So you might have done some snooping the next time you were at Joel’s before he got home from work. 

Maybe. 

Just a little. 

And yeah, Cassie might have been right. There might have been a box - one a bit bigger than a shoebox but not much bigger - that had tapes and magazines inside. You took a quick inventory, looking at the covers of the videos and flipping through the pages of the more well-worn magazines. 

It seemed both invasive and oddly impersonal, rifling through something that was mass produced and clearly not intended for you to see but was something that it seemed like you should know. The women in the magazines and on the covers of the tapes were so much more… everything than you were. More sexy, more confident, more knowledgable. It made your stomach twist. 

Was this what Joel really wanted? He was older than you and you’d been a late bloomer in the romance department. Of course he had more experience but he’d never made it sound like anything was missing from your sex life. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe what he really wanted was something more like whatever someone named Candy was doing on the back of this VHS sleeve. 

It seemed like the least you could do for Joel was find a way to give him what he wanted.

So Cassie had convinced you to come to this store to figure out something to do for him for his birthday. Not that you had much idea what that would be. 

“What’s his favorite color?” She asked, examining the tiny scraps of lace. 

“Forest green?” You asked more than answered, examining something that you were pretty sure was a bra but seemed to be missing some key components. You were about to move on to something else when one of the movies playing on the opposite wall caught your eye. It was one of the actresses from the tapes at Joel’s, you recognized her. She was looking hungrily at a cock before taking it into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss with a satisfied groan. 

Cassie noticed where you were staring and joined you, smirking a little. 

“Like watching someone get their dick sucked, eh?” She teased, elbowing you lightly. 

You glared at her. 

“I just…” You looked back at the screen. “I think Joel has that video.” 

“Really?” She said, brows raised, looking back at the screen as the woman started to slide up and down the thick cock. “Well, that’s simple enough. Just blow him, wham bam thank you ma’am, you’re set.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Oh don’t tell me you suck him off too much as it is,” she said. “Your sex life is already insufferably perfect.” 

“No,” you said, defensive, your cheeks getting hot. “I just…” 

“Just what?” She asked when you stayed quiet a bit too long. 

“I’ve never… done that,” you said, looking back at the screen as the woman there hollowed out her cheeks and moaned. 

“What!” Cassie yelped and you shushed her as the other people in the store turned to stare. “You’ve never…” 

“Not with Joel,” you said quickly. “I did once with a guy but it didn’t go great and I really didn’t like it and honestly I think Joel might be too big to…” 

“Too big?” She grabbed your arm, her eyes wide. “Babes, you said he was big but like… what do you mean too big? Gimme a ballpark, like…” she tugged you over to a wall of remarkably life-like dildos and pointed to one on the larger end. “That big?” 

“No,” you said and she looked relieved for a moment before you pointed to one that was even bigger. “More like that one.” 

Cassie’s jaw dropped, looking between you and the silicone dick in awe. 

“That’s what the DILF is packing?” 

“Can you please not call him that?” 

“You big slut!” She was practically beaming. “Taking that for your first time? You deserve a medal!”

“Can we just…” 

“That’s it, you’re sucking his dick for his birthday,” she said, grabbing flavored lube, throat numbing spray and a copy of the tape that was playing overhead. “As often as he apparently goes down on you? Seems like the least you can do is return the favor as he turns… what, 47?” 

You glared at her and she smirked at you. 

“33,” you said. 

“And you don’t want me to call him a DILF,” she said, grabbing a surprisingly conservative set of lingerie and a small vibrator on her way to the counter. “Come on, we’ll turn you into an oral champ before you know it!”

You watched the video with Cassie that night after you had half a bottle of cheap wine in your system. The woman on screen seemed so… into it. The one time you’d gone down on someone was the summer before you left for college, going out with a boy you met at the movie theater when you took the kids you were babysitting there to see Hercules. He was cute, nice, didn’t carry the baggage a lot of the boys you’d gone to high school with did. On your fourth date, you were making out in his car and he’d nudged your head down lower and lower until it was in his lap. He pulled his cock out and you cautiously, hesitantly, took him in your mouth and you did try to do what you thought he wanted while taking it slow. But it didn’t take long before he was moaning and thrusting up into your mouth and you gagged as he pushed your head down further on his dick. You’d all but ripped yourself away, coughing and sputtering, and he half heartedly apologized before trying to push your head to his lap again. You didn’t go for it that time and he took you home. You didn’t go out with him again, deciding to write off men until you were away at college and hopefully meeting one who was fine with you doing things like not sucking their dick. 

Which, Joel was. Or seemed to be, anyway. But if he enjoyed it - if it felt like it was something that was missing from your sex life - you wanted to give it to him. He’d given you so much, you wanted to give him everything. You just needed to figure out how to do it. 

After you giggled your way through the video the first time, you started it again as Cassie gave you some tips: How to breathe through your nose, how to swallow around your gag reflex, how to use your tongue, how guys liked when you choked on it a little. It felt almost like you were in class, taking notes on a piece of scratch paper you mentally vowed to set on fire after you practiced a little with a cucumber so no one had to know that you needed someone to teach you this stuff, stuff that seemed like it should come naturally to you. 

“Just use the throat spray, use the lube and breathe through your nose,” she said when she left to go home the next morning. “You’ll have him eating out of your hand.” 

“Right,” you said, trying to ignore the tight knot of nerves that had settled in your stomach. “I can do it.” 

You carefully selected a Joel-sized cucumber at the grocery store and tried to not feel like an idiot as you followed Cassie’s advice as you practiced leading into Joel’s birthday. It wasn’t as bad when there wasn’t someone shoving your head down on their lap though it still wasn’t your favorite thing. But for Joel? You’d deal. 

The day you were going to celebrate his birthday, the reality of it set in. If there was one thing you were an expert in by now, it was your boyfriend’s cock and your boyfriend’s cock was… big. What if the throat spray didn’t work as well when you weren’t the one in control of what was going in your mouth? Worse, what if you were just bad at it? What if he had an ex who was as good at sucking him off as that porn star would be and you’d be struggling to measure up the whole time? 

You were rarely nervous with Joel anymore but you were weirdly nervous as you made him dinner - chicken fried steak - and tried to not let it show as the two of you ate together and had drinks and cake while watching Alien in his living room after. 

“You spoil me way too damn much, baby,” Joel said as your head was nestled against his chest, his lips in your hair. You could feel him smile against you as he kissed you there. “Best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.” 

“Well, I might have one more thing for you,” you said, sitting up from him and smiling a little, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Really?” He cocked a smile at you, his cheek dimpling. “Does it involve you naked?” 

“It might,” you teased, relaxing a little as you looked at him. This was Joel, the safest man you knew, the person you loved more than any other. It would be OK. “Want to go to your room and find out?” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he winked, getting up and helping you off the couch. Once you were up stairs, the two of you kissed your way down the hall but he moaned as you pulled away from him and nudged him back toward the bed. 

“Just stay put,” you said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he called as you disappeared into his bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to take a deep, calming breath before going to his linen cupboard and pulling out the throat spray, lube and lingerie you’d stashed away earlier. You used the spray first, wincing at the antiseptic-like taste of it, before you quickly stripped, balling up your sundress and bra and pulling on the deep green lacy babydoll set Cassie had picked for you. As you examined yourself in the mirror - fluffing your hair and adjusting your breasts in the sheer cups - you gave your best friend this much: she knew how to help make you comfortable. The set wasn’t too revealing or over the top but still highlighted your curves and put all the parts of you Joel seemed to like best on display. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” you muttered before taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, the strawberry flavored lube clutched tight in your hand. You looked your reflection in the eye and tried to get lost in the almost-porn star version of yourself in the mirror. 

“You got this,” you said almost silently, giving yourself a single, resolute nod before going for Joel’s room again. 

He was sitting obediently where you’d left him, watching the bathroom door. You draped yourself against the frame, popping a hip out to accentuate your curves, one arm stretched high over your head against the wood. Joel’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 

“Like what you see?” You asked more confidently then you felt. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he said reverently. “Gonna gimme a heart attack, looking that damn good.” 

“Well don’t go dropping dead on me now,” you teased, walking toward him in what you hoped was a sexy way and not something that made you look like an idiot. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet.” 

He put his hands on your waist when you reached him but, instead of straddling him, you reached down and spread his legs so you could step between them. You knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as you did, reaching for his jeans to open them. 

“What…” he frowned, looking down as you freed his cock, thick and long and hard. 

“Told you,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sultry and not nervous. “I had something for you.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you licked his shaft from root to tip, his skin velvet smooth and salty on your tongue. He groaned as you did and you took a deep breath as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking him gently as you did. 

Even just that was a lot and, as your tongue teased him, you squeezed some of the flavored lube into your hand before you spread it over his shaft, working him with your hand, your heart racing. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you started taking more of him into your mouth, licking and sucking and trying to focus on breathing through your nose as you did. It took more time than you really wanted to get all of him in your mouth, swallowing past your numbed gag reflex as best you could to take his length into your throat. You moaned as you did, sucking him hard, hollowing your cheeks like the girl in the video had done and he moaned, too, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. “Goddamn, your mouth…” 

You would have smiled at that if your mouth wasn’t open so wide. Instead, you started trying to work his cock the same way you did the cucumber in practice, hopefully the same way the girl did in the video he had. 

Joel’s breaths started coming quicker, needy little pants dripping from his lips as his cock dripped in your mouth and you took the encouragement, trying to move faster as you did, trying to take him as deep as you could every time. 

But Joel was big and you were almost positive he was getting bigger as you worked him, his cock swelling even further, his precome salty at the back of your throat, and the faster you moved the harder he was to take. Eventually, even with the spray, it was too much and you choked, coughing and gagging enough that you had to pull back from him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Woah, you alright?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning at you, still a little breathless as he did. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded, trying to keep yourself from coughing, massaging your throat as you did. “Sorry, I just…” 

“Don’t apologize, baby, goddamn,” he laughed once. “Not after doin’ all that for me…” 

You smiled a little sheepishly, feeling like you could breathe again. But the numb feeling at the back of your throat was gone. 

“I can do it again,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I just… I got some throat spray and I just need to…” 

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together, frowning deeper this time. 

“Throat spray?”

You nodded. 

“It’s numbing?” You said, almost like it was a question. “I hadn’t really done this much before and I really wanted to do it like…” 

“Like what?” He asked and your eyes went wide. Shit. You hadn’t meant to say that part. “Like what, baby?” 

“Like the woman in one of the videos in your closet?” You said sheepishly, your heart pounding, everything else coming out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday and Cassie suggested finding out what porn you liked and trying to recreate it so I might have looked through some of your things, I promise it was just to surprise you and give you what you wanted and…” 

“Baby,” he cut you off gently, tucking his cock back into his jeans. “Hey, it’s OK, c’mere.” He tugged you up on the bed beside him and you kept your eyes determinedly on your hands. “Think you can look at me?” 

You took a deep breath but listened, gnawing on your lower lip as you did. 

“There are those pretty eyes of yours,” he smiled a little, cupping your cheek. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate the thought - don’t think any woman’s ever done something like that for me - but honey, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do. I really don’t want to do something that’s rough enough on your body that you gotta numb yourself to get through it.” 

You frowned. 

“But you go down on me…” 

“Yeah, because I like to,” he said. “Like seein’ what I can do to you but that doesn’t mean you have to do it back to me, not unless you want to. And if you do want to, you don’t need to do it so hard that you hurt yourself. It’s not good for me if it’s not good for you, too.” 

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. 

“Besides,” he smiled a little. “Haven’t needed those videos in a while. Honestly, I kinda forgot I even still had ‘em.” 

You scoffed. 

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he said. “Haven’t used ‘em since you and I got together, that’s for damn sure. And for a few months before that I may or may not have had better luck thinkin’ about this sexy nanny I had working for me…” 

“Oh really?” You teased lightly, heat taking the place of the nerves in your stomach. 

“Really,” he said, almost unsettlingly earnest. “I’ve been yours for a while, baby. And that’s because I love you, don’t have a damn thing to do with what you do in bed.” 

You smiled softly and kissed him, his lips gentle on yours for a moment before it deepened, turning hot and needy. 

Joel tugged you back on the bed with him, one hand splaying wide over your back, the other slipping into the soft lace of your lingerie to cup your breast. But, before you got too distracted, you pulled back from him, making him frown a little. 

“But what if I want to,” you said, biting your lip again. 

His frown deepened. 

“Want to what?” 

“Suck your cock,” you said, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks got. 

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes darkening. 

“Because I do want to,” you said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” 

“You sure?” He asked. “Because I know I can be… a lot to take.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Think I know how big your cock is, Joel. And I know what I want.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, lying on his back, freeing his cock and stroking it as he did. “Gotta take it easy and let me help.” 

You nodded eagerly before settling near his hips, taking his length in your hand and stroking him up and down, running your thumb over his leaking tip. When you looked at him now, you weren’t intimidated. Instead, you were hungry for him, wanting to feel him deep inside you in a different way, your mouth watering with it. 

You lowered yourself over him, licking his head, your tongue wide and flat against him and Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in the blankets on the bed. You took a moment to really experience him, the taste of him, the heady concentration of the scent of him in the thatch of coarse hair at his base, the tender softness of his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising but you wanted more, more of all of it. 

So you took more, his tip disappearing into your mouth slow and easy. 

“Fuck, there you go baby,” he was damn near panting with need and you smiled a little around his intrusion, at what you were doing to him. “Nice and slow.” 

You moaned as you sank lower, easing more and more of him into your mouth before rising up and then taking a little more of him, your tongue pressed tight to his shaft as you did again and again. 

And then he was at the back of your throat, no longer numbed, and you tried to do what Cassie had told you to do: Swallow him past your gag reflex to get all of him inside. 

It worked, at first, your lips making it almost to the base of his shaft as he groaned. But it didn’t last, your body quickly trying to reject the thick heft of him in your throat, making you gag. This time, though you didn’t try and force it, pulling back quickly but leaving his head in your mouth. 

“You OK?” He asked, his voice strained, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head. You just nodded, his tip still in your mouth. “Here, gimme your hand.” 

You obeyed and Joel guided your fingers to the base of his shaft. 

“Just…” you could hear the desperation in his voice. “Hold on like that, don’t gotta take it all. Feel the most at the tip, anyway.” 

You nodded and worked your way lower again, a little faster this time, adjusting your grip so you were still taking most of him into your mouth but not quite hitting your gag reflex. Joel’s breaths grew sharper, more desperate and you could feel him straining to hold back from fucking up into you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of power at that, the way you could make him almost lose himself to pleasure. 

You started to work him faster, your tongue pressing and curling around him, your mouth working in tandem with your hand. It wasn’t long before you found your rhythm over him, rising and falling, sucking and licking, savoring every inch of him you could take. And even though you were focused on making Joel feel good, it was making you tight and needy, too, the hand not around his cock finding your slit, fingers trailing through the wetness that had grown there. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Takin’ me so well, baby, doin’ so damn good.” 

You moaned, working him harder, faster as your fingers grew firmer on your clit and you suddenly, desperately, needed all of him in your mouth, gag reflex be damned. 

So you took all of him, moaning as his head slipped into your throat, sucking him hard and fast and you felt him twitch in your mouth before he all but ripped you away from him, leaving you stunned for a moment. 

But then he damn near jumped between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side and pushing into you. You gasped at the stretch of him, your pussy already tightening around him. Joel’s hips snapped into yours just as fast as you’d been sucking him before. 

“Ain’t gonna last,” he said, burying his face in your neck and kissing the delicate skin there. “Too fuckin’ good at that, Jesus…” 

You could only moan in response, your own orgasm building quickly, your fingers tugging at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer, your pussy drawing tight around him for a second before you fell apart. Your orgasm was so powerful you couldn’t move, crying out with the force of it as Joel fucked into you twice more before he came, too, pressing himself deep inside as he spilled into you.

Joel collapsed, spent, on top of you after, still fully clothed and panting for breath as you held him close. 

“Holy shit baby,” he said eventually, still a little breathless. 

You laughed quietly. 

“Did I measure up to the video?” You teased. 

He pulled back from you, looking you over for a moment, like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not. 

“Think you know the answer to that,” he said, kissing you gently as he slid himself from you and lay beside you. He tugged you against him as he settled, tucking your head against his chest. “But in case it wasn’t clear, yeah. You beat ever damn porno I ever watched, ain’t even close.” 

You smiled, proud. 

“Good,” you said. “Because… I liked doing that.” 

You felt him lift his head to look at you before dropping back down to the bed. 

“Really?” 

“Yup,” you said, tracing your fingers over the outline of his pecs through his shirt. “Think I’ll want to do it again.”

“Sure as hell won’t get any arguments from me.” 

“There is a downside, though,” you said, sitting up just enough to look at him. 

“What’s that?” He frowned and you smiled. 

“Now I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to get you for your birthday next year.” 

He laughed and tucked you back against his chest. 

“Just keep givin’ me you, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t get any better than that.” 

A/N: I missed Joel and Doc so I wrote this. Thanks for reading them even more than a year after Lavender ended.

Happy birthday, Joel!

Love you all!

[l4ndonorizz]

white mustang / max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

song: lana del rey - white mustang

summary: as the sun sets on a quiet beach, you and max confront the unspoken tension between you. What starts as a fleeting connection grows into something deeper as max opens up, revealing his desire to slow down and stay with you—no longer the untamable force you once believed him to be

wc: 1.8k

The sound of the ocean echoed softly in the distance as you stood barefoot on the warm sand, the horizon stretching out endlessly before you. The salty breeze tangled your hair as you stared out at the waves, lost in thought. The sun was beginning to dip low, casting a golden hue across the water, and everything about this moment felt surreal.

You had known this wouldn’t last. You had known from the start that whatever was happening between you and Max was temporary—a fleeting moment of intensity that could burn out just as quickly as it had ignited. But still, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

From behind, you felt Max’s presence before you heard him. He didn’t make a sound, but there was always something electric in the air whenever he was near—a subtle tension, a pull that you could never quite escape. Like the wild ocean in front of you, he was untamable, unpredictable—a force of nature you couldn’t resist.

“You’re always here first,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the sound of the waves.

You shrugged, turning back toward the ocean. “Maybe I like the quiet.”

Max stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He had that same restless energy, like the waves crashing against the shore—beautiful, but dangerous if you got too close. It was what had drawn you to him in the first place. The thrill of being near someone who was all speed and instinct, never looking back.

“You’re like a white mustang,” you said suddenly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Max glanced at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

You smiled softly, your eyes meeting his. “It means you don’t stick around. Always moving, never staying in one place for too long.”

His smirk faded, and for a moment, he seemed to consider your words more deeply than you’d expected. The way he looked out at the horizon, with the sun casting golden light on his face, made him look softer, more introspective. The usual confidence that radiated from him was still there, but tonight, it was quieter.

“Maybe that’s who I was,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But maybe… maybe I’m trying to be something else.”

It caught you off guard, this hint of vulnerability. Max Verstappen, the man who thrived on speed and the thrill of the unknown, wasn’t supposed to have these quiet moments of doubt, but here he was. For the first time, he wasn’t looking ahead at the next challenge or race; he was just here, with you.

You weren’t sure how to respond, so you didn’t say anything. The soft sounds of the ocean filled the silence between you, and for a while, that was enough.

The sun continued its descent, casting a warm glow over both of you. Everything felt softer, like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just you and Max standing on this deserted beach. He stepped closer, so close that the warmth of his body radiated into yours. It was a familiar feeling, being close to him, but tonight it felt different—charged with something deeper, something unsaid.

"Let's go somewhere," Max suddenly said, his voice breaking the quiet between you. There was excitement there, but it was quieter than usual, like he wasn’t asking for a thrill but rather for something real.

You turned to face him, your heart skipping a beat at the suggestion. "Go where?"

"Anywhere," he replied, his eyes locking with yours. "I don't care. As long as you're with me."

His gaze was steady, more serious than you were used to. Max had always been the type to chase after what he wanted without hesitation, but this felt different. There was something deeper behind his words, something more vulnerable than you'd ever seen from him.

"Max..." you began, unsure of what to say, but he took your hand gently in his, his thumb brushing over your skin in soft, calming strokes.

"I mean it," he said softly, stepping closer so that there was barely any space between you. "I don't want this to just be a moment. I don't want you to think I'm just going to run off like I always do."

His words hit you like a wave, unexpected and intense. You had always told yourself that whatever was happening between you and Max was temporary—just a beautiful, fleeting moment that would eventually fade like a dream. But here he was, asking for something more, something that went beyond the rush and adrenaline.

"But that's who you are," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. "You're always moving. You're... wild, free. And I don't know if I can keep up."

Max’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "You don't have to keep up," he murmured, his voice full of warmth. "You just have to stay."

Your heart raced at his words, your mind spinning. Could someone like Max really stay? Could he really slow down? You had always been afraid of the day when he would leave, when the pull of the next race, the next thrill, would be too much for him to resist. But tonight, standing here with him, it felt like maybe things could be different.

“I’m scared,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “What if I’m the one who can’t stay?”

Max frowned, his eyes searching yours. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “I’m not built for the kind of life you live, Max. I can’t keep up with your pace, with the way you’re always on the move. And I don’t want to be the reason you slow down.”

Max’s hand gently cupped your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re not holding me back,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “If anything, you’re the only thing that makes me want to stop running.”

His words sent a jolt of warmth through you, but you couldn’t shake the doubt that lingered in the back of your mind. Max was everything you had ever wanted—wild, passionate, free—but he was also unpredictable, untamable. And you weren’t sure if you could handle being the one to ask him to slow down.

“What if you get bored?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if one day you wake up and realize this isn’t enough for you?”

Max shook his head, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “I could never get bored of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the weight of his words making it hard to breathe. You had spent so long convincing yourself that this was temporary, that Max would eventually move on, but now, standing here in the soft glow of the setting sun, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this time could be different.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Max continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to know that I’m serious. I want to be with you. For real.”

Your heart raced at his confession, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the doubts you had been holding onto for so long. You looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of hesitation, any hint that this was just another fleeting moment for him. But all you saw was honesty—raw, unfiltered honesty that made you feel more vulnerable than you ever had before.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted softly, your voice breaking.

Max’s smile was soft, understanding. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be here. We’ll figure it out.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe this wasn’t just a moment—that maybe, just maybe, Max was serious about staying.

The evening drifted on as the two of you sat together, watching the sun finally disappear below the horizon. The sky turned a deep shade of purple, stars beginning to peek through the darkness. Max’s hand remained in yours, a silent promise that neither of you was ready to break.

“You know,” Max said after a while, his voice quiet, “I’ve never felt like this before.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. Max wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, and yet, here he was, opening up in a way you had never expected.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Max hesitated, his eyes focused on the ocean in front of you. “I’ve always been chasing something—something I could never quite catch. I thought it was about racing, about winning. But now… I think it’s you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the weight of his confession hanging in the air between you. Max’s usual confidence was gone, replaced by something softer, something more real. And it terrified you.

“You’re the reason I want to slow down,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I don’t have to keep running.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the sincerity in his words cutting through every fear you had ever had about being with him. You had spent so long convincing yourself that this would never work, that Max was too wild, too free for someone like you. But now, sitting here with him, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you had been wrong.

“I’m scared too,” you admitted softly, your voice shaking. “But I want this, Max. I want you.”

Max’s smile was soft, his eyes filled with relief as he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that this was real—that maybe, just maybe, Max wasn’t going to run this time.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination. “Not this time.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and relief as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the air, but for once, it wasn’t the wildness of the ocean that held your attention—it was the calm that came with being in Max’s arms.

For the first time, the white mustang had found a place to rest.

[pepi1989]

From Rivals to More - Lando Norris

The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline hung in the air as you stood at the karting track, the sound of engines roaring around you. It was a familiar place, filled with memories of childhood races and the fierce competition that had sparked between you and Lando from an early age. He might be a well-known name now, but to you, he was still the same cocky kid you used to clash with on the track.

“Still think you can beat me, Y/N?” Lando taunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against his kart. He looked effortlessly cool, but you weren’t about to let him get to you.

“Please, Lando. Just because you have a fancy car now doesn’t mean you’re better than me,” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly. The playful rivalry was still alive, even after all these years.

Before he could respond, Max, Lando’s close friend, approached with an exasperated expression. “You two need to cut this out,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve been at it since karting. Can’t you at least pretend to be civil?”

Lando rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Civil? With him?”

“I’m right here, you know,” Lando said, feigning hurt, but the spark in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Max sighed, looking between the two of you. “I’m serious! Just… try to get along for once. You never know; you might even enjoy it.”

With that, Max left, leaving you and Lando in a tense silence. You could feel the weight of unresolved feelings hanging in the air.

“Why do you always have to be so infuriating?” Lando asked, breaking the silence as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Me? You’re the one who can’t take a little competition,” you retorted, refusing to back down.

The banter had always been a part of your dynamic, but there was something different in the air now. The competitive edge felt less like rivalry and more like a challenge, one that sparked a flicker of something more in the back of your mind.

“Let’s settle this, then,” Lando proposed, his voice low and challenging. “Race me one last time. No karts, just you and me.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“Foot race. To the end of the track and back. Loser buys dinner,” he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Deal!” you replied, excitement bubbling inside you. You both lined up, the tension crackling between you. “On three?”

“Fine. One… two… three!”

You took off, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The race was intense, laughter mingling with the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. As you approached the finish line, you were neck-and-neck with Lando. You could almost taste victory when, in a final burst of energy, you sprinted ahead and crossed first.

“Ha! I win!” you exclaimed, turning back to gloat.

Lando’s expression shifted from frustration to admiration. “You’re faster than I remember. Alright, dinner’s on me,” he said, breathing heavily.

As you caught your breath, the air between you shifted. The playful rivalry had morphed into something more profound.

“Maybe we should do this more often,” you suggested, a hint of shyness creeping in.

“Yeah, maybe we should,” Lando agreed, his tone softer now. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re not half bad.”

You both chuckled, the walls between you slowly crumbling. Max had been right; there was something enjoyable about this newfound connection.

That evening, as you shared stories over dinner, you discovered layers of each other that you hadn’t seen before. Lando was still competitive, but beneath the surface, he was also thoughtful and funny. You found yourself drawn to him in a way you hadn’t expected.

As the night wound down, Lando leaned back in his chair, a content smile on his face. “I guess being civil wasn’t so bad after all.”

You grinned, feeling a warmth spread in your chest. “Maybe we should race again sometime.”

“Only if you promise to keep it friendly,” he teased, and you both knew this was just the beginning of something exciting.

[strawberriesandstories]

Touch <3

Summary: James has always been touchy until oneday…he’s not

w/c: 1.3k

warnings: nothing much! Just fluff xx

(THIS IS NOT PROOF READ SO BEWARE)

a/n: this is my first story! It’s pretty shit and I wrote it while half asleep in a plane but oh well!

James had always been touchy. Y/n was used to it, though when they first became friends in year one, it took her off guard. She wasn't accustomed to this type of physical affection. Her family weren't really huggers… they weren't really anything, to be honest.

James had always been touchy which is why on the first day of sixth year, y/n was utterly confused. They had met up at the platform as usual, but James made no move to hug her or even say hello.

what?

he looked at her for a second, there was something in his eyes, something that hadn’t been there before…it was almost like a silent plea for something…something y/n didn’t have.

“Hey Jamie…?” Y/n said akwardly, scratching her head not quite knowing what to do.

He was always the first one to say anything

He was always the first one who made the move

He was always the first one to do anything really.

“Hey” he murmured back making no effort to keep the conversation going. Anxiety bubbled in her chest as she tried to think what had possibly gone south between them. When fifth year ended everything was fine, but the more y/n thought about it the more she remembered the little things.

Like how he hadn’t invited her over to his house that summer like normal…or how when they said goodbye he had squeezed her a little less tighter than normal. Maybe she was just overthinking it, maybe everything was fine.

“You look different”

Finally

“Oh-I uh changed my hair”

It was true though she had gotten into a fight with her mother and decided the best act of revenge was bangs and washed out cherry red hair dye. 

“Cool…it suits you” something twitched at the corner of his mouth and he gave her a saddish sort of grin

He took a step close before stopping and sighing again

“Do you remember my thing for Lily-“ 

“Bloody hell mate we’re gonna miss the train” 

a loud voice broke through interrupting whatever he was trying to say as Sirius sauntered over to them with Remus close behind.

“What are you lot doing? I thought we told you to meet up on the train?” Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius’s badgering and stepped away from him.

“Well we’re all here now so let’s just get on” 

and with that they boarded the train and found their regular cabin.

Remus and Sirius sat together as always and James took his dedicated seat next to her. They sat together in silence and listened to Sirius have a one sided argument with Remus over ABBA and QUEEN.

“Hey…uh wanna talk?” James leaned in and whispered in her ear, his breath was hot, the feeling sent a shudder down her spine as she nodded. He gave her a small smile and left the room.

Remus looked at her with an eyebrow raised before turning to Sirius, a wordless conversation seemed to flow between them before Remus spoke up.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He paused before going on.

“I don’t think you’ll like the conversation”

“Oh shut up moony she’ll be fine, just let her go” Sirius barked slapping Remus on the shoulder.

She furrowed her eyebrows confused, why was everyone being so cynical today?

“Huh? What do you mean…uh you know what never mind” she huffed and left to follow James.

“Hey love” he was leaning against one of the empty cabin doors in the quieter section of the train. Everything about him screamed aloof or non-chalant (BAKA) it was so un-James like.

“Your acting kinda weird is everything okay?”

y/n asked worriedly and mused with her hair

Maybe she was overthinking it, maybe everything fines and she’s just being silly

“Oh uh” he laughed awkwardly and re-adjusted himself so he stood upright in front of y/n shuffling his feet slightly.

“I-uh…you didn’t come to the manor this holidays”

She stiffened

“You didn’t invite me”

“…oh right-uh I didn’t think I needed…to”

His ran a finger through his dark curls and sighed

“This is hard-why is this so hard? I mean it was so easy with Lily” 

“What about lily? James whats actually going on?”

“God-I” he sighed and took a step closer to the girl semi-trapping her against the compartment door.

“Remember when I liked lily?” 

Y/n rolled her eyes who could forget? It was all day everyday, all he would ever do was talk and talk about her…she loved lily they were close friends but everytime he mentioned her she felt this silent ache in her chest. Y/n just assumed it was unease with the fact lily didn’t like him back, she was obviated just worried about James’s unrequited  feelings…probably. 

When she didn’t answer he went on.

“It was easier back then…I liked her a lot but it’s-it’s different now I guess, I mean my dramatic gestures never seemed to work and now…now I don’t know what to do”

So this was why he was acting weird? He was worried about Lily? God and here she thought it was about her.

“If your worried lily doesn’t like you why don’t you talk to Mary for advice? They share a bunk in our dorm” 

He paused his eyes softening, he reached up a hand and tucked a strand of loose hair behind y/n’s ear. 

“No-Lily and I…well im over her, I talked to her about it late last term and she-mentioned how my dramatic gestures and clingy-ness was off putting”

No it wasn’t,  it was cute . Y/n had always had a soft spot for stuff like that she never really understood why Lily didn’t like it.

“So who is it then? Who’s the lucky girl” he paused again, he cupped her face with his hands before quickly dropping them and taking a step back.

“Do you think I’m too clingy?” It was a genuine question, he was being serious. Why was he acting so strange?

“No-but everyone girls different, James you dodged the question, who?”

…

“James-“

“You-of course it’s you! I mean we’ve been friends for years so I never really saw you like that but then-god I don’t know something changed…and I” he stopped before looking down and taking a step back

“I talked to lily y’know-it was stupid but I wanted advice and she told me I was always to ‘expressive’ and blunt-I didn’t wanna mess it up with you…I don’t wanna ruin anything we could have, I didn’t want to be clingy-like normal I guess so-…” 

He trailed off and let out a defeated sounding breath.

“Sirius and Remus know…they think it’s a bad idea purely based on the fact that it could ruin our group”

Oh so that explains it

“I dont…think it’s that bad of an idea-maybe” y/n’s cheeks flushed and she all of a sudden felt very hot.

“And I don’t think I’ve ever really felt that your too…clingy”

God this was embarrassing 

“Oh-well now I look kinda stupid..don’t I” he smiled-a real one this time not a smirk or fake grin and let out a loud laugh.

“Maybe” she grinned and took a step towards him, his eyes twinkled as he slung an arm around her positively delighted.

“So-does that mean I can make embarrassing gestures of my love for the world to see?”

“Nope-“

“But I thought you liked my dramatic-ness!” He let out a mock cry and pouted.

 “No-I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that” she giggled 

“Oh-Why must you wound me?”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Too Much (Little Sister Version)

Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @redbird-tf

Synopsis: you have nightmares of dying like Mary, and you start to get really clingy with Dean.

It started out in a subtle way. Your first nightmare had been vague, and though it had jarred you, it wasn’t enough to curb your day-to-day activities…much.

“I’m going for a supply run.” Dean’s words had you looking up from the homework you’d been working on. “We’re out of beer…and food.”

“I’ll come.” You were on your feet before the words even left your mouth.

“It’s just a quick run,” Dean argued. “Don’t you have homework?”

“It can wait,” you insisted, already on your way to the Impala. “Let’s go!”

Of course it would be Dean—it had always been Dean. Sure, he had his anger issues and his bad moments. He drank too much and he isolated himself when he was upset. But he always came back; when Sam was at Stanford, when dad disappeared, it was always you and Dean.

So when you started having nightmares about burning on the ceiling, Dean was who you turned to.

Scary things shouldn’t phase you anymore, not after all you’d seen. But this was different. Your whole life you’d heard “what happened to mom.” Never any specifics—it was always, “the demon killed mom,” or “what the demon did to Mary.” Nobody ever gave you any details; they always said you didn’t need to know.

So when you snuck into Dean’s room in the bunker and stole dad’s journal, you were in for a surprise.

The pages you’d read had been stuck together—it didn’t look like anyone had read them—and it took you a moment to peel them apart.

I went to visit a shrink today—I thought he might be a vampire. I went in undercover, booked myself an appointment. I figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t a monster, but I didn’t leave. It sounds stupid, but I actually talked to him. Told him about Mary. Well, as much as I could tell, which is more than I’ve told anyone. Point is, he told me to write down what happened to her. Every detail I could remember. I don’t like thinking about her…but maybe he was right. Little Sammy asked about Mary just the other day, and I yelled at him. I still feel bad…it’s not his fault, he’s just a kid. Maybe this is the only way I’ll be able to talk about her, but maybe that’ll be enough to keep me from going off on the kids. So here goes…

And John had laid out every gory detail of that night, and you’d read the whole thing. You’d always thought it would be better knowing; that it would somehow bring you some extra closure to know how your mother’s final moments went. You were wrong.

And so came the nightmares. The first one was fuzzy and indistinct; a fire, the sound of screaming. But it was enough to have you going with Dean whenever he left the bunker.

The second one was more vivid. It was also when you realized that it wasn’t your mother you were dreaming about—it was you.

It was so real—you felt the demon’s powers slashing open your stomach, you felt your body lifting off the floor…

But the worst part was the heat. It stung your eyes and sizzled against your blood and seared your skin. You tried to scream, but the smoke choked you and stopped your voice. You struggled to inhale, coughing on the smoke and crying at the pain that lit up every nerve ending.

The bright light of the fire left first, then slowly afterwards the pain. But you were still choking and gasping for breath when you sat up in your bed.

“Dean,” you whimpered, the lone word echoing through your empty room. You weren’t quite used to the bunker yet—you were so used to the motels, where your brothers were right next to you at all times. Most of the time it was annoying, but right now…

You threw your covers off you, finally getting a hold of your runaway breathing as you padded barefoot towards your door. You couldn’t stay in this room—it was this room that you’d dreamt of, this ceiling that you’d burned on.

You flung your door open and started down the hall, but you only got halfway to Dean’s room before you stopped. You couldn’t go to him like this, a tear-streaked mess in the middle of the night; he would know something was wrong, and then you’d have to talk about it.

You couldn’t talk about it.

A bang from the kitchen stole your attention and your breath, your mind wandering towards images of a yellow-eyed intruder. You tip-toed to the kitchen, peaking around the corner and breathing easily when you saw Dean rummaging in the fridge for a beer.

You slipped into the kitchen, heading straight for Dean.

“You’re up early,” he greeted, stiffening in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him. “Hey, something wrong?”

“No,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “Good morning,” you added lamely as you pulled away, as if the greeting would explain away the hug.

“Yeah, mornin.” Dean shrugged, choosing to ignore your strange behavior. “Couldn’t sleep? It’s only 5.”

It was later than you’d thought.

“Not really,” you said. “Can we make breakfast?” You weren’t hungry, but you’d take any excuse to keep Dean close.

“Only if you get the bacon,” Dean said with a grin.

“I think we’re out,” you answered.

“Unacceptable,” Dean decided. “You start on the pancakes, I’ll make a run.”

“Wait! Um…” you wracked your brain for an excuse. “Um, the pancakes can wait, I’ll go with you.”

Dean squinted ever so slightly as he stared you down—that was twice in a week that you wanted to go with him to the store without a good reason.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, just…I want some fresh air.”

“Alright.” You both knew he didn’t believe you, but neither of you brought it up again.

You felt pathetic as you trailed behind Dean, but the idea of sitting around the empty bunker alone until he got back or Sam woke up…

You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own home, without Dean around.

You sat just a little closer to Dean than you normally would once you got into the Impala, sitting towards the middle of the seat even though the right side was empty. You felt Dean watching you from the corner of his eye, but to your relief he didn’t say anything.

…

“Ok, so how many pounds do we want?” You held a brand of bacon in each hand, eyeing them both. When Dean didn’t respond to your question, you turned around to find the cart there, but no Dean. “Dean?” You glanced up and down the aisle, but he wasn’t in sight. You threw both bacon packages into the cart and ran down the aisle, going down the row and looking frantically down every aisle you passed. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

You rubbed a hand against your chest when your next breath wouldn’t go through your tightened wind pipe. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one was less satisfying than the last. Once you reached the last aisle with still no Dean, you turned around and started back the way you came, hoping that he was down an aisle on the other side of the store.

“Dean? Dean!” You were calling his name, but you could barely even hear your winded and squeaky voice in the vast emptiness of the store, so you knew there was no way Dean could.

You passed the aisle with your cart and kept going, looking down the first, then the second…

“Dean!” You rushed forward, flinging yourself into Dean’s surprised embrace.

“Hey, what happened?” Dean was stiff and alert, whipping his head around to see what had spooked you.

“I couldn’t find you,” you whimpered, tightening your arms around Dean’s midsection. “I-I didn’t know where you went. Don’t do that to me!”

“Ok, ok hey I’m sorry,” Dean soothed, pulling away and kneeling down, brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you. “C’mon, what’s going on with you? What’s got you so spooked?”

You didn’t answer—you just launched yourself forwards and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, burrowing your head against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” you pleaded.

“Ok, ok.” Dean held you closely, rubbing your back. “Ok I’m right here kiddo. Let’s get out of here, ok? Let’s go home.”

…

You held Dean’s hand in vice grip on the way out to the car, but he didn’t comment on it. He waited until you were safely bundled into the Impala to speak again.

“Kid, you need to tell me what’s going on here.”

“I’m fine,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean glanced at you, but he didn’t speak again.

…

You were feeling lucky for most of the day—Sam and Dean spent the morning going through books in the library, so you were able to do your homework right next to Dean without warranting worry or attention.

“Check this out.” Sam’s words to Dean had you looking up curiously while Sam turned his computer around. “Looks like a case in town.”

Your heart dropped to your toes—you were too young to hunt, so a hunt in town meant that you sat in the bunker while the boys were out.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about the case before they got ready to head out. Dean was throwing guns in a bag in his room when you went to find him.

“We’ll be back tonight,” Dean promised. “But if we find the thing that’s killing these people, it might not be until late, so don’t wait up ok?”

“Can’t I come?” Your tug on Dean’s sleeve stopped his movements.

“You know you can’t,” he said. “What’s going on with you? And don’t say nothing, because I know something’s wrong.”

“I just don’t want you to go,” you said. “Please De? Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked.

You shook your head.

“Then I have no choice.” Dean sighed. “People are dying, and you can’t come. I have to go.” Dean zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “We’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Dean—“ you reached out for your big brother, but in one stride he was out of your reach, then to the door, then he was gone.

…

You were trying to read the same page over and over, but the words were swimming around the page, blurred by the tears in your eyes and the shaking in your hands that had the pages fluttering. You looked up for the millionth time, a deep pit in your stomach convincing you each time that the yellow eyes demon would be standing in your doorway, waiting to kill you.

You dropped the book on your desk with a thud, finally giving up on homework—you wouldn’t get anything done until Dean was home, you just couldn’t focus.

You picked up your headphones and slipped them over your head, but you found that not being able to hear your surroundings made your anxiety even worse, and the soothing notes of your favorite song did nothing to help for once. You tried turning on the tv, but you found that you couldn’t look away from the door for more than a few seconds before you started to get scared again.

Finally you couldn’t take it anymore—you closed your room door, your bathroom, and even your closet; open doors just had your imagination running away with images of yellow eyes coming to kill you.

You burrowed yourself under the covers and tried to force yourself to sleep. Hour after hour you convinced yourself that you’d just never be able to sleep, but you didn’t have anything else to do but keep trying, so you didn’t move.

You were still laying there when the door opened.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted. You smiled at him, and he smiled back for a second before the smile faded. “Me and Sammy have another case—we’re gonna be gone a while, ok?”

“No, wait!” You tried to get up to stop Dean, but you couldn’t move. “Dean, don’t go! Dean don’t leave!”

He was already out the door, and in his place stood Azazel, pale yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Dean!” You screamed, but it was too late; your pajamas were already soaked in blood coming from a painful gash across your stomach. You whimpered, finally able to move as you wrapped your arms around the wound as if you could protect yourself. You couldn’t.

You were sobbing as your body lifted off the ground, your stomach lurching as you went from wall to ceiling. There was no warning spark, or small flame—you were just suddenly and completely engulfed in flames, your hair burning and your skin scorched. You were still screaming when Dean came running back into the room.

“Dean,” you whimpered. “Dean no!”

Yellow eyes had a knife in his hand, and he turned it on your big brother in an instant. As the fire burned around you, you watched as Dean got stabbed again and again and again…

You woke up screaming. The fire was gone, and so was the pain, but you couldn’t even tell. Your eyes couldn’t take in a single detail of the room—they were blurry and unfocused from sleep. Your brain couldn’t decipher what parts of your dream were real and what weren’t. You sobbed out short and shaky breaths, and your cries were just starting to fade into whimpers when you heard it; the loud thunk of the bunker door closing.

Your fears and your crying returned full force, and you were gasping for breath as you felt around for any kind of weapon.

He’s coming he’s coming he’s coming he’s coming…

It was like all you could see was Azazel as you heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. You wanted to do what Dean always did—push his fear down, throw away his emotions, and just fight—but you couldn’t. You couldn’t catch your breath, you couldn’t stop sobbing, and you couldn’t find your gun.

When your door handle started to turn, you thought you were going to pass out. Your already-unsatisfying breath caught in your throat, and with the lack of breath came black spots at the edges of your vision.

You forced a single deep breath in and out—you couldn’t be unconscious when the demon came to kill you, you couldn’t be that helpless. You had to fight, even though you would lose.

The door swung open, and you were still gasping for breath and grappling for any kind of weapon when—

When Dean walked in.

“Dean!” You were off the bed and in your brother’s arms before he had a chance to speak.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” Dean’s arms tightened around you when he heard you sobbing and felt you shaking. “Baby what happened?”

“Don’t leave me,” you begged between sobs. “Don’t leave me De, don’t leave me.”

“Ok, ok I’m not going anywhere,” Dean promised. “N/N I’m right here.”

“What’s going on?” Sam walked into the room, staring at his siblings with concern.

“I…I think we’re ok here,” Dean decided, carrying you to your bed. “You should go bandage that cut, I’ve got her.” When Sam hesitated, Dean assured him, “I’ve got her Sam.”

Sam finally left, and Dean climbed up on your bed, settling you into his lap when you wouldn’t let your vice grip around his neck go.

“I need you to talk to me,” Dean pleaded. “I need to know what’s going on, what this is.”

“There was fire,” you whimpered, your tears soaking Dean’s shirt. “There was fire, and it burned everywhere, and I was bleeding and I was on the ceiling, and-and yellow eyes stabbed you, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Dean started to rock you back and forth subconsciously. “Hey, how do you know about all that stuff.”

“I’m sorry.” You were sobbing again. “I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I read his journal and he wrote down everything and I thought it would help but…but now I can’t stop dreaming about it. I’m so—I’m so scared, De. All the time.”

“Shh, shh you’re ok,” Dean soothed, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’m right here. Listen,” Dean tried to pull away so he could look at you, but you just tightened your grip. “Ok. I used to have nightmares about mom, too. All the time. I still get them sometimes.”

“You do?” You sniffled. “What do you do about them?”

“Well now it’s easier, because we killed yellow eyes. He’s gone, N/N. Nobody’s ever gonna die like mom did again, especially not you. You know that, right?”

“The dreams feel so real,” you answered.

“I know, I know they do. But they’re not. And I’m gonna help you through this, but kiddo, I can’t be around all the time, you know that. I’ve got a job to do.”

“O—ok,” you sniffled. “I can do better.”

“But I’m still gonna be here when you need me. I promise.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you right now.”

Dean’s arms squeezed impossibly tighter around you.

“Then I’m here for you.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[shybluebirdninja]

Marked By Claws

Summary: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett had fought in wars, faced down enemies, and lived through more lifetimes than most could imagine. He was used to being alone. Until she came along—a regular human, fragile but captivating. Logan tried to fight it, convincing himself it was just instinct to protect someone so vulnerable. But soon, that protectiveness turned into something darker, something possessive.

Pairing             : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Female!Human-reader

Genre              : Fluff, Angst

The rain poured down in sheets outside the bar, casting a dreary haze over the darkened streets. Logan sat in his usual spot, hunched over his glass of whiskey, but his mind wasn’t on the drink. His thoughts were elsewhere—on her. The woman he couldn’t shake from his head no matter how hard he tried. The one he watched every night as she walked home from work.

It started innocently enough, or at least that’s what he told himself. She had an air about her, something that drew him in, something different from the countless others who passed through this crumbling town. But it wasn’t her scent or her face that haunted him—no, it was something deeper, something in the way she moved, the way she existed in a world that would chew her up if given the chance.

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stared out the rain-streaked window. She was late tonight. That wasn’t like her. She always passed by around this time, her coat pulled tight against the wind, her pace brisk. But tonight? Nothing.

The rain tapped harder against the glass as if mocking his rising tension.

Where the hell is she?

Logan grunted under his breath, shaking off the thought. He had no right to care. Not really. She was just some human. Fragile. Helpless. The kind that needed watching in a world like this. That’s all it was. He was just keeping an eye out.

Yeah. That’s what he told himself.

His fingers twitched, the edge of his claws tingling beneath his skin.

Relax, Logan.

But he couldn’t. Not with her out there somewhere, vulnerable and exposed. He drained the last of his drink, pushing back the itch of frustration. His mind wandered again, replaying the first time he saw her. She had been crossing the street in a hurry, nearly getting clipped by some jackass in a truck. Logan had stepped out of the bar just in time to see her stumble back to the curb, a look of startled relief washing over her face. He hadn’t thought much of it at first. Hell, people nearly got themselves killed every day in this shitty town. But something about her stuck with him. Maybe it was the way she barely reacted, like she was used to near-misses. Or maybe it was the way she held herself—quiet, careful, like someone who had learned how to stay invisible in a dangerous world. Whatever it was, Logan had noticed her. And he hadn’t stopped noticing her since.

----------------------------------------------

You were later than usual tonight, your shoes splashing in the puddles as you hurried down the familiar street. Work had been hell, dragging on longer than it should have, and now you were paying the price by walking home in the pouring rain. The chill in the air cut through your coat, making you shiver as you pulled it tighter around yourself.

The bar you passed every night was still open, the neon sign flickering in the downpour. You barely glanced at it as you walked by, too focused on getting home and out of the wet. You didn’t notice the eyes watching you from the shadows.

Logan leaned against the brick wall outside the bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. He had already spotted you the moment you turned the corner, his gaze following your every move. You were soaked, shivering, clearly exhausted from your day. His instincts told him to step forward, to offer help. But he stayed where he was, watching. Always watching.

You were close now, close enough that he could catch the faint scent of your skin beneath the rain. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, wanting to touch.

“Evenin’,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

You jumped at the sound, your wide eyes snapping to his in surprise. “Oh… I didn’t see you there.”

Logan shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. He took a drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing dimly in the gloom. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You offered him a faint smile, though the tension in your shoulders told him you were still wary. Smart girl. In a place like this, you couldn’t afford not to be.

“I’ve seen you around,” you said, awkwardly breaking the silence. “You’re always at the bar, right?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Guess you could say it’s my second home.”

He watched you carefully, noting the way your eyes darted toward the road, clearly eager to keep moving. The rain was coming down harder now, drenching your clothes. You shivered again, and Logan’s brow furrowed.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden concern. “Oh, yeah… it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Don’t look fine,” Logan muttered, stepping closer before he could stop himself. His eyes flickered down the street. “You gotta walk far?”

“Just a few more blocks,” you replied, taking a step back instinctively. “I’ll be fine.”

Fine. That word again. You weren’t fine. You didn’t have a clue how dangerous it was out here. And that guy from the other night—the one who’d been walking with you, laughing, trying to get close—that asshole didn’t sit right with Logan. Guys like him didn’t just walk women home out of the goodness of their hearts. He could smell the bullshit from a mile away.

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You alone tonight?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

He took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That guy from before. The one with the umbrella.”

“Oh, Mike?” you said, realizing who he was talking about. “He’s just a coworker.”

Logan grunted, his gaze sharp. “Coworker, huh? He’s lookin’ for more than that, trust me.”

You laughed softly, though there was an edge of nervousness in it. “No, it’s not like that. He’s harmless.”

Logan’s eyes darkened. Harmless. He’d heard that line before. It was never harmless. Guys like Mike? They took what they wanted, one way or another.

“Listen,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “guys like him, they don’t give a shit about bein’ nice. They just want somethin’ from ya. You should be more careful.”

You frowned, clearly taken aback by his intensity. “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

Logan’s grip on his cigarette tightened, the ember flaring brightly before he flicked it to the ground, grinding it under his boot. He wanted to argue, to tell you how wrong you were, how naïve. But he held back. Barely.

“Yeah, well, just… watch yourself,” he muttered, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

You nodded slowly, still unsure what to make of him. “I will. Thanks, Logan.”

Hearing his name from your lips sent a strange jolt through him, something primal, something possessive. He watched as you turned to leave, disappearing into the rain once again. The pull was stronger now. Each time he saw you, each time you spoke, it tightened like a noose around his mind.

----------------------------------------------

Days passed, and Logan found himself drifting closer to you without meaning to. He’d catch himself waiting by the bar, his eyes scanning the street, searching for that familiar form. Every time you walked by, something inside him shifted, grew darker. He knew he was crossing a line, but the beast in him didn’t care. You were his to protect, to watch over. Even if you didn’t know it.

He trailed you one night, his footsteps silent as he kept to the shadows. You were walking home, same route, same hurried pace. But this time, something was off. You were on edge, glancing over your shoulder every few steps. Someone had spooked you.

Logan’s senses kicked into high gear. His nostrils flared, picking up the scent of someone else. Someone nearby.

His claws itched beneath his skin, ready to tear into anyone who thought they could mess with you. He didn’t care if it was Mike or some other lowlife. Whoever it was, they were gonna pay.

He stayed a few steps behind, watching as you quickened your pace, clearly feeling the unease. But before he could make a move, you stopped, turning suddenly as if sensing him.

Your eyes locked with his, wide and startled.

“Logan?”

Shit. He hadn’t meant for you to see him. But there was no going back now.

“Hey,” he said, stepping out of the shadows, his voice casual despite the tension crackling in the air.

You stared at him, clearly unsettled. “Were you… following me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Nah. Just keepin’ an eye out.”

“Why?”

His gaze darkened, the protective edge creeping back into his voice. “Because you need it.”

You stood there, staring at him like you didn’t know whether to be pissed off or scared. Logan could tell. It was written all over your face—the way your brows furrowed, lips pressed tight, trying to make sense of him. Of why a man like him would care about a woman like you. Hell, even he couldn’t explain it fully.

“Look,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath, “I don’t need a babysitter, Logan. I can handle myself.”

“Handle yourself?” Logan scoffed, stepping closer, his boots splashing through the puddles. “You’ve got no clue what’s lurkin’ out there. This ain’t about handlein’ yourself—it’s about survivin’.” His voice was gravelly, laced with the kind of warning that only someone who’d lived through hell could deliver.

You bristled, clearly not in the mood for whatever this was. “Surviving? You make it sound like I’m living in some warzone.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You are, sweetheart. Just ‘cause you don’t see the bullets flyin’ don’t mean they ain’t there.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting that kind of response. “What are you talking about? This is just—”

“Just what?” Logan interrupted, his voice gruffer now, his temper flaring. “You think people in this town are all playin’ nice? You think that guy, Mike, your little ‘coworker,’ ain’t lookin’ to get somethin’ outta you?”

You clenched your fists, the frustration rising. “He’s not like that. Not everyone is out to hurt me, Logan.”

He let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so damn blind, y’know that? Guys like him? They don’t just walk you home outta the kindness of their hearts.”

You took a step back, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “You don’t know him.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took another step closer, his presence towering over you. “I don’t need to know him. I know his type.”

There was silence for a moment, just the sound of rain and your uneven breathing. You looked torn—part of you angry, part of you unsure, like maybe, deep down, some part of you knew Logan was right.

But you wouldn’t admit it.

“I’m going home,” you muttered, turning to leave, your voice shaking a little. “I don’t need this right now.”

Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you stop in your tracks. He felt the heat of your pulse under his fingers, quick and erratic. His grip was firm, but he kept his claws in check, just barely. He could feel the beast inside him gnashing its teeth, wanting to drag you back, to keep you right there where he could watch you. Protect you.

“Logan,” you warned, your voice low. “Let go.”

He didn’t. Not right away. He couldn’t.

For a second, neither of you moved. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something—he didn’t even know what. Maybe he was looking for a reason to stop. Maybe he was looking for permission.

But all he found was your fear. That familiar mix of terror and curiosity. And God help him, it did something to him. Made him want to pull you closer, claim you, make sure no one else ever laid a hand on you. He could protect you better than anyone. He needed to.

But then your voice broke through his haze. “Logan,” you whispered, softer this time. “Please. Let go.”

That word—please—it cut through him in a way he didn’t expect. He blinked, his grip loosening until you slipped free, taking a step back as if putting distance between the two of you could fix whatever the hell this was.

“Go home,” Logan muttered, turning away, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from grabbing you again. “Get inside before someone else finds you out here.”

You hesitated, standing there in the rain for a moment longer, watching him. Logan could feel your eyes on him, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. He was too close to snapping. Too close to letting the obsession inside him spill out.

Finally, you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Goodnight, Logan.”

And then you were gone, your footsteps retreating into the distance, leaving Logan alone in the rain with nothing but his thoughts and the dark, gnawing hunger that came with them.

----------------------------------------------

Logan didn’t follow you home that night. He stayed rooted where you’d left him, letting the rain wash over him until it felt like it could scrub the wild thoughts from his mind. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

She’ll come around, he told himself. She has to.

But days passed, and you didn’t. You didn’t pass by the bar as often, didn’t give him more than a quick nod or an awkward wave when you did. He knew you were avoiding him, and that only made the itch under his skin worse. He wasn’t stupid—he knew he’d scared you. Hell, maybe that was for the best. Maybe if you stayed away, he wouldn’t have to deal with this… this thing inside him.

Except you didn’t stay away, not completely. And Logan couldn’t help but keep tabs on you.

It was a couple of weeks later when things started going south. He noticed it one night while he was out on a run—your apartment lights were on later than usual, shadows moving across the windows. At first, he thought you had someone over. Mike, maybe? His gut twisted at the idea, a low growl rumbling in his throat. But then, he caught a different scent. One that didn’t sit right with him.

Fear.

His instincts flared to life, sharper than before, and without thinking, Logan was on the move, crossing the streets with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a guy his size. He slipped into the alley beside your building, the rain-soaked bricks gleaming under the streetlights. He crouched low, his ears straining to hear anything unusual.

And then he caught it. A muffled shout. Your voice.

Logan didn’t even think. His claws slid out with a metallic snikt, and in seconds, he was scaling the fire escape, his senses guiding him straight to your apartment. The window was cracked open, just enough for him to push it aside and slip inside without making a sound.

The scene in front of him made his blood boil.

You were backed up against the wall, your hands out in front of you, trying to ward off a man who was way too close. Mike. Of course it was fucking Mike. He was drunk, that much was obvious. His hands were on you, grabbing at your arms, slurring something Logan couldn’t make out over the roar of rage in his ears.

“C’mon, babe,” Mike was muttering, leaning in way too close for comfort. “Don’t be like that…”

You tried to push him away, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed your wrist hard, yanking you back toward him. That was all Logan needed to see.

Before Mike could even react, Logan was on him, grabbing the bastard by the collar and throwing him across the room like he weighed nothing. Mike slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, his eyes going wide as he tried to process what just happened.

“What the fuck?!” Mike gasped, clutching his head in pain as he tried to scramble to his feet.

Logan didn’t give him the chance. He was across the room in an instant, his claws gleaming in the dim light as he stood over Mike, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Touch her again, and I’ll rip you apart,” Logan snarled, his voice barely human.

Mike’s face paled, his eyes darting between Logan’s claws and the murderous look on his face. “Jesus, man! I didn’t—”

“Get. Out,” Logan growled, his claws twitching dangerously close to Mike’s face.

Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with terror as he bolted out the door, stumbling down the hallway. Logan didn’t watch him go. His attention was on you now.

You were standing there, your back pressed against the wall, your breathing shallow and uneven. Your eyes were wide with shock, staring at Logan like you didn’t quite know what to make of him. Like maybe, for the first time, you were seeing the monster everyone warned you about.

Logan stepped toward you, his claws still out, his breathing heavy. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, the beast inside still roaring for blood, still wanting to tear Mike apart for even daring to touch you.

But then he saw the way you were looking at him—the fear in your eyes, the trembling in your hands—and it stopped him cold.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, trying to pull himself back. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. You were still in shock, still processing everything that had just happened.

“I didn’t mean to—” Logan started, but he cut himself off. What could he even say? He hadn’t meant to scare you, hadn’t meant to make things worse. But that was the thing about him. He always made things worse.

You took a shaky breath, your eyes flickering down to his claws, still extended, still sharp. “Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Your claws…”

Logan blinked, realizing he hadn’t retracted them yet. With a grunt, he forced the metal back into his hands, the familiar sting reminding him of what he was. A monster. Something that didn’t belong in your world.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, stepping back, giving you space. “I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “No… no, I’m glad you were here. He… he wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what to do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “You don’t ever have to deal with that. Not as long as I’m around.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, like maybe you were starting to understand. Like maybe you were starting to see him for what he really was—someone who’d do anything to protect you, no matter how ugly it got.

And that was dangerous.

But for now, you were grateful. For now, you needed him.

And for Logan, that was enough.

You were still shaking, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Logan could hear it, the way your heart was racing, the fear still pulsing under your skin. But there was something else now—something different in the way you looked at him. Not just fear.

Trust.

And that was enough to make him stay, to not walk away from this mess he’d created. He could’ve left—should’ve left. But instead, he lingered in your apartment, watching you try to catch your breath, your eyes darting from him to the door where Mike had fled.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, rubbing your arms like you were trying to shake off the whole thing. “I didn’t think—”

“Don’t,” Logan interrupted, his voice gruff but softer than usual. “Don’t apologize for that piece of shit.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still wide, searching his face. “I just… I thought he was a friend. You know? I didn’t think he’d…”

Logan’s jaw tightened again, and he fought the urge to go after Mike, to track him down and finish what he’d started. But that wouldn’t help you right now. That’d only make things worse.

“He’s not your friend,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guys like him? They’re never just friends.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the ground like you didn’t want to admit he was right. Like maybe you’d known all along but didn’t want to believe it.

“I feel like an idiot,” you said finally, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. “God, I feel so fucking stupid.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re not stupid. You’re just… too damn trusting.”

You looked up at him again, a small, bitter smile playing on your lips. “That a bad thing?”

“For most people? Yeah. For you? It’s gonna get you hurt.”

There it was—the bluntness, the gruff honesty that Logan couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard he tried. And even though you looked like you wanted to argue with him, you didn’t. You just nodded, like you understood. Like maybe you were starting to see the world the way he did.

Logan let out a slow breath, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the tension that still coiled tight in his muscles. He wanted to stay close, make sure you were safe, but he didn’t want to scare you any more than he already had.

“I’ll stay outta your way,” Logan muttered, moving toward the window he’d come in through. “Just… lock the door after me, alright?”

You blinked, surprised. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, his back to you now, already halfway through the window. “I ain’t gonna crowd you.”

Before you could say anything, he was gone, slipping out into the night like he hadn’t just saved you from a man who could’ve hurt you. Like he hadn’t just shown you a side of him you weren’t sure how to feel about.

----------------------------------------------

The next few days passed in a strange blur. You went back to work, went about your life, but things didn’t feel the same. You kept looking over your shoulder, half-expecting Mike to show up again, but he didn’t. Logan had taken care of that.

You hadn’t seen Logan since that night, though you’d felt his presence more than once. You couldn’t explain it, but you just knew he was around, watching from the shadows, keeping an eye on you. And part of you should’ve been creeped out by that—should’ve wanted him to back off.

But you didn’t.

In fact, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you had in a long time.

Which was why, on the third night after the incident, you found yourself standing outside the bar where Logan usually hung around, staring at the door like an idiot, wondering why the hell you were even here. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, hadn’t planned on… whatever this was. But something in you pulled you here.

Maybe you just wanted to say thanks. Maybe you just needed to know he was still watching over you.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of beer and cigarettes hit you immediately, the dim lighting casting shadows over the bar, the low murmur of conversation filling the room. And there he was, sitting at the end of the bar, a beer in front of him, looking like he hadn’t moved since the last time you saw him.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him from the door. He hadn’t noticed you yet—at least, you didn’t think he had. But then, without even turning his head, he spoke.

“Gonna stand there all night, or you gonna come over here?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Of course, he’d sensed you. Logan wasn’t the kind of guy you could sneak up on.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to him, slipping onto the barstool beside him. He didn’t look at you, just kept his eyes on his beer, his jaw tight like he was waiting for you to speak first.

“You always know when someone’s watching you?” you asked, your voice light, trying to break the tension.

Logan let out a low grunt. “Call it a survival skill.”

You chuckled softly, though the sound felt a little forced. “Guess I don’t have that skill. Not like you.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t need it.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the conversation. You hadn’t really thought about what you’d say when you came here. Now, sitting next to him, you realized you didn’t just want to thank him—you wanted to understand him. You wanted to know why he felt so… protective of you. Why he’d risked so much.

“Why are you doing this, Logan?” you asked quietly, your eyes on him, searching for answers. “Why do you care so much?”

He didn’t answer right away. He took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes distant, like he was lost in thought. Then, after what felt like forever, he spoke.

“You ever have somethin’ you just… couldn’t explain?” he muttered, his voice low, rough. “Somethin’ that got under your skin and stayed there?”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Logan finally turned to look at you, his eyes dark, intense. “That’s what you are, darlin’. You’re under my skin.”

The air between you felt heavy, charged with something neither of you could quite name. You stared at him, your heart racing, unsure of what to say. What did he even mean by that? Was it obsession? Protection? Something else entirely?

“You’re just… under my skin,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. “And I can’t shake it.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that you hadn’t expected from a man like him. It wasn’t just about protection. It was more than that.

And that scared you. But it also drew you in.

“Logan,” you whispered, not even sure what you were going to say.

But before you could finish, he stood up, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle down on the bar with a heavy thud.

“Forget it,” he muttered, his voice gruff again. “I shouldn’t have said nothin’.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift. “Wait, what? Logan—”

But he was already walking away, heading for the door like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Like he was running from something.

From you.

You stared after him, your mind racing, your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected any of this. But now that you knew—now that you understood what was going on in his head—you weren’t sure how to feel.

But one thing was for sure: Logan wasn’t just some protector. He wasn’t just looking out for you out of some sense of duty or responsibility.

He was obsessed.

And now, you had to figure out what the hell you were going to do about it.

You sat there in the bar, still processing Logan’s words, the way he had looked at you—like you were something he couldn’t escape, something tangled up in his very being. The intensity of it left you breathless. And the way he had just walked out? Like he was scared? That didn’t sit right.

Without thinking, you stood up and followed him, pushing through the bar’s door into the cool night air. The street was quiet, lit by the dim glow of streetlights, and you could see him walking away, shoulders hunched, his pace faster than usual, like he couldn’t wait to disappear into the shadows.

“Logan!” you called out, your voice cutting through the silence.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. For a moment, you thought he might just keep walking, leaving you standing there. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and turned to face you, his expression hard to read.

“What do you want, kid?” he grumbled, though his tone was softer now, not as sharp as before.

You swallowed, your nerves buzzing. “I want to know what the hell you meant back there.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not gonna forget it. You said I’m under your skin, and then you just walked out. That’s not fair, Logan.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable. It was like he was struggling, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. And for the first time, you realized how hard this was for him. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to feeling like this.

“I ain’t good for you,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You deserve better than… this.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Better than what? Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count? Someone who cares about me? Logan, I’m not scared of you. Not after everything.”

He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “You should be. You don’t know what it’s like—what I’m like. I can’t give you a normal life. Hell, I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore.”

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, but you didn’t back down. You weren’t scared. Not of him. Not of whatever this was between you two.

“I don’t want normal,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. “I want you.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Logan froze, his eyes widening just a fraction, like he hadn’t expected that. Like he didn’t know how to process what you were saying.

“You don’t know what you’re sayin',” he muttered, but there was no conviction behind his words now. “I’m a fuckin’ mess, darlin'.”

You smiled a little, despite the tension. “We’re all a mess, Logan. But that doesn’t mean you get to shut me out.”

There was a beat of silence between you, the night air heavy with unsaid things. And then, before you knew what was happening, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands gripping your arms as he pulled you closer, his eyes burning with that same intensity that had left you breathless in the bar.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he growled, his breath warm against your skin, his face inches from yours. “You don’t know what this is.”

“Then show me,” you whispered, your heart hammering in your chest. “Show me, Logan.”

For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, that he might let go and walk off into the night. But then, with a low, frustrated groan, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and full of everything he’d been holding back.

You gasped against his mouth, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands clutching his jacket as you kissed him back, feeling the heat of him, the raw power that simmered just beneath his skin. His hands slid from your arms to your waist, pulling you even closer, like he couldn’t stand the space between you, like he needed you as much as you needed him.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to be gentle even though you could tell he didn’t want to be. His claws didn’t come out this time, but you could feel the roughness in the way he touched you, like he was afraid he might break you.

But you weren’t afraid.

“Logan,” you whispered against his lips, your voice soft but sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That seemed to snap something in him. He kissed you harder, his hands gripping you tight as he backed you up against the brick wall of the alley, his body pressed against yours, trapping you there in the best way possible. It was intense, overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. You’d never felt more alive, more wanted, than you did in that moment.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, trailing rough, heated kisses along your skin, his breath ragged, like he was barely holding himself together. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe this was as close to falling apart as Logan ever got.

But you didn’t care. You wanted all of it—all of him.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against your neck, his voice rough, desperate. “Tell me to walk away, ‘cause I don’t think I can.”

You shook your head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “I’m not telling you to stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

Logan let out a low, almost pained sound, his hands gripping your hips as he kissed you again, slower this time, but just as intense. There was no hesitation now, no pulling back. Just him and you, wrapped up in each other like nothing else mattered.

The world outside, the fear, the danger—it all faded away. It was just Logan, his touch, his heat, the way he made you feel safe and alive all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, you could feel the shift between you. Something had changed—something deep and unspoken, but undeniable.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t leave.

Instead, he kissed you again, slower this time, softer. And for the first time, he let himself believe it. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a mistake.

[shitsndgiggs]

The reader and kenan have a daughter whos 2 and she tells them she wants a sister to play dolls with kenan tells her “me and mommy will see what we can do” and he gets all smirky to you whispering dirty things in ur ear .

SISTER REQUEST - KENAN YILDIZ

Your daughter wants a sister

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, the kind of morning where everything seemed to slow down. Kenan, our two-year-old daughter, Ayla, and I were lounging in the living room.

Ayla was sitting on the floor, surrounded by her favorite dolls, chattering away in her sweet little voice as she played with them.

Kenan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally looking up to watch Ayla or share a soft smile with me.

It was one of those moments where everything felt right, and the happiness in the room was palpable.

Out of nowhere, Ayla looked up from her dolls, her big eyes filled with curiosity. “Mommy?” she asked, holding up her favorite doll. “I want a sister.”

Kenan and I froze for a second, exchanging surprised glances before both of us burst into laughter. "A sister?" I asked, smiling down at her. "Where did you get that idea, sweetie?

She nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. “Yeah! A sister to play dolls with me. We can have tea parties!”

I tried to keep my composure, but the innocence in her request made me want to scoop her up and smother her with kisses.

Kenan, on the other hand, had a different reaction. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, clearly trying to hide the mischievous grin spreading across his face.

He leaned back on the couch, arms behind his head as he looked at me with that signature look of his—playful and a little too confident. "Well, Ayla," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "me and mommy will see what we can do."

I shot him a look, narrowing my eyes, but Ayla didn’t pick up on the underlying tone in his voice. She just giggled and continued playing with her dolls, happy with Kenan’s response.

But Kenan wasn’t done. Oh, no. He slid closer to me on the couch, leaning in so Ayla couldn’t hear, his lips brushing against my ear. “Maybe we should get started on that sister tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. "You know... after she goes to bed."

I rolled my eyes, fighting the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Kenan," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady, but he didn’t back down.

His hand moved to my thigh, squeezing gently as he leaned in even closer, his lips just grazing the skin beneath my ear. “Just think about it, babe,” he murmured, his tone taking on that deeper, huskier quality that always made my stomach do flips. “You, me... making another baby...”

I swatted his hand away playfully, glancing over at Ayla, who was still fully immersed in her tea party, oblivious to the conversation happening above her head. “Kenan, stop,” I whispered, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest, clearly enjoying how flustered I was getting.

“What? It’s not a bad idea,” he continued, his fingers tracing small circles on my thigh. “Ayla wants a sister, and I’m more than willing to make that happen for her... and you.”

I bit my lip, trying to focus on anything but how good his voice sounded when he was being suggestive like this. “We are not discussing this in front of her,” I hissed, but it was getting harder to ignore the heat rising between us.

Kenan leaned in again, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered “Come on Askim, you look so sexy pregnant”

"Kenan!" I half-whispered, half-giggled, pushing him away again, my face fully flushed by now.

He laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop... for now,” he said, sitting back with a smug grin, his hand still resting on my thigh as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“But I’m serious, babe. We could give her a sister... or maybe a brother,” he added with a wink.

I shook my head, still trying to hide my smile. "You're impossible."

Kenan just grinned wider, leaning back against the couch. "And you love me for it."

Before I could respond, Ayla looked up at us again, completely oblivious to the tension between me and Kenan.

She clutched her doll tighter, her little face lighting up with excitement. “So I get a sister soon?” she asked innocently, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Kenan and I both laughed, and I reached down to stroke her hair. “We’ll see, sweetie,” I said gently, trying to steer the conversation away from Kenan’s less-than-innocent suggestions.

Kenan, though, wasn’t one to let things go so easily. He leaned in one last time, his lips brushing against my ear again, sending another shiver down my spine as he whispered, “Sooner than she thinks.”

I shot him a glare, but the smile tugging at the corner of my lips ruined any attempt at being serious.

“Just you wait,” he added, giving my thigh one last squeeze before turning his attention back to Ayla. "Daddy’s going to make it happen."

[zathechaosgod]

Minecraft Live 2024 Highlights

I've been lied to, they started early!

It's ("just") youtubers/streamers talking abt what minecraft means to them. 15th anniversary celebration moments

dantdm is here!! (on video)

i saw someone say "please bring back copper".... who took copper from you,,

ENDERCUP MENTION!!!!!!!

throwback to when everyone wanted the final sequence of endercup to be a teaser of a new end update (but maybe this time????? 👀👀👀)

One final compilation of all the big youtubers right now (including a Lot of familiar faces from hermitcraft, life series, rats, even rtgame!)

Inside footage of the mincraft stockholm office! (Incredible decoration hoooly)

not the movie mention 💀

the original minecraft trailer!!!! that's the one that got me to play....

jeb! recapping this year

change of pace in releasing features???

more frequent regular updates instead of the big yearly one!! like the armadillos

two drops that will release in the next few months!

First drop new unique biome

Second drop is a combination of two things: hardcore mode in bedrock, and bundles!!

VILLAGER NEWS INTERRUPTION

SHOUTOUT TO INCLUDING STEVE IN THE LISTING OF MONSTERS BY THE VILLAGERS

rip villager number 31

rip... all the villagers?

new monster<333333333

few things i can say about the way they introduced the minecraft movie other than the fact it came directly after the banger villager news horror story and that i grimaced at their word choice. it might have included "authentic".

at least chat is no longer fighting! they're very united in their hatred <3

this entire segment has me starting tiredly into the camera like i'm on the office.

"one meter by one meter was too big" go order a fucking creeper. looking at the uncanny valley and feeling at home IS THE POINT

minecraft in real life experience!!!! (a la that one van gogh exhibit if you know that)

New biome announcement!!

OOOO IT'S LIKE A DEAD FOREST BETWEEN DARK OAK AND SPRUCE CALLED THE PALE GARDEN

2x2 grey trees, hanging moss, silence, Meant to be creepy at night

SOMETHING LURKING IN THE SHADOWS

created for low visibility, new grey moss (hanging like vines and block and carpet!)

CREAKING A TREE-LIKE CREATURE, HARD TO SEE EXCEPT THE YELLOW EYES IT HAS/ IT DOESNT TAKE DAMAGE BC IT'S CONNECTED TO A BLOCK IN THE CANOPY

creaking is a hivemind puppet of the creaking heart block!!! you need to destroy that to kill the creaking

THE CREAKING ONLY MOVES WHEN YOU LOOK AWAY. DON'T. BLINK.

the creaking heart drops as a block and can be placed by players <3

i love this guy smsmsmsmsm

pale oak wood set!!!!! WHITE WOOD

moss inspired by weeping willow trees and spanish moss!!

new wood type is for bdubs personally. i think.

return to villager news! news reporter villager 9 survived along with the nitwit, who is using this newfound power to get his justice

... so no end update [breaks skateboard]

but aftershow pale garden playing!

i love him so much,,,,,

peak commentary: "....whoops"

it feels mean to say but my main takeaway from them showing off the little village they made using different material in combination with the pale oak is "oh none of these people are very good at building" very 2015 vibes. they shouldve just given scar and bdubs a texture pack

creaking hard needs to be aligned between two pale oak logs for it to activate!! making for easy on/off switches

the block stays on and red as long as a creaking is spawned in!

this means that 1) red heart flooring will have Basements of creaking mistreatment and 2) if you want cool particle beams, pray your server doesn't have peta

competition of farming creaking hearts that keeps spawning more creakings? banger design honestly. in gridrunners when

group of creaking has officially been deemed a crunch <3

ignoring a certain movie, absolute banger of a minecraft live. Very excited to see the next releases come to the game!