#but now i have to worry about people coming in and out and in and out

[jupiterpilgrim]

Stolen Rendezvous

Karina x Male Reader

word count: 20K

commissioned fic

There’s nothing better than this—no overprotective parents watching your every move, no ridiculous rules about “focus” and “priorities,” no feeling like a fugitive every time you even think about touching her. Just you, her, and the freedom that comes with a empty house, stretching out before you like a playground with no fences.

Because normally? Seeing Karina like this is impossible. Her parents made sure of that. They’ve been drilling the same rule into her head for years—No dating until after college. No distractions, no boys, no late-night calls or sneaking out for secret dates. She’s supposed to be focused, disciplined, dedicated to nothing but her studies and her “future.” They don’t care that she’s a grown woman, that she’s more than capable of balancing school and a relationship. To them, love is just another distraction, another thing standing in the way of their perfect, high-achieving daughter.

And when they found out about you? All hell broke loose.

They showed up at your house—uninvited, pissed off, and ready for war. Sat your parents down in the living room like they were negotiating some hostage situation, talking about “respect” and “boundaries” and how you were ruining Karina’s focus. They made it clear—they didn’t want you anywhere near their daughter. And somehow, in their effort to “keep the peace,” your parents caved. Maybe they didn’t want drama, maybe they just thought it’d be easier to go along with it, but either way, they sat you down after and gave you the same bullshit speech—no more Karina. No more sneaking around. No more chances.

So every moment with her has to be stolen. Every touch, every kiss, every second you get together—it’s always in secret. You can’t meet up at cafes or go on dates like a normal couple. You can’t hold her hand in public without looking over your shoulder. Every plan has to be airtight. Every risk calculated.

But tonight? Tonight, you don’t have to worry about any of that.

The second your parents left—bags packed, off to rekindle their love or whatever the hell couples do on their anniversary—you grabbed your phone and sent the text: All clear.

And now she's at your door. And fuck...

She looks like temptation itself wrapped in casual clothes.

She’s wearing a loose sweatshirt—oversized and comfortable—draped over those thick, juicy thighs of hers, and a pair of tiny shorts that barely peek out from beneath the hem. Her legs are smooth, soft, always irresistible, and when she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the way her thighs press together has your throat tightening. Her chest strains the fabric of the sweatshirt, her curves impossible to ignore, but it’s her face that always gets you—the delicate doll-like features, the plump lips you could kiss forever, the big, expressive eyes that go from playful to needy in the blink of a eye.

“You’re staring.” She tilts her head, smirking.

“Because you’re hot,” you shoot back, grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside before the neighbors get a show they didn’t pay for.

She giggles, pressing up against you, arms winding around your neck as she buries her face in your chest. The warmth of her body seeps through your clothes, and you let your hands roam down, settling on her waist, pulling her even closer.

“I missed you,” she murmurs.

“You saw me two days ago.”

She pouts, smacking your chest lightly. “Two days is a long time.”

Yeah. You get it. Two days without her feels like forever.

You guide her to the couch, the plan already set. Snacks, movies, then sex—simple, predictable, perfect. A few hours to pretend you’re a normal couple, not two people sneaking around behind the backs of parents who think they know best.

You settle in, Karina curling up against you, her head on your chest while you scroll through movie options. You let her pick—she always wants rom-coms, but you don’t care what’s on the screen when she’s curled up against you like this, warm and soft, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your stomach.

She picks something sappy, some over-the-top romance where the leads fall in love in the span of two days and confess their feelings in the pouring rain. You don’t pay much attention. You’re too busy watching her.

She gets so into it, reacting to every emotional beat like it’s happening to her. She laughs at the stupid jokes, gasps at the dramatic reveals, clutches your hand when things get intense. And when the couple finally kisses, she turns her face up to you expectantly, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

You take the hint.

The kiss is slow at first, soft and teasing. Her lips are warm, familiar, addictive. You kiss her again, deeper this time, hand sliding up under her sweatshirt, fingers skimming over the smooth skin of her waist. She shivers, pressing closer, her fingers tightening in your shirt.

“Mmm… I love kissing you,” she breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“You love a lot of things about me.”

She giggles, poking your side. “Cocky.”

“Accurate.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead shifting to straddle your lap, the movie completely forgotten. Her fingers slide into your hair, her body pressing against yours, soft in all the best ways. Your hands find her hips, gripping, squeezing, mapping out every curve like you haven’t already memorized them a thousand times over.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur against her lips.

She grins. “You like it.”

Yeah. You do. You like everything about her.

“So, you told them you were studying, huh?” You glance down at her, smirking as your fingers tease at the hem of her sweatshirt, tracing idle patterns on her bare thigh.

Karina hums, her lips brushing against your jaw. “Mhm. Told them I was staying at Giselle’s place for a study session.”

You snort. “Not entirely a lie.” You let your hands slip lower, grabbing two handfuls of that perfect, thick ass, squeezing just enough to make her squeak. “We’re gonna study some anatomy.”

She giggles, pressing closer. “You’re so dumb.”

“But you love it.”

She just smiles, tilting her head, and that look—soft, adoring, almost too much—hits you harder than expected. Then, quieter, she says, “You know, I think this whole ‘no dating’ rule is backfiring.”

You raise a brow. “Oh yeah?”

She shifts, hands playing with the collar of your shirt. “They want me to focus on college, right? But when I’m away from you, I can’t concentrate on anything.” Her voice drops slightly, a confession slipping through. “All I think about is you.”

That lands differently. Not teasing, not playful—just honest. And it knocks the breath right out of you.

You don’t answer with words. You don’t have to. You cup her jaw, tilt her chin up, and kiss her, slow and deep. She melts against you, her fingers curling into your shirt, a little hum escaping into your mouth.

When you pull back, she blinks up at you, lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed. “Can we go to your room?”

You know what she means.

You stand without hesitation, sliding your hands under her thighs and lifting her off the couch with ease. She yelps, wrapping her arms around your neck, legs locking around your waist.

“Show-off,” she huffs, but she’s grinning.

“You love that too,” you murmur against her temple, carrying her through the dimly lit hallway.

She presses her face into your neck, exhaling softly. “I missed your bed.”

You push the door open with your shoulder. “You just missed getting wrecked in it.”

She laughs, biting your shoulder in retaliation, and the sound is so sweet, so familiar, that your chest tightens with something deeper than just desire.

You lower her onto the mattress, and she gazes up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils wide. And just like that, the night really begins.

Your shirt hits the floor first, followed by hers. The fabric slides off her smooth shoulders, pooling at her feet. The dim light from your bedside lamp casts soft shadows on her skin, highlighting every curve, every dip, every inch of her you’ve memorized by heart.

Your hands work on your jeans, popping the button, dragging the zipper down slow. She follows your lead, slipping her shorts down those thick thighs of hers, the motion teasing, unintentional or not.

By the time you’re both left in just your underwear, she finally glances down—and that’s when she sees it.

The bulge in your briefs is obvious, straining against the fabric, and her reaction is instant. Her lips part slightly, eyes darkening with unmistakable hunger, the kind that makes your blood run hot. Her thighs press together on instinct, like she’s already feeling that telltale ache, already impatient.

“You’re excited,” you tease, watching her reaction.

She doesn’t even pretend otherwise. Instead, she bites her lip, stepping closer, fingertips barely grazing your stomach. “Can you blame me?”

You chuckle, reaching for her waist, pulling her in. “I was missing your taste.”

The words land exactly how you expect. Her breath stutters, her grip on your skin tightening. Her eyes flicker up to yours, something unspoken passing between you before her hands move again—this time to her back, fingers finding the clasp of her bra.

You watch, completely enraptured, as she unhooks it with practiced ease. But instead of letting it fall right away, she holds it in place, eyes darting toward the open door.

“…Lock it,” she murmurs.

You raise a brow, amused. “Babe, you can relax. No one’s showing up. My parents are miles away by now.”

She hesitates, glancing at the door again. “Just in case.”

You sigh, but you don’t argue.

You move, crossing the room in a few strides, twisting the lock into place. The soft click is barely noticeable, but it seems to be all the reassurance she needs.

Because when you turn back around, her bra is gone. And fuck—

Her massive tits are right there, bare and perfect, skin smooth, curves soft, nipples already slightly stiff from the cool air. She’s standing there, completely confident now, watching you watch her. And she likes it.

Your throat feels dry. Your cock throbs.

Yeah. This night is only getting better.

Your body moves before your brain even catches up. One second you’re standing there, staring like a idiot at her perfect, heavy tits, and the next, you’re on her.

Your hands find her waist first, gripping, pulling her in as your mouth crashes against hers. It’s messy, eager, all lips and tongue, the heat between you flaring instantly. She gasps against your mouth, but she doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just enough to make you groan.

You walk her backward, guiding her toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The back of her legs hit the mattress, and you don’t give her time to think before easing her down, following her, pressing your weight against her soft, warm body.

Your hands roam without direction, purely instinctual—her waist, her hips, the smooth dip of her stomach. But when your fingers finally reach her chest, when you finally cup one of those gorgeous, heavy tits in your palm, it’s like something inside you ignites.

She sighs at the contact, arching into your touch like she’s been waiting for it. And she’s so soft.

You squeeze, fingers flexing, feeling the perfect weight of her in your palm. Your thumb brushes over a stiffening nipple, and the reaction is instant—her breath hitches, her body tenses for just a second before she relaxes into it, lips parting in a quiet whimper.

Your mouth finds her neck next, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She tilts her head to the side, giving you more access, more skin to taste, more of her to claim. You take full advantage, biting, sucking, marking.

Sliding down, you move lower, kissing your way down her collarbone, her sternum, until your lips finally meet soft, bare skin.

Your mouth latches onto one of her perfect tits, tongue swirling around the stiff peak before sucking hard.

She shudders. Her fingers clutch at your hair, thighs squeezing together, a gasp slipping from her lips that sounds more like a plea than anything else. “Oh my God…”

Your other hand isn’t idle. While your tongue works on one breast, your fingers knead the other, squeezing, teasing, rolling her nipple between your fingertips. She’s a mess beneath you, breathing hard, squirming, already slipping into that space where all she can focus on is you and how good you’re making her feel.

You suck harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

She moans outright this time, thighs shifting restlessly beneath you, back arching slightly, offering herself up like she needs more, like she can’t get enough. Neither can you.

Your mouth stays latched onto her breast, tongue swirling, lips sucking, taking in the warmth and softness of her. Her skin tastes faintly sweet, her body heat rising under your touch. Every time your tongue flicks over her nipple, she makes the prettiest little sound—half moan, half whimper. Her fingers stay tangled in your hair, clutching, pulling you closer like she never wants you to stop.

And fuck, you don’t want to stop.

You shift slightly, settling more comfortably between her legs, your body pressed against hers. Your free hand kneads her other breast, fingers rolling her nipple between them, squeezing just right. The way she reacts—hips twitching, thighs pressing against your sides—has your cock throbbing, the heat pooling in your gut growing unbearable.

“Shit,” she breathes out, voice trembling, her back arching into your mouth. “You’re so—fuck, you’re so good at that.”

You smirk against her skin, biting down gently before soothing the mark with your tongue. “I know.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, but it dissolves into a moan when you suck harder, drawing more of her into your mouth. Her legs shift again, thighs clenching like she’s desperate for friction. And then—

Her hand moves.

Between the two of you, slipping down, fingers tracing along your stomach, your abs, then lower, until—fuck.

She palms your cock over your underwear, her fingers pressing against the fabric, feeling just how hard you already are for her. Your whole body reacts—hips jerking slightly, a sharp inhale through your teeth as the pleasure spikes instantly.

“Rina,” you groan, voice low, strained.

She giggles, breathy and teasing. “Mmm, you’re so hard already.” Her fingers press down more, rubbing up and down your length through the fabric, the teasing touch enough to make your head spin. “Is this for me?”

“Who the fuck else would it be for?” You can barely get the words out, already losing yourself in the way she’s touching you.

She hums in satisfaction, her hand moving slower, deliberately teasing, driving you insane. “You missed me that much?”

You lift your head from her chest, meeting her gaze. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with heat. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and she’s enjoying every second of it.

“You have no idea,” you murmur.

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, just barely brushing against bare skin, and you curse under your breath.

She leans in, lips ghosting against your ear as she whispers, “I want you to fuck me hard tonight.”

Your whole body tenses. A fresh wave of arousal crashes through you, burning, consuming, making your cock twitch in her hand.

You grip her hips, fingers digging in, your self-control hanging by a thread. “You keep talking like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

Her breath is warm against your skin. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

Your hands move without hesitation, sliding down her body, fingertips grazing over her hips before hooking into the waistband of her panties. You tug them down, slowly, savoring the way the thin fabric peels away from her skin, the way her breath hitches as she lifts her hips just enough to help you. And then—fuck.

Her pussy is already glistening, slick coating her soft folds, her arousal shining under the dim light of your room. She’s so wet, so ready, all because of you.

Your cock twitches in response, straining against the last barrier between you. But you don’t rush. No, you take a moment, drinking in the sight of her, the flushed skin, the way her thighs clench slightly, the way she bites her lip as she watches you take her in.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until she leans in, fingers sliding under the waistband of your underwear, her touch feather-light, teasing. “These need to come off too.”

You don’t argue. You lift your hips, dragging your underwear down, letting your cock spring free. The relief is instant, the cool air hitting your heated skin, but that’s nothing compared to the way Karina looks at you—eyes dropping to your length, pupils dilating, breath catching in her throat. She swallows, shifting slightly, and you don’t miss the way her thighs squeeze together again.

“Fuck,” she whispers, almost to herself. “I missed this.”

You smirk, reaching for her, pulling her close again as you murmur against her lips, “Then stop wasting time.”

She giggles, but it’s cut off as your lips meet again, the kiss deep, heated, consuming. Your hands roam her body, tracing every familiar curve, every inch of her you’ve memorized. She shifts, adjusting, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips as she straddles you, her bare skin flush against yours. The warmth of her, the heat radiating from between her legs, has your pulse skyrocketing.

She moves, grinding down slightly, and the feeling of her wetness sliding against your cock has you both gasping into the kiss.

You grip her hips, steadying her, voice rough with need. “Fuck, Karina—”

She just smiles, breathless, adjusting her position, lifting herself slightly. You feel the slick head of your cock brush against her entrance, teasing, her arousal smearing over you. And then, slowly, deliberately, she begins to sink down onto you.

She sinks down slowly at first, her body stretching to accommodate you, the slick heat of her pussy gripping you tightly. Her breath hitches, and her nails dig into your shoulders, a sharp contrast to the soft moan that spills from her lips. You watch, mesmerized, as her eyes flutter shut for a moment, her mouth falling open slightly, taking in the fullness, the delicious stretch as she settles onto you completely.

“Fuck,” she breathes, rolling her hips experimentally, adjusting to the way you fill her. “You feel so good.”

Your fingers tighten on her hips, barely holding back the urge to thrust up into her, to take control, to fuck her hard just like she asked. But this moment—her, on top of you, in complete control—it’s intoxicating.

She braces herself, palms pressed against your chest as she lifts her hips, just enough to leave you aching for more before she slides back down. The movement is slow, deliberate, teasing.

“God, I missed this,” she murmurs, rolling her hips again, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through both of you.

Your hands move on instinct, tracing the curve of her waist before sliding up, fingers closing around her bouncing tits. They’re so fucking perfect—full, soft, warm under your touch. You squeeze, thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples, and the reaction is immediate.

She moans, head tilting back slightly, a shiver running down her spine. “Fuck, baby—”

The way she says it, all breathless and needy, makes your restraint snap. You thrust up into her, meeting her movements, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat. Her pace quickens. She moves faster now, riding you with more urgency, her big tits bouncing with every motion. The wet sound of her slick pussy taking you in again and again fills the room, mixing with her moans, with your own ragged breaths.

“You have no idea,” she gasps between movements, hands gripping your chest for support. “No idea how much I think about this when I’m not with you. How much I want you.”

Your fingers dig into her waist, guiding her movements, pushing her down harder, deeper. “Tell me,” you demand, voice rough with need.

She whimpers, her rhythm faltering for a moment as another sharp wave of pleasure hits her. “I—I touch myself thinking about you,” she confesses, cheeks flushed, body trembling. “Late at night, when I can’t sleep—when I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it—” That does something to you. The thought of her alone, needy, fingers buried between her legs as she thought about this, about you—fuck.

You sit up abruptly, wrapping your arms around her, pressing her flush against you. Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t stop moving. If anything, she moves harder, faster, chasing that high, her body trembling in your arms.

You kiss her, swallowing her moans, pouring every ounce of want, of love, into it. She melts into you, gripping the back of your neck, holding on as she keeps moving, her body grinding against yours in a unrelenting rhythm, her wet heat squeezing around your cock with every bounce. Her tits jiggle with every motion, perfect and soft, her nipples flushed and stiff, her skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. She’s breathtaking like this—completely lost in it, moaning freely, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

“You make me so fucking horny,” she breathes, rolling her hips in a way that makes you groan. “Every time I see you, every time I even think about you—I get wet. So fucking wet.”

Your grip on her waist tightens, fingers pressing into her soft skin. Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, the way her words hit just as hard as the way she moves.

Your self-control is slipping, your body burning with need, the hunger growing unbearable. You let her ride you a little longer, soaking in the way she moves, the way her pussy clenches around you, so hot and tight, but the pressure in your gut is reaching its peak. You need more. You need to take her.

Without warning, you grab her and flip her onto her back. She lets out a surprised gasp, her hair splaying across the pillow, eyes wide with excitement. You barely give her a second to react before you’re between her legs, spreading her open, positioning yourself over her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, her thighs twitching as you grip them.

You hook your hands under her knees, lifting her legs, pressing them back slightly to open her up even more. She looks so fucking good like this, spread out beneath you, completely at your mercy, her glistening pussy aching for you.

And you don’t make her wait. You thrust into her, hard. Her back arches instantly, a cry tearing from her throat, her hands gripping the sheets.

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

You set a brutal pace, your hips snapping against hers, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. Every thrust makes her body jolt, her tits bouncing, her breath coming in desperate, broken moans.

“You love it like this,” you growl, voice thick with lust.

“Yes—god, yes—” she gasps, her nails dragging down your arms.

You grip her thighs tighter, holding her steady, driving into her with deep, relentless strokes. Her walls squeeze around you, clenching tighter every time you hit that perfect spot inside her, every time your cock stretches her in just the right way. She’s completely unraveling beneath you. Her head tilts back, her mouth open, moans spilling out without restraint.

“More,” she whimpers, voice trembling. “Please—don’t stop—”

You don’t. You keep fucking her, hips slamming against hers, the wet slap of your bodies filling the room. Every thrust drives her further into the mattress, her back arching, her tits bouncing in perfect rhythm.

And fuck—you can’t take your eyes off them. They’re so full, so soft, moving with every thrust, flushed from arousal. Your hands itch to grab them, to squeeze them, to claim every inch of her body as yours. But before you can, Karina beats you to it.

She moans, her head tilting back, and then—

Her hands slide up her own body, fingers gliding over her stomach before she cups her own tits, squeezing. Your cock twitches inside her.

“Fuck,” you groan, gripping her thighs tighter, your pace stuttering for half a second.

She whimpers at your reaction, pushing her tits together, rolling her thumbs over her stiff nipples. “You like that?” she teases breathlessly, though her voice shakes from how hard you’re fucking her.

“You know I do,” you growl, thrusting into her deeper, making her gasp.

She moans louder, fingers pinching her own nipples, her pussy clenching around you. “I love how you look at me,” she admits, voice trembling. “Like you wanna ruin me.”

“I do.” Your thrusts turn rougher, harder. “And I will.”

She gasps, her back arching, her grip on her own tits tightening as pleasure surges through her. Her thighs tremble, her moans turning into breathless cries.

You keep thrusting, faster, savoring the way her pussy grips you, hot and wet and perfect. But you want more. You want to see her completely fall apart.

Your hand slides down her body, fingers trailing over her stomach, her hips, until you reach where you’re connected. She whines, her thighs tensing as your fingers brush against her clit. You know how sensitive she is there, how just the slightest touch can send her spiraling.

“Fuck, baby,” she whimpers, her voice shaky, her hands still on her tits. “Don’t—don’t tease me.”

You smirk, your fingers circling her clit, slow and deliberate. “Who’s teasing?” you murmur, watching her face as her breath hitches. “I’m just giving you what you want.”

She moans, her back arching off the bed, her hips grinding against your hand. “You’re such a asshole,” she breathes, but there’s no bite to it. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips swollen from biting them, and she’s so fucking beautiful like this.

You press harder, your fingers moving faster, and she lets out a sharp cry, her hands finally leaving her tits to grip the sheets instead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she chants, her thighs trembling, her pussy clenching around you. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”

You don’t. You keep rubbing her clit, your thrusts steady, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. She’s writhing beneath you, her moans getting louder, more desperate, and you know she’s close. But you’re not letting her cum yet. Not yet.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you growl, your voice rough with need. “You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you like this?”

She nods frantically, her nails digging into the sheets. “Yes, yes, I love it—fuck, I love you—”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a second, you lose your rhythm. But you recover quickly, leaning down to capture her lips in a messy, desperate kiss. She kisses you back just as hard, her tongue sliding against yours, her moans muffled against your mouth.

When you pull back, she’s panting, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. “I mean it,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

And you kiss her again, your hand still working her clit, your cock still buried deep inside her. She moans into your mouth, her hips rocking against you, and you know she’s close.

Because you can feel it—the tension in her body, the way her pussy clenches around you, the way her breath hitches every time your fingers brush her clit. So fucking close. And you’re not holding back anymore.

You slam into her, hard and fast, your hips snapping against hers, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Your fingers work her clit in tight, quick circles, and she lets out a strangled cry, her back arching off the bed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” she babbles, her hands clawing at the sheets, her thighs trembling. “I can’t—I’m gonna—oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, baby,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your own breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Cum all over my cock. Let me feel it.”

She whimpers, her eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing like a coiled spring. And then—fuck. She explodes.

Her pussy clenches around you, tight and wet, and she lets out a scream that’s half pleasure, half desperation. Her hips buck against yours, her thighs shaking, and then—fuck—she squirts. Hard.

It’s messy. So fucking messy. Her juices gush out, soaking the sheets beneath her, and you don’t stop. You keep fucking her, your cock driving into her as she trembles and writhes, her body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure.

“Oh my God, oh my God—” she gasps, her voice breaking, her hands flying to her face like she’s trying to hide from the intensity of it. “I can’t—I can’t stop—fuck, it’s too much—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too far gone, too lost in the way she feels around you, the way she’s falling apart beneath you. You keep thrusting, your fingers still working her clit, and she lets out another scream, her body jerking as another gush of wetness spills out of her.

“That’s it, baby,” you murmur, your voice strained, your own pleasure building. “Let it all out. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect.”

She’s a mess—her hair sticking to her forehead, her skin slick with sweat, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. But she’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. And you can’t get enough of her.

You lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, your breath mingling with hers as you keep fucking her through her orgasm. Her hands find your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin, and she lets out a broken sob, her body still shaking.

“I can’t—I can’t—” she whimpers, her voice a whisper now, her eyes rolling back in her head. “It’s too much—fuck, it’s too much—”

But you don’t stop. You can’t. You’re too close, too desperate, too lost in her. You keep thrusting, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and she lets out another cry, her pussy clenching around you again.

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, your voice rough, your hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

She nods frantically, her hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you deeper. “Yes, yes—fuck, cum in me—please—”

Her words are all it takes. You slam into her one last time, your cock pulsing as you spill your hot cum inside her, your own orgasm crashing over you like a wave. She lets out a soft moan, her body still trembling, her pussy milking every last drop out of you.

You collapse on top of her, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close, her face buried in your neck.

“Fuck,” she whispers, her voice shaky, her body still trembling. “That was… fuck.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah. It was.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “You’re gonna have to buy new sheets.”

You glance down at the mess beneath you—the soaked sheets, the puddle of her cum, the way her body is still twitching with aftershocks—and you can’t help but grin. “Worth it.”

She giggles, her cheeks flushing, and she buries her face in your chest. “You’re such a asshole.”

“But you love me,” you tease, your fingers brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

She looks up at you, her eyes soft, her lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. I do.”

You kiss her, slow and deep, your body still tangled with hers. Her skin is damp, her breath still unsteady, and she’s curled up against you like she never wants to move again. And fuck—you were about to go again, your cock still achingly hard, pressing against her thigh, ready to slide right back inside her. But then—

The front door opens.

Shit.

Every muscle in your body locks up, and you feel Karina freeze against you, her breath catching in her throat. The sound of footsteps echoes down the hall—your parents. You can tell from the weight of their steps, the familiarity of it.

You were supposed to have the whole damn weekend. Why the fuck are they back?

Karina grabs your arm, eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “What do we do?”

You don’t know. Your brain is still struggling to shift gears, still stuck on the feeling of her wet, trembling body under you. But there’s no time to think, no time to even process what’s happening.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for somewhere—anywhere—for her to hide. Under the bed? No way, there’s barely any space. Closet? Not a option—too full of shit.

Fuck.

You hear them getting closer, the sound of their voices, their footsteps nearing your door. There’s no time.

“Stay in bed,” you hiss, grabbing the blankets and yanking them over her, covering her completely. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound.”

Karina barely has time to nod before you’re scrambling out of bed, snatching up your underwear and pulling them on with the kind of frantic desperation you never thought you’d experience. Your cock is still half-hard, sticky with Karina’s arousal, but you ignore it, yanking your pants up just as the doorknob rattles.

Locked.

Thank fuck.

You take a deep breath, running a hand through your messy hair, trying to look even remotely normal before reaching for the lock. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.

You turn the knob, pulling the door open just enough to see them standing there.

Your mom frowns slightly. “Why was the door locked?”

Your dad crosses his arms, eyeing you suspiciously. “And why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

Shit. Think. Think.

You force a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Uh—just, uh, napping. Didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Your mom sighs. “Well, sorry to wake you, but we had to come back early.”

Your stomach twists. “Why?”

Your dad shakes his head. “Long story. We’ll tell you in the kitchen. Come on.”

You nod quickly, trying to seem casual. “Yeah—yeah, sure, just, uh, give me a sec.”

They turn, heading back down the hall, and you shut the door, locking it again immediately before turning back to the bed.

Karina peeks out from under the blankets, her big, worried eyes searching your face. She’s still breathing fast, her body still flushed from everything you’d been doing just minutes ago, but now all that heat is mixed with anxiety. The sound of your parents’ voices in the hall makes it worse.

“What the fuck do we do now?” she whispers.

“We wait,” you whisper back, crouching beside the bed. “Once they go to sleep, you can slip out quietly.”

She bites her lip, nodding slowly, but she doesn’t look convinced. “What if they don’t sleep for hours?”

“They will,” you reassure her, even though you’re not entirely sure yourself. “They look exhausted.”

She exhales sharply, still frustrated. “This night was supposed to be perfect.”

“I know,” you murmur, guilt creeping into your voice. You reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

She holds onto your fingers for a moment, her grip tight. Then, reluctantly, she nods. “You better.”

“I will,” you promise.

You give her one last look before forcing yourself to turn away, straightening your clothes and running a hand through your hair to make yourself look as normal as possible. Then, with one deep breath, you slip out of your room and head to the living room.

Your parents are already sitting down, looking exhausted, their bags by the door. Your mother glances up as you enter, and immediately, her eyes narrow.

“Why are there two cups in the sink?” she asks. “And why are there so many eaten snacks on the table?”

Fuck, you forgot to clean up. The couch is still a mess from when you and Karina were cuddling, empty snack wrappers scattered on the coffee table, two mugs sitting in the sink like a accusation.

Think. Think.

“I, uh—I had a friend over earlier,” you say quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just, you know, hanging out.”

Your dad rubs his face, sighing. “Who?”

You shrug. “Just a friend. We watched a movie, had some snacks. That’s it.”

Your mother doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push it—at least, not yet.

“Why’d you guys come back early?” you ask, desperate to change the subject.

Your dad exhales, looking annoyed. “The hotel had plumbing issues. Water started leaking in our bathroom. They couldn’t move us to another room because they were fully booked.”

Your mother shakes her head. “We figured it wasn’t worth dealing with all that for a weekend trip, so we decided to just drive back.”

Lucky fucking you.

You nod slowly, trying to act sympathetic while also praying that Karina doesn’t make a noise in the other room.

Your mom sighs, leaning back into the couch. “And honestly, I just want to shower and go to bed. This whole thing has been exhausting.”

Good. Sleep. That’s what you need.

But then—

She suddenly sniffs the air, her brows furrowing.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Your heart nearly stops.

“…What smell?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay steady.

My mom looks around, sniffing again. “It smells like perfume.”

Fuck. Karina.

Her scent is all over you. All over your sheets, your skin, probably the entire damn room. And your mom is picking up on it.

Your father frowns slightly. “Perfume?”

Your mom nods. “Yes, it’s faint, but it’s there. It doesn’t smell like anything I own.”

You scramble for a excuse. “Uh—maybe it’s my new deodorant or something?”

Your mom gives you a suspicious look but doesn’t argue. “Maybe,” she mutters.

You need to get out of here. Now.

“Anyway,” you say quickly, stretching your arms. “I’m gonna head back to my room. Long day. You guys should get some rest too.”

Your parents exchange glances, but they’re too tired to question you further.

As soon as you’re in the hallway, you move quickly, slipping back into your room and locking the door behind you.

Karina is still under the covers, staring at you with wide eyes.

“What happened?” she whispers.

You sigh, rubbing your face. “They almost smelled you.”

She blinks. Then, her lips twitch in amusement. “You mean my perfume?”

“Yes, your perfume,” you hiss. “Now we just need to wait for them to fall asleep, and then you can leave.”

She exhales softly, nodding. “Alright. But you owe me a better night than this.”

“I know,” you murmur.

You sit side by side, both of you still quiet, still listening for any sign of movement from the rest of the house. Karina is curled up close to you, her skin warm against yours, her breath slow but not entirely steady. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against your thigh, like she’s thinking about something…

“I wanna fuck again.”

You blink, turning to look at her, suspicious. “Karina—” But she’s already shifting, already climbing onto your lap, her bare skin pressing against you, her thighs straddling yours. She’s still completely naked, her tits right in front of your face, her pussy just barely grazing over your still-hard cock.

You inhale sharply, gripping her waist. “Babe. No.”

She leans in, brushing her lips over yours, teasing, playful. “Why not?”

“Because,” you murmur, barely restraining yourself. “It’s too risky.” She doesn’t care. She kisses you fully this time, her tongue flicking out, hot and wet and fucking intoxicating. Her hands slide over your chest, nails dragging lightly over your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Still horny,” she breathes against your lips. “I need you again.”

You groan, trying to keep some semblance of self-control. “Karina, we—” She reaches down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around your cock through your pants.

And fuck—all logical thought leaves your brain.

She strokes you slowly, deliberately, and when she speaks again, her voice is soft but firm. “I know you’re horny too.”

She’s right. Fuck, she’s right. You’ve been hard this entire time, your body still aching for another release. And with her like this, naked, pressing against you, her lips grazing your jaw—it’s too much.

She gasps as you grab her suddenly, your hands firm on her waist as you lift her off your lap. You react quickly, shoving your pants and underwear down, freeing your cock. You move her to the bed, laying her on her side, pressing in close behind her. She doesn’t resist. She lets you move her, mold her, her breath coming out in soft little pants as she waits for you. You push her leg up slightly, opening her just enough. And then you slide inside.

The heat of her, the slick, tight grip of her pussy around you—it’s fucking bliss. She moans, her back arching slightly, her fingers curling into the sheets. “Fuck—” she gasps, her body shuddering at the stretch. You kiss her neck, your hand gripping the soft flesh of her waist, holding her steady as you push deeper, filling her completely.

She whimpers, pressing back against you. “God, you feel so good—” You start moving, slow at first, savoring every inch of her, feeling the way her body reacts to every thrust. Her pussy clenches around you, her breath coming in sharp little gasps, her back arching with every stroke.

She’s perfect like this—soft and warm in your arms, her body completely yours. Your hips snap forward, her ass grinds against you with every thrust, her soft thighs trembling as you hold her leg hooked over your arm. Your hands slide up her body, fingers digging into the meat of her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.

“Fuck—fuck—” she whines, her voice cracking as you hit that spot deep inside her. Her head tilts back against your shoulder, lips parted, breath hitching. “Don’t—don’t stop, please—”

You don’t. The wet slap of your hips against her ass fills the room, louder than you’d like, but there’s no hiding it now. Not with how her pussy grips you, hot and slick, fluttering every time you bottom out. Her tits spill through your fingers, nipples stiff and begging for attention, and you pinch one hard, twisting just enough to make her yelp.

She claps a hand over her mouth too late, the sound muffled but still sharp. Her eyes dart to the door, wide and panicked, but her body betrays her—hips rocking back to meet your thrusts, greedy, needy. “Quiet, baby,” you growl into her ear, your free hand sliding down to her clit, fingers rubbing rough circles. “You wanna get us caught?”

She shakes her head frantically, sweat-damp hair sticking to her forehead, but her pussy clenches around you anyway, like her body’s laughing at the idea of staying silent. Her thighs quiver, her toes curling into the sheets as you fuck her harder, deeper, your cock stretching her in ways that make her whimper.

“I can’t—I can’t—” she whines, voice breaking as you grind into her, your thumb pressing harder on her clit. “It’s too much—you’re too much—” You bite her shoulder, teeth sinking into soft skin, and she jerks against you, a choked moan escaping her throat. The bed creaks dangerously beneath you, the headboard tapping the wall in a rhythm that’s way too obvious. But stopping isn’t a option—not when she’s this wet, this desperate, her juices dripping down your cock, soaking the sheets beneath her.

Her hand claws at your thigh, nails biting into your skin as you drive into her. “Slower—please—” she begs, but her hips keep rolling, grinding back against you like she’s chasing her own ruin.

“You don’t mean that,” you mutter, gripping her hip tighter, angling your thrusts to hit that spongy spot inside her. She chokes on a sob, her back arching, tits heaving as her breath comes in ragged gasps.

The room smells like sex—sweat, her perfume, the musk of her arousal clinging to every surface. Her legs tremble, her thighs slick where they press against yours, and you can feel her teetering on the edge, that tight coil in her gut winding tighter with every snap of your hips.

“Gonna cum?” you taunt, your voice low, rough. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down to grip her thigh instead, spreading her wider. “Go ahead. Cum for me.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes from the effort of holding back. “No—no—I can’t—”

But her body doesn’t care. Her thighs clamp around your hips as you thrust into her, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Her head is thrown back, lips parted in silent gasps, her tits bouncing with every snap of your hips. You lean down, mouth latching onto her neck, sucking bruises into her skin while your fingers find her clit again—swollen, hypersensitive, begging for more.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her hips jerking off the bed, her pussy clenching around you like a vise. “Too much—too much—”

You don’t let up. Her body’s trembling, her thighs slick with sweat and her own arousal, and the wet slap of your skin against hers is loud enough to wake the dead. She’s close—so fucking close—her breath hitching every time your cock drags over that spot inside her.

That’s when the knock comes.

Three sharp raps on the door.

Karina freezes beneath you, her eyes snapping open, wide and panicked. You stop mid-thrust, your cock buried deep, both of you holding your breath.

“Everything okay in there?” your mom calls through the door. “I heard… noises.”

Karina’s hand flies to her mouth, her chest heaving. You swallow hard, forcing your voice steady. “Noises?”

“Yeah. Like… thumping.”

You glance down at Karina. Her face is flushed, her lips bitten raw, her tits glistening with sweat. The bed creaks as you shift slightly, and she clenches around you, her thighs shaking.

“Uh—probably the neighbor’s cat,” you say, voice strained. “They got a new one. Thing’s a maniac.”

Silence. Then: “…The cat?”

“Yep.” You grit your teeth as Karina’s hips twitch, her pussy fluttering around you. “Big fucker. Keeps jumping on the roof.”

Another pause. Karina’s fingers dig into your biceps, her body trembling with the effort of staying still.

“…Alright,” your mom says finally. “Well, keep it down. We’re trying to sleep.”

“Sure,” you choke out.

Her footsteps fade down the hall.

Karina lets out a shaky breath, her head dropping back against the pillow. “Oh my God—”

You don’t give her time to recover. You start moving again, slow, deep thrusts that make her eyes roll back. “Should’ve stayed quiet, baby,” you murmur, thumb circling her clit.

She whimpers, her hand flying back to her mouth as her hips buck. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum—”

“Then cum,” you growl, fucking her harder, the bedframe knocking against the wall again. “Let me feel it.”

She shakes her head frantically, tears spilling over as she grabs a pillow, shoving it against her face. Her scream is muffled, her body bowing off the bed as her orgasm tears through her. Her pussy gushes, soaking the sheets beneath her, her thighs trembling violently as she squirts again, the wetness dripping down your balls.

“Fuck,” you groan, your thrusts turning erratic. Her walls keep milking you, spasming relentlessly, and you’re so close—

You pull out abruptly, earning a broken whine from Karina. She reaches for you, but you’re already climbing over her, your cock in your fist, stroking hard and fast.

“Look at me,” you rasp.

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure, her lips parted. You fist your cock, your release building.

“Cum on me,” she whispers, hands sliding up to squeeze her own tits, presenting them to you.

That’s all it takes. You groan, your hips jerking as you spill over her, stripes of white cum painting her skin. She gasps, her back arching, her fingers brushing through the mess, smearing it over her nipples.

“Fuck,” she breathes, staring up at you.

You collapse beside her, chest heaving, your cock still twitching in your hand. Without a word, you guide the tip to her lips. She opens her mouth obediently, tongue swirling around the head, cleaning you off with soft, lazy sucks.

“Good girl,” you murmur, running your fingers through her hair.

She hums around you, her eyes fluttering shut, her body still trembling with aftershocks. The room reeks of sex—sweat, cum, the sharp tang of her arousal soaked into the sheets. The headboard’s left a dent in the wall, and the pillow Karina bit into has a tear in the fabric.

Footsteps pass by the door again, slower this time.

Karina freezes, your cock slipping from her lips. “Shit—”

You clamp a hand over her mouth, listening. The footsteps pause. Then continue.

She lets out a shaky breath when they fade, her body slumping against yours. “We’re gonna die,” she whispers.

You snort, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Worth it.”

She swats your chest but doesn’t argue. Outside, the faint sound of the TV clicks on—your parents, still awake.

Karina’s eyes drift shut, her breathing slowing. You stare at the ceiling, the adrenaline fading, leaving you exhausted.

—

The rest of the night passes in a strange, almost frustrating silence. The rush, the thrill, the desperate need you and Karina had for each other has finally burned itself out, leaving only the quiet aftermath.

She’s curled up against you, completely spent, her hair still damp from sweat, her skin warm under the sheets. You can feel her steady breathing, her chest rising and falling slowly. Every now and then, her fingers twitch against your stomach, absentmindedly tracing patterns, but she doesn’t say much. Then—

“I’m hungry,” she murmurs, her voice soft and a little sleepy.

You sigh, stretching slightly. “Yeah. Me too.”

Reluctantly, you pull away from her warmth, sitting up and running a hand through your messy hair. You grab your underwear and pants from the floor, pulling them on before glancing back at her.

She’s still sprawled out, her bare legs tangled in the sheets, looking way too fucking comfortable for someone who’s about to sneak out of a house she isn’t supposed to be in.

“Come on,” you tell her. “Let’s eat.”

She groans, dragging herself up from the bed and pulling on her oversized sweatshirt again before following you out.

The house is quiet. No sign of your parents. But you both still move cautiously, sticking to the shadows like fugitives as you make your way to the kitchen.

You make her a simple sandwich—just ham, cheese, and a little mayo—and one for yourself, placing them on plates. She takes hers with a sleepy smile, murmuring a quiet “Thanks, baby” before taking a bite.

That’s when you see it.

Her phone. Lying between the couch cushions, right where she must’ve left it earlier in the night.

Shit. If your parents had found it… You grab it quickly, heading back to the kitchen. “Hey, you forgot this.”

Karina looks up, mid-bite, eyes widening slightly before she giggles. “Oops.”

She takes the phone, grinning sheepishly. “Guess I was too distracted.”

You snort, sitting down across from her. “Yeah, no shit.”

You eat in silence after that, the only sound in the kitchen being the occasional crunch of bread, the distant ticking of the kitchen clock. You find yourself watching her, completely unable to look away.

She’s beautiful. Even in this dim light, even in just her sweatshirt, her hair messy from sex, her skin still glowing slightly—she’s fucking beautiful.

And you love her.

It hits you suddenly, just how much. You’d risk everything for her. You already are.

When you finish eating, you both head back to your room. But the second you step inside, your eyes land on the mess.

The bed.

Completely fucking soaked.

Karina follows your gaze, and you see the exact moment she realizes. Her entire face turns red, her eyes widening in horror. “…Oh my god,” she whispers.

You glance at her, biting back a smirk. “You really lost it, huh?”

She buries her face in her hands. “Stop,” she groans. “This is so embarrassing.”

You chuckle, walking over and poking at the wet patch. “Damn, babe. You ruined my fucking bed.”

She whines, flopping onto the only dry part of the mattress, hiding her face. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You sit beside her, brushing her hair back. “Hey. It’s hot as fuck.”

She peeks at you through her fingers. “Really?”

“Really.” You grin. “But also, how the hell am I supposed to clean this?”

She groans again, covering her face. “I don’t know! Just—flip the mattress or something!” You laugh quietly, kissing the top of her head.

Yeah, the bed is ruined. The room is a disaster. And tomorrow, you’ll have to explain why your sheets are in the wash at 7 a.m.

But now she's here. Warm. Yours.

And that's all that matters.

The two of you spend some time in the room, listening carefully to the occasional sounds of your parents moving around the bedroom. But soon, the house falls silent.

Finally.

Karina grabs her phone, ordering a Uber. She sighs, stretching before standing up. “I should go before I push my luck.” You nod, but you don’t like it. You don’t want her to go.

Minutes later, a single car horn sounds from outside.

You both freeze for a second.

“Shit,” she hisses. “That was loud.”

You move quickly, peeking through the window. The car is there, waiting. No lights turning on in your parents’ room. Yet.

“Come on,” you whisper, grabbing her hand. She follows you, both of you moving quickly and quietly. You lead her to the front door, pausing just before opening it.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

And then you kiss her.

It’s slow but deep, your hands cupping her face, her fingers curling into your shirt. It’s a goodbye kiss, but also a promise. When you finally pull away, she smiles at you, her eyes soft.

“I love you.”

You squeeze her hand. “I love you too.”

Then, she slips outside, hurrying to the waiting car.

And you? You lock the door, take a deep breath, and head back to your ruined bed, already counting down the days until you can have her in it again.

—

The routine stays the same. Sneaking around, waiting for the perfect window when neither of your parents are home, stealing moments together whenever you can. It’s frustrating, but you make it work. You always do.

Today, though, you’re breaking the cycle—at least a little.

You’re sitting in a park, away from the crowded spots, where the trees give you enough shade to keep cool. A picnic blanket is spread out beneath you, snacks and drinks laid out, nothing fancy, but enough to make this feel special. Because today isn’t just any day.

It’s Karina’s birthday.

And fuck, she looks beautiful.

She’s wearing a dress—white, soft fabric, the kind that clings just enough to show off her curves but flows in all the right places. It’s got thin straps that sit delicately on her shoulders, leaving her collarbones and the smooth expanse of her neck exposed, just begging to be kissed. The bodice hugs her waist, showing off her perfect figure, before flaring out slightly around her thighs. When the breeze picks up, the hem flutters, teasing glimpses of her legs, her skin glowing in the sunlight. Her hair is loose today, falling over her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup is minimal, just enough to make her features pop—though, if you’re being honest, she doesn’t need it. Her lips are a soft shade of pink, and her eyes sparkle every time she looks at you.

She looks like something out of a fucking dream.

She catches you staring and smirks, tilting her head slightly. “What?”

You shake your head, grinning. “You’re just… so fucking pretty.”

She giggles, reaching for a strawberry from the small container between you. “You’re just saying that because it’s my birthday.”

“I say it every day,” you point out, watching as she bites into the fruit, her lips glistening slightly from the juice.

She hums in amusement, chewing slowly before swallowing. “Still. I like hearing it.”

You lean in, brushing your fingers over her knee. “Then I’ll keep saying it.”

She smiles, soft and sweet, before offering you a strawberry. You take a bite straight from her fingers, and she laughs, wiping the juice from your lip with her thumb.

The moment is simple, quiet, but it’s perfect. You wish things didn’t have to be so secret. That you could celebrate her properly, with her family, with your family, without sneaking around like criminals. But for now, this is enough. Just the two of you, in your own little world.

The day is perfect by the way. The kind of day that makes you forget all the bullshit you and Karina have to deal with. Right now, none of that matters.

You’ve got your arms wrapped around her, her back pressed against your chest as you sit together on the picnic blanket. She’s warm, soft, fitting against you in that way that feels too natural, too right. The view of the park is nice—the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the few scattered people going about their day—but honestly, you’re barely paying attention. She smells so fucking good, something sweet and floral, and when she shifts slightly, adjusting her position against you, the movement sends a pleasant little shiver through your body.

You talk about everything—random memories, stupid jokes, the weird couple you saw earlier arguing about how to set up a folding chair. Karina laughs softly, her voice light, relaxed. Then—

“Wanna know a secret?” she asks, her tone playful.

You raise a brow, intrigued. “Always.”

She leans in slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “I’m not wearing any panties.” Your entire body tenses.

You blink. “What?”

She pulls back, biting her lip, eyes full of mischief. “I thought it’d be fun.”

You stare at her, your brain struggling to process the sudden shift in conversation. You look down at her dress, that soft, flowy fabric, and suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about what’s underneath. Or rather, what isn’t underneath.

“That’s—” You clear your throat, already feeling your blood rushing south. “That’s really fucking hot.”

She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “I was thinking…” She trails a finger down your arm, slow and teasing. “I’ve always been curious about having sex in a public place.”

You exhale sharply, your grip on her tightening. “You’re seriously the naughtiest person I know.”

She giggles. “I know.”

Your lips crash into hers before you even realize what you’re doing. The kiss is deep, heated, your hand sliding down her side, gripping her thigh, already desperate to feel more. The thought of fucking her out here, with people nearby, the risk, the thrill—it’s got your heart pounding.

You pull back, breathless, and grab her hand. “Come on.” She follows eagerly, a knowing smile playing on her lips as you walk together, looking for somewhere safe, somewhere hidden. The park isn’t crowded today, which works in your favor. But then—

As you round a path leading toward a quieter area, you see it—a gathering of people. Not just any people—middle-aged, dressed a little too nicely for a casual park visit.

Some kind of event is going on. You squint, trying to figure it out. A community book club? A charity fundraiser? Maybe one of those wine-tasting things that always seem to attract people in their 40s and 50s.

None of it really matters. Because the second Karina sees them, she freezes. And then, without a word, she grabs your wrist and pulls you behind the nearest tree.

Your back presses against the bark, Karina pressed close against you, her breathing suddenly unsteady. “What the hell?” you whisper. “What’s wrong?” She swallows hard, peeking around the tree again before turning back to you, eyes wide.

“My parents,” she says in a hushed voice. “They’re here.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

You peek out, scanning the crowd, and sure enough—there they are. Standing together, talking to some other couple, looking completely at home in this kind of setting.

What the fuck are they doing here?

Before you can even fully process it, your own eyes catch on something else. Your parents. Right fucking there.

You jerk back behind the tree, your mind reeling. “Holy shit.”

Karina stares at you. “What?”

“My parents are here too.”

Her mouth falls open slightly. “No way.”

“Yes way,” you hiss. “What the fuck is happening? They didn’t even mention going out today!”

Karina peeks out again, her brow furrowed. “Is this some weird, like… adult social event thing?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t fucking care,” you whisper. “We need to get back to the picnic before they see us.”

But Karina doesn’t move.

Instead, she grabs your hand, her grip firm.

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

She leans in, pressing against you, her lips just inches from yours. “I still want you to fuck me.”

Your breath catches. “Are you insane?”

She smiles, her fingers trailing down your arm, slow, teasing. “If we’re quick, no one will see us.”

You should say no. You should. This is reckless. Stupid. Borderline suicidal. But fuck—

The risk, the danger, the fact that your parents are right there—it’s so fucking hot.

You grab her wrist, eyes burning into hers. “Come on.”

She grins, biting her lip as you lead her away, toward a hidden corner, where you can stay out of sight while still watching the event from a safe distance.

Your heart is racing. And this is about to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

The corner you lead Karina to is tucked away, hidden between thick bushes and a couple of trees with low-hanging branches. It’s just far enough from the event that no one will notice you, but not so far that the risk is completely gone. You can still hear the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from the gathering of middle-aged people, your parents somewhere in that crowd.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, it’s just you and Karina, standing in the shade, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. The air is warm, slightly humid, carrying the faint scent of grass and flowers, but all you can focus on is her—on the way she’s looking at you, eyes dark with anticipation, her lips parted slightly.

You don’t waste any time.

Your mouth crashes onto hers, swallowing her little gasp as you push her up against the rough bark of a tree. She melts into you instantly, her hands grabbing at your shoulders, pulling you closer. The kiss is messy, all tongue and heat, your need for each other too overwhelming to be anything but desperate.

Your hands move on instinct, sliding down her sides, feeling the soft curve of her waist before settling on her ass. You squeeze hard, fingers digging into the plump flesh through the thin fabric of her dress.

She moans against your lips, pressing her body against yours.

“You’re so fucking bad,” you murmur against her mouth.

She giggles breathlessly, rolling her hips against you. “You love it.”

You growl softly, giving her ass another firm squeeze before your hands move to your belt.

No more waiting.

You shove your pants down just enough to free your cock, already hard, throbbing with the need to be inside her. She watches you, biting her lip, her breath coming faster.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you grab the hem of her dress and lift it.

No panties. Just like she said.

You curse under your breath, gripping her hip as you press your cock against her bare skin, dragging it along her slick folds from behind.

She shudders, her fingers digging into the bark of the tree. “Oh my god—”

You smirk, rubbing your length against her, teasing her, making her squirm. “This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “Please—fuck, we have to be quick—”

She’s right. You both know you don’t have time for teasing.

So you don’t waste another second.

You grab her hips, positioning yourself behind her, and then you push inside.

She gasps, her whole body tensing as you stretch her open, filling her in one deep, smooth thrust.

“Fuck,” you groan, your forehead pressing against her shoulder. She’s so fucking tight, her pussy gripping you perfectly, like she was made for this.

Karina bites down on her lip, stifling a moan. “God—you’re so deep—”

You grip her hips tighter, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in.

She lets out a muffled cry, her body jerking forward slightly from the force of it.

You wrap a arm around her waist, holding her steady, setting a fast, rough pace. You don’t have time to take it slow—not here, not with the risk of being caught. Every thrust drives her harder against the tree, her body rocking with each movement.

She’s struggling to keep quiet, her moans coming out in soft, broken whimpers, her hands gripping the bark like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You love this, don’t you?” you whisper in her ear. “Getting fucked right out in the open, where anyone could see?”

She whimpers, her pussy tightening around you. “Y-yes—fuck—”

Your hand moves from her waist to her thigh, gripping, lifting her leg slightly to get even deeper.

She gasps sharply, her back arching, her head tilting back onto your shoulder.

“Baby—oh my god—”

You keep fucking her, each thrust pushing her up against the rough bark of the tree, her body jerking slightly with the force of it. She’s soaked, dripping down your cock, her walls clenching around you like she’s trying to pull you in deeper. The heat between you is overwhelming, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

Your hands move from her hips, sliding up her stomach, feeling the curve of her waist before reaching her tits. You squeeze them through the thin fabric of her dress, fingers finding her hard nipples, rolling them between your fingertips.

She gasps, arching into your touch.

“Fuck, baby—” Her voice is breathy, almost a whisper, but you can hear the excitement, the thrill laced in every syllable.

You lean in, lips brushing against her neck, kissing, sucking lightly. She shivers, her whole body reacting to the sensation.

She giggles, nervous and turned on at the same time. “This is so wrong,” she breathes. “So dangerous.”

You smirk against her skin, nipping lightly at her shoulder. “Maybe that’s why we love it so much.”

She moans softly, pressing back against you, her ass grinding into your hips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Maybe sneaking around for so long fucked us up a little. Maybe we got a kink for this kinda thing.”

She whimpers at that, her pussy tightening around you. “Mmm—maybe we did.”

You pick up the pace, snapping your hips against her, pushing her harder into the tree. The wet sound of your bodies moving together is obscene, mixing with the distant voices of people at the event just beyond your little hiding spot.

Karina gasps, her fingers digging into the bark. “Oh my god—”

Her thighs tremble, her breath coming in short, quick pants.

You grip her hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh as you start fucking her harder, faster. Your pace turns frantic, desperate, every thrust slamming deep into her dripping pussy, making her body jolt with the force of it. She’s so fucking wet, each stroke making a filthy, slick sound that only adds to the raw intensity of what you’re doing.

Karina is losing it.

Her moans grow louder, high-pitched and breathless, her hands clawing at the rough bark of the tree for some kind of stability. She’s completely at your mercy, taking every thrust, her legs shaking, her body surrendering to the pleasure.

“Fuck—baby—” Her voice is trembling, barely coherent.

You grit your teeth, leaning over her, pressing your lips to her ear. “Shh,” you murmur. “Not so loud.”

“I can’t,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I—I can’t be quiet—”

That makes something snap inside you.

The fact that she knows she needs to be quiet, wants to be quiet—but she can’t. She’s so lost in it, so overwhelmed by pleasure, that controlling herself isn’t even a option.

And that? That drives you fucking crazy.

You slam into her harder, your cock buried deep inside her, hitting her exactly where she needs. Her back arches, her fingers tightening around the tree, another sharp moan slipping past her lips.

She gasps suddenly, her whole body trembling. “I’m—I’m close—”

You groan, feeling your own release creeping up on you. “Me too.”

She tilts her head, turning just enough to find your lips. “Cum with me,” she begs, her voice soft, desperate.

That’s all you need.

You kiss her, swallowing her moans, your tongues tangling as you fuck her through the last stretch of pleasure. The tension in your body builds and builds, the heat in your gut tightening until it finally—

“Fuck—”

Karina suddenly stiffens, her pussy clamping down around you as she cums, her body wracked with shudders.

But she screams.

Your hand flies up, clamping over her mouth just in time, muffling the tail end of that scream before it can carry too far. The voices nearby pause—someone laughs, someone else mutters something—and your heart’s pounding in your chest, adrenaline spiking. Her cries are still vibrating against your palm, hot and wet, her breath heaving as her orgasm wrecks her, her pussy pulsing around you, soaking you even more. She’s shaking so bad you have to hold her up, your arm wrapping around her waist to keep her from collapsing.

And that—her muffled screams, the way she’s clenching so fucking tight, the way her whole body’s convulsing against you—it’s too much. It shoves you right over the edge.

Pleasure hits you like a goddamn truck, raw and blinding, crashing through every nerve in your body. Your cock twitches hard, buried deep inside her, and you lose it. You cum—hot, thick, and messy—spilling into her with these sharp, uncontrollable pulses. The first spurt’s so intense it feels like your soul’s leaving your body, your vision blurring at the edges, your knees buckling as you pump her full. You can feel it—every rope of cum flooding her, stuffing her pussy to the brim, the heat of it mixing with hers, slick and overwhelming.

“Fuck—so good—too fucking good—” you growl through gritted teeth, still thrusting shallow and sloppy as you ride it out, each pulse hitting you like a shockwave. The risk of it—your parents just beyond the trees, probably sipping drinks and chatting, no clue their son’s unloading inside Karina right now—it’s like lighter fluid on the fire, making every sensation tem times sharper, tem times dirtier. Your hands dig into her hips, bruising, like letting go means you’ll both fall apart.

You stay there for a minute, panting hard, chests heaving, your cock still twitching inside her as the last of it leaks out. She’s trembling under you, little aftershocks making her pussy flutter around you, milking you dry. Finally, you pull out slow, and she lets out this shaky, wrecked exhale, her legs wobbling as she straightens up, leaning heavy against the tree for support.

You step back just enough, hands sliding down to grab her ass cheeks, spreading them wide. And fuck—there it is. Your cum’s already leaking out of her, thick and white, oozing from her swollen, fucked-out pussy. It drips slow down the inside of her thigh, glistening in the faint sunlight filtering through the branches. Her entrance is still pulsing, pushing out more, and it’s pooling there, sticky, hot, and dangerously obscene.

She gasps, twisting her head back to look at you, eyes wide and dazed. “Jesus fuck, baby—you came so fucking much.” Her voice is hoarse, awed, like she can’t believe how full she is. There’s a little smirk tugging at her lips, though, this filthy pride mixing with the shock.

You grin, smug and wrecked, squeezing her ass playfully, smearing some of the mess across her skin with your fingers. “Yeah, well—you fucking earned it, didn’t you?” Your voice is low, still rough from the high.

You tuck yourself back into your pants, heart still pounding, body still buzzing.

That? That was fucking insane.

And you loved it.

You grab Karina’s hand, your fingers lacing together as you sneak back toward your picnic spot where she can wipe her thighs with some disposable tissues, hearts still pounding, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins. Every step feels like a risk, every movement sharp and alert, your senses heightened from what you just did.

But no one notices.

No one even looks in your direction.

The people at the event are still deep in their conversations, sipping their overpriced wine or whatever the hell they’re doing. Your parents—both sets—are still in the crowd, oblivious, completely unaware that just moments ago, their kids were fucking like animals just a few feet away.

It’s almost ridiculous.

You and Karina glance at each other, trying to keep straight faces, but it’s useless.

The moment you reach your picnic blanket, you both collapse onto it, covering your mouths to muffle your laughter.

“Holy shit,” Karina whispers, her body shaking from the effort of holding it in. “We actually did that.”

You exhale sharply, leaning back on your hands, still catching your breath. “That was fucking insane.”

She looks at you, eyes bright with excitement. “And so hot.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t start. I’m this close to dragging you behind another tree.”

She giggles, shifting closer, resting her head against your shoulder. Her body is still warm, still humming with the aftermath of what you just did. You can feel it. The connection between you—stronger than ever.

She exhales slowly, tilting her head up to look at you. “I still feel you inside me.”

You turn to look at her, and she’s smirking, that smug, satisfied look that drives you crazy.

You swallow hard, eyes flicking down to her thighs, her soft, bare skin still flushed from the way you had her bent over, taking you deep. And now—now she’s sitting here, looking perfect and innocent in that little white dress, while your cum is still leaking out of her.

You shift, adjusting your position, because fuck if that doesn’t make you hard again.

Karina grins, obviously noticing, and nudges you playfully. “Behave.”

You scoff. “Says the one who just dragged me into public sex.”

She shrugs, resting her hand on your thigh. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

You glance around quickly, making sure no one is paying attention before leaning in, brushing your lips against her ear. “Because I love it.”

She shivers, biting her lip, her fingers curling against your leg.

And just like that—you both know this isn’t over.

—

The last few months have been a grind.

Between college, your part-time job, and the constant stress of keeping your relationship a secret, you and Karina have barely had any time together. It’s frustrating as hell, sneaking around, finding small pockets of time where you can be alone, only to have them cut short by obligations, responsibilities, or the constant fear of getting caught.

And it’s been weeks since you last fucked.

So when your phone buzzes while you’re chilling at your friend’s place, and you see Karina’s name on the screen, you don’t hesitate to answer.

“Hey, baby,” you say, already feeling a smile tug at your lips.

Her voice comes through the speaker, light and teasing. “Miss me?”

You chuckle. “Always.”

“Mmm, good answer.” There’s a playful lilt to her tone, something just under the surface, something that instantly makes your body react. “Do you remember what I told you a couple of weeks ago?”

You pause, trying to think. “Uh…”

She sighs dramatically. “You forgot?”

You scramble, running through past conversations in your head, but before you can figure it out, she gives you the answer herself.

“My parents,” she says slowly, like she’s guiding a clueless student. “Are at a friend’s wedding. Out of town. For the whole night.”

You did forget. She did mention it, but between work and school, it completely slipped your mind. And now—

Now she’s alone.

At home.

Waiting for you.

The grin that spreads across your face is instant.

“You serious?” you ask, already standing up from the couch.

“Dead serious,” she purrs. “And I really don’t want to spend the night alone.”

You’re already grabbing your keys, your heart pounding. “I’m on my way.”

She giggles. “I’ll be waiting.”

You hang up and turn to your friends, who have been watching you with knowing looks.

“I gotta go,” you announce, already heading for the door.

One of them smirks. “Karina?”

“Karina.”

They all nod in understanding. “Go get your girl, man.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You practically run out the door, jumping into your car, setting off toward the one place you want to be more than anywhere else. Tonight, Karina is yours. And nothing is going to stop you from getting to her.

—

You pull up to Karina’s house, your heart already pounding, excitement buzzing in your veins. It’s been way too fucking long since you had her all to yourself—no parents, no time limits, no need to rush. Just you and her, a whole night with nothing standing in your way.

You practically jump out of the car, hurrying up to the front door. You ring the doorbell.

And wait.

Nothing.

You frown, shifting on your feet. Maybe she’s in the bathroom? Or listening to music? You ring again. Then again, a little impatient now.

Still nothing.

Your excitement dims slightly, replaced by curiosity. You check your phone—no messages. Weird.

You sigh, already knowing what you’re about to do.

You step around the side of the house, toward the window of her room, the same one you’ve climbed through way too many times before. You know it’s never locked—she always forgets to latch it.

Like always, it slides open easily. You climb inside, landing silently in the familiar space. The soft scent of her perfume lingers in the air, her bed slightly messy, the desk covered in scattered notebooks.

But she’s not here.

You frown, stepping out into the hallway. The house is quiet.

Then, you hear the sound of a door closing.

You follow the noise, stepping into the living room—

And there she is.

Standing in front of the now-closed front door, looking confused for a split second before she turns around—

And screams.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

She practically jumps out of her skin, stumbling back against the door, her hand flying to her chest.

You freeze, eyes wide. “Shit—”

She stares at you, eyes blown wide, breathing hard. “What the fuck are you doing in here?!”

You raise your hands in surrender, trying not to laugh at her reaction. “Babe, relax—I rang the bell like five times, you didn’t answer!”

She still looks completely shaken, her chest rising and falling quickly. “So you just broke in?!”

“I climbed in,” you correct. “Like I always do.”

She groans, covering her face. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You step closer, gently pulling her hands away from her face. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

She pouts against your mouth. “You’re a idiot.”

You smirk, kissing her again, this time deeper, letting your hands slide down to her waist. “Yeah, but you love me.”

She sighs dramatically but melts into you, her arms looping around your neck.

Now that you’re close, you really take her in—her oversized shirt barely covering anything, her bare legs smooth and tempting, her skin still warm from the scare you gave her.

“Do your parents know you’ve been wearing those short clothes around boys?”

“Ugh, stop acting like a pervert,” she says, patting your chest lightly.

“When do they get back?” you ask, trailing your fingers along her hips.

She hums, pretending to think. “Tomorrow morning.”

Your smirk grows. “That’s plenty of time.”

Her breath catches slightly, her hands gripping your arms. “You better not waste it.”

Oh, you won’t.

The moment those words leave her mouth, you crash your lips against hers, pulling her into a messy, desperate kiss.

It’s been weeks since you properly made out, and now, all of that pent-up frustration, all of that longing, comes exploding out at once. Your mouths move together frantically, your tongues meeting, your hands gripping her body like you’re scared she’ll disappear if you let go.

You’re stumbling backward, barely aware of where you’re going, your focus completely consumed by her. Then—

You hit the couch.

You fall onto it, and Karina immediately climbs onto your lap, straddling you, her knees pressing into the cushions on either side of your legs. Between kisses, she gasps, “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You groan, tilting your head, kissing along her jaw, down to her neck. “Missed you too, baby. So fucking much.”

Your hands slide down her thighs, gripping, squeezing, mapping out the smooth curves of her legs. And then you realize.

She’s not wearing anything under that oversized shirt.

Your fingers dig into her thighs, your cock twitching in your pants. “Jesus, Karina.”

She smirks against your lips, rocking her hips slightly. “You like?”

“Obviously.”

You slide your hands up, under her shirt, feeling the heat of her bare skin, the soft swell of her hips. She’s so fucking perfect, so yours.

Between kisses, her voice lowers, turning softer. “You know… college is almost over.”

You pause slightly, just for a second, before nodding. “Yeah.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her fingers tracing your jaw. “We’ll be free soon.”

You exhale, running your hands up her back.

She continues, her voice filled with quiet excitement. “We can get decent jobs. Rent a apartment. Live together.”

Your chest tightens—not with fear, not with hesitation, but with something stronger. Hope.

No more sneaking around. No more hiding. Just you and her, in a home that’s yours.

“No one bothering us,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead against yours.

You smile, cupping her face. “No one stopping us.”

She grins. “We can have sex every day.”

You chuckle. “In every room in the apartment.”

She laughs softly, tilting her head as she kisses you again, but this time, her hands move—

To your pants.

Your breath catches as she unbuttons them, her fingers working quickly, like she’s been waiting for this. Your cock is already hard, straining against the fabric, aching to be freed.

She pulls it out.

You let out a sharp breath, your head falling back slightly as the cool air hits you, but that relief is short-lived because Karina—fuck—Karina is shifting, adjusting herself on your lap, lining herself up—

And then she sinks down.

Your whole body locks up.

“Fuck,” you groan, your hands flying to her hips as you feel the tight, hot grip of her pussy enveloping you completely.

Karina gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she takes you in, stretching around you, her breath stuttering.

She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut. “God, I missed this.”

You grip her hips tighter, barely holding yourself back. “Me too, baby.”

Then she starts moving.

She lifts herself slightly before dropping back down, making you both shudder at the sensation. She sets a slow rhythm at first, savoring the stretch, the fullness, the way you feel inside her.

Then, she picks up the pace.

Bouncing on your cock, her hands gripping your shoulders for support, her moans spilling freely into the space between you.

And fuck—this is what you’ve been missing.

Karina keeps bouncing on your cock, her movements growing more desperate, more eager, her slick heat squeezing around you with every roll of her hips. She’s fucking perfect like this—on top of you, taking you in deep, her body moving like she was made for this.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt, her breath shaky, her movements rushed. She pulls it over her head in one quick motion, tossing it aside, leaving her completely bare.

And fuck.

Her tits fall free, full and heavy, bouncing slightly with every movement.

Your mouth practically waters.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, hands sliding up her body, over her waist, up to cup those perfect tits.

Karina moans at your touch, her back arching slightly. “You like?” she teases breathlessly.

You don’t even answer. You just act.

Your hands slide back down, gripping her hips before trailing lower, fingers grazing over the roundness of her ass.

And then—

You give her a playful, light slap.

It’s not hard—not yet—but it’s exactly what she likes, exactly what gets her going.

She whimpers, her whole body reacting, her walls tightening around your cock for a second.

That reaction? Fucking addictive.

So you do it again.

Another quick, teasing slap against the soft flesh of her ass.

She moans louder this time, her pace stuttering before she catches herself, moving faster now, chasing more of it, wanting more.

Her ass is just too fucking good not to touch.

You alternate between squeezing and slapping, making her whine, making her needier.

And while your hands are busy making her ass turn that beautiful shade of pink, your mouth moves down.

To her tits.

You latch onto one of her nipples, sucking it deep into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the stiff peak.

She cries out, her hands flying to your head, her fingers tangling in your hair as she gasps, “Fuck—baby—”

Karina’s fucking gone now. Obliterated by the sheer, animalistic need pulsing through her veins. Her hips are rolling like they’ve got a mind of their own, chasing that insane stretch of your cock splitting her open, filling every inch of her dripping, greedy pussy. She’s soaked—drenched—and every time she slams down on you, the wet, obscene squelch of her juices mixes with the slap of skin on skin, bouncing off the walls of the dimly lit living room like a goddamn porno soundtrack.

Her voice cracks through the haze, soft but so fucking desperate it’s almost a sob. “Fuck—you’re huge—so goddamn thick—I can feel you tearing me apart and it’s so fucking good—”

Your hands clamp down on her hips, fingers digging into her soft, sweaty flesh hard enough to leave marks. You yank her down harder, faster, forcing her to take every inch of you, her slick walls gripping you like a vice.

“Yeah? You fucking love this dick, don’t you?” you growl, eyes locked on her—those perfect, heavy tits bouncing with every thrust, her skin flushed and glowing under the shitty lamp light, sweat beading down her neck. She’s a goddamn mess, and it’s driving you wild.

She nods like her life depends on it, pupils blown out, breath coming in ragged, needy little gasps. “Love it—fuck, I’m obsessed—can’t stop wanting you—”

Your hands roam her body like you own it, sliding down the slick curve of her waist, then lower, grabbing fistfuls of her plump ass. You squeeze hard, feeling the muscle flex under your grip, and then—fuck it—you bring your hand down with a sharp, stinging crack against that perfect, round cheek.

The sound cuts through the air like a gunshot, blending with her filthy moans, and holy shit, the way she reacts—a choked gasp, her back arching so hard her tits press against your chest, her pussy squeezing you so tight it almost hurts—it’s like pouring gasoline on the fire raging inside you.

So you do it again. Harder. Another brutal slap, watching her ass jiggle and turn pink under your hand. She shudders, a whimper spilling out of her, and then you switch it up—bring your hand crashing down on one of those massive, bouncing tits. The smack lands right across her nipple, and she yelps, half-surprise, half-ecstasy, her hips bucking wilder, grinding down on you like she’s trying to break you.

“Fuck—do it again,” she pants, voice trembling with lust, and you don’t even hesitate—another hard slap to her tit, watching it ripple, watching her lose her damn mind. She’s bouncing faster now, completely unglued, her nails clawing at your shoulders as she rides you into oblivion.

Then—out of nowhere—she laughs. Not some cute little giggle, but a full-on, breathless, dirty laugh, wild and reckless, her eyes flashing with this dangerous, untamed heat. “If my parents knew I was getting my brains fucked out on their precious TV couch,” she gasps, still slamming down on you like a goddamn jackhammer, “they’d fucking disown me—or maybe burn the damn thing.”

That hits you like a punch to the gut, a sick, twisted thrill twisting through your chest. The idea of it—their sweet little girl, their pride and joy, sprawled out right where they sit sipping coffee, getting her pussy wrecked by you, stuffed so full she’s shaking—it’s so wrong it’s perfect.

You laugh, low and rough. “Yeah, they’d lose their fucking minds.”

She giggles again, but it’s shaky, her whole body trembling as she teeters on the edge. “Guess I’m a real bad daughter, huh?”

You grab her jaw, rough but not cruel, tilting her face so she’s forced to look at you. “The fucking worst,” you rasp, voice thick with want.

Her lips twitch into a smirk, her eyes blazing into yours, dripping with heat and something softer, something that catches you off guard. “You still love me, though?”

No pause, no doubt. “Damn right I do.”

For a split second, time slows—her gaze softens, and you feel it, that raw, real thread tying you together beneath all the filth. But then her lips part, and her voice drops into this pleading, broken whimper—

“Then fucking make me cum, baby. Please.”

And that’s it. That’s the match that lights the dynamite.

You snap.

In one fluid move, you wrap your arms around her waist, flip her onto her back, and pin her to the couch like a goddamn animal. She gasps, legs hooking around your hips on instinct as you rear back and slam into her—hard, deep, ruthless. The cushions groan under the force, the whole damn room vibrating with the wet, obscene slap-slap-slap of your bodies colliding.

Karina screams, her hands scrabbling at your chest, nails raking red lines down your skin. “Oh fuck—yes—harder—” Her words dissolve into choked, gasping moans, her head thrashing side to side as you pound into her, relentless, unmerciful.

Her pussy’s a sopping mess, soaking your thighs, your cock, the couch—everything. The sounds are pornographic, loud and shameless, and you can’t get enough. You grip her hips so tight you can feel her bones, yanking her down to meet every brutal thrust, watching her tits bounce wildly, her body bending under you like she’s made for this.

She’s unraveling—fast. You can see it in the way her eyes roll back, the way her voice cracks into these frantic, babbling cries. “Baby—fuck—I’m gonna—oh my god—I can’t—”

You lean down, growl rough and low in her ear. “You’re gonna cum for me, huh? Gonna make a fucking mess all over me?”

She nods, frantic, clawing at the cushions like they’re her lifeline. “Yes—yes—fuck, please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You can’t. You’re too far gone, too caught up in the way she’s falling apart beneath you. You shift your angle just a hair, hitting that spot deep inside her that makes her whole body jerk, and she lets out this high, keening wail—

“There—right there—oh fuck—”

You feel it before she even says it—her pussy clamps down around you like a fucking trap, so tight it’s almost painful, and you lose it. You grab her thighs, shove them up higher, and start railing her so hard the couch skids a inch across the floor.

“Cum for me,” you snarl, voice raw and commanding. “Fucking soak me, baby—let it go.”

And she does.

Her orgasm hits like a goddamn explosion—her whole body seizes up, back arching off the couch, legs shaking so hard you have to hold them down. A scream rips out of her, loud and jagged, as her pussy pulses around you, gushing wet heat that spills down your cock, dripping onto the cushions. She’s thrashing, sobbing, completely fucking wrecked, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

That’s all it takes.

You bury yourself deep—one last brutal thrust—and blow. A guttural, primal groan tears from your throat as you cum, pumping thick, hot spurts inside her, filling her up until you can feel it leaking out around you. The pleasure’s blinding, searing through you like a wildfire, your whole body trembling as you ride it out, hips jerking with the aftershocks.

For a long, hazy minute, you’re both still—panting, sweaty, tangled together like a car crash. Her chest heaves, her eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you can feel her heartbeat thudding through her ribs where you’re pressed against her.

Then she laughs—weak, breathless, almost delirious. “...What the fuck was that?”

You chuckle, hoarse and wrecked, dropping your forehead to her shoulder. “That was us fucking ruining this couch.”

She snorts, running shaky fingers through your damp hair. “Yeah, well... worth it. You really made your bad girl cum her brains out.”

You pull back just enough to grin at her, smug as hell. “Told you I would.”

Then, suddenly, she shifts, standing on shaky feet. She looks down at you, eyes dark with something insatiable, and then she smirks.

“Come to my room.”

Your whole body tenses.

She doesn’t even wait for a response. She turns on her heel, walking toward the hallway, her naked form moving with a effortless, teasing sway of her hips.

Your brain barely processes the movement of you standing up, but before you follow her, you flip the wet couch cushions, just in case. Your heart is still pounding, your cock still hard despite having just cum, because fuck—this night isn’t over yet.

The moment you step into her room, you’re already yanking off your clothes, tossing them aside in a rush. Karina stands by the bed, watching you, waiting, her bare body bathed in the dim glow of her bedside lamp.

Her tits rise and fall with every breath, her nipples still flushed, her thighs still wet with the mess you made of her earlier. Her lips are slightly parted, her expression filled with anticipation, and you know she wants more.

You reach her in two strides, your hands instantly finding her waist as you pull her in for a deep, messy kiss. Your tongues collide, your hands roam, and she melts against you, completely surrendering to the way you’re guiding her, the way you need her.

Between kisses, her voice comes out breathy, teasing. “Think you can make me squirt again?”

You smirk, squeezing her cheek lightly, making her look directly into your eyes. “I’ll try,” you murmur, dragging your thumb across her lips before gripping her jaw. “But you’re gonna have to be a good girl for me.”

She shivers at that, her body reacting before her words even come out. “I will,” she breathes, nodding slightly.

You release her face, letting your hands slide down to her hips before giving her a little nudge. “Then get on all fours for me.”

That does it.

She whimpers, eyes fluttering shut for a second as a wave of heat washes over her. Then, without hesitation, she turns, climbing onto the bed, shifting into position.

And fuck, the sight of her like this—knees pressed into the mattress, arms braced against the sheets, her back arched so perfectly, her ass sticking out for you, her glistening pussy already exposed and waiting—makes your blood run hot.

You kneel behind her, your hands instantly moving to her hips, then lower, grabbing two handfuls of her perfect ass. You squeeze, hard, watching the way the flesh dimples under your grip, the way she trembles slightly at your touch.

“You love this, don’t you?” you murmur, sliding one hand down, letting your fingers tease along the wet heat between her thighs.

She gasps, shifting slightly, pushing back against your touch. “Yes,” she whispers, voice shaking. “I love being used like this by you.” Her eyes, glassy with pleasure, lock onto yours, wide and dark, pupils blown out. She’s already panting, already lost in it, her lips parted as soft little whimpers spill from her throat. “Please,” she murmurs, her hips shifting, desperate for more.

That’s all you need to hear. You shift closer, lining yourself up, your body pressed flush against hers. Your cock nudges her entrance, teasing her for just a second—letting the tip drag through her wetness, feeling the way her heat pulses around you. She twitches, a desperate little jerk of her hips, and her breath catches, stuttering in her chest like she’s about to lose it already.

Her head turns slightly, glassy eyes locking onto yours over her shoulder—wide, dark, and drowning in lust, her pupils so blown out there’s barely any color left. Her lips part, soft, needy whimpers spilling out, and she’s panting like she’s already halfway gone. “Please,” she whispers, hips shifting again, practically grinding herself against you. “Please, baby—fuck me.”

You don’t make her wait.

With one hard, smooth thrust, you sink into her, burying yourself deep. She moans, loud and broken, her hands fisting the sheets as her body jolts forward from the force. Her pussy’s so wet, so tight, gripping you like it’s trying to pull you in even deeper. You don’t hold back—grabbing her hips, you start fucking her hard, steady, every thrust slamming into her with a wet smack that fills the room.

You tighten your grip, yanking her back onto your cock with every thrust, watching the way her spine curves, the way her head drops forward like she’s surrendering completely. “So fucking good,” you growl, one hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair to pull her head back just enough to hear her better. Her moans turn into cries, high-pitched and frantic, her whole body shaking as you pound into her.

“Harder—please—fuck me harder,” she begs, voice cracking, and it’s like she’s handing you the reins to break her. You oblige—slamming into her so hard the bed creaks, the headboard thudding against the wall. Her ass claps against your hips, loud and filthy, and the wet heat of her pussy is dripping down her thighs, soaking everything, making a mess of you both.

Her pussy’s clenching harder now, gripping you like a fucking fist, and you can tell she’s teetering right on the edge, so close but not quite there yet. You lean forward, chest pressed to her sweaty back, one hand sliding around to grip her throat—not tight, just enough to feel her pulse hammering under your fingers. “Gonna make you cum so hard, babe,” you say. “Gonna make you ruin this fucking bed.”

She whimpers, a desperate little sob catching in her throat as she nods, frantic. “Yes—please—fuck, I’m so close—please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You’re too fucking lost in it, hips slamming into her with these loud, wet smacks that echo through the room. Her ass—still red and hot from those slaps—jiggles against you, her body rocking forward with every brutal thrust. She’s a mess, babbling nonsense—Oh god—baby—harder—her arms buckling as she collapses face-first into the mattress, ass still up, taking everything you’re giving her.

But fuck, you’ve been holding it in too long. All that cum’s been building up, heavy and tight in your balls, and it’s starting to get to you. You can feel it—the pressure’s insane, like your cock’s about to burst. Your rhythm stutters, hips jerking unevenly as it hits you, this sudden, uncontrollable surge. A low, guttural groan rips out of you, and you pull out just enough to fist your cock, leaking hot and thick right onto her.

The first spurt lands hard across her back, a messy splash of cum painting her flushed, sweaty skin. She flinches, a sharp, needy gasp spilling out of her as the heat hits, her body trembling under you. “Fuck—what—?” she pants, twisting her head to glance back, eyes wide and wild. You’re still leaking, another thick dribble spilling out, dripping down her spine toward that perfect, red ass, and she moans, low and filthy, like it’s turning her on even more.

“More,” she whines, voice cracking with desperation, her hips wiggling back toward you. “Don’t stop—give me more, baby—please—”

You growl, still stroking yourself through it, letting another pulse leak out. This time, you press the tip of your cock right against her ass—teasing that tight little hole, not going in, just smearing the cum there, watching it drip slow down her crack. She shivers, a full-body shudder, and pushes back against you like she’s begging for it. “Fuck—that’s so hot,” she gasps, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “Keep going—I need you back inside me—now.”

You’re still hard as hell, cock throbbing, slick with her juices and your own leak. She’s got you wound up so tight, and the way she’s pleading—fuck, it’s like she’s pulling you apart. You grab her hips, rough and possessive, and line yourself up again, slamming back into her pussy with one deep, punishing thrust. She cries out, loud and raw, her whole body jolting forward as you pick up the pace again, fucking her even harder than before.

“Like that?” you snarl, voice dripping with heat as you watch her ass bounce against you, still glistening with your cum. “You want it all, huh? Greedy little thing.”

“Yes—yes—” she sobs, voice muffled against the mattress, her back arching sharper to take you deeper. “Fuck me ‘til I can’t think—‘til I’m fucking done—please—”

You’re relentless now, pounding into her so hard the bed groans under you, her pussy soaking you, dripping down your thighs. That leak took the edge off, but you’re still so full, still ready to blow, and she’s egging you on, her needy cries and the way she’s clenching around you driving you fucking insane. Her ass is still hot under your hands, the red marks glowing, and every slap of your hips against her makes her whimper louder, begging for more, more, more.

But you’ve got other plans. You grab her hips, flipping her onto her back in one rough move. She gasps, legs falling open instinctively as she lands on the bed, sprawled out beneath you in the missionary position. Her chest heaves, tits bouncing with the motion, her face flushed and wrecked—eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and parted, still trembling from the aftershocks. Her pussy’s a mess, glistening and leaking, thighs slick with her own cum and yours. She barely has time to react before you’re on her again, spreading her thighs, hooking them over your arms, keeping her completely open for you.

Definitely the best position for this—for watching her face twist in pleasure, for seeing every expression she makes, every little gasp, every time her mouth drops open when you hit the perfect spot inside her. And fuck, you do hit it. Over and over, with every deep, hard thrust.

Her hands fly to your shoulders first, gripping you like she’s trying to ground herself, like she needs something solid to hold onto. But then, as the pleasure builds, as your pace quickens, her hands slide lower, down her own body, until her fingers find her clit.

You groan at the sight, at the way she starts rubbing herself, fast, desperate, completely lost in it. “Oh my god,” she whimpers, her thighs trembling, her breath catching in her throat. “Oh my god, baby—”

You know what’s coming. You can feel it in the way she’s tightening around you, the way her hips are bucking, her whole body trembling. She’s right there, right on the edge, and fuck, that’s exactly what you want.

Your grip on Karina’s hips tightens as you pound into her, her body arching beneath you, legs trembling around your waist. She’s so damn wet, her slickness coating your skin, making every thrust smoother, deeper, faster. The air is thick with the sound of your bodies colliding, with the ragged breaths and soft gasps slipping from her lips. But she’s not moaning anymore—no, she’s past that.

Her fingers work her clit in fast, desperate circles, chasing her high, pushing herself over that delicious edge. And when she finally tips over? She screams.

Not just a moan, not just a breathy little whimper—a all-out, unrestrained, shaking, spine-arching cry of pleasure that echoes through the room. It’s raw, untamed, and fuck, it’s perfect.

“That’s it,” you growl, barely holding yourself together, watching her body tense beneath you, feeling the way her walls clamp down around you. “Don’t stop. Let it happen.”

She doesn’t. If anything, she pushes herself harder, rubbing herself furiously as her orgasm tears through her. And then—

It happens.

Her whole body jerks, back bowing off the mattress as a fresh wave of wetness gushes out of her, soaking you, soaking the sheets, soaking everything. It’s overwhelming, messy, absolutely beautiful.

And she’s still going.

Her thighs shake violently as aftershocks hit her, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. You don’t slow down. You can’t slow down. You thrust faster, deeper, watching her completely fall apart beneath you.

“Look at you,” you murmur, gripping her waist tighter, keeping her steady as she trembles through another wave of pleasure. “So damn beautiful when you lose yourself like this.”

She hears you, and somehow, it makes her push even further. Her eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, her fingers never leaving her clit. “I—I’m gonna—”

You already know.

And then she’s screaming again, her body convulsing as a second orgasm rips through her. This one’s even harder than the first, her legs kicking out, her hands gripping at anything—your arms, the sheets, the air. Another surge of wetness spills from her, a deep, shaking moan caught in her throat as her body gives in completely.

“That’s my girl,” you whisper, slowing just enough to draw it out, to let her feel everything.

Her eyes roll back. Her mouth drops open in a silent gasp, the pleasure so overwhelming she can’t even form words anymore. She’s ruined, wrecked, gone.

And still, you don’t let up.

You slide a hand between her thighs, rubbing her clit slowly now, teasing her overstimulated nerves, pulling the last bits of pleasure from her. She twitches, a tiny, choked whimper escaping her lips—then one final, weak gush spills out of her. Small, almost cute, the last bit of her completely giving in.

She’s done.

Karina lies there, body still shaking, chest heaving, sweat glistening on her flushed skin. The sheets beneath her are absolutely drenched, a visible reminder of everything you just did to her.

You hover over her, watching as her eyes finally refocus on you, still hazy, still lost in the remnants of her pleasure. You brush damp hair from her face, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

“You okay?” you murmur, voice softer now, laced with satisfaction.

She swallows hard, nodding weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You almost killed me.”

You smirk, leaning down to kiss her swollen lips. “And you loved every second of it.”

A tired little giggle bubbles out of her, her fingers lazily tracing your arm. “I’m never walking again.”

You chuckle, running your hands down her sides, feeling the way she still twitches under your touch. “Worth it?”

She gives you a lazy, blissed-out grin. “So worth it.”

She’s sticky, spent, her thighs slick with the proof of how hard she came, and fuck—you can’t stop looking at her. The way her skin glows under the dim light, the faint sheen of sweat across her collarbone, the lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at her lips.

“You came a lot,” you murmur, your thumb brushing over the inside of her thigh, collecting some of the slick there just to tease her.

Karina laughs breathlessly, tucking herself closer against you. “I know,” she whispers, voice still a little shaky. “I—I can feel it. It’s everywhere.”

You smirk, fingers trailing higher, skimming just close enough to make her shiver, her legs twitching in response. “And how are you gonna clean up this mess?”

She bites her lip, eyes hazy with exhaustion and something else—something playful, teasing. “I don’t know…” she admits, cheeks flushing. “Maybe I’ll just sleep in it. Let it dry. Pretend it never happened.”

You groan, head tilting back against the pillows. “Fuck, babe. Don’t say shit like that unless you want me to go again.”

She giggles, pressing a sleepy kiss to your collarbone. “You’re insatiable,” she murmurs. “It’s kinda hot.”

You roll over, pinning her under you again just to feel the heat of her, the way she immediately gasps, eyes going wide. You don’t even do anything, just hover there, feeling her warmth, the rapid beat of her heart against your chest. Her lips part, her breath catching.

“Insatiable, huh?” you echo, smirking.

She swallows, her fingers curling into your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp. “Yeah,” she whispers. “But I love it.”

Your heart clenches, the way it always does when she says things like that, when she looks at you like you hung the fucking stars just for her. You don’t even realize you’re moving until your lips are on hers, slow, deep, lingering. You kiss her like you’ve got all the time in the world, like you never want to stop. And she melts into it, pressing closer, sighing softly into your mouth.

“I love you so much,” you murmur against her lips, meaning it in a way that makes your chest ache.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open, fingers trailing down your chest. “I love you too,” she whispers, and then—just like that—her hand is back on your cock, stroking slow, lazy, teasing.

You groan, your hips jerking slightly into her grip. She smirks.

“Where do you want to cum?” she asks, all innocent, like she doesn’t already know the answer.

You raise a brow, lips quirking. “Really?”

She tilts her head, her grip tightening just slightly. “What?”

“You already know.”

She hums, pretending to think, but you can see the amusement in her eyes. “On my boobs?”

You grin. “Obviously.”

She sighs, mock dramatic. “You always wanna cum on my boobs.”

“You’re acting like it’s a bad thing.”

She laughs. “Didn’t say that.”

“Good,” you murmur, rolling off her, sitting up at the edge of the bed. “Then get over here.”

Karina follows you and moves, but the second her feet hit the floor, her legs wobble, and she stumbles, catching herself against the mattress.

You snort. “Damn, babe. You good?”

She glares at you, cheeks pink, but she’s grinning. “Shut up,” she mutters. “You did this to me.”

“I know,” you say, smug. “And I love seeing you like this.”

She sticks her tongue out at you before stepping closer, standing between your legs, completely bare, her skin still flushed, her thighs still sticky.

And fuck—you’ll never get tired of looking at her.

She doesn’t say anything, just reaches up, cupping her own breasts, squeezing them together like she knows exactly what it does to you. Her tits are already perfect, full and soft, but like this, pressed together, forming that perfect valley of warmth—fuck.

She meets your gaze, lips curling. “Ready?”

Before you can answer, she leans down slightly, spits between her breasts, letting it drip down before rubbing it in, spreading it, making herself even slicker for you.

Your cock twitches.

“Karina,” you groan, your jaw tightening. “You’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

She laughs, warm and sweet, but there’s something else in her eyes—something darker, teasing. “Mm,” she hums, pressing your cock between her tits, wrapping them around you in that impossibly soft, perfect warmth. “I’d never.”

Then she starts to move.

She doesn’t rush. She knows exactly how you like it—slow at first, letting the warmth sink in, letting the slick glide over your skin. The pressure is perfect, just tight enough, her tits molding around your cock like they were fucking made for this. She watches your face, gauging every reaction, waiting for that moment your jaw tenses, your breath stutters.

“God, Karina,” you groan, hands finding their way to her shoulders, holding onto her, needing something to ground you.

She smirks, rolling her shoulders slightly to change the angle, pressing you tighter, making your cock slide even smoother between her tits. “Feels good?”

“You fucking know it does.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest, and you swear you feel it all the way down to your cock. Then, just to drive you insane, she sticks out her tongue, letting the tip just barely brush against your swollen, leaking head every time you thrust forward.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips jerking involuntarily. “You’re—shit—”

“Hot?” she supplies, teasing.

You groan. “You already know.”

She grins, keeping her movements steady, smooth, effortless. Every glide, every stroke is better than the last, the warmth of her, the way she presses you tighter each time—it’s too fucking much. You know you’re close already, but you don’t wanna stop, don’t wanna let it end.

“How much do you love me?” she asks suddenly, her voice playful, light.

You look down at her, and your chest tightens. She’s smiling, her eyes sparkling, her skin glowing. She looks so happy, so perfect, and in this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone more.

You brush her hair back, thumb stroking her cheek. “More than anything,” you murmur. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Her breath catches slightly, just for a second, but then she’s grinning again, pressing her tits even tighter around you. “Then cum for me,” she whispers. “I wanna feel your hot cum on my tits.”

Her tongue flicks out, teasing your tip, licking up the steady drip of precum leaking from you.

“You always make such a mess,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing, her lips just barely grazing your swollen head before she pulls back with a wicked smirk. “Bet you wanna cum all over me, huh?”

You groan, gripping her shoulders tighter. “Karina, fuck—”

She hums in amusement, squeezing her tits together tighter, moving faster. “So desperate,” she coos, tilting her head as she watches your face. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Make a mess all over my tits?”

Your jaw clenches, your whole body coiling up, right fucking there. “Fuck, yeah, I—”

DING-DONG.

Your entire world stops.

The doorbell rings again.

A knock follows almost immediately.

And then, a voice—deep, familiar, fucking horrifying.

“Karina, open the door! We forgot the key.”

Karina’s father.

Your stomach plummets.

Karina freezes, her tits still pressed around your cock, hands gripping herself tightly, pupils blowing wide with pure, unfiltered panic.

Your brain goes static. Every part of you is still humming with the need to cum, and now it’s colliding headfirst into the very real terror of being caught like this—naked, hard as fuck, seconds away from spilling all over her perfect tits while her dad is standing right outside the door.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whisper, heart pounding.

Karina swallows, her mind racing. Then, before you can do anything, she shouts toward the door, her voice just barely steady. “C—coming! Just—uh—give me a second!”

Another knock. Impatient. Firm.

Her mother��s voice now. “We’ve been knocking for a while, sweetie. What are you doing in there?”

Karina’s eyes snap to yours.

And then—

That wild fucking look flashes through them.

“Baby,” she whispers, tits still pressing together around your cock, slick and tight. “Cum. Now.”

You stare at her. “Are you insane?!”

She bites her lip, shifts slightly, rubbing her tits together just right, and your hips jerk forward, completely on instinct. “If you don’t, you’re going to run away from here still hard,” she whispers, voice dripping with something dangerous. “With your cock still leaking, all needy and desperate.”

You groan, throwing your head back, torn between sheer terror and white-hot fucking lust.

“You’re actually insane,” you hiss, body trembling, every inch of you straining toward release even as your fucking life is flashing before your eyes.

She grins. “You love it.”

Then she starts moving again.

Faster this time. Harder.

“You have, like, thirty seconds,” she whispers, squeezing you tighter, pumping her tits up and down around your cock like she’s hell-bent on ruining you. “Better cum fast, baby.”

“Holy—fucking—shit,” you groan, fists clenching in the sheets, your entire body burning.

The knock on the door comes again. “Karina.”

Her father’s voice is sharp now, insistent.

Karina doesn’t even look away. Her breath is hot against your cock, her tongue flicking just barely over your tip every time you thrust between her tits.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, voice like satin over fire, her tits bouncing in time with her strokes. “You can do it. Just let go for me.”

“Karina—fuck—” You’re so close, your vision blurring at the edges, that sweet fucking burn coiling deep in your stomach.

Karina doesn’t stop.

She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch—not even with the knock at the door, not even with her father right there, waiting, expecting her to answer. If anything, the urgency only fuels her, makes her hands move faster, makes her press her tits together tighter, makes her mouth filthy as she coaxes you closer to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, her voice breathy, desperate, dripping with heat. “Give it to me. I need it.”

Your stomach is a coiled spring, that burning pressure inside you mounting so hard and fast you can barely breathe. The mix of fear, adrenaline, and raw, aching pleasure is making your pulse roar in your ears, every part of you strung tight as a fucking wire.

“You gonna cum for me?” she presses, her tits squeezing, bouncing, slick and warm, wrapped so fucking tight around you.

“Fuck—fuck, yeah—” Your voice is rough, your head tilting back, every nerve in your body locking up as you hit the point of no return.

Karina leans in, her lips just inches from your tip, her tongue flicking out one last time, and in that needy, desperate, breathless voice, she begs—

“Cum for me, baby. Give it to me. I want all of it.”

And that’s it.

That’s the fucking end of you.

Your whole body locks up, a broken groan ripping out of your throat as the pleasure finally fucking snaps. Your cock jerks, your abs tightening as thick, hot spurts spill out, painting Karina’s perfect, heaving chest.

She moans, her breath catching, her eyes dark with hunger as she watches your cum spill over her tits, sliding between the valley of soft, flushed skin.

She doesn’t stop.

She keeps squeezing, her hands milking every last drop, her fingers digging in as she rubs her tits together, making sure she gets it all.

“Fuck, fuck—” You don’t even recognize your own voice anymore, wrecked, your hips jerking weakly, your whole body shaking from how hard you’re cumming. It doesn’t stop, each pulse sending another hot rope onto her skin, dripping down the curve of her breasts, pooling in the dip of her collarbone.

She’s completely covered in you.

Your vision blurs. Your lungs burn. The pleasure is too much, too deep, too fucking intense. Your head spins as the last weak tremors shake through you, every muscle in your body spent.

You sag back onto the mattress, exhaling hard, your heart still slamming against your ribs.

Karina grins, rubbing a finger through the mess, spreading it over her skin, her tongue flicking out to taste a drop of it. “You always cum so much for me,” she purrs.

You’re about to say something—something cocky, something filthy—

But then—

Another knock.

Louder.

“Karina!” Her dad’s voice is sharp now, no longer patient. “What is taking so long?”

Karina’s eyes widen, and suddenly, the reality of the situation slams back into both of you.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

She whips around, grabbing the nearest thing—a crumpled tissue from her nightstand—and starts wiping herself down, frantically dabbing at her chest, trying to clean up the mess before her parents fucking bust the door down.

She’s panting, her hands shaking slightly as she grabs more, working fast, trying to get rid of every trace. “Baby, you have to go. Now.”

You’re already moving, stumbling to your feet, your limbs still weak, your brain still sluggish from the sheer force of that orgasm. You snatch your clothes off the floor, yanking on your pants with shaking hands, fumbling with the zipper as Karina rushes to her closet, grabbing the first thing she can find—a loose hoodie and some pajama shorts.

“Karina.” Another knock. “We’re waiting!”

She yells back, voice strained. “I’m coming, just—just hold on!”

She pulls the hoodie over her head, wiping her chest one last time before whirling on you. “The window,” she breathes.

You nod, grabbing your shirt, not even bothering to button it as you stumble toward the window, your heart pounding out of your chest.

Karina grabs your arm, pulling you back for one last, hurried kiss, her lips soft, warm, frantic against yours.

“I love you,” she whispers, breathless.

You squeeze her waist, your forehead dropping to hers for half a second before pulling back. “I love you too.”

Then—you’re gone.

You slip out the window, landing hard on the grass outside, your legs still shaky as fuck, your body still buzzing with the lingering aftershocks. You don’t have time to process it—you just move, running quietly, disappearing into the night just as you hear the sound of Karina’s door unlocking behind you, ready to leap into your car and disappear completely.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

That was way too close.

Karina yanks open the door, still breathless, her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she can barely hear her father’s impatient sigh. He’s standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, looking at her like she’s already guilty of something. Her mother is behind him, rubbing her temples, looking exhausted and irritated, like the entire day has been one long, drawn-out headache.

“You took your time,” her dad says, stepping inside without waiting for a invitation. His eyes sweep over her, sharp and assessing, and she suddenly feels way too warm in her hoodie.

“I was—uh, I was changing,” she stammers, tucking her hair behind her ear as she follows them into the living room. “Got comfortable and didn’t wanna open the door like that, you know?” She forces a sheepish smile, hoping they don’t hear how unsteady her voice is.

Her father doesn’t seem convinced, but her mother is already waving a dismissive hand, dropping onto the couch with a weary sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We have bigger things to talk about.”

Karina perks up immediately, desperate for anything that’ll shift their attention away from her. “Oh? What happened?”

Her mother exhales sharply, rubbing her temples. “The wedding’s postponed.”

That actually throws her. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

Her dad nods, his jaw tight with irritation. “The priest never showed up.”

Karina blinks. What the hell kind of excuse is that? “What? Why?”

Her mother groans, sinking deeper into the couch like she wants to disappear into it. “Emergency surgery. Can you believe that? Of all the damn days, he picks today to have a medical crisis.”

Karina presses her lips together, trying so hard not to laugh. “Uh. That sucks.”

“Sucks?” Her dad snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Half the guests had already arrived, the reception was prepped, and then we get told—‘sorry, no priest, no wedding.’” His scowl deepens, shaking his head. “It’s a disaster.”

“Total nightmare,” her mother agrees, sighing. “And now we have to wait for them to reschedule the wedding. We will have to reorganize everything again—ugh, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Karina nods sympathetically, even though she barely cares. She’s just grateful they aren’t questioning her right now. “Yeah. That’s… awful. Really awful.”

But then her father’s eyes narrow slightly, lingering on her face. “Why are you blushing?”

Karina freezes. She didn’t even realize she was. Heat is practically radiating off her, her cheeks still flushed from everything that happened minutes ago, her body still tingling in the aftermath.

“I—I’m blushing?” she asks, stalling. “Really?” She presses a hand to her cheek like she’s just now noticing, playing dumb. “Huh. I guess I got warm running around getting dressed.”

Her dad squints at her, clearly unconvinced, but before he can push any further, her mom frowns at something behind her.

“What’s your shirt doing on the couch?”

Karina whips around, stomach dropping through the floor.

There it is. The shirt she was wearing earlier. The one she was wearing while you were fucking her on that very couch. The one she took off, carelessly tossed aside in the heat of the moment, and completely forgot about.

Her brain stalls, panic roaring through her.

“I—” She swallows hard. “I guess I just—forgot to pick it up.”

Her father frowns, shaking his head. “You know we don’t like clothes scattered around the house.”

“I know, I know.” She forces a nervous laugh, grabbing it so fast it’s almost suspicious. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

Her dad just gives her a look, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else. Her mom sighs again, waving a dismissive hand. “Whatever. Just put it in the laundry.”

“Yep, will do,” Karina says quickly, turning to escape before something else goes wrong. But just as she’s about to flee the scene, her father’s voice stops her.

“Hold on.”

She stiffens. Turns back way too slowly.

“What?”

Her dad’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a strange sharpness in his voice now. “On our way here, I noticed a car parked down the street.”

Karina’s stomach tightens. “Yeah?”

Her dad nods. “Looked a lot like the car that guy you used to date drove.”

Her breath catches, but she forces herself to play dumb. “Oh?” she says, as casually as she can. “Uh. You sure?”

Her dad narrows his eyes slightly. “Yeah. Same model, same color.”

Karina shakes her head quickly. “I mean, that’s a pretty common car. Could’ve been anyone’s.”

Her dad doesn’t look fully convinced. “Maybe.” Then, before she can stop him, he gestures toward the door. “Come outside with me. Let’s check.”

Karina’s heart slams against her ribs. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

She hesitates just a second too long before nodding quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

They step out onto the porch, the streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. Her father looks around, scanning the parked cars along the curb, eyes sharp, searching. Karina barely breathes, her stomach twisting into knots. If your car is still there, she’s fucked. She follows his gaze, trying not to look as panicked as she feels, praying. But when they look—Nothing. No car.

You’re gone.

She barely stops herself from sagging in relief, instead turning to her father with a casual shrug. “See? Nothing there.”

He frowns slightly, looking around like he doesn’t quite believe it, but after a moment, he just mutters, “Guess I was wrong.”

Before Karina can fully celebrate surviving this, her mother’s voice cuts through the night, sharp and exhausted. “What the hell are you two doing out there? Get inside!”

Karina nods quickly, practically bolting for the door, her father following behind, still looking a little suspicious but thankfully dropping it.

This time, she actually escaped.

Barely.

—

Your phone buzzes just past midnight, Karina’s name lighting up the screen. You don’t even hesitate, answering immediately, her voice coming through the line soft but amused.

“Hey,” she whispers, and you can hear the rustle of sheets in the background. She’s in bed, probably curled up under the covers, trying not to wake anyone.

“Hey, baby,” you murmur back, your voice just as low. “You okay?”

She exhales a quiet laugh. “I survived. Barely.”

You smirk, shifting onto your back, getting comfortable. “Yeah? What happened?”

Karina sighs, like she’s replaying the whole thing in her head. “My dad was suspicious as hell. He saw your car on the street and wanted to go check, but by some miracle, you were already gone. If you’d been there even a second longer—” She cuts herself off, and you can practically hear her shudder on the other end.

“Damn,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Close call.”

“Way too close,” she agrees, her voice dipping lower. “And then my mom found my shirt on the couch—the one I took off while we were, you know… and I had to pretend I just forgot to put it away. My dad was already looking at me weird, and then she asked why I was blushing, and I had nothing. No excuse. Just standing there like a idiot while I could still feel your—” She stops herself, groaning softly. “God. The whole thing was a disaster.”

You chuckle, amused at how frazzled she sounds now that it’s over. “But you pulled it off. Got away with it again.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, a hint of pride in her voice. “I always do.”

You smirk, shifting the phone against your ear. “And what about the mess?”

“What mess?” she asks, and then realization hits. “Oh. That.”

You snort. “Yeah, that. What’d you do with the squirt-stained bed, babe?”

She groans. “Ugh. I had to change everything. Sheets, pillowcases, everything went straight into the washing machine the second my parents went to bed. The mattress was safe, thank god. I think if I ruined my bed like that, I’d have to just set it on fire and move away.”

You laugh, picturing her rushing around, cleaning up, making sure there was no evidence left behind. It’s ridiculous, the lengths you both go to just to be together, but there’s something kind of thrilling about it too.

“You’re such a menace,” you tease.

“Says the guy who made me do that in the first place,” she fires back.

You grin. “Worth it?”

She pauses, then hums. “So worth it.”

You both fall quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence stretching between you. You love this—these little stolen moments, these late-night calls where you can just exist together, even if it’s only through the phone.

“You seeing me tomorrow?” you ask, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

“Mhm,” she murmurs, voice warm. “Cinema, remember? Told my parents I’m going with a friend.”

You smirk. “We should really start keeping track of how many lies you’ve told just to see me.”

She giggles. “At this point, it’s gotta be in the triple digits.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Absolutely,” she agrees, voice soft.

“Get some sleep, baby,” you murmur. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mm. Night, babe.”

You both hesitate, neither of you wanting to hang up first, but eventually, Karina whispers one last “love you” before ending the call.

The next day, you meet her outside the cinema, standing near the entrance, watching as she walks toward you. She’s wearing something simple—just jeans and a cute cropped hoodie—but she looks gorgeous, her hair down, her face lit up with that familiar mischievous smile.

“Hey, troublemaker,” you greet, grinning.

She rolls her eyes but laughs. “Says you.”

You tuck your hands into your pockets, smirking. “Our life is a goddamn adventure at this point.”

Karina snorts. “No kidding. I feel like I should start journaling everything before we end up in a documentary.”

You chuckle, reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “Yeah? You like the adrenaline rush?”

She pretends to think about it for a second, then grins. “I kinda do.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, watching her expression.

She leans in slightly, her voice quieter. “But I think what I like more is just… being with you. Even if it means sneaking around and making up a thousand excuses.”

Your heart clenches a little, warmth spreading through your chest. You squeeze her fingers, giving her a knowing smile. “You won’t have to lie forever.”

She nods, eyes flickering with something softer, more serious. “College is almost over. Once we’re out of here… nothing can separate us.”

You love the way she says it, like it’s a promise. Like there’s no doubt in her mind.

“Nothing,” you agree.

She smiles, pulling you toward the entrance. “Now, come on. We actually have to watch the movie, or my parents are gonna ask for a recap later.”

You chuckle, following her inside, feeling that familiar buzz of excitement—not just from sneaking around, not just from the thrill of getting away with it again, but from knowing that college is almost over. The endless rules, the curfews, the constant risk of getting caught—it’s all temporary. Soon, you won’t have to make excuses. You won’t have to sneak out of windows. It’ll just be you and Karina, no secrets, no hiding. Just the future waiting for you.

And honestly? You can’t fucking wait.

[l1tw1ck]

Consummation

Bottom!FTM Mydei x Top!Masc Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,370 ☆

Mydei finally fulfills his duty after his marriage to you

AFAB Language Used | Royalty AU

CW: Dubious Consent, Aphrodisiacs, Cunnilingus, Virginity Loss, Riding, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing

“Don't forget that our union is merely for the benefit of the people.” Mydei pulls away from your ear and closes his eyes, giving you a small peck on the lips to fulfill his duty as a husband.

“Don't worry.” You turn your head and smile at the crowd of people.

“Now that you've been crowned, don't you think you should spend more time here? You have other things to prioritize over your bloodlust.” You watch Mydei remove his clothes. He doesn't feel any embarrassment about you seeing his naked body, he doesn't have any fear that you’ll touch him.

“Your job is to take care of those things for me.” He ties his hair up.

You follow him into the bathroom. “There's still a lot you need to do yourself, Mydeimos.” You stare at him as he bends over to adjust the water temperature. “One of those being, the consummation of our marriage. You’ve been stalling.”

It's true. He’s been going out to avoid that. “Does it matter? It's foolish to have children now.”

“The purpose isn't necessarily to have children, you know. Our marriage will be voided otherwise. You know it's the only reason you’ve been crowned. Am I the only one who has to care about our people?”

He growls and steps into the bath.

“It’s just one night. What are you so afraid of? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to practice.”

He growls again. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, now.” He crosses his arms and turns to you. “Hurry.”

You quickly remove your clothes and enter the bath. He stares at your cock with his brows furrowed. He turns and presses his hands against the wall as he bends over. You gently touch his cunt. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure it doesn't hurt.”

“It's not going to hurt.” He says, protecting his ego. “Do it.”

You sigh and slowly pump your length before entering him. He bites down on his lip. You gently rub his back. “You're too tense, I can barely move any further. I told you–”

“You're not trying hard enough.”

“Just relax your body, okay? Take a deep breath for me.”

His ears tinge red. He moves himself away from you. “We’ll do it tomorrow. You're annoying me.” He doesn't make eye contact.

“Okay, if that's what you want.”

“Mydei?” You walk into the room, surprised that he's laying in bed instead of sleeping against the corner of the wall. He's only wearing a robe.

“Do it..” His voice sounds soft. He moves the robe apart so you can have access to his body. “Hurry and get it over with.”

“You sound different.”

“My aide…gave me….” He sighs and spreads his legs. “Come on, you HKS…!”

“He gave you an aphrodisiac? Seriously?” You chuckle. “You know, it wasn't my fault. You didn't let me do anything.”

His cheeks flush red. “Then do it now.”

You climb onto the bed and bring your face close to his cunt. “You're already so wet, were you touching yourself before I got here?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. You should've been. I can't imagine how needy you must feel now.”

“I’m not needy—Fuck~!” He moans from the feeling of your tongue sliding up his folds. He bites down on his lip and looks down at you as you start to eat him out. You look like you're enjoying yourself. He subconsciously wraps his legs around your head. He does his best to not crush your skull. “I– wait—” He throws his head back as he orgasms, his walls fluttering around your tongue. He shoves you away with his foot.

You get off of the bed and wipe your face. You watch his body subtly twitch and his chest slowly rising and falling. His eyes are wide. “Tell me when you're ready.” You remove your clothes.

“When I’m ready?” There's a slight growl in his voice. “I'm always ready!”

“Mydei–”

He shakily gets up and shoves you onto the bed. He crawls on top of you and positions himself above your cock.

“Wait–”

“Look who's scared now.” He grins, lowering himself onto you. He throws his head back as his pussy stretches to fit you. It feels a little easier now but it's still painful.

Mydei lets out a sigh as his cunt fully absorbs you.

“Mydeimos..” You gently rub his thighs. “Don't move.”

“Why not?” He slaps your hands.

“Because I want you to. Your duty as my husband is to listen to me, right?”

“I’m the king. You're just a consort!” He tries to raise his body but gasps as his sudden movement causes him to realize why you didn't want him to in the first place. Having something inside him is too foreign and you seem to know your stuff. “Fine. I’ll listen to you. Only for tonight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You gently stroke his cock.

“I didn't— mmh- give you permis—iuh~” His eyes roll back as he comes again. “Again–”

“Yeah? You want me to make you come again, sweetheart?”

“Don't toy with—” He shudders as your hand returns to his cock. “Yes— yes~!” He groans, rolling his hips. Having your cock inside him feels amazing now. His pussy just keeps fluttering around your cock. He grabs your wrist and forces you to keep touching him.

“Does that feel good?” You coo. “I feel good.”

“Of course you feel good, I’m amazing.” He moves your hand away and calms down. “Is that it?”

“Technically, no, but I’m sure all the servants outside our quarters can attest to our consummation.”

“Then what is technically it? I finish what I start.”

“May I show you?”

“Fine.” He allows you to hold his waist. His mouth hangs open in surprise as you lift him upwards. He didn't think you were strong enough. You slowly move him up and down before ascending to a faster pace. He starts moaning again as your cock hits all the right places inside his sensitive, creamy walls.

His lips curl into a smug, blissed out grin. He already feels his peak approaching.

“Huh?” He furrows his brows as you lift him off of you. “What do you think you're doing?”

“You don't want kids yet.” You look at his pissed off expression. “I’ll finish on my own..”

“What?!” He gets up and grabs you. “Do you think I’m not good enough at this?”

“Calm down. This isn't a competition or a display of strength. I'm just respecting your dislike towards me.”

“I…I don't dislike you.” He tugs you closer to him. He stares at your throbbing length. “Just…Just tell me what I have to do.”

“Well…are you gonna hit me if I tell you what I’d prefer you to do?”

“I won't.”

“Promise?”

He sighs dramatically. “I promise. But if it's weird you have to do that again. Deal?” He points at his cunt. It's still tingling.

“Deal. So…can you get on your knees?” You ask sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow but kneels anyway. You comb your fingers through his hair. “Can you open your mouth?”

His ears turn a fiery red. It’s a good thing it blends in with his hair, his pride is still intact. He opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. He pushes aside his embarrassment and maintains eye contact.

“You're so pretty..” You mumble, slowly thrusting into him. “Just a little more..”

He feels the heat from his ears travel to his cheeks. Heat from a different source fills his mouth.

“You can—” You’re interrupted as he swallows your cum.

“Eh.” He isn't sure how to feel about it. He stands up. “C’mon then.”

You smile and kneel, once again flipping your positions. Mydei stares down at you with curiosity and soon understands as your lips wrap around his cock and your fingers slide into his cunt.

“Fuck yes-” He groans. “Good boy.” It only takes a couple seconds for him to come again. He shivers as you clean up his thighs with your tongue. “You're not so bad.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m honored to be not so bad, my king.”

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Theo's First Race

Having a child changes Max in a way he never could have predicted.

warnings: none, this is 100% self indulgent fluff. Pairing: max verstappen x podcaster!reader word count: 3.1k words

yourusername posted

459,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, jennythenanny, and others yourusername texas will always hold a special place in my heart. last year, we learned i was pregnant for the fourth time with what we hoped was our miracle baby. this year we get to bring that miracle baby to the track with us for the very first time. my entire heart is so full watching this all come full circle. i cannot wait to show theo how amazing his daddy is when he gets in that car. maxverstappen1 my two favorite people here this weekend. i can already tell this is going to a good race <3 user0198 i cannot handle the amount of dad max content we get. user111 max carrying Theo kangaroo style in a baby carrier??? sobbing rn >>>user0019 SERIOUSLY jennythenanny ah! so excited to be with you guys this weekend!!! >>>yourusername theo is so excited to be back with his bestie! >>>jennythenanny eeeee! cannot wait! >>>user020 why is this the cutest exchange i've ever read

“Maybe we should leave Theo here with Jenny today instead? Max says, concern settling into the corners of his eyes. 

You look over at him, eyebrow raised, from your seat on the floor of the hotel suite. In front of you, five month old Theo is on his tummy staring up at you with his signature gummy little grin. The three of you were in Texas for the US GP, which was supposed to be Theo’s first time in the paddock but apparently, your husband was having second thoughts. 

“What? Why?” You ask, confused. 

Max had checked the weather (multiple times) this morning and had declared that it wasn’t going to be too hot for Theo to be out and about. The sun was out and there was a gentle breeze whispering through the trees outside your hotel room. Max was leading the championship for the first time this season and he was starting on pole. COTA was historically a really good track for him and you were confident in his chances at winning. Plus, COTA meant a lot to you. It was right here in this very hotel that you had found out you were pregnant with the little elf that was babbling up at you right now. 

Max wrings his hands together, casting a worried glance down at his two favorite people in the world. With how dramatic Theo had come into the world so early, Max had found himself being a little extra protective over him. And you for that matter. He had refused to hear any talk about bringing Theo to the track before this weekend and after seeing all of the crowds at the track yesterday for the practice and sprint qualifying, he was having second thoughts 

“There were just so many people and I don’t want him to get lost.” 

You chuckle before reaching forward to take Theo in your arms. Standing up, you cross the room to where Max stands and hand him his son. Max instinctively reaches out, cuddling Theo to his chest. Watching Max become a dad over the last five and a half months had been one of the most rewarding things you’d ever been privileged to witness. He had slipped into the dad role so effortlessly it had surprised Max, probably due to his own childhood and difficult past with his father. You weren’t surprised though. You had known the moment that Theo was born that Max had been born to be a father. It really was that simple. 

“Baby, he can’t walk. He won’t get lost, I promise he’ll never be out of his sling for more than five minutes.”

“No one holds him other than you and Jenny?” 

You blow out a breath, unsurprised at how he’s gone into papa bear mode. You had seen it on his face yesterday during sprint qualifying. He had surveyed the paddock crowds with a deeper than usual frown on his face, making comments whenever he heard an errant cough or someone clear their throat. ‘Cesspool of germs’ was a phrase he used more than once, now that you thought you it. 

“Yes, my love. He will stay in the sling with me and Jenny no matter what. I have his ear defenders here too and we’ll keep to hospitality. But I know he’d love to see where daddy works. You know how much the sound of those engines sooth him.” 

Max pokes a finger into Theo’s chubby cheek, cooing nonsense at him as Theo giggles back. His mind flickered back to one particularly hard night right after you had brought him home from the hospital during the summer break. Theo had been a bit of a colicky baby back then and the hours between 1 and 3 am were often the worst. He would scream and cry for hours, unable to be soothed back to sleep despite all of his needs being met. This night, in particular, was difficult and you had been on hour four of trying to get him to settle. In a desperate attempt to try something, anything that might work, Max had turned on an old race, but just the ambient sounds of one of his wins from YouTube, without any commentators voices. The sounds of the engines revving had instantly calmed Theo down. 

Both you and Max had stood there in your apartment, lights dark with the exception of the glow emanating from the tv in front of you, as Theo had stared unblinkingly at the television, tears still puddled in his little neck folds, but totally quiet and enthralled. 

Max’s eyes dart over to yours and you smile, reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. “I know you’re nervous, baby but Theo will be fine. He’s going to have so much fun, and I know once you get to the paddock with him in your arms, you will too.” 

He sighs, knowing that you’re right. You usually are when it comes to matters involving Theo. “Okay, but first person to cough on him gets banned from the paddock.” 

The Miami sprint race had been your first race all those years ago when Max had swept you off your feet that very first weekend he flew you to him so it seemed fitting that Theo’s first trip to a race was also a sprint race weekend. Max parked the sensible but giant Ford Explorer that he had insisted on driving this weekend in his designated spot before hopping out, telling you not to move. 

You giggle to yourself, amused that even after all this time, Max still insisted that you never touched a door handle while he was with you. Even on hectic days like these, you and Theo were always in the front of his mind. 

When Max opens your door, his hand immediately finds yours as he helps you out of the tall car. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He asks, dropping a kiss onto your forehead before moving to the back seat to get Theo from his carseat. 

“I’m so excited to be back, it feels like it’s been forever.” 

Which was true. After Theo had been born, he had needed to stay in the NICU for quite a while. Max had nearly missed the race in Spain the weekend after Monaco because he had refused to leave your side. In the end, it had been Daniel that had convinced him that missing Spain would be detrimental to his championship hopes. Max trusted Daniel with his life and knew that his friend, someone who he knew had a good head on his shoulders, wouldn’t give him bad advice. He knew what missing a race would mean to everyone on the team and back at the factory. 

He had won the race with a 15 second lead. 

Your credentials hang heavy around your neck as you pull the diaper bag out of the back of the car, Theo already nestled securely in Max’s arms. It always made you chuckle, the way Max always seemed to have Theo. You swore whenever he was around, that baby never touched the floor or his crib. 

The pressure in your chest squeezes as you watch Max tote his little boy towards the paddock entrance. Both you and Max had made a conscious decision to keep Theo’s face out of your social media, with the exception of very carefully curated images that you and Max tightly controlled so this was the first time Theo would be photographed by anyone but you and Max. You knew the fans, both yours and Max’s, wanted to see Theo and you hoped that bringing him into the paddock despite him being so young was well received and a positive experience. 

“Max! Who’ve you got there?” A photographer yells the moment Max scans his badge at the paddock entrance. Several photographers are standing by the gates, waiting on the driver arrivals. Max is dressed in his team kit, of course, and you’ve got your traditional navy blue on, today in the form of a loose maxi dress that would allow you to maneuver while caring for Theo during the race. Even Theo had a Red Bull onesie on with gray shorts pulled on over his chubby little legs. 

“The best team mascot in the paddock.” Max jokes, a smile crinkling at the corner of his eyes as he pauses to show off a now giggling Theo. 

Your heart catches in your chest when you see the look of pure happiness on your husband’s face. There were few things that brought out a smile that bright on Max and the fact that him showing off your baby to the world was one of those things had your heart hammering in your chest. You watched as Max showed Theo off to several of the photographers and Red Bull staff members, seemingly forgetting all about his hesitations from earlier. Theo loved it too, the sights and smells and sounds were so much for him to take in and he was so content to be in his daddy’s arms just taking it all in. 

“Mon petit lion!” A voice rings out as the three of you walk towards Red Bull’s garage. You grin, watching as Charles fusses over Max refusing to give up custody of Theo but eventually relents. “Give me my godson, you heartless man. Keeping the poor little man away from the track for five months! Horrific!” 

“He’s a literal infant, Charles.” Max argues, a full on pout popping out of his full bottom lip. You suddenly have to quell the urge to bite it, he looks so handsome. 

“Your gorgeous wife told me how much he loves the sound of my Ferrari.” Charles argues back, bouncing Theo up and down, eliciting a peal of giggles tumbling from your baby’s lips. 

Max shoots you a glare that has ‘you’re a traitor’ written all over it. All you do is reach up on your toes to peck him on those full lips of his, completely ignoring the annoyed look he still regards you with. 

“It was the sound of my Red Bull that calmed him the first time.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Max.” Charles chuckles before handing Theo back to you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m so glad you two are here, the paddock ins’t the same without you.”  

“Thank you Charles.” You say, cuddling Theo into your shoulder just a little tighter. 

As the three of you continue on, your final destination being the garage so Max can check on the car, your pace is just a bit quicker than Max’s. He watches you for just a moment, the way Theo’s chubby arms wrap tightly around your neck as he takes in the buzzing activity of the paddock. His heart squeezes fiercely at the way your hips sway back and forth as you carry his baby on your hip. This was how it was always meant to be: his wife and his child at his side while he worked. He had always pictured this day in a way that always seemed like it would come sometime in the future. That was the strange thing about how life progressed. Suddenly, some day is here and you’re watching your wife cuddle your miracle baby. When Max thinks of that afternoon in London all those years ago when he made his way into the recording studio to be on some silly little podcast, he had no idea that this was where that interview would lead but here he was, every single one of the fantasies he had dared to hope for right in front of him. 

You turn back to Max, sensing that he’s fallen quite a bit behind. The look of awe on your husbands face as he watches you has your heart aching. You knew that the past few months had been hard on Max. He hated being away from you, had even tried to float the idea of retiring mid-season. You had flatly refused, saying that everyone in the factory and the garage was counting on him and eventually, he had agreed. But you knew being here was a balm to his lonely heart and you were wildly happy that Theo was finally old enough to accompany Max on this triple header. 

But looking at the way his eyes shined with unshed tears as he stands stock still in the middle of the paddock, just staring after what you know is his entire world, you feel something lock into place. Something that you’re going to have to discuss with him later tonight. 

“Come on, Maxie.” You call as you hoist Theo up higher on your hip. “You’ve got a meeting with Horner and I don’t want him yelling at me because you’re late.” 

Max seems to snap out of the trance he’s in then and chuckles. “Christian is terrified of you, liefje. He’d never yell.” 

You shrug, “I suppose you’re right.” 

Max slips his fingers into yours before giving them a squeeze. “Come on, let’s introduce the little lion to the garage.” 

Max wins the sprint that day, just like the first sprint you watched him win all those years ago. The nostalgia you felt watching him pull up into that first parc ferme spot had something twisting deep in your stomach. It was so satisfying watching Max do what he loved while you held his little boy in your arms. 

It was a whirlwind of media after his win and then he was swept off for race debrief before qualifying for the Grand Prix the next day. By the time Theo’s bedtime rolled around, Max was still busy in engineering meetings. You sent him a quick text telling him you were taking Theo back to the hotel to put him down. Max had wanted to tell you to wait, he’d be right there, but he had known this wasn’t true. He knew that it was going to take several more hours to wrap up all his duties on the track so he reluctantly agreed. 

This was the part of racing he hated. The late nights, the long flights to every corner of the world except to where it mattered most, the danger that lurked on the track. He hated being away from you, had always hated being away from you. Despite his reservations about you quitting your job all before you had gotten pregnant with Theo, he was glad that you had spent those few years traveling with him. It wasn’t about the fact that you ‘followed him around’ like some publications liked to taunt. It was the fact that Max was able to do what he loved while providing for his family and keep you close at the same time. 

But things had shifted when Theo had been born and his priorities had changed. Having you at the track wasn’t an option anymore, not with how little Theo was. And even now, at 5 months old, he knew that this wasn’t sustainable. The options of what to do after this season all played in his head as he got into the car late that night to head back to the hotel. He knew he had a big decision to make, one that had been many years coming. 

It’s dark by the time Max fishes the keycard to the hotel room out of his back pocket. You have a two bedroom suite booked this weekend so he’s not worried about waking Theo, although he still holds out a little hope that he might be awake. It’s been hours since Max has seen him and the only thing worse than being away from you for an extended period of time is being away from both of you. 

The door whispers open and Max spots you laying down on the couch, staring blankly at the tv in front of you. On the coffee table sits the baby monitor and a bottle of wine. 

When you hear the door snick closed, you pick your head up, blinking sleepily towards the door. “You’re home.” You whisper, sitting up so Max can join you on the couch. 

He immediately pulls you into his lap, nuzzling deep into your neck. “I’m home.” He breathes, letting your perfume settle over his senses like a warm, familiar blanket. 

“I’m so proud of you. Sprint win and P3 for tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, schatje. How was your night? How’s the baby?” 

You hum softly, your lips finding Max’s in the dark. They’re warm and inviting and everything that sets your soul on fire. You’re fairly certain that you’ll still feel this way when you’re 90 years old kissing Max late at night. “He’s good. Just finished his last bottle of the night, went down like a champ.” 

“That’s my boy. I’m sorry I missed bedtime tonight.” 

You pull away so you can look at Max’s clear blue eyes. You’re a little surprised to see a bit of sadness sitting in those baby blues you love so much. “It’s okay baby. He did just fine without you.” 

Max frowns before pulling you closer. “And that’s what breaks my heart. I don’t want him to grow up without me.” 

You chuckle, “Oh, Max. He’s not going to grow up without you. If you really want, you can do the middle of the night feeding. He’ll be up in a few hours anyway.” 

Max nods, he usually did those late night feedings anyway. He loved the way the entire world was hushed and asleep. He felt cocooned in the most calming way and those nights where it was just him and Theo were some of his favorite. 

Silence stretches out between you. Your heartbeat matches up with Max’s eventually and your eyes get a little heavy with his warmth pressed up against you. You’d missed this kind of calm presence that Max brought to your life. It was always there, of course, but sometimes it was a little further than you liked during the season. Having him here now was so soothing, making you feel like you could conquer anything that came your way. 

After a few quiet moments, Max’s deep voice finally breaks the silence. 

“I think I’m done after this season, liefje.” 

You’d had this conversation countless times over the years, so much so that the words don't even make your heart race anymore. There’s something different in Max’s voice tonight, though. He sounds tired, worked over, resigned. Like the years spent on the road are finally catching up to him and you know, deep in your chest that it’s time. 

“I know, Max.” You whisper, dropping your forehead to his before brushing a kiss against his nose. “Come home to us. Theo and I are ready to have you all to ourselves now.” 

And that's exactly what happens.

maxverstappen1 posted

5,039,504 likes liked by yourusername, redbullracing, f1, and others maxverstappen1 this sport has been part of my life for most of my time here on earth. i started in karting not long after i started walking. motorsport brought me to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. 7 championships. the love of my life. my child. this sport has brought me to all of the most important milestones of my life. but all good things must come to an end. i've achieved everything i set out to do all those years ago and my priorities have shifted. at the end of may, i became a father and suddenly that pull to retirement got stronger. @/username knows how many times i threatened to quit mid-season so it wasn't a surprise to her when i came to her after texas and told her it was time. after twelve seasons racing in the pinnacle of motorsport, i'm officially announcing my retirement. to my team, thank you. you have forever shaped who i am. to my wife, i love you. you are all the good things in this world and i am so lucky you chose me to be your husband. to my theo, you changed me in a way no one else has. being your dad is the most important job i've ever had. i can't wait to watch you grow into the person you're destined to become. to my fans, thank you. your devotion means the absolute world to me and i would not have made it to where i am today. thank you, from the bottom of my heart. yourusername theo and i are so so proud of you. welcome home, my love. >>>user9292 *sobbing* charlesleclerc congratulations on a lifetime of acheivments. can't wait to see what you do now, my friend!! lando congrats GOAT. excited to finally not be asked 'how does it feel to lose to max verstappen?' EVER AGAIN >>>charlesleclerc now it'll be 'how does it feel to lose to charles???' >>>lando stfu redbullracing we're not crying, you're crying!!! lewishamilton you will be missed, max. enjoy retirement with that gorgeous family of yours!

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[moonlight-alexia]

no words, just you | a.p.

alexia putellas x matildas!reader | 1.4k | you come home to alexia after a tough international break

ˏˋ°•*⁀ i hope y'all like it, it just came into my head no long ago and felt the need to write it. idk if it's any good but hope you all like to read it <3

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

As you settled into your seat on the plane, an uneasy weight settled over your body. A long flight that was going to be made even longer with the way you couldn’t settle yourself or seem to relax. There was a heaviness that wasn’t going away and all you could do was hope that it would leave once you focused back on club football.

You normally loved international break. You love representing your country, you love spending time with your national teammates, you were all so close and had this bond. Especially everyone being spread across the globe, camp was made more special getting to see your friends that you had grown up playing football with. 

You always wore the green and gold with so much pride, you just wished the people in charge cared about you and the team the way you cared about playing for your country. It was easier said than done to just focus on the football and let that do the talking. The constant media abuse was starting to weigh on most of the girls in camp, having no clear direction and not properly building towards a home tournament in twelve months was becoming exhausting. Seven months without a permanent coach.

Part of you wished you had pulled out of this camp and stayed in Barcelona with Alexia during this break. But the idea of a little tournament and a kit debut had drawn you in and now, mentally, you were paying the price of going.

Leaning your head back against your seat, you let out a deep sigh, a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. You grabbed your phone, hovering over the texts from Alexia, seeing the most recent ones she’d sent as you were getting on the plane.

‘Bon dia mi amor, have a safe flight. I’ll be there when you land. Te quiero y te extraño mucho xx’

A little smile graced your lips, you couldn’t wait to be home with Alexia, to be in her arms where nothing else seems to matter but the safety of her presence. Alexia had been a bit worried about you over the last week and a bit. She’d managed to find a way to watch your matches and by the end of the last one she could see how defeated you looked. Each loss on top of everything else going on had really weighed you down and it was visible, probably more so to someone like Alexia who knew you as well as she did.

Since the kit debut photos came out where Alexia couldn’t hold back from calling you and you having agreed to model the away kit for her when you were back home, conversations between the two of you mainly consisted of Alexia sending you little messages throughout the day with no expectation of you answering. 

Even if you barely had the mental energy to reply to the messages, getting to read little bits of Alexia’s day made you smile. Also made you miss her even more than you thought you could. 

‘Te quiero Ale, can’t wait to see you again x’

Soon enough you’ll be in Alexia’s arms, the one thought that would get you through the flight back to Barcelona. You were wrapped up in one of Alexia’s hoodies that you’d taken on camp with you, arms wrapped around yourself tightly as if you could hold yourself together so you didn’t feel so flat and like you were breaking. The hoodie still smelled like Alexia and your eyes suddenly grew heavy. It’d been a long week and a half, so you were more than happy to let yourself succumb to and let sleep wash over you.

‘Amor!’ Alexia’s eyes lit up when she saw you walking through the airport, quickly making her way over to you, wrapping her arms around you and lifting you up slightly. You let out a breath of a laugh, dropping the handle of your suitcase and wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. Nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck, the hoodie may have smelled like Alexia but nothing was better than actually having her against you.

‘Hola Ale,’ You whispered against the skin of her neck, your breath sending a shiver down her spine. She’s missed this, missed you.

Time seemed to stop while you both stood wrapped up in each other's arms in the middle of the airport. Reluctantly you slightly pulled away from each other, your hands resting on the tops of her arms while Alexia’s were still loosely wrapped around your waist. Alexia leaned down, pressing a little kiss to your cheek.

Alexia grabbed the handle of your suitcase with one hand and with the other she held out for you to hold, lacing your fingers together the moment your hand met hers, ‘Home now, sí?’ Alexia gave your hand a little squeeze, smiling softly at you. 

‘I’m already home amor,’ Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder against yours. 

‘Oh stop it you,’ Alexia tried to hide her smile from you, but it was always impossible.

A comfortable silence fell over you both while Alexia drove you back to your shared house. You were still so tired, leaning your head back, your eyes fixated on your girlfriend. Every so often you saw her eyes flutter in your direction, lips turning up every time she caught your gaze. A slight blush creeped across her cheeks when she noticed you were staring at her.

‘Mi amor,’ Alexia whined, ‘Why you staring?’ She reached over gently, pushing your head to look the other way.

‘What? I can’t look at mi novia who is muy bonita,’ You emphasised the little bits of Spanish you sprinkled in whenever you could, making Alexia laugh a little. 

‘Remember when all you could say was bon dia for months,’ It had taken you a bit to get used to and remember bits of the language from your lessons. Somehow you and Alexia got to know each other despite her broken English and your broken Spanish, ‘Now look at you, adding more words,’ You pushed her hand away when she tapped your thigh faux condescendingly.

‘Not my fault it took me so long. My teacher was quite distracting,’ You joked around, cracking a half smile. Alexia smirked, a wink sent your way and at a red light she leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, resting her hand on your thigh.

The moment you walked through the front door to the house you shared with Alexia, there was a comfort that instantly washed over you. The past week, while still in the back of your mind, it wasn’t so loud anymore. Photos of you and Alexia, your friends and family filled the space and you were reminded of everything good in your life.

‘Hate seeing you like this cari,’ Alexia’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, ‘I know what it’s like, if you need to talk,’ You melted into Alexia’s embrace. You may not have been the one to tell her what had been going on, but she always knew what to do and say even if no one had told her.

‘Just want to be here with you, leave it all out there,’ You pointed lazily towards the door, for now wanting to keep your house the safe space you needed.

Alexia laid against the headboard, you laid between her legs with your head on her chest. She wrapped a blanket around the two of you, rubbing your back gently, for the first time since you left Barcelona for camp you felt like you could finally relax.

Alexia kissed the top of your head, letting her lips linger, ‘Saw the goal mi vida, siempre muy bien, going do that with us next week?’ She spoke softly against your head. 

You cuddled into Alexia, pressing yourself against her even more, trying to get as close as possible,  ‘Do I get a reward if I do?’ You smiled sheepishly.

‘Hmm you always do,’ Alexia tilted your head up and kissed you slowly, 

The weight of everything would come back another day but for tonight you were home, safe, loved and in the arms of the one person who could always make everything feel like it would be okay again. You were back with Alexia and, tonight, that’s all that matters.

[coralaura]

Primadonna

"You say that I'm kinda difficult”

Your father was never a present figure; sometimes, he would see you, give you a pat on the head, and disappear into the darkness of the mansion.

In reality, he vanished for the entire day, especially when the sun set, and the moon greeted the sky. Like all the other inhabitants of the mansion, nighttime was when you were left alone and could wander without anyone noticing or caring.

Every now and then, you’d see Alfred, but he, too, would soon disappear. It didn’t bother you; in fact, it gave you free time, allowing you to take late modeling jobs without anyone asking the typical questions: “Why are you coming home so late?” or “What were you doing outside so late?”

Sometimes, you went out with friends (if you could call them that people you used and who defended you when someone doubted your innocence). Rarely, you stayed in the enormous mansion, but honestly, you didn’t care where you were.

And it wasn’t like they cared about what you did or where you were, so maybe that’s why you didn’t care when Dick left the mansion. When Jason arrived—his unwanted presence and lack of manners—it was annoying, especially when he dared to compare his mother to yours. How dare he compare the two?! Despite that insult, spoken right to your face, you simply smiled. But inside, you were about to beat him senseless, to put that fool in his place for comparing your beloved mother to his and when he died, you cried at the funeral, pretending to be in pain, mourning the loss of a life.

But deep down, you felt nothing for him. Sure, his death was gruesome and ruthless, but it wasn’t like you felt anything beyond antipathy for the poor devil in the coffin. When Tim arrived at the mansion, you couldn’t have cared less. After all, you would only see him for a few weeks before heading off to university, so your interactions were minimal, barely enough to count on one hand.

Alfred saw you off with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t try to stop you or convince you not to move out; in fact, he encouraged you to pursue your career, as long as you sent some sign of life a letter or a text message. But let’s be honest, student life was expensive, and as a model, you made little money for just a few hours of work. So, when you had to choose between your studies and a full-time modeling career, the choice was obvious you went with the long-term option and pursued your modeling career. No one was supposed to know. You’d write to Alfred, telling him you were still studying, just to keep him from worrying.

In reality, you could have been in Metropolis, about to step into a photoshoot. But of course, things couldn’t stay perfect forever. Some idiot spotted you and then compared you to Bruce Wayne. And for the first time in years, people seemed to have more than two brain cells because the question immediately popped up all over the internet:

"Is it just me, or do Bruce Wayne and Y/N look alike?"

And unfortunately, they attached your image right next to that billionaire’s. To say that the media explosion and the interview requests for both you and Bruce were the worst possible thing that could happen was an understatement. As headlines and news reports flooded in, you bit your nails in frustration, enraged by your inability to control the situation.

So, when they asked about your parents or if you were a poor orphan, you responded with a warm smile—though deep inside, you were disgusted that you couldn’t just avoid answering or shut those nosy reporters down.

"I have no parents."

Most people, moved by your kind smile and the false tears welling in your eyes, dropped the subject and moved on with their lives. But the press always loved fresh, juicy gossip, especially when it involved Bruce Wayne.

Since your father didn’t comment or give an interview, part of you assumed he either didn’t care or considered it a minor issue his PR team could handle. For a moment, you thought you had dodged this problem. Until you saw him in the middle of a photoshoot—waiting for you to finish so he could talk to you. And, of course, right behind him was his family… or rather, his walking orphanage.

Alfred believed in you. He loved you like a father loves his child. You were practically the normal kid he had always wished Bruce could be so sweet, so innocent. But when he saw your face in the morning paper, next to your father’s, with the full story laid out, for the first time… he felt disappointed in you.

Why would you hide something like this?

Did you not trust him?...

It hurt him, but deep down, he knew you must have had a reason for keeping your modeling career a secret. Maybe his thoughts consumed him for too long because Damian’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What are you reading, Pennyworth?"

“It seems the press has discovered the connection between Master Bruce and Master Y/N.”

Damian frowned in confusion. He had never heard of you. Taking the newspaper from Alfred’s hands, he scanned the headline and the full story, noting your features and how similar you looked to his father. The picture they used of you was… bold, striking. He wondered if you were really family, but Alfred had called you "Master Y/N," so you must have been. Damian didn’t waste time.

He stormed to his father, slamming the newspaper onto his desk, demanding answers. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his behavior until he read the headline and saw your picture. The only thing Bruce thought in that moment was how much you had grown.

How tall were you now?

He picked up the paper, reading the article, noticing how you denied any connection to him or his family. He didn’t understand.

Had he done something to make you reject him?

Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The more he read, the more that bitterness spread.

“Who are them, Father?”

Finally, Damian asked. The answer was simple yet so complicated. You were his child, his firstborn, and yet he had no idea how to be a proper father. He had never seen you in the mansion, maybe because he never had time, maybe because he felt guilty, knowing he could never raise a normal child. He could only raise someone to become a vigilante.

"They are your siblings."

And that was the beginning of the end of your modeling career. Because, in the end, it was only natural for your father to crave control, both as Bruce and as Batman. It was something you had inherited from him.

When you saw your father there, standing in the middle of your shoot, clearly annoyed that you had noticed him and yet continued with your session, you knew he would eventually step in. Still, you wanted to push his patience, to see how long he could endure before leaving. But you hadn’t counted on your manager asking you to stop the session to talk to him instead. You sighed. He was just doing his job, though a part of you couldn’t help but glare at him, hating that he was wasting your time.

"What is it, Ethan?"

You didn’t even acknowledge Bruce. Instead, you spoke to your manager, Ethan, who forced a tense smile, silently begging you to be respectful.

"Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

He emphasized the last name, almost as if reminding you of your place beneath the great Wayne name. Not that he knew the truth, that Bruce’s blood ran through your veins and that your striking resemblance was nothing but shared genetics.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, and company, what brings you here?"

You didn’t bother greeting them. You recognized a few faces, but most were either forgotten or simply unknown to you. And honestly, you didn’t care.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

Your father's deep voice and condescending gaze turned to you, hating that he spoke to you that way, as if you were a child, when in reality you were more than him, more than any of them, you were Y/N, the person that everyone would pay for because at some point you would look at them or simply greet them, there were people who would kill for a simple touch from you.You hid your displeasure in the mask that you always wore on your face that was difficult to remove, the one that had buried itself in your face and had taken root until you simply couldn't get it off, at least not until you were alone and no one could see your true and unpleasant personality that eclipsed your cute face and false golden boy personality.

You thought about the possibility of being rude to them, after all it's not like they could prove that you were something of theirs, you still had your mother's last name and they had never seen you with the Waynes until now, besides, who could blame you? Being rude was your privilege for being a model and also being attractive, it would be your first time being rude to someone, besides, everyone knew you, you were so kind that the ones who would end up being reproached for things would be the Waynes, so you decided.

“I don’t want to and if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do”

For the first time, your father stopped looking at you with that condescending look and in its place there was something you couldn’t identify. Anger? Indignation? Frustration? Surprise? You didn’t know and honestly you didn’t care, you were surely the first or at least one of the few people who says no to your father’s face and in front of so many people, that thought made you smile to yourself, it was the satisfaction and pride of making that cold expression of your father go away.

“But it's always someone else's fault”

[tallysgreatestfan]

It also comes across much more as "neurodivergent people should not exist and especially should not see anything positive or part of their identity in their disability" than "worried about teens diagnosing themselves with something inaccurate".

Best way to explain this is to use autism as an example. It is very difficult to get an autism diagnosis if you aren't a small child anymore and/or belong to literally any minority, and even getting a diagnosis doesn't necessary mean that you get any accommodations or actually useful therapy (diagnosed at eight, if anything this harmed me rather than help me). It is also something popular media and most neurotypicals perceive as purely negative outside of absurdly unlikely savantism, with close to no accurate portrays in fiction or even nonfiction googeling it for information.

Now, of course on TikTok, or other social media, misinformation spread my autistic people themselves does exist, but the bulk of the #ActuallyAutistic movement is centered around explaining the actual lived reality of autistic people, pointing out discrimination, and treating autism not as something shameful in need to be fixed, but a part of someones identity that has both positive and negative sides.

Popular culture and even most therapies wants us to look at our mistakes, flaws and weaknesses and blame ourselves for it, the Actually Autistic movement seeks to explain where this comes from and how the way all these systems are set up makes these problems worse, or sometimes even entirely creates them.

Can you see how threatening this can be for neurotypicals who need to believe that the way their brain works is the perfect and ideal one, that the way these systems are set up is ideal instead of unfair, and that they have it easier because they are more virtuous, more determined and overall better?

Have you seen all this talk about "glamorizing" and "glorifying" of neurodiversity the moment a neurodivergent person openly talks about their reality instead of whatever dehumanizing, inaccurate cliches they think would apply and doesn't hate themselves?

I was in autism therapy for almost ten years. I learned the most basic basics about what autism is there, framed in "this is why you are wrong and worthless". I learned to understand myself better, and learned more useful and in depth things about being autistic in one year of finding the Actually Autistic tag on tumblr than these almost ten years there.

This affects not just teens, but as first OP said, teens suffer the most of it because of their restrictive life circumstances, lack of money and power and just the general dismissive attitude towards them.

Hope this is not derailing first OPs point, but I think this takes a huge part in the general publics view on this and also why this feels so necessary for so many teens even additional to the already brought up points.

it's so funny to me when i see pearl-clutching articles about how "teenagers are diagnosing themselves with mental disorders via tiktok" because like. this is not happening in a vacuum. teenagers are severely and i mean severely medically neglected. i cannot stress this enough. teenagers do not have free access to medical care. those same news outlets would be clowning on women with housewife psychosis in the 1950's.

i sometimes go pale when listening to some of what my friends have gone through in their childhoods and teenagehoods. they talk about it so nonchalantly, things that would be considered straight up torture if done to an adult, can't fathom the effect this has on children. they are on multiple anti-psychotics and several antidepressants and anxiety meds now that they are adults. medical neglect has legally and effectively disabled them. a timely diagnosis and intervention could have saved them. of course teenagers are self-diagnosing using tiktok. if your knee-jerk reaction is to scoff at the idea and dismiss it as dumb teenager shit instead of being radicalized because the best shot young people have at attaining the mental health support they need is a fucking dancing videos app, you're categorically a political enemy of the youth.

[leahsgf]

— SUPERSTAR

leah williamson x teen!reader | masterlist

⤷ you finally get called up to the senior squad - only to feel completely out of your depth when you get there

୨୧

you hadn’t spoken an awful lot since arriving at camp. in fact - apart from the expected, friendly hello’s and the odd word uttered in the heat of a drill, you hadn’t said anything. certainly not because you didn’t want to - everybody had been exactly as you had expected, incredibly welcoming and kind - but more so because you didn’t know how.

this was the lionesses. the team you’d dreamt of playing for ever since you were a little girl, and the only girl on your school team. even back then, when you were combining football boots and princess dresses- this had always been your goal, one that you had pushed yourself to your absolute limits to reach, and you’d finally made it - against all odds.

except - you had spent so long trying to make it that you never considered what what happen if, when you did. and even now that you were here, you weren’t entirely sure that you belonged, or deserved it.

everywhere you looked, no matter where you were, in every training session, every team meeting, even in the physio’s office - there were world class players, who worked and gelled together perfectly, whilst laughing and joking like a family. they belonged here, they had history here.

and whilst you were expecting to feel like an outsider when you weren’t in the team - nothing could’ve prepared you for feeling it whilst you were in the team. a moment that you had worked your entire life for, that should be like a dream come true - instead feeling like you had been catapulted into the deep end with no armbands as everyone watched you drown from the sidelines.

-

as well as you thought you had hidden your inner turmoil, people noticed. in fact, most of the girls did - being naturally all very overprotective of the younger ones (even the ones who struggled to make eye contact with any of them and barely uttered a hello. especially those ones)

leah had been the first by miles to pick up on your quietness. as the captain, she was almost annoyingly observant, and over the span of a few days had realised that it may be a little bit more going on with you than just the expected shyness - something that sitting next to you at breakfast, or passing to you a tad more in training could resolve. she picked up on all of your behaviours, even the ones you hadn’t realised yourself. when you hung back from the group as they walked in from the field, when you bit your lip and hesitated before speaking, your voice cracking softly when you did so, every time you forced a smile, whilst peeling the skin off your fingers and looking like you were on the verge of tears.

she saw it all - every time.

so when you silently disappeared from training, it wasn’t at all shocking that leah was the first to notice.

“anyone seen y/n?” she frowned as she frantically scanned the pitch, it deepening as you were nowhere to be seen.

“she was in the gym inside last time i saw her, maybe she’s still there?” mary replied, mirroring her captain’s expression, as she took a swig of her drink.

the blonde nodded and turned on her heel after promising mary she’d keep her updated on your whereabouts. completely unbeknownst to you - you were a common conversation point within the more senior members of the team, all of them wanting to help you feel like you were welcome and at ease there.

as she made her way towards the gym - worries swirled around her head. something didn’t sit quite right with her about your absence. you were always visibly nervous, you had been since you arrived, but above that you were diligent, never one to miss drills or slip away like this unnoticed. and you had been extra tense all morning - something she had intended to pull you aside to check in about, having not said a word the entire day, only giving out a few tight lipped smiles and nods.

her concerns only deepened as she entered the near silent gym - and realised it was empty. usually, she would be celebrating an empty gym, making the most of it before the chaos that was the rest of the team arrived - but this was a different kind of feeling. one that made her stomach tighten.

she saw an awful lot of herself in you, and that paired with the little bits of information sarina had been allowed to tell her about your background, made her feel the need to be overly protective over you - in an almost older sisterly way.

leah continued to make her way across the room, leaning to check the gaps in between machines and past the stretching mats - just in case.

just as she was about to leave and call for whoever you call when your nineteen year old teammate vanishes into thin air - she heard it. short, uneven, almost gasped breaths, and muffled sniffles, getting louder the further she went.

she found you curled up, practically in a ball against the furthest wall - hidden away, your knees to your chest, and your hands trembling, gripping the cuffs of your sleeves in a somewhat attempt at grounding yourself.

and she could physically feel the way her heart clenched.

“hey, hey” she said softly, practically a whisper, crouching down a comfortable distance away from you, wanting nothing more than to pull you into her arms - but not wanting to startle or upset you even further. “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

your head snapped up at her words, like a deer in headlights - your teary eyes widening, filled with panic. “oh god i-i’m so sorry, i just-”

“you don’t have to apologise, not at all.” she interrupted your ramble - voice gentle. “can i sit?”

you hesitated, before giving a small nod, so small in fact that if her eyes weren’t currently piercing through you, she probably would’ve missed it. she shifted so she was sat cross legged in front of you - a little bit closer but still giving you space.

and for a brief moment, the only sound was your shaky breathing.

“do you wanna tell me what’s going on? i’m here to listen.” she asked, breaking the silence - no pressure behind her words, just simply opening the door for you.

“i- i just….don’t think i fit here, at all” you admitted through choked sobs, sniffling softly - your voice barely audible. “everyone here is incredible - and i’m not good enough, i- i thought i could do it but i can’t. and w-what if i mess up, and everyone realises it too?”

leah exhaled softly - her heart breaking at your words. “oh mate. i get it, trust me. i really do.” she murmured, her expression warm as she made eye contact with you for the first time.

she shifted so she was sat beside you now, looping an arm around your shoulder and easing you into her side gently.

you frowned to yourself, looking up at her through blurry eyes. “but, no. you’re- you’re leah williamson. you’re the captain, one of the biggest players in our game. you’re meant to be here - you are a huge part of what ‘here’ is.”

she chuckled in response, shaking her head lightly as she rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “you think i’ve never felt like this? trust me, i have had my fair share of ‘i don’t belong here, i shouldn’t be playing football, my world is ending’ moments” she said - tilting her head, and reading your expression like a book.

“but let me ask you something - something i always ask myself when i feel like this - who here, today told you that you weren’t good enough?”

you swallowed harshly, choking back a splutter in response as you register the fact that she’s right.

“um- nobody, i-i guess. not really.”

“right. so, that little, nagging voice in your head? it’s lying to you.” leah shifted again, leaning forward slightly, holding eye contact as to really get the message across. “you’ve not only been called up, which is a huge thing in itself, you’ve been admired by each and every person here - we’ve been watching and waiting for your moment, and are overjoyed that it’s finally here. you’re incredibly talented - and you do belong here. nobody hands out lionesses call ups for nothing. you’ve earned this, kid. give yourself that credit.”

you wipe your eyes, her words beginning to sink in, although still tangled with a cloud of doubt. “i just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

your words trail off at the end of your sentence, but the captain, your captain - hears them clear as day, and she softens even more. “listen to me, okay - and you can trust that i’m being honest, ask anyone hear and they’ll take the mick about how serious i am with everything. you’re new, yeah. but that doesn’t , and will never mean that you’re alone. we’re a team, and that means we’ve got you. no matter what - you could score five own goals and get a red card tomorrow and we’d still back you. i promise you.”

your lip trembled, more tears slipping down your cheeks as you nod. leah, without hesitation pulls you into her arms, sensing that you could really do with a hug - and not being able to bear seeing you so upset without comforting you any more.

“you’re safe here, promise.” she said firmly, stroking your back gently, and almost rocking the pair of you. “i’ve got you - always.”

she remains like that for what feels like forever, grounding you and whispering words of reassurance until a shaky breath slipped your lips as you nodded, finally starting to believe her words. “thank you. i, um. i needed that.”

“come on then superstar - let’s show the world what you’ve got.” she helps you up and links your arm in hers, giving you a reassuring nod and smile as you both make your way back out to the training field.

“and please don’t actually score five own goals and get a red card - sarina would kill me.”

-

feeling incredibly rusty with writing currently but i have revamped my page + am getting back to it!

and what better way to chuck myself in the deep end other than starting up a new series :’) i hope you love it as much as i do

- el x

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.2k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: I AM SOO SCARED TO POST THIS NGL LMAOAO like i said in the warnings i literally. have not played amphoreus yet. idek anything about mydei SDKJH i am so worried i will disappoint everyone who's expressed interest in reading this HAHA i was also. not expecting anyone to do that tbh. BUT thank you all for your kind words on the masterlist and i hope this lives up to expectations at least a bit!!

You spent the day of your wedding with a man made of marble — a stand-in for your new husband, who was off fighting in a war of the kind which had neither cause nor, seemingly, end. The statue was carved in his image and sneered down at you as you whispered to it, swearing vows of duty and obedience and docility, but, in spite or maybe because of its detached lifelessness, you found its presence to be a kindness. What did it say of your husband, that you preferred the company of that dead stone to him? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little. 

He is a generous man, the servants assured you, giggling amongst themselves, exchanging knowing looks as they dragged you into the foreign palace where you would spend the rest of your days. You will want for nothing.

It was draftier than your home, the wind bouncing off of the white walls and nipping at you skin. You spent your time buried under seven-and-twenty layers of furs and fabrics, lying in an unfamiliar bed and flinching away from the shadows upon the ceiling. This was an idle and dull way to waste away your existence, and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything else, trapped in the mire of waiting and waiting for your husband’s return.

He came back in the third month, which was as auspicious as anything. They loved that number here, you had come to find: three, the symbol of fortune and fate, of magic and mischief, of power and punishment. Three vows sworn; three blessings granted; three months passed before you finally met the man you had married.

There was much fanfare about his arrival. When you peered out of the window, you saw that the streets were stuffed to the bursting with throngs of people shoving one another around, hissing and biting as they craned their necks. At first it surprised you — was he truly so loved here, even when he was elsewhere despised? — but then you realized that it was not your husband upon his charger that they were all lined up to meet. Rather, it was the procession following him which captured their interests, the spoils of war which he displayed with a juvenile, worthless pride.

A triad of elephants covered in finely wrought armor, their heads hung low and resigned, their plodding walks spiritless and lame. A herd of sheep with silver wool, dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars, stumbling along at the prodding of a soldier-turned-shepherd. A wagon filled with spears and swords, ostensibly once neatly stacked, now a matted mess of steel and bronze. Vases carried in the arms of the younger men, overflowing with coins that trailed after them like breadcrumbs, snatched up by the most daring of the onlookers, who did not fear rebuke. And, finally, in a place so honorable it could only have been mocking—

“Lady,” a soft voice said. You drew your coat tighter around you, although today was, by all accounts, warm for the season, and pretended like you did not hear the girl. She sighed and then tugged on your arm insistently; perhaps it was improper, but there wasn’t anyone who would chide her for it. “You have been summoned by his majesty.”

Hadn’t you known this would happen eventually? Hadn’t you expected it? You had had your time to come to terms with it, which was more than most got, and so there was no excuse for the reluctance which choked your throat and stilled your footsteps. This was your duty, this was what you had sworn, and so — and so you could not hesitate.

“Lady…” the girl said with another sigh. You pretended to be all-consumed with the action of closing the curtains, your back to her as you struggled to force a smile onto your face. When you deemed your expression acceptable, you spun around and nodded at her.

“It will not do to keep him waiting,” you said, motioning for her to lead the way. She did so without complaint, perhaps relieved that you were not giving her further trouble; even now, the servants did not know what to think of you, could not quite fathom what category of being you were. Some were fond of you, but most treated you with a careful distrust that you could not blame them for, even though you sometimes wanted to.

The grand entrance hall of the palace opened to the mouth of the road, which swelled out into a sprawling courtyard. Its centerpiece was an enormous fountain which sprayed a fine, cool mist into the air no matter the time of year, and it was by this fountain that you waited, wringing your hands as your husband drew nearer and nearer. Belatedly, you thought that you should try to conceal your distress, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The best you could do was say, if you were asked, that it was simply the joy of a bride faced with the prospect of a reunion with her beloved. Nobody would question that, although then again, nobody questioned you very much in general, so it was doubtful that you’d even have to use the quick excuse.

Your husband’s warhorse was a sprightly, slender beast, its coat the dappled grey of royalty, its face pretty and dished in the way of the Eastern breeds. When it paused in front of you, it shoved its black muzzle into your shoulder, nearly knocking you down, and then it stomped its hoof when your husband tightened the reins, pulling it back before dismounting and handing it off to a waiting stableboy. 

“My apologies, dear lady,” he said, bowing before you with as much gallantry as you had been told he possessed. His voice was gentle and amused, his face even more handsome in flesh than it had been in stone; you should’ve, by all rights, felt pleased. You were married to this man. You belonged to him. How many women wished to be in your place? Yet all you could muster was fear, throttling and all-consuming. He was beautiful in the way of a snake, and you knew without knowing that he was poised, in some way, to strike.

“It is alright,” you said, disguising the tremble of your voice with a broad, false grin. “I am glad to finally make your acquaintance…my lord.”

The address was unfamiliar on your tongue. What would your younger self, that girl who had never known subservience nor strife, say if she saw you ducking your head in defeated compliance? How she would laugh! How she would pity you! My lord. But he was exactly that.

“The sentiment is returned in full,” he said, and then he extended his arms in a grand, sweeping motion. “Indeed, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have arranged for you a gift!”

“A gift?” you repeated. Certainly, you had asked for no such thing, and you did not have the time to school your face into neutrality, naked surprise flashing across it. Your husband chuckled at the sight, nodding at you.

“I have brought the finest of plunders for you, dear lady,” he said, and your stomach twisted into knots at the familiarity with which he spoke to you, as if you were affable lovers instead of strangers. “Even your father’s treasures, vast and bountiful as they may be, cannot compare to this!”

The mention of your father stabbed at your heart, and hidden in the folds of your coat, you clenched your fists. Your father, the richest man in the world…and yet your husband dared compare his meager gift to that? You wanted to spit in his face that for your third birthday, your father had gifted you a villa made of gold, the walls inlaid with gemstones and painted with flowers. Indeed, you might’ve goaded him in such a way if you had the capabilities, but then you noticed what the army-men were bringing forth and your mouth suddenly refused to move.

It was the prisoner, the one kept in a place of honor by your husband and his soldiers, the one who the entire empire had ridiculed as he had been paraded through it like a champion hound. He was tall, towering over the army-men flanking him, and although his eyes drooped nearly shut, there was a heat to his demeanor, a severe, ferocious anger which shone through his exhaustion. He seemed like more of a half-tamed jungle cat than a man, and indeed when he halted before you, you half-expected him to snarl, to bare bloody fangs and lunge at your throat with fingers like claws, like swords, tearing through your neck as if it were paper.

“When he’s like this, you almost forget what a monster he can be,” your husband mused, reaching out and flicking the man on the forehead with a snicker. “Isn’t he all but lovely? Oh, don’t worry, dear lady, he can’t do anything to you. He’s under the influence of a sleeping draught at the moment, and anyways, those chains are thrice-blessed. It’s perfectly safe.”

The chains he spoke of were as gold as the man’s hair, looping around his wrists and forearms, curling over the red marks emblazoned on his shimmering skin, weaving in between his legs and around his torso. They were sturdy and gleamed with the power of their three blessings, and although you still understood little about this strange place with its strange power, you could tell that it would take a great force, greater than was possessed by any mere man or deity, to break them.

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?”

“He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift?

“Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

The thrice-blessed chains flashed in the sun, and you shook your head, both in refusal and to clear your vision of the blinding, searing spots they left in it.

“I have no need of a prisoner,” you said, and although your tone remained ever-muted, you spoke as cuttingly as you could manage to. “What will I do with him? Why do you torture him so? You bested him; if he was as fierce an opponent as you claim, then the least you owe him is a death with dignity. Kill him and be done with the matter. Why have you brought him all this way? I don’t want him.”

“He will die, eventually,” my husband said. “I shall execute him myself when it comes to it, but the time is not yet right. I don’t expect you to understand such matters, and neither should you trouble yourself with doing so…but know this, dear lady: you cannot give back a gift once it has been freely given. You can do what you’d like with him now that he is yours, but you cannot refuse him. Perhaps that is how affairs were conducted in your backwards land, but here it is not so.”

You wanted my land, you longed to say. You took me from my father and wed me to a statue in search of it. And still you call it backward? But you could not, so instead, you turned away — away from the prince, who was close to crumpling and only remained standing out of sheer will, and away from your husband, who beamed as if he had done something great or wonderful.

“I will retire now,” you said. Do not follow me. This remained implied, unsaid, but a fool your husband was not, and so he only hummed in agreement.

“Be well, dear lady,” he said. “My messengers have told me that you are having difficulties adjusting to the climate here. I shall be sure to pray for your feeble constitution.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, stiffly, primly. It scratched like bile and you hated every minute of it, but you had no recourse for the matter, so you swallowed it down, as you always did and always would.

“And what of the prisoner?” he said. “Shall I send him to a jail? Do you think he is better suited for deprivation or pain?”

They meant to make him shatter, to methodically yank him apart until he faced death with the dull eyes and swayed back of an over-aged broodmare. You supposed to them it was meaningless — why should they show consideration or kindness to a man who would never show them the same? — but you were no warmonger, and that apathy did not cling to you yet. The prince was a beast born of sun, a wild, vicious creature, and if he really was slated to die, then you wanted him to meet his end as just that, nothing less. 

“Leave him be,” you said. “Treat him as well as you are able.”

“He would’ve killed me,” your husband said, a low note of warning in his voice. You shrank into the safety of your clothes, as if they were a shield against his vexation.

“But instead you will kill him,” you said. “So how does it matter? You said I could do as I like; well, this is what pleases me. Don’t prolong this anymore than necessary.”

You darted back into the palace without waiting to hear his answer, your jaw burning and your footsteps heavy against the mosaic floor as you ran all of the way to your chambers and slammed the door shut behind you.

For three days and three nights you did not leave your room, taking all your meals in seclusion, refusing any visitors that might attempt entry. You could not help it; the thought of seeing your husband or any of the soldiers made you want to weep — you! Who never wept, even as a baby! So you claimed that you were terribly unwell, that you could not stand for fear of collapse, and that managed to ward away your husband without incurring his wrath, even though it was only a temporary solution.

As the sun set on the fourth day, there was a knock on your door, and you were about to call out that you had no interest in conversation when someone hissed through the crack in the entrance: “Lady, I come not on your husband’s behalf but another’s. There is trouble, and you must attend to it.”

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, crouching by the entrance, pressing your ear to the wooden door without opening it. “Who is this? Who are you? Speak plainly, so that we may understand one another!”

There was a shuffling sound, and then an exhale. You worried with the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to continue, your arms pulled tightly around yourself, your brows furrowing together as you chewed on your lower lip.

“The prince of Kremnos,” they whispered. “He calls for you.”

“Are they mistreating him?” you said, straightening and flinging the door open. “The prince, are they — hello?”

The hallway was devoid of life. You peered down it, craning your neck this way and that, but it was placid, showing no signs of having been disturbed. Shutting the door slowly, you leaned against it, holding your head in your hands. Was this place driving you to insanity, then? And if it was, then why could you not have thought of something more pleasant than summons from a prisoner — prisoner!

Wasn’t it your duty to make sure your husband had held good on his word? The prisoner was yours, though the notion of ownership sent unpleasant shivers down your spine and didn’t feel quite right — perhaps a better way to think of it, then, was responsibility. He was your responsibility, and maybe the strange vision had been nothing more than a reminder of what you owed the man.

You waited until it was midnight, when you could be certain that your husband would not rise from his slumber at the sound of your activity, and then you donned a pair of slippers and a cloak, throwing the hood on and retreating into the billowing depths of the fabric, so that your face was obscured from prying eyes. Of course, there would not be very many of those, not at such a late hour, but you did not want to risk even one person recognizing you and reporting back to your husband, whose reaction to this escapade you could not foretell.

Although you were not so familiar with the palace’s layout, as you had never spent much time exploring it, most constructions of this nature followed a similar plan, and you had grown up in exactly such a grand, sweeping home, so you found the doorway to the cellar in record time. As the palace had no towers, the cellar was the only logical option for the keeping of such a dangerous prisoner, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was where you would find the prince, if he was still somewhere that you could find him.

The half-moon was your only witness as you fumbled with the lock, trying every key in your possession until one finally slotted into place and turned. Wincing as the door heaved open with a profound creak, you yanked it shut behind you quickly, without ceremony, lighting a small candle and using it to guide your way down the dark stairs, rushing so that you were out of sight in case someone came to investigate.

You did not know how long you walked for, but eventually the stairway ended, giving way to cool, damp earth. The must of uncut stone permeated the thick, heavy air, and the adjustment of your eyes to the surrounding blackness was slow, the pain of it only alleviated somewhat by the little candle’s valiant flame.

“Come to toss scraps at me?” The voice was rumbling and low; in spite of its weakness, you could hear a sneer in it, a disdain in the rough baritone. “You needn’t try again. Like I told you, I won’t eat your trash.”

“No,” you said. “I’ve brought nothing with me.”

There was a brief pause, and then: “You sound different than the others.”

“This tongue is foreign to me, as it is to you,” you said. “I cannot speak it in the same way as those who were born here. Verily I have been instructed in the art since I was but a child, for my father must have known in that manner of his what would eventually become of me, but I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would.”

“You’re his wife.” Chains clanked, the harsh drag of metal against stone reverberating in the cellar, and then you felt more than saw his looming countenance, filling what you had mistakenly believed upon arrival to be an empty room. Swinging your candle before you so that it was close to your heart, you gasped when it reflected in a pair of eyes glaring at you from mere paces away, the irises possessing a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers might. 

The chains now only encircled his left leg, binding him to the wall but leaving him otherwise free to move as he liked within the length of his confines. He had been stripped of armament and adornment alike, his mane of hair tangled and falling lank about his broad shoulders, yet for all of these injustices, you had no doubt in your mind that he was anything but a prince. He had a dignity to him, a hard-won pride to the straightness of his back and the firmness of his gaze; before you could chase it away, the thought came to you that there was far more intrinsic nobility to this man than there was even your husband.

“I suppose that I am,” you said.

“Have you come to gloat about your craven lord’s cowardly victory, then?” he said. The chains were pulled taut, so he could come no closer to you than he already was — you were sure of this, but you were still a slave to your instincts, which urged you farther and farther from him with every second. He watched you go with some measure of delight, like he was relishing in this power which you had inadvertently gifted him, and when you skittered to a stop, he huffed. “There is nothing to be proud of, and you look a fool for suggesting there might be.”

“I was just…” you trailed off, because it suddenly felt entirely absurd to suggest that you were inquiring after his wellbeing. What did it mean, the wellbeing of a doomed man? What reason would he have to believe your intentions? “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said with a brittle, incredulous laugh that rapidly descended into a cough. “Why? Do you wish to curse your husband with it? Does your language not have gods you can swear on?”

“You’re sickly,” you said, frowning and ignoring his jabs.

“You have torn me from the sun and chained me in this dingy room, and yet you have the gall to be surprised by that?” he said, scoffing. “You’re more of an idiot than that husband of yours.”

“I did no such thing!” you said. The defiance took you by surprise. You had forgotten what it felt like to defy someone, to disagree and resist their words, to feel alive with resentment and bad-temper. “I didn’t wish for this. I didn’t wish to keep you here anymore than you wished to be kept!”

“Is that so?” he said, and then he grinned at you, but it was less of a smile and more of a threat. “Then free me.”

“What?” you said.

“If you don’t want me, then free me,” he said.

“You’ll kill me if I do,” you said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. 

“I give you my word that I will spare you,” he said, placing a solemn hand over his heart. 

“Not the others?” you said.

He did not respond, which in and of itself was a response. It was one you shouldn’t have liked as much as you did, but in truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him. Only for a moment, and immediately, you shoved your hands behind your back, but it was too late — he had seen, and he raised his eyebrows at you in return.

“Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter,” you said hastily, hoping to distract him before he could comment on the treason. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to. Your chains are thrice-blessed. I didn’t know what that meant until recently, but now that I do, I understand why you have been kept without even a permanent guard.”

“Blessings,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you put genuine stock into that drivel.”

“Perhaps the gods of other lands have forsaken their subjects, but this empire is known as the birthplace of every divine act, and so deities still sometimes glance upon its people and offer up their favor. Thrice-blessed chains are one such offering, for they are in fact more like contracts than they truly are chains,” you said. When he did not interrupt you with any snide remarks, you were emboldened to continue. “They can restrain anything, even a god, but this strength comes at a cost: they are conditional. If their captive can understand this condition and meet it, they will crumble into dust, but until then, the chains remain unbreakable.”

“What is it?” he said insistently, reaching out his hands like he was going to grab you and shake the answer out. He fell short, grasping at empty air, his muscles straining against the chains which, true to legend, did not falter. “This condition. Whatever it is, I will do it. You only need to tell me and I will do it!”

“I don’t know,” you said. His lip curled, and you shook your head frantically. “No, no, I’m telling you the truth, I really don’t know! Only the wielder and the gods he prayed to can know for certain. The conditions are decided arbitrarily, without trend or reason. It could be anything from singing a song to moving a mountain! At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the little I’ve read on the topic.”

“The wielder — your husband, then? That’s easy enough. Bid him to tell you, and then relay to me his answer,” he said.

“Easy enough? Not in the slightest. He would just as soon do your bidding as he would mine,” you said. The prince squinted at you, and evidently he must’ve determined that you were serious, for he broke into that awful laugh again, the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air. 

“You are pitiful,” he said. “I thought that you must be some great, fearsome empress, as wicked as your husband, but you are just a frightened mouse of a girl. You would not survive a day in Kremnos, you know. It would crush you.”

Duty. Obedience. Docility. They were branded onto you, swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke, and you could not escape them any more than the prince could escape his chains. If only you could argue with him, tell him that once upon a time, you had been someone unrecognizable from who you were now…but already, you had tested their limits. Your tongue was frozen in your mouth, refusing to move in anything but accordance with your oaths, and so you only clasped your hands together.

“If you say it is so, then it really must be the case,” you said. “Farewell, prince of Kremnos.”

“Farewell,” he said, but it was clear he did not mean it. “Dear lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, recognizing the provocation for what it was. “You are not my husband, nor do I wish for you to be.”

“Then what should I refer to you as?” he said. “Your excellency? Your grace? Your most exalted highness? Your holiness, the saint of the realm?”

“Here, I am only known as lady,” you said quietly. “But I bore a different name before. I cannot…I cannot say it anymore, but if you ever come to know of it by other means, then please call me as such.”

Morning brought with it a freezing palm pressed to your brow. It startled you to consciousness both because of its temperature and its temerity, for you could not fathom who had dared to enter your room without your permission, and while you were asleep, at that! In the haze of your sleep-addled mind, a rebuke rose to your lips, but then someone clicked their tongue and you fell silent even as you clambered to a more alert state.

“Your fever has finally broken, dear lady! You do not know how overjoyed I am to hear it,” your husband said, helping you into a sitting position, one hand cradling the back of your neck and the other holding up a glass. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your vision, swallowing down the water he poured down your throat without objection.

“Fever?” you said.

“The ailment you have been suffering from,” he said. “I was told it was a fever of some sorts. I bore it quietly, the prospect of your malaise, but today I could not stop myself from checking on you. I had some dreams of playing the nurse, but here you are, entirely well! Such a miraculous recovery.”

His grandiose words masked suspicion with affection, but he did not make any further accusations, for just as you had sworn to heed him, so too had he promised to trust you. His vows had been made to a portrait of yours, as well as written in pig’s-blood and sent to you in a sealed envelope. You could recall them with perfect clarity, the way the stench of iron clung to the parchment as you unfolded it and rang your fingers over the lines, which were grouped in stanzas of three. 

Trust. Favor. Companionship.

You spent the entire day with your husband, although you had neither the desire nor the will for it. You hardly ever had the desire or the will to do anything, of course, not nowadays, but this was the worst of all, because your husband was not just a reminder but the very reason for everything which had happened to you. Still, you could not refuse, so you trotted along at his side, motionless as he showed you off to his officers, his advisors, and even, at one point, his cousin, who could not be less interested in you if he tried.

“Brother,” he said boredly, for indeed he and your husband were the only children of their respective fathers, and so were more like siblings than anything, “you have better things to be doing than showing off a woman who doesn’t bear showing off in the first place.”

“Are you saying that she is somehow deficient?” your husband said, swelling up with righteous indignation. Anyone else might’ve lost their head for the statement, especially given how blandly he had said it, but his cousin was above reproach, being the only person he really loved.

“I’m saying that she looks ill with misery,” his cousin said, and then he sighed, returning to his book. “I’m not so sure the lady has recovered from her illness. You ought to be more cautious with her, that’s all.”

His cousin was younger and handsomer than he, and as the two of you walked away, you thought that you would not have minded marrying him as much. Though perhaps this was a paradox — after all, if he had taken you in the manner that your husband had, then you would have hated him, too. It was your lot in life, then; always you would detest whoever you wed, whoever stole your freedom in that way and bound you to them with the cruel ropes of matrimony.

The hall where you took your dinner was like an enormous cavern, so large that you felt like your voice might echo if you spoke. You and your husband were the only ones in it, which heightened the effect, and every clank of his silverware against his porcelain dishes resounded in your ears like discordant bells.

“My prisoner,” you said after a long time had passed wherein the two of you discussed nothing. Your voice was dry with disuse, and you pushed the food on your plate around without attempting to eat, although it was all appetizing and you were certainly hungry.

“What?” your husband said, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

“My prisoner,” you said, clearing your throat but keeping your gaze trained firmly on your food. “The prince of Kremnos. Is he well?”

“You’re asking after his health?” your husband said with a chuckle. When you did not laugh or otherwise indicate that you were joking, he frowned at you. “You needn’t fret. As you requested, I am treating him as well as I am able. Far better than he deserves.”

The image of the prince, chained and kept in darkness, the only sound his persistent cough and unsteady breathing, given scraps for sustenance and mice for company, flashed across your mind. 

“I wish to see him,” you said. There was a warning in the back of your head — duty, obedience, docility — but you ignored it as best as you could, stabbing oversharp fingernails into your thighs, hard enough to draw blood and distract you from the dangerous line you tread. “My lord, I wish to see the prince and ensure that he is alright with my own eyes.”

At this your husband did not even pretend to humor you. He burst into a raucous fit of cackles, his fork and knife clattering to the table, his eyes watering at the corners. You waited for him to stop, picking your own cutlery up in vain before setting it down and folding your hands in your lap.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow that, dear lady.”

“You cannot—” you began, but it was too much, you had stepped over that precarious boundary, and now you were frozen. Gulping, you counted to five before continuing. “He is mine. He is mine, you said it yourself, so why — can’t — I — see — him?”

Each word dug into you like gravel, and you knew that you had lost this argument before you could even attempt to have it. How could you ever win? When you had sworn thrice over that you would be tractable, how could you ever try to be anything else? Your intentions did not matter as much as the execution, not to the number three and the power it lent this empire.

“How obstinate,” your husband said, appraising you with a new eye. “I am sorry, dear lady, but as my cousin said, you are still weak. It will do you no good to be faced with such a base creature. You can see him again on the day of his execution.”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, which was not as much as you wanted to do but was as much as you could, at present, manage. “Might I be excused?”

“Excused? You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, pointing at your plate. True to his word, it was untouched, and you picked it up, holding it close to your chest as you stood. 

“My stomach is protesting,” you said. “I will take it to my room and eat it later. If it pleases you.”

“Very well,” he said, waving at you. “I shall pray for your health, dear lady. Sleep as late as you’d like tomorrow, but once you are awake, I implore you to join me in my preparations. There is a grand celebration in the afternoon, as a marker of our victory against Kremnos, and I have been summoned to speak; if you could muster some words as well, it might hearten the people and warm them to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said. “I shall think of something.”

“See to it that you do,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you left, your footsteps growing faster and faster until you were all but racing to your room, your head spinning and palms clammy like you had gotten away with some great crime. 

Tonight, there were no strange voices beckoning you, but that did not stop you from staying awake far past the moon’s rise, waiting until it hung over the clocktower before picking your way back to the cellar, your heart pounding as you crept back down those dark, endless stairs, an actual lantern in one hand and your plate in the other.

The prince was still there. You had half-expected him to have disappeared, to have turned out to be some figment of your imagination, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed as he watched the light of your lantern approach. When he realized it was you, his eyes narrowed, and he tucked his chin to his chest in what you could only assume was a stubborn display of the meager strength he had left.

“I brought food for you,” you said, setting the lantern on the last stair and presenting the plate before you. “Please eat it.”

“What do you think I am?” he said. “Some kind of a dog, such that I am eager for  you to foist your refuse on me? Hardly. Take it and leave me at once.”

“You’ll waste away,” you said. “You are only doing yourself a disservice! This is my own dinner, which I have gone without so that I could bring it to you. Does that make it easier to stomach?”

“Shall I sit on the floor, then, and eat it with my hands?” he said with a disparaging smile. “Will that amuse you? Is that why you’ve come? I heard your husband, you know. ‘Do what you’d like with him now that he is yours.’ How joyless your life must be, to think that this is what you entertain yourself with!”

“It is joyless,” you bit back, and your eyes widened at the freedom of the declaration. “It is! But you are not my — you are not some kind of amusement, I resent that you — I even spoke against my husband for you, and you say that! Fine, then. Starve, you thoughtless simpleton! Starve and die for all the good it’ll do me!”

You turned on your heel and stomped towards the stairs with the graceless irascibility of a child, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder at the prince. He was quiet, but you knew from the heavy weight of his stare on your back that there was something like turmoil brewing in his mind, a turmoil which weakened your resolve with every step you took away from him.

It was to your credit that you made it all of the way to where the lantern was sitting before you wavered, your stride shortening until you halted in place. Scrunching up your face, wondering when you had developed this love for punishment, for strife and conflict, you allowed your shoulders to sag in acceptance.

“Dispose of this before anyone comes to see you,” you said, shoving the plate into his hands before he could protest. “I suppose it matters little how you do it, but you must, or else I will be convicted of treason, and where will that leave us? Imprisoned side by side and left to rot together.”

He did not respond until you were almost out of earshot entirely, and then he coughed. You could not tell whether it was to capture your attention or to clear his voice of any residual hesitance; regardless, he accomplished both objectives, as you lingered for a moment longer than you would’ve.

“Ten,” he said. “That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here. But I—”

You continued walking before you could hear the rest of it.

You woke up the next day in better spirits than you had in some time, and in fact when a servant announced that you had a visitor, you opened the door with a new vigor. Upon realizing that the man in front of you was not your husband but rather his cousin, you thought that you might die from the glee of it all. Taking his arm, you allowed him to escort you to where the imperial contingent was setting up for the festival, at a grand stage which took up most of the square and was already laden with visitors at its base.

“It is a relief to see you recovering so well,” your husband’s cousin said. “The rumors in the palace are that you’ve contracted some illness of the chronic variety; in truth I believed them, especially after our meeting yesterday, but today I see that you have been revitalized. Did you rest well last night, then? I heard that you did not eat your dinner, but you must’ve taken it in your room, yes?”

You had done neither of those things, and his questioning did make you pause. What was the cause of your good mood? You had gone to sleep for only a short time, without much of anything in your stomach, and your situation had not improved any, so why did you feel, even if only marginally, as if you were something like yourself again?

“I suppose it must be something like love,” he mused, without waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, pardon?” you said, startled from the winding turns and byways of your thoughts at the strange declaration.

“To think that even a day in your husband’s presence has cured you to such an extent,” he explained. “Surely it is love? I cannot think of any other name for it…but I apologize! It is not my place to inquire, nor to speculate. I trust you will not tell my cousin about this?”

He had, in the taken-aback blink of your eyes and the pinch of your brow, found what he was seeking: a demure shyness which he could only comprehend as a lack of affection. You knew, then, that you had passed the test of the man, who had not believed any more than your husband that you were truly ill.

“I will take your leave,” he said, and then his palm clamped down on your shoulder. “But I trust you know this: however much you may love your husband, he is a difficult man to be loved by in return. If ever you are in search of solace…there are places you may turn to, dear lady.”

“What did he say to you?” your husband said, appearing at your side with his expression arranged into something like a frown. “I could not hear. Was he bothering you? I am sorry if he was. He has always been headstrong.”

“He was not bothering me,” you said, incapable of lying to your husband with any great skill but remaining certain that it was absolutely imperative you did not divulge his cousin’s secrets to him. “We spoke as family members might.”

If he recognized your evasive language, he did not comment on it. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought, and then he directed his attention towards the stage, where one of his generals was beckoning him — and, by extension, you.

The sun hung high in the sky as you ascended to the podium, though its rays did not dare touch you, disguised in your husband’s shadow as you were. Your vows tied more than your tongue, after all; your entire being, everything but your heart and your mind, were trained and twisted into the picture of submission, and soon those, too, would fall, leaving you a husk which could do nothing but nod and follow along.

Your husband did not need to start with any address. His mere presence was enough to silence the gathered empire, every single onlooker leaning towards the stage in eager anticipation of his words. From your vantage point, it was like the swell of a tide, crushing and suffocating, inescapable in its overwhelming intensity, but where you withdrew, your husband brightened at the weight, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders.

“Mydeimos,” he said, over-enunciating every syllable. The word, unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, had a rhythmic, marching cadence, more suited to a battle-cry than a formal declaration, and it seemed you were not alone in your thinking, for it had all the effect of one on the crowd.

A heckling clamor burst from them, the individual words indecipherable but for brief snippets. Demon. Monster. Warmonger. Kill. Curse. Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill! Your husband waited for them to quiet of their own volition, and only then did he venture to continue, this time with a wide, beaming grin.

“Mydeimos has fallen. The prince of terrors is no more!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air to thunderous applause. “Without him to lead the army, Kremnos will surely follow suit. Their lands will be ours within the year, of this much I assure you! Our empire will soon be the most prosperous in all the world. Even the great lands of the Southern Sea will pale in comparison!”

Your heart twinged at the mention of the Southern Sea. You could envision it even now, the streaks of salt left on the cliffs where the water lapped at them, the ripples in the placid blue where the balmy winds skimmed along the surface, the moon-white sand as it clung to the crevices of your feet and hands.

When you were younger, your father would take you on his boat and dip his fingers into it, urging you to do the same. You would ask him why and he would answer, always with a laugh or a smile: of all the jewels in my treasury, my darling, the Southern Sea is the second-loveliest. Then you would ask him which could be the first, if even the sea was not its equal, and he’d press his damp hands to your cheeks and kiss your hair and say you, my darling, you and only you.

“What a horrible thing he was,” your husband said. “Mydeimos. That wretched excuse of a man…the world is all the better now that he is locked away. I watched him — watched him, good citizens, with my own eyes — tear out a man’s heart with naught but his nails and teeth! Even now I can imagine it…the tips of his canines dark with pierced flesh…bits of entrails coating his fingers…the heart still beating in his palms…he looked the proper part of a devil, and I was certain that I had died and found damnation!

“But as I said, he is no more. Our army prevailed, as we always have, and as we always will; I made Mydeimos beg for mercy with my sword at his throat and my foot upon his inhuman heart, and then I dragged him back so that all of you could see what he has been relegated to — a chained puppy, given to my dear lady as a pet and kept as a servant until the day of his execution.

“For the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!”

Your husband concluded his speech and pulled you forward simultaneously, with a great flourish which invited praise and drew attention to you both. You swallowed, your mind racing at breakneck speed, far too quickly for you to make any sense of the things you were saying until you were saying them.

“I have not seen the prince of Kremnos — Mydeimos — since the day that he was brought to me,” you said. The applause that had begun faded as soon as the soft words sparkled into existence, and the many eyes of the audience blurred together until you could pretend like you were alone, like you were speaking to nothing but small, bright stones reflecting your own sentiments. “But as my lord husband said, he was proud. I feel as though I have never seen a man prouder. Even after his loss, he remained proud. Even with nothing else left, he clung to that pride, that assurance…I remember thinking to myself that it was, in its own way, admirable. That he was admirable.”

Your husband’s arm around your waist grew tighter with unspoken warning, though it needn’t have. You had said all that you wanted, all that you could, and now there was nothing left but the judgement of the collective.

“Lady!” someone shouted, the singular soul brave enough to speak. She was a woman — you wondered if this was what bolstered her confidence, a perceived kinship between the two of you for that fact alone. “Do you fear the prince?”

“No,” you said, and although you had meant it only as a vague and empty placation, you were surprised to find that it rang true. You were not afraid of him, and it wasn’t his chains or his infirmity which caused this emotion to surge in you; rather, it was what he had told you last night, that declaration he had made with the utmost of seriousness, which you had not even allowed him to complete. “I am not. He cannot harm me.”

You knew your words would be interpreted as faith in your husband and the empire, and furthermore that this misinterpretation would curry favor with your subjects and your lord alike, so you did nothing to correct it. Yet you would know, and would hold close to your heart the knowing, that it was not your husband who you held faith in: it was Mydeimos, the prince of Kremnos, who might’ve killed you ten times over but had instead let you live.

“You have much to improve in terms of your orating,” your husband said coldly as the three of you — him, his cousin, and yourself — returned to the palace.

“I thought her speech was excellent,” his cousin said, shooting you a sly smile behind his back. “Very concise, and of a good style. It’s a gift to be able to convey meaning so succinctly. You ought to nurture it.”

“She certainly conveyed a meaning,” your husband said. “It remains to be said what value that meaning truly holds.”

“Is that for you to decide? Ah, brother, don’t be a curmudgeon, I am only teasing you! You spent so much of our childhood poking fun at me, so how can you fault me for paying you back in kind?” his cousin said.

“You need some lessons in respect,” your husband said, but without any real bite behind it. His cousin snickered before sobering, shifting his weight toward you.

“Will you take your dinner in your chambers again, lady?” he said. You nodded.

“If it does not offend,” you said. 

“Do as you please,” your husband said. “Though I expect you’ll do that anyways, sworn to me or not. Isn’t that right, dear lady?”

You couldn’t think of any response which would be satisfactory, so you said nothing, allowing the two of them to escort you to your room, where you waited with bated breath until the night fell and you could return to the cellar.

The entire way down the stairs, you turned the name over in your mind, polishing it in the way waves polished driftwood, battering it with incessant worry until it shone, uncanny and unrecognizable. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. The prince of terrors. The man who had torn a heart out with his teeth. What did it say of you, that you were making your way to exactly such a knave? With trepidation, of course, but what did it say that you were still doing it anyways? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

“There is an odd pattern to your footsteps,” he said before you could even greet him. He stood as he always did, prepared for a battle that he would never again see. “Or perhaps it is your breathing, or something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” you said, putting your lantern and the dinner down in the space between you both. “I walk and breathe as I always have, as others do.”

“I know you,” he said, disgust mingling with the barest traces of awe in his tone. “The door to this cellar opens frequently. All manner of men come to visit me, to mock me from their places at the bottom of the stairs, lambasting me from the safety of their distance. I recognize few, and  I remember fewer — nor do I have any great desire to — but when it is you, I know. From your very step, from the very creak of the door, I know. I cannot understand how or why, but I know.”

“My husband told me your name,” you said after a pause, when it became clear he was not expecting a reaction from you. Motioning towards the food in a gesture you hoped he took to kindly, you continued: “I did not ask him, but he mentioned it in passing, so naturally now I know it.”

“I see,” he said, and although his gaze flicked towards the ground, he did not move. You remembered, then, what else your husband had said in that speech of his, the vainglorious words echoing in your ears: for the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!

“Mydeimos,” you said, and then you sat on the floor, which was made of a cold stone that shot chills down the backs of your legs. Resting your elbows atop your thighs and your chin in your hands, you blinked up at him. “That is what he called you. ‘The prince of terrors.’”

“How unimaginative,” he said, and you suppressed a shudder at his glare, which was baleful and acute as it settled upon you. “My-deimos. Many-terrors. Yes, that is my name, though that ridiculous nickname is of his own invention. The Kremnoans would laugh if they heard it.”

“He said that he watched you tear out a man’s heart with your nails,” you said, and then you glanced at his lips, simultaneously and unconsciously wetting your own with the tip of your tongue. “And your teeth.”

He bared those very teeth, white and glinting, in a barking laugh — as much an expression of warning as it was humor. “My teeth! Your husband is one for fiction.”

“And — and he spoke of how he defeated you,” you said. At this, anything resembling mirth vanished from Mydeimos, and he grew curiously immobile — you almost thought that you had frightened him into the grips of memory, but then you realized that he was not frozen as much as he was waiting.

“Did he?” he said. “And what did your husband say of my defeat, dear lady?”

“He  made you beg for mercy with his sword at your throat and his foot upon your inhuman — upon your heart,” you said, correcting yourself for the slip of the tongue, finding no merit in telling him about that particular detail. “And then he dragged you back here.”

The longer Mydeimos remained silent, the shallower your breaths became, a cold fist forming around your heart and squeezing, the muscles in your arms and legs contracting, protesting their inactivity. You needed to run. If you were wiser, if you had anything resembling self-preservation, you would run, would flee and hope that you were fast enough to make it to the stairs before he pounced. 

You supposed you lacked both wisdom and self-preservation in spades, for you remained on the floor, peering up at him and praying that he could not read your mind, could not comprehend the depths of your thoughts.

“So that is his story,” he said. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell his people the truth.”

“He made it up,” you said rhetorically.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted.

“It is not — it is not —” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with some way to circumvent your wedding vows, some way you could impress upon him what you were trying to say. “When we were wed, it was said that I loved him madly and completely, that I bawled to my father until he allowed me to come here.”

“Then it is not his first time dabbling in such falsehoods,” Mydeimos completed. When you nodded, he snorted. “You cannot speak ill of him, can you? Is it magic?”

“In the way of this land,” you said with a shrug.

“What an emperor,” he said. “So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation? Where I come from, they have a word for those like that, but as it is foul, I will not trouble you with hearing it.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Ah, not by the foul word…that is, what tricks do you refer to? If the story he told is inaccurate, then how did he really defeat you? For surely he must have, or else you would not be here.”

“He did not defeat me,” he said. “Believe it or not, but that is the truth.”

“How?” you pressed, for you had already eschewed wisdom once and did not mind doing so again.

For a moment, it was as if the sun shone down upon him again. You saw him as he was on the day he met you, or perhaps even before — the prince of Kremnos, sleek and powerful and indomitable, red marks blooming in place of the scars he would never receive, eyes ablaze in his hollow face, hair as wild and untamed as his spirit.

“He surrendered,” Mydeimos said, scowling. “Our numbers were smaller, but Kremnoans have never cared for things like odds. We were winning, indubitably we were winning, and your husband knew it as well as we did. They attacked us in our own territory, fought us with our own weapons…how could we have lost? We would’ve wiped them out, but your husband and his men raised their white flags, and so we ceased to attack them.

“I went to parley with them, to negotiate the terms of their surrender. In a show of goodwill, I agreed to your husband’s request to come unaccompanied. His men were exhausted, and I found it honorable that he was putting their wellbeing first, so I ignored my instincts and the warnings of my advisors, going forth alone, leaving my armor and weapons as I was instructed to.

“That was my mistake. I should never have expected honor from a serpent, whose nature it is to bite. The surrender was a ploy; I was met by hordes of guards, each with a spear pointed at my heart. Even then, I fought. Do not think I met my end willingly, dear lady — I fought and killed as many men as he threw at me. I could’ve killed them all, I would’ve killed them all, but right as I was about to, he threw these chains at me from the corner where he hid. It should not have worked, his aim and the strength behind it were both lacking, but it was as if the metal had a mind of its own, and before I knew it I was bound.”

“As I told you, they are thrice-blessed,” you said. “Divine. They long to fulfill their purpose, and will do anything to that end. If it defies the laws of nature, well, what are those laws compared to the ones who wrote them? Those men were only a distraction. Once my husband received these chains, there was nothing which could’ve changed your fate.”

“What sort of a god favors a man who feigns surrender?” Mydeimos said. “What kind of deity loves perfidy?”

“I have often asked myself the same questions,” you admitted, half-expecting yourself to be unable and closing your eyes in relief when you weren't. “Why is it that he is the one they champion? What justice is there in that? He must have been a saint in his past life, to be treated as he is. A saint, or a martyr, or something like that. Something wonderful to the point of deserving so many miracles in this next iteration of his.”

You chose your speech carefully, injecting as much resentment into it as was needed to convey to the prince what you really meant, but not enough that you seized up into inaction. Not enough that you strained against the hold that your vows held over you.

You heard him exhale, and at this, you allowed your eyes to flutter open once more, peeking up at him and immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Whatever had briefly rallied in him, whatever fervor and fire he had briefly regained…it was gone. It was gone, leaving him fractured and bereft, forlorn instead of fearsome, prisoner instead of prince. Your husband had done that to him. Your husband had destroyed him, as he had destroyed you, and it was this reflection of your own fate which tore at you the most.

Breaking off a piece of bread, you dipped it in the long-cooled sauce pooled in the corner of the plate, and, without a word, held it out to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and for a moment you thought he might refuse it. The beginnings of an argument bubbled to the surface, but it never had the chance to take shape — before your lips could so much as part, he knelt across from you and took your proffered hand by the wrist.

Holding it in place, his thumb digging into your pulse like a reminder that he didn’t want this, didn’t want to accept your help, he used his free hand to swipe the bread from your palm. Then, his brows heavy, low over his eyes with mistrust and reluctance, he shoved it into his mouth and ate it.

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mikashisus @ivana013-blog @mizukiqr @shehrazadekey @simp-simp-no-mi @reapersan @casualgalaxystrawberry @secretive3amramenmaker [if your tag does not show up in grey, that means tumblr had an issue with it, sorry! sometimes it does that sadly]

[onlyangel4]

onlyangel4 1k event - P10. CL16. SMAU.

trope: single parent

pairing: charles leclerc x single mother!reader

faceclaim: vanessa morgan

1k event

scuderiaferrari

liked by y/ninsta, charlesleclerc, lewishamilton and 4,283,029 others

scuderiaferrari: GIVEAWAY ALERT: to celebrate lewis' first season with us we are giving away ten sets of two pit ticket to whatever race you want to attend. to enter comment below with the race you want to go to and who you would take with you.

view all 1,928,230 comments

user1: i would love to take my dad to hungary, he got me into f1 but has never been to arace

user2: my husband is turning 40 this year we would love to go to vegas

user3: my best friend has been begging for silverstone tickets

y/ninsta: i live about half an hour from cota and my son is always begging to go to race, it would be a dream come true.

y/ninsta posted a story

written: what do you mean i get to take jasper to cota this year, he is gonna lose his shit

y/ninsta posted a story

written: just told jasper what we are doing next weekend and now he won't let go off me

y/ninsta posted a story

written: first day of race weekend with my boy and i can not stop smiling, my heart is so full

y/ninsta posted a story

y/ninsta posted a story

written: yes that is jasper with charles leclerc. no my life is not real.

y/ninsta

liked by charlesleclerc, y/bff, y/brother and 42 others

y/ninsta: jasper's first f1 weekend ft a special guest

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charlesleclerc: it was lovely meeting you both

y/ninsta: thank you for making sure my son did not get kidnapped

y/brother: you are the luckiest person ever, meanwhile a bird shit on me this morning

y/ninsta: that's lucky

y/bff: jasper is gonna be the coolest kid on the playground

y/ninsta: he already was

y/ninsta posted a story

written: i'm trying to sort my hair out for tonight and jasp is worried about us missing our dinner reservations, when did my boy turn into a little man

charlesleclerc posted a story

ferrarifan posted a story

written: charles spotted in vegas almost two weeks before the race, wonder what he is doing here

y/ninsta posted a story

written: my heart is full

f1wags

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 18,930 others

f1wags: charles has spent the last ten days in the us and in this time he has been spotted with the same girl several times, they have also been accompanied by a young boy who seems to be his girlfriend's son.

view all 1,283 comments

user4: i'm actually happy for him

user5: you really shouldn't be posting pictures of her son

user6: charles drop her name i need to know everything about her rn

cl16updates posted a story

written: charles' rumoured girlfriend in vegas

charlesleclerc posted a story

written: vegas baby

y/ninsta

liked by y/bff, charlesleclerc, y/brother and 47 others

y/ninsta: the best few weeks ever

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charlesleclerc: thank you for letting me in

y/ninsta: thank you for being here

y/brother: does this mean he is going to teach jasper how to drive when its time

y/ninsta: no fucking way

y/bff: so happy for you my love

y/friend: watching people on twitter try and work out who you are is the funniest thing ever

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

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@that-one-little-soybean

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[aninipanin1]

I love the manager x coaches. Would it be fine if Y/N brings her niece to job and little rascal pretends Y/N is her mom instead?

Niece: "You know my mama?"

Coaches and players: *Having heart attack.*

I'm not sure if it would be too out there or out of character. I just thought it might be funny. Hope you have inspiration 🩷

MAMA?!

Notes: Was legit abt to start the Little Mermaid fic for Chigiri but I suddenly had the urge to write for adult manager cause its been so long since I wrote one lmaooo and this was so cute so I just had to even though I said reqs are closed I JUST HAD TOOOOO

"There you are, Y/n! It's so good to see you!" Your cousin, Eina hugged you tight, patting your back softly. It has been a while since you last saw her due to both your busy lives with you as the manager of Blue Lock and her as a mother of two, as well as taking care of a small family business.

Coming from a family of businessmen and women was definitely not an easy responsibility, and you were just so happy that you did not get involved in the many drama when it came to your family's many businesses.

Eina was your cousin from your father's side and was the only one who did not spite or hated you for not being in the same calibre as your sister and other cousins. You loved her and always viewed her like the older sister you never had.

"Auntie! Auntie!"

You heard the familiar squeal, as you were immediately tackled by a toddler. Groaning in pain, you let out a small chuckle before kneeling on the ground to stare at the cute little girl eye to eye.

"It's been so long, Aina-chan! Look at how much you've grown! How old are you now, hm?"

"I'm this many!" She showed you four fingers, to which you smiled proudly.

"Wow, such a big girl! You're so cute, my little snookledum."

Carrying her in your arms while pretending to snatch her nose away, your cousin finally made you both turn due to her good natured laugh.

"Are you sure you and your boss are fine with it? I can always leave her to a nanny..."

The worried look on her face made you snicker, before shaking your head.

"Oh, of course it is! I wouldn't have said yes. Besides, I think this pretty girl deserves some aunty time for a few days! Whaddya say, my snookledum?"

"Yeah! Aunty time!" She cheered, engulfing you in a warm hug.

"We'll be fine. Worry more about the meetings okay? I'll take care of her as I always do."

"Auntyyyyy...Aina is bored. Let's play I spy!"

The little girl clung onto your arms the moment you both entered the Blue Lock facility where the four year old would be staying for a few days until her mother returned from her business trip in Singapore.

She definitely was a little sunshine, always wanting to play and not even flinching at the sudden change of location. If you were to be honest, in another life, you would want to have Aina's extrovetedness, and maybe then, you'll actuallh start having more friends and become more open when it came to different things.

"Hmm, how about later? It is lunch time, after all. Aren't you hungry, Aina-chan?"

Just as she was about to answer, a loud grumbling was heard from her little tummy which made you laugh.

"Welp, your stomach spoke for you. C'mon, let's eat!"

This went on for a few more days, with the only people who have seen Aina being Ego and Anri, mainly because even though the girl was energetic and an extrovert, she was easy to distract for hours on end. Just give her an interesting toy, and she won't drop it for a second until she realised that her bum hurt from sitting and playing for too long.

You toom advantage of that, leaving her to your office a few times to take care of the players while the rest of your day you will be cooped up inside your room, working and taking care of her at the same time.

However, in the midst of her stay, something else caught Aina's attention other than the toys you gave her.

She was with Anri (who she started calling Aunty too), who watched on from the monitors, overlooking some of the players for Ego while he went out somewhere to do 'something' apparently. Aina grew more attached to Ego than she did with Anri, and that is something most of you noticed. (Although Ego tries to pretend he hates the toddler)

It was probably because they do look eerily alike, with the same straight black hair and eye shape with along with a skinnier build and pale skin. The only exception was Aina taking the classic (e/c) colour everyone from your father's family had

You and Anri will secretly joked about how Ego was the real father and that somehow, the little girl was just swapped at birth or something, but it was all in good fun.

Back to the little girl, Aina looked at all the monitors, wanting to see if there were any familiar faces in them. To which she panned at one in the bottom and found you talking to Chris Prince amicably. And well, from that angle you did look a teeny bit like your cousin, Eina, hence why the little girl on the chair started to shout to call her mama, or who she thought was her mama.

"Mama! Mama! Youre back!"

Anri, seeing the cheering toddler could not help but smile fondly, however she did approach the little girl and told her that it was just you, her aunty and not her mama. Aina, just frowned at that, missing her mother dearly.

Well, that was until Anri had a brilliant idea, one that made her giggle mischievously.

"Hey, Aina-chan! Do you like pranks?"

The little girl's eyes brightened as she jumped from the chair she was in.

"Ooh! Yes! Yes please! Let's do a prank aunty! What are we gunna do?"

The smirk on the elder woman's face became wider as she started to whisper in the little girl's ear.

"That's all the JFU wanted to tell all of you. Now go."

Ego said coldly, dismissing the masters who all sat around the long table. The director of Blue Lock called for a very quick meeting with the rest of the masters. Since Anri was not free at the moment due to working with something that is related to the Neo-Egoist League (and also babysitting), you were the one called in to take notes.

The masters did not immediately leave, most of them approaching you to start small talks (ahem Chris and Lavinho ahem) while the others were busy taking the time to write down some things and cleaning up their things scattered on the table.

However, the automatic door suddenly opened, which made everyone look towards who was entering the meeting room, when a flash of long black hair and a small figure ran to your direction.

Flinching with a groan, you were definitely taken aback by the tight hug. You were suddenly attacked by a small figure. Small arms wrapped around your middle.

"Mama! I missed you!"

Crickets.

At first, it was just you who was in shock, not even sure why she called you her 'mama' when you are clearly not. But, it was not just you as gasps was heard around the room.

Chris gasped like he had just discovered the most scandalous gossip ever. Lavinho's looked like he was close to passing out. Snuffy's smile almost vanished as a vein popped in his forehead. Noa's eyes were colder than it usually felt like. While Ego just looked on emotionlessly, he was definitely more than confused, especially when you told him the child was your cousin's.

"Sweetie, wha-"

"Mama, you were gone for too long. I wanted to see you."

Aina hugged you tighter, her puppy eyes already on as she tried to look as innocent as possible which definitely worked on you.

"You have a daughter, Y/n-san?"

Loki was the only voice of reason amongst the quiet and heartbroken quiet adult men, as he just smiled at the young girl who is now in your arms.

"What? Oh, no! You misunderstand-"

But as if bad luck is not already on your side today, the little girl in your arms turned around to face Ego, who still sat calmly on his chair and called out to him in a name that you knew will legit get you in trouble.

"Papa! Hi! You're here too! Aina missed you!"

Now, that had everyone's mouth on the floor. Yes, even Noa and Loki had their mouths open, although not as exaggerated as the others.

"WHAT?!"

"Are you serious?!"

"Ego, you bastard-"

Ego just raised an eyebrow at the predicament, not even trying to stop and deny the claims. Instead, he even seemed to be enjoying it.

The coaches were definitely pissed. Out of all the men in the world you could have chosen (ahem themselves ahem) you chose to be with Ego?! And even worse, bear his child?!

Looking at the girl in your arms, she seems to be the perfect mix of you and Ego. Her hair, skin and build reminiscent of the man while her (e/c) eyes definitely came from you. So there was no doubt in their heads that it was not true!

You did look good holding a child, and you seemed to be very good with them. The little girl seemed to be enamoured with you, playing with the ends of your hair or pecking your cheek. You'd definitely be a good mother.

Now, if only you did not conceive with that four-eyed fucking asshole-

"Wait, I swear its not like that, guys-"

"No, don't worry, Y/n. You can tell us everything." Noa said stoically.

"Yeah. Did he force you or anything? We can call the authorities on him or even beat him up for you if you want." Lavinho added to which you blinked in horror at.

"What?! Please don't! Let me explain-"

"No, no, Y/n. You don't have to explain or remember the things he did. Seeing as to how he treats you and the lack of ring on your finger, I can see he does not give importance to you as a woman." Snuffy said, holding your shoulders gently, pushing you beside him and away from the ravenette man in question.

"You don't have to worry a thing, pretty. We'll take care of this." Chris said, cracking his knuckles to which you panicked even more.

"Um guys, maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions." Loki said, seeing you panic and the absolute irrational conclusions of the four coaches.

"You all are talking about me as if I'm not here." Ego finally responded on the accusations. Although his words did not help at all in making the situation worse.

"You have the audacity to even remind us you are still here." Lavinho said, walking closer to the man who still did not look like he feared for his life at all.

"Oh my god! STOP! I've been trying to tell all of you that it's not what it looks like! Aina over here is the daughter of my cousin! Me and Ego-san did not do anything disgusting! Now can anyone not fight in front of a toddler and a minor?!"

You said in a mini outburst, leaving Aina to Loki while you glared at all of them. Yes, even Ego who did not immediately deny the accusations.

All of them were of course taken aback by the outburst, used to your soft and kind countenance most of the time. So to see you mad for the first time definitely made them a little guilty.

And also gush because you looked hot-

Ahem, anyway. It took a bit of deeper explanation before they were fully convinced, and well, there was no apology at all for what they said to Ego. He's still an enemy for you in their eyes, so why would they become all buddy-buddy with their opponent?

For the rest of the day, the coaches just ended up watching you be maternal and soft from afar, thinking to themselves that you will indeed be a good future mother someday. And hopefully (and if you'd agree to it), they would be the one who will see that you every day.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

Unbeknownst to you, though, someone was eavesdropping, and that certain someone was Otoya. Running back to his room, he was cackling like an evil conspirator, chatting with the others on his phone:

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[inseobts]

Omg I absolutely adore your Law fics!! I’d love to read about a fake dating scenario between a Strawhat reader and Law in Wano like you did with Zoro. He’d be such a cutie 🥰

Thank you 🙏

Undercover Affection

law x strawhat!reader

a/n: omg I was so excited to write this aknakjd it doesn't really follow the canon events tho

words count: 5.1k

tags: fake dating, fake marriage, teasing, wano arc

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You and Trafalgar D. Water Law, notorious pirate and doctor, stand side by side in the bustling marketplace, trying to blend in as a newlywed couple. Law, wearing his usual stoic expression, is clearly out of his element, while you can’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation is.

"Stop grinning like that" he mutters, adjusting the fake wedding ring you insisted on putting on his finger. He glares at you, but you only giggle louder.

"Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got to make it convincing" you tease, leaning closer to him with exaggerated affection. His irritation is almost palpable.

"I don't need you hanging off me like that. We're here for a mission, not for you to play around." His voice is calm, but the faint redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You smirk, knowing exactly how much it bothers him "But I love how grumpy you get when I do this. It’s like a whole new side of you."

You look at him with playful eyes, wrapping your arm around his, deliberately snuggling closer, and watching the slight twitch in his jaw.

"You're insufferable" he grumbles, but you can tell from the way his eyes flicker to yours that he's secretly enjoying it. Even if he won't admit it, you know this act is something he didn’t expect and now he can’t stop thinking about it.

You wink at him “You know, you’re really cute when you’re angry.”

Law scoffs but the tips of his ears go red, which only makes you smirk wider.

The two of you continue to walk through the crowded streets of Wano, and the people around you don't seem to pay much attention, at least not to Law. But you, on the other hand, draw plenty of stares. It's almost laughable how you're both playing the part of a loving couple so well. You’re sure the act would’ve made some people second-guess themselves, if not for your obvious affection for Law.

“Do you really have to hold my hand like this?” Law mutters, trying to keep his face neutral. His tone is deadpan, but his hand doesn't pull away, even though he clearly wants to.

“Yes, I do. It’s important for the cover, we're married, remember?” You tighten your grip slightly, watching him try his hardest to stay composed, and you can’t help but relish in how embarrassed he looks.

“...I’m going to regret this” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible.

“No, you won’t,” you say sweetly, squeezing his hand with a grin “You like it.”

Law doesn’t say anything for a moment. His face remains impassive, but you can see the little vein in his forehead twitching. It’s clear that he’s not nearly as indifferent as he’s trying to make himself seem.

Before he can retort, you pull his arm, dragging him towards a stand with fresh produce "Look! They have strawberries!!"

You start picking up the plump, red fruit, inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. Law watches you, his arms crossed, a frown on his face.

"You’re acting like a child," he observes dryly, clearly disinterested. But you know he’s watching, and deep down, you know that he’s silently amused.

“You’re just mad because I’m having fun. Don’t worry, I'll buy you some too” you say, but the moment you say it, you know he’ll probably refuse it.

Law doesn't respond, but you catch the tiniest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just for a moment. His mouth tightens, but it’s not out of frustration anymore. It’s something else, something softer, though he’d never admit it.

You turn to him and offer one of the strawberries "Want one? You might smile for once."

He takes the strawberry reluctantly, muttering under his breath, "You're impossible" but you can see the corners of his mouth twitch, as if the smallest hint of a smile might want to escape.

The night comes, and you’re both sitting around a small campfire outside of town, eating a simple meal. Law’s still in his pirate garb, but you’ve managed to dress him up in something a little more traditional, at least in a way that blends with the locals. He looks even more irritated now that he’s out of his comfort zone, but you can’t help but stare at him.

"You know, you really should smile more," you say casually, picking at the food in front of you "You’d be less grumpy."

Law shoots you a glare, his gaze cold but somehow fond "I don’t need to smile."

“You say that, but you do smile sometimes, even when you don’t mean to,” you tease, leaning your head on your hand "Like when you're all annoyed. It’s cute."

His eyebrow twitches, and you immediately know you’ve hit a nerve.

"I do not get 'annoyed'," he hisses "I’m just... trying to survive being stuck here."

“Oh sure, but I’ve noticed something,” you say, leaning in with a smirk “Every time I annoy you, you get this cute little angry face. It’s the best part of the day.”

Law scowls harder, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the way his face softens ever so slightly, as if he’s secretly enjoying your teasing.

“I’m not cute” he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual edge.

“Oh, trust me, you’re definitely cute. Especially when you try to hide it” you say, reaching over to poke his cheek, making him flinch.

“Don’t touch me” he warns, his patience thinning, but there's no real heat behind it.

You pull your hand back with a grin, trying to hide your glee “I bet I can get you to smile before this mission is over.”

“You won’t" he says, though there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You wink at him “Wanna bet?”

Law looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. But you both know it’s a challenge he’s already lost.

The next morning, the Heart Pirates gather. You and Law make your way back after a quick stop in the town. You’re both still playing the role of a happily married couple, though your grin and the slight blush on Law’s face tell a different story.

"Morning, you two" Bepo greets with a wave as you approach the group. He gives you both a curious glance but doesn’t comment right away. You notice his ears twitch slightly, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

"Morning" you reply sweetly, wrapping your arm around Law's waist. You can’t resist leaning into him just a little, making sure everyone notices.

Shachi and Penguin, standing nearby, exchange a quick look.

Law doesn't want to draw attention to it, but he's well aware of the curious stares from his crew.

"What's going on between you two?" Penguin asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow "I thought we were supposed to be working undercover, not pretending to be... a couple." He says "couple" with exaggerated air quotes, making sure the whole group hears it.

You giggle, looking up at Law "Oh, we are, don't worry. Usopp said we should go undercover as a freshly married couple, right, honey?" you say, dragging out the last word with far too much affection, but you actually did it to tease him. In facts, Law’s face tenses, and you can almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Bepo looks between the two of you, his expression softer than the others "You’re really convincing" he says, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. He clearly doesn’t quite understand the situation but seems to be happy for you, or at least trying to be supportive.

“You’re making him uncomfortable, y/n” Shachi teases, nudging you playfully.

“Well, it's a fake marriage after all” you reply with a grin “If he likes it or not we have to make it seem real, especially because we almost got caught”

Law huffs, crossing his arms tightly “We’re not really married. It’s a cover for the mission. And you...” He points at Shachi, who seems way too entertained by the situation “...don’t have to comment on it.”

"Sure, sure, but tell me this," Shachi continues, leaning in as though he's unraveling a great mystery "How come every time I look over, you're so close? So touchy-feely for just a mission. There’s gotta be something going on.”

Penguin snickers in the background, enjoying the show “Shachi might be onto something, Law. You sure you’re not falling for y/n?”

You wink at Law, watching his patience fray a little more “Oh, I think he’s already there” you say, making sure to be extra teasing.

Law narrows his eyes, clearly not thrilled at the idea of his crew picking up on this “I am not! Stop messing around, all of you. We have more important things to focus on.”

But you can tell that beneath the irritation, there’s a hint of something else, embarrassment? Maybe even… a little fondness?

“I’m just saying,” Bepo starts, his voice soft but sincere “you two look so natural together. It’s kind of adorable.”

Your eyes soften, and you offer Bepo a warm smile "I’m glad someone sees it that way," you reply, winking at Law again. He’s practically fuming now, but there's a twinkle in his eyes that he’s not quite able to hide.

“Adorable?” Law scoffs, his face now an unmistakable shade of red “I swear, you’re all insane.” He glares at his crew, but even the glare doesn't hide how his heart's racing just a little.

Later that evening, as you and Law sit around the campfire again, this time with the rest of the Heart Pirates on watch duty, the teasing continues, though now it’s less playful and more knowing. Everyone’s fully aware that something’s up between you two, and it’s clear that you’ve been having a lot of fun with the idea.

“Alright, alright, let’s just get this out of the way," Shachi starts, taking a seat beside you and leaning in conspiratorially "Who fell first?”

Law doesn’t even look at you, but you can feel his discomfort radiating “We’re not doing this” he mutters with an exasperated sigh.

But the teasing continues, the Heart Pirates are all looking at you two with amusement in their eyes. Bepo and Penguin are now watching you closely, seemingly trying to pick up on every little interaction, while Shachi just can’t stop himself from pressing the issue.

“You two are definitely more than just a cover story,” Shachi says, grinning from ear to ear “You’re always so close, so... affectionate.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in, clearly enjoying the drama “It’s like you guys are really a thing.”

Law remains silent for a few beats, his jaw clenched, clearly holding his frustration in check. But you notice the tightening of his fists and the way his eyes flicker with irritation.

You glance over at him, but before you can even tease him again, you notice his patience clearly running out “That’s enough” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

The whole group falls quiet, the sudden intensity of his voice making them look at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t like this attention, alright?” Law’s voice is colder now, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something harder, something… serious. His gaze shifts to you, and you’re caught off guard by how harsh his words are “I don’t like you hanging off me all the time, I don’t like being treated like your husband, and I don’t like you constantly teasing me. We’re not a couple, y/n. We’re not even close enough for you to call me your friend, let alone you husband...”

The words hit like a slap, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. His face is set in a frown, his usual stoic expression replaced by something colder, more distant. You feel a pang in your chest, your heart sinking at how genuine he seems.

The rest of the crew falls silent, unsure of what to say.

You take a step back, your arm slipping as you pull away. Your eyes flicker down to the ground, trying to hide the hurt that's suddenly swelling inside you.

You’re not sure why, but the way he said it, so blunt, so final, makes you believe him. Maybe you had been too forward. Maybe you pushed him too far, even if you were just jocking around.

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak, forced "Right," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel this uncomfortable."

Law doesn’t respond, too focused on his crew and the way they’re looking at him. The awkward silence stretches, and you find yourself drifting further away. You can’t bring yourself to joke anymore, to tease him as you had before. The sting of his words cuts deeper than you want to admit.

The rest of the evening goes by in an uncomfortable silence. You eat your meal, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Law, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long. Every time you do, you feel the weight of his words echoing in your mind.

The next few days feel... different. You’ve stopped teasing him, stopped getting close like you used to. Whenever you have to interact, you’re careful to keep your distance, avoiding any unnecessary physical contact. You act as professional as possible, keeping the focus entirely on the mission.

It doesn’t escape the Heart Pirates’ notice, though. They watch as the dynamics between you and Law change. You’re not the playful couple anymore. Instead, you seem more distant, more reserved—especially around Law.

Shachi notices first "Hey, y/n, everything okay?" he asks one morning as you sit near the ship’s edge, watching the horizon. He knows something’s off, and though he doesn’t want to pry, he can’t help but ask.

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes “Yeah. Just tired, that’s all.”

Bepo, who’s been quietly observing, speaks up hesitantly “You haven’t been... teasing him anymore. Are you two—”

“We’re fine,” you interrupt quickly, too quickly. You don’t want to explain. You don’t even know what to say "Just focusing on the mission, as it should have been from the very start"

The conversation ends there, but you can feel the weight of their concern. They’re noticing the shift, the sudden distance between you and Law. But none of them, especially not Law, know how to fix it.

Days pass in Wano, and you continue to keep your distance from Law, though the tension between the two of you feels thicker than ever. Every time you’re near him, the awkwardness is palpable. But something else is happening in the background.

The Strawhats are back in Wano. After all the time you’ve spent apart.

It’s in the middle of a bustling market square, where you and Law are walking around trying to gather some supplies for the mission, when you spot them. You freeze, your heart racing. Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Sanji.

Without thinking, you let everything fall from your hands and sprint toward him. Sanji’s back is turned, so he doesn’t see you coming until it’s too late. You throw yourself into his arms with tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with relief.

“Sanji!” you exclaim, your voice muffled against his chest as you cling to him.

Sanji’s eyes widen in surprise, but then he smiles softly, his arms wrapping around you “Hey there, y/n” he says, his tone warm “It’s been a while, huh?”

You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand “I’ve missed you so much” you admit softly.

Sanji raises an eyebrow, but his smile softens “It’s good to see you too. Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind, though. You okay?”

You hesitate for a moment, then give a small nod “Yeah... I’m fine now. I just... I’ve been through some stuff. But I’m glad you’re here.”

Law watched everything, staying back. As soon as he saw you hugging the cook, he took everything you dropped and left you alone with them, even because it looks like you forgot about him.

The next day, you find yourself meeting up with Sanji at his little noodle shop. You’ve told him everything, how you and Law have been pretending to be a married couple, how your feelings have gotten tangled up, and how, after Law’s harsh words, you’ve pulled away to keep things professional. You tell him about the emotional distance between you and Law, and the complicated feelings you’re dealing with.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you admit, your hands twisting nervously in your lap “I feel like I’m losing him. He doesn’t want me around, and it’s driving me crazy. But I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sanji’s expression softens as he listens to you, his gaze gentle

“I thought it was just supposed to be a cover” you murmur, “but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like one. And now... now it feels like everything’s falling apart.” You pause, looking down “I think I care about him more than I thought I did.”

Sanji reaches out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze “You’ve got a good heart, y/n. And I know Law is a complicated guy. But if you care about him, you need to figure out what you want. You’re not just a cover story, okay?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn’t realized you were missing “You’re right. I just wish I knew how to fix it.”

Sanji leans in, his voice dropping lower “It’s okay to take things slow. And if you want to... maybe you could start by not hiding from him anymore.”

Before you can respond, you both hear some footsteps approaching. You quickly stand up and walk away from the alley, but you notice people beginning to gossip behind you.

“You heard about y/n and her husband, right?” one woman whispers to her friend.

“Yeah, I heard she’s been cheating on him with that blonde guy. Can you believe that? I mean, the nerve!” another woman replies, her voice dripping with gossip.

The words hit you like a punch in the gut. You feel your face flush with embarrassment and frustration. Cheating? How did they come up with that?

You try to ignore it, but it’s hard. The whispers follow you as you walk back to the group, and you can feel the sting of their words deep in your chest.

Later that evening, as you rejoin Law and the rest of the crew, you notice his usual cold demeanor has shifted. He’s standing by the fire, his back to you, as if he’s been waiting for you. When you approach, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge you.

"Are you... okay?" you ask softly, but you can see the frustration in his posture. He doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens.

“I don’t appreciate people talking about my personal life like that, true or not...” Law says, his voice low and clipped “You’ve been avoiding me for days, and now I hear rumors? What’s going on?”

Your stomach twists in knots “Law...”

“I don't care about you and the blondie but...” he cuts you off, his gaze icy “I can’t focus when people are talking about me like that, especially if we're supposed to be undercover here.”

You feel your throat tighten, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s frustrated, and his anger makes your heart ache “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, you know Sanji is my friend, people just don't know the truth and make things up” you admit, your voice shaky.

Law sighs, running a hand through his hair, looking as if he’s about to snap “Then stop avoiding me. We’re in this together, but if you keep pushing me away, I’m not sure what we’re doing anymore... we can't bring so much attention on us.”

The atmosphere between you and Law is still tense. You don’t want things to spiral even further, so you suggest an idea, something that might distract from the tension and let everyone cool off for a while.

"Why don’t we go grab some food?" you suggest, your voice a little hesitant but hopeful.

Law turns to you, his expression neutral “You think food is going to help?”

You shrug, trying to lighten the mood "Maybe. Besides, I’ve been hearing about this noodle shop... the chef is called Sanji, I think?... I’ve heard it’s good..."

Law’s brows furrow, but his interest is piqued "Sanji? You think going right to him won't worsen things?"

You nod "Maybe if people see us all together, as three good friends, they're going to stop talk about me cheating..."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs, clearly not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts any longer "Fine. Let’s go."

The small noodle spot is tucked away in a corner of Wano, busy and filled with the warmth of the cooking. When you and Law arrive, you’re greeted immediately by Sanji’s bright smile, but there’s something in his eyes that softens when he sees you. He’s not as flirtatious as usual, and there’s a sharpness in his gaze as he sees the tension between you and Law.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the infamous 'married couple'" Sanji says, his voice light, though there’s an edge to it now.

You try to smooth things over, grinning at him “Yeah, we’re here to eat...”

It’s time to kill the rumors.

“We’ll sit over here,” you say quickly, guiding Law to a seat “Make it clear to everyone that we’re... still a team.”

Law sits down stiffly, clearly not thrilled, but it’s obvious he’s playing along. He keeps his eyes ahead, refusing to acknowledge Sanji’s deliberate coldness toward him.

Sanji brings over bowls of noodles with flair, but his attitude towards Law remains distant, even a little antagonistic. He makes sure to place the food right in front of you, offering a special smile "Just for you, y/n. A little something extra special, like always."

He looks at you, and his smile softens just a bit. But when his eyes flick to Law, the warmth vanishes, and the tension in the room grows thicker.

Law doesn’t react right away, but you can feel the change in him. His jaw tightens, his body language growing even more tense than it was before. He clenches his fist under the table, clearly irritated.

"Stop playing games," Law mutters, his voice low and tight with barely contained frustration "Just serve the food and stop making this weird."

Sanji, clearly not intimidated, shrugs "If you don’t like how things are going, maybe you should take a look at how you’re treating her. It’s obvious you’ve got no control over the situation"

You flinch at the words, but Sanji’s eyes flicker to you in a way that makes you feel a bit guilty. You didn’t want this to turn into some kind of game, but now, it’s getting harder to keep things under wraps.

You look at Law, hoping to redirect the conversation "Let’s just eat," you say, trying to keep things casual "We need to look like a normal couple to the town. We don’t want any more rumors."

Law gives you a long, searching look before nodding "Fine. But we’re done with the theatrics, understood?"

As the meal progresses, the silence between you, Sanji, and Law grows thicker. The tension is almost unbearable, but it’s working, people around are starting to get the message. Law and you are a team, no matter the rumors, and the gossip about you "cheating" slowly starts to fade as the focus shifts to you two sitting together.

Sanji seems to settle into his role. He occasionally glances at you, making sure you’re taken care of, but the icy distance he’s putting between himself and Law is unmistakable. Law notices it too, and while he’s trying to keep his cool, it’s clear it’s starting to get under his skin.

Finally, Sanji returns to the counter, his back turned, leaving you and Law in silence. It’s the perfect opportunity to clear the air, but neither of you speaks.

You glance at Law, noticing the frustration in his eyes. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the way Sanji is treating you, doesn’t like the way he’s feeling about the whole situation.

You try to lighten the mood, but it’s hard to ignore the tightness in his shoulders "You know, we’re supposed to be a married couple, not a couple of kids at a playground."

Law narrows his eyes at you "I didn’t sign up for this. The mission’s getting complicated."

You try to ignore the tug in your chest, a bit of confusion creeping in "It’s just a cover, Law. Nothing’s changed. We’re just doing what we need to do."

But the words hang there, and even though you say them, you know that things aren’t so simple anymore. You feel it, and you know Law does too.

As you leave the shop together, the streets of Wano no longer seem as welcoming as before. The weight of the situation presses down on you, and Law’s behavior is starting to affect you in ways you didn’t expect. You can’t figure out if it’s the mission weighing on him, or if it’s something more.

After the meal at Sanji’s, the rumors finally start dying down, but the damage between you and Law lingers. The tension is unbearable, Law barely looks at you, and you, still hurt from his earlier words, keep your distance.

Sanji notices. The crew notices. Even the damn town notices.

One evening, as you sit outside the inn you and Law have been staying at for your undercover mission, you overhear some locals whispering.

“They say that woman is still in love with her husband, but he doesn’t care for her.” “Shame. She looks miserable.” “She was always all so cute and clingy to him but she stopped entirely, he must’ve pushed her away.”

You clench your fists. It’s one thing to suffer in silence, but another to hear strangers pitying you.

Law suddenly walks past you, pausing for a second before speaking, “Go inside.” His voice is firm but quiet.

You don’t move “Why do you care?” you murmur, not looking at him “You made it clear I was just a nuisance to you and it's just a mission, which is almost over anyway given Zoro and Luffy are making trubles after trubles...”

Law exhales sharply “I never—” He stops, frustrated, before running a hand down his face “Listen, I was trying to stop myself from—” He cuts himself off again, jaw clenched.

You finally turn to him “From what?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

Your heart clenches, but you shake your head “You don’t have to force yourself to tolerate me anymore, Law. We’ll finish the mission, and after that—”

“Enough,” he snaps, suddenly grabbing your wrist. His grip is firm but not painful, just desperate “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your eyes widen as he pulls you toward him, his voice low but intense “I was a damn coward,” he mutters “You—you were always in my space, always teasing me, and I—” He exhales sharply “I pushed you away because I—”

You hold your breath.

“I fell for you” Law finally admits, looking at you with something raw and vulnerable in his gaze “I fell so hard, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Your heart nearly stops.

“You what?”

He groans, looking away “I can’t stand you ignoring me. I can’t stand watching you with Sanji, even though I know it’s nothing. And I hate that I made you think I didn’t care.”

The words hit you like a storm, leaving you speechless. He looks genuinely frustrated, at himself.

You swallow hard before whispering, “So what do we do now?”

Law looks at you, his grip tightening slightly “You tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now “Because if you still want me, then I—” He hesitates, then sighs “I don’t want this to be fake anymore.”

Your breath hitches.

For the first time in weeks, you grin “I mean... I think it's too soon to talk about marriage, isn't it?”

Law groans, rolling his eyes “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tug him down into a kiss.

And just like that, the mission doesn’t feel so complicated anymore.

Back on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates immediately notice the change.

Law still wears his usual scowl, still grumbles under his breath whenever you tease him, but there’s no real bite behind his words anymore. The biggest difference? He lets you get away with it.

You lean against his side as he studies a map, chin resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you off like he used to, he just sighs heavily, pretending to ignore you.

“Oi, captain,” Shachi calls out, smirking “Didn’t you say you hated being touched?”

Penguin snickers “Yeah, man, what happened to all that complaining? Because right now, it looks like you like it.”

Law doesn’t even look up, but you can see the way his jaw tightens, the tips of his ears turning pink “Shut up” he mutters, flipping a page of the map aggressively.

“Oh, come on, it’s adorable,” Bepo chimes in, tail wagging “You used to be all grumpy whenever she clung to you, and now you just accept it?”

You grin, tilting your head up to look at him “Aww, so you do like my attention.”

His eye twitches “I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it.”

Shachi and Penguin lose it, laughing while Bepo beams like a proud parent.

Law exhales through his nose, rubbing his temples. But despite the grumbling, he doesn’t move you away. And that’s when it clicks.

Shachi leans back, crossing his arms “Y’know, I think we all got it wrong before.”

Penguin nods, smirking “Yeah. We thought y/n was the lost cause, but—”

They both turn to Law, who immediately tenses, as if he knows what’s coming.

“You actually fell harder.”

The room falls silent.

You blink up at him, waiting for his reaction.

Law glares at his crew, looking about two seconds away from using Room just to teleport them out of his sight. But instead, he lets out a sharp exhale, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he just mutters “Unbelievable.”

You beam and press a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as his face turns bright red.

Yeah. Maybe being undercover in Wano wasn’t such a disaster after all.

[starconstruction]

can you do a cheating creampie fanfiction with twice chaeyoung

Cheating in the Club

Twice Chaeyoung x Male Reader (Smut)

smut tags: pussy eating, creampie, frequent references to cheating.

Word Count:1533, not proofread

The night raged on as the pumping of EDM music pounded against your skull, a cup of liquor sat in your hand. You had very little intention of drinking all that much, coming here to try to get lucky. It's been a while since you last got laid so might as well shoot your shot.

You sat at a booth, dark black leather to help masquerade the inevitable stains of various liquids. The people on the rainbow dance floor mingled into a homogeneous ball, bodies grinding up against each other as they tried to dance together. Essentially just groping each other and rocking heads together.

A strange girl busted into the bar, a space case covered iPhone in her hand as she walked around. She was inaudible from here, an obvious look of frustration on her face as she yelled something at the device.

Her shouting continued as she came closer to you, eyes able to get a good view of her. Slick black hair done up in a ponytail with a thick face of make-up all dolled up, her dress exposed her collarbone, a silver chain laying on her smooth creamy skin painted a blue from the LEDs.

"Gooooood you are such a fucking buzz kill! Every time I invite you out you reject or you fucking flake! I'm going to enjoy myself then don't worry about it!" The woman yelled, putting her phone aggressively into her purse. She looked around, eyeing up for a person to harass.

Seems like that person was you, sliding into the seat across. She looked you up and down. "Wanna buy me a drink handsome?" She smiled, turning the seduction up to 11. Voice sweet as honey and felt equally as trapping.

The mudic shifted onto something much more intense, resonating in your bones. The woman in front of you awaited a response, "Sure." perhaps she was the one you were looking for. She beamed, waiting there while you went to buy her something.

You returned, her eyes locked onto the beverage as it slid over to you. "Whiskey ay? Not a horrible choice." She teased, taking a sip of her liquid fire. "Sounds like you had an amazing time on the phone over there." You remarked.

"Yeah it's my boyfriend I keep inviting him to places but he's always 'too busy' like what the fuck I'm your girlfriend I should have priority!" She ranted, not taking a single breath as she continued. "I offered him to come out and he said he was playing Hades?! What the fuck is Hades?!" She was irate, slamming half her drink in frustration. This girl was certainly interesting, it was only now she was inches away that you could see the finer details of her beauty.

Her face was divine, carved out in Aphrodite's image. Her nails were painted a sinfully tempting red and black, all dolled up for her boyfriend. "He sounds like a dick, but tell me more about you. You are the beauty in front of me right now." You asked, her cheeks blushed at your complement. "I'm Chaeyoung, what about you hot shot?"

"Y/N." You replied.

-

The time slipped through your fingers as you two talked, most of it was dragging her boyfriend for everything he has done. He honestly seemed okay, just a bit lazy.

Chaeyoung had a devilish look in her eyes, "I got all shaved and ready for him! Someone is going to enjoy it! What say you? Want to come back to mine?" A twinge of shame came over you, only for a second though as you immediately nodded. "Good. Let's get moving!"

-

The apartment heated up as you two entered through Chaeyoung's door. Hands around each other's head as your lips crashed. Tongues fighting in an intense dual for dominance with no clear winner, your leg found its way in between Chaeyoung's legs as it pressed against her crotch.

You two pulled an inch away, catching your breath as your lips laid on each other. Breathing her alcoholic breath as you went lightheaded. "Such a better kisser than him." She rasped, hand squeezing your hair as you two went back in. Your tongue fucked her mouth, entering and leaving her cavern as it dragged against her lips.

Your leg moved as your bodies rolled into each other, clothed cock pressing into her body as you dragged your tongue across her lips, the gentle taste of strawberry doing it's best to fight the whiskey. "T-take me to my bedroom, 2nd door on the left." She whimpered, you stopped your assault on her mouth in order to see. Hands locked together as you dragged her along.

Her bedroom was neat and ordered, well maintained as the white desk laid empty. The wall was covered in various kpop acts, but that was not what you were interested in. Throwing Chaeyoung against the plush bed as she gasped. "Ugh, do what my boyfriend won't! Eat me out please!" She begged, legs lifted up.

You were more than happy to oblige, hands finding the strings of her boots. Pulling them off one at a time as her thick legs came free, your lips kissed just above her feet. You were going to make her beg for you, the dress was an impossible task to remove. The fabric fighting against you as she laughed, "Give me a second." Chaeyoung showed her expertise, it fell to her whims and laid on the floor. Body hitting her bed once more as she laid in her skimpy undergarments.

You got comfortable between her legs, pulling her panties to her ankles as you laid inches from her pussy. "What do you want Chaeyoung? Use your words now." You teased, hands rubbing up her soft thighs. "I.. Want you to eat me till I cum!" She purred, legs locking firmly onto your shoulders. "Say please, don't forget your manners." You growled, your mouth brushing against her flesh. "Please! Please please please." She begged.

Your tongue lapped at her fleshy pink cunt, basking in her taste as your tongue flicked her crotch, "God that feels so good! Your tongue is so good." She shuddered with unadulterated ecstasy. You were getting drunk on her scent, mind hazy as you played with her inner parts. "You taste so good Chaeyoung, your boyfriend doesn't deserve this pussy." You murmured against her body.

"Yeah! It's yours, all yours." She cried out, enjoying your tongue in her slippery folds. Hands grasping your hair as they pushed you further in, grinding your lips against hers. You found her clit, softly rubbing it while you sucked on her pussy. "Fuck! Jesus christ!" She responded to your actions. "Fuck fuck!" Her moans grew sharper, "I'm cumming god fuck!" She released on your tongue, screaming as Chaeyoung's body flushed a scorching red.

Her hand let you go, your wet face backing out of her legs. Chaeyoung's face was completely red, forehead saturated in sweat. "Fuck.. I've never came like that." She choked out, "Want me to return the favor?" She asked, her lips seemed inviting but you needed to fuck her now.

"No, I need to be in this cunt now." You growled, aiming you against her. Tip pressing into her hole as you sunk in slowly, pushing into her body. "Oh! You feel so big, way bigger than him!" She complemented you, inch by inch fell into her coaxing hole. Bottoming out as your crotches touched each other, firmly buried in Chaeyoung's cunt.

"I'm going to fuck this cunt! Make you forget that stupid boyfriend!" You yelled possessively, starting a consistent rhythm as hips slammed into her, "Fuck.. Fuck me hard!" She begged, each thrust becoming a harsh slap. Your hands kneaded Chaeyoung's pillowly asscheeks, squeezing the flesh as you thrusted. "Such a perfect body.." You let out involuntarily, Chaeyoung's eyes were screwed shut in pleasure.

"Yes! Fuck me!" Chaeyoung let out, unable to stay quiet as you kept pounding her sinful body, both of you were transfixed in each other's presence. Full of lust as you two leaked expletives with every in and out. "I'm gonna cum! Cum harder than he could make me!" Her words spurred you on, the rhythm once maintained completely fell apart. Irregular slams as you got closer to the pinnacle of her pleasure. "Fuck!" She screamed, tightening around you as she came undone.

You kept going while she rode out her high, "Chaeyoung.. I'm going to cum!" You yelped, thrusts even more desperate as you rode your own high. "Cum! Deep inside my body, claim it!" She demanded, you filled her walls with your desperate cum. Buried in tight as it shoots deep inside, shared guttural moans ripped through your mouths as Chaeyoung accepted your load.

You two laid entangled, cock rubbing against her inner thigh as your cum leaked into the blanket. "Go get my phone." She asked, you quickly left and returned, her legs laid spread out as her fingers showed her leaking cunt. "Take a picture, do the honours, he can see what he missed." A bright flash shot through the room as you took a picture.

Chaeyoung smirked as the phone hit the bed. "Come, let's go another round."

[kawhh]

Dark!Quinn would totally be obssessed with author-and-oblivious!reader. That's like a whole dream for Quinn....until reader goes out to party without telling him... (I've been trying to picture this coz I write and always at home.)

Dark!Quinn with an oblivious reader forever speaks to me. It's the corruption whore in me screaming out for help.

Combine that with a reader who's inside most of the time too? I'm deceased.

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, paranoia, location tracking, controlling behaviour, fear over what might happen to you, drugging talk.

He doesn't have to worry about you being outside, surrounded by strangers. Doesn't have to worry about who you're talking with, if people are flirting with you, if you're getting lost. Nothing. He knows you're safe with him.

He knows you're home whenever he gets home from a game, knows he can cuddle you, can wrap his arms around you, can watch your face flood with heat from his attention and affection. Kissing your stomach while you write, gently caressing your skin, not pushing you too far. He finds it adorable how oblivious you are about everything.

He never has any fear about you changing your routine. Never once crosses his mind until he comes home from a game one day, his fear escalating as you're nowhere to be found.

He's frantic, searching every corner of the apartment. Slamming open any closed door in a rush, ripping open the wardrobe doors, checking behind the shower curtain, checking everywhere.

He doesn't even think about checking your GPS location for a while, the panic monster taking over his brain. Too concerned if you've been attacked here, the change in the routine making him spiral.

The minute he does check? He's furious. He knows the club well. He knows what happens there often. He knows you're not used to being around people, won't know how to look after yourself, he doesn't understand how you're even there.

If it was for book research, you should've asked him. He would've gone with you, would keep you safe. Would keep people away from you, keep you buried against his side the whole night while you made notes.

What if you get drugged? What if someone touches you? What if you feel pressured? What if you panic? How are you getting home? Are you drinking? Why'd you wait for him to be at a game? He doesn't know how long you've been gone. Doesn't know what you're wearing - what if you feel exposed and cold.

He suddenly can't stand how oblivious you are. Fuck, you won't see anything coming. He can't. You're supposed to be home, safe.

He's breaking every speed limit and traffic law on his way to get to you. He won't freak you out, he won't be angry at you. He doesn't want you upset with him, he needs you. But he's not leaving you out there. You've done your research and now you need to be home.

Storming his way inside, the fear and panic leaving his system making him a little breathless when he spots you, sitting in a corner on your own, nursing a drink you probably bought to keep up the image.

The way your eyes widen when you see him, the look of regret and fear in your face. He knows he can't react, he can see how bad you feel about what you've done to him plastered all over your face.

He's not above embarrassing you as revenge, throwing you over his shoulder and tapping your ass. He's taking you right out of there, right back into his warm car, back into his apartment.

He's not having this happen again. He's not afraid to corrupt you just a touch, he's been holding back trying to fully protect you, but you need to know why you should stay there with him constantly. You need to know what could happen, you need to be consumed by him.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

summary joel comes to pick you up from work, and after soaking up the night's energy for a short while, you finally let him take you home [fluff, kissing, 1.1k]

.��゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

There’s something different about the way he walks into a room these days. A gentleness as his eyes comb through the space to familiarize himself, not size up those in it. Tonight, Maverick’s buzzes with people desperate to forget the work week that now lies behind them. They laugh and drink and embrace the live music as it flows from the stage to wash their worries away. 

Joel expertly navigates through the crowd in a gruff string of excuse me’s and thank you’s. He'll never know whether they make way because of his manners or the broadness of his frame. From behind the bar, you watch him cross through a frenetic sea of patrons that part with every few steps he takes. The surrendered look on his face suggests that if he were twenty years younger, he’d allot time to work the room instead of having a one-track mind with a pin set on you.  

It’s not lost on him that your smile grows wider as he sits on the barstool before you. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s a slight sound you have to strain to hear. He’s more interested in how the overhead lights bathe your skin in their warm glow.

There’s a quiet knowing between you, a familiarity that doesn’t need words to prove itself true. The moment he places his interlocked hands on the counter in front of himself, you brush your fingers over his knuckles before turning away. You return with a bottle of Lone Star in front of him, condensation rolling down the sides. You twist the cap off for him.  

Joel nods curtly. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you.” There’s a sparkle in your eyes. 

Joel raises the beer to his lips to quell his smile. You admire how his large hand nearly consumes the bottle and how Adam’s apple bobs with each steady sip. When he sets it back down, you tilt your head in a way that makes his smile bloom anyway. He gives up on trying to hide it, and you’re glad it’s a short-lived fight. The lines on his face become more pronounced, but he looks years younger. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel commits the lilt of your voice to memory like he has countless times since meeting you a couple of months ago. Each time, the note is different. A little kinder, a little fonder.

“Should be criminal hiding a smile like that.” 

“Thought you said you got off at six,” he changes the subject. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“I did,” you say.

Joel tracks you as you saunter from behind the bar to join him on the opposite side. 

“Figured if I lingered, it’d coax you out the parking lot.” You fix a rouge strand of his silver-streaked hair as an excuse to trace the shell of his ear and make him shiver.

“This seat taken?” You climb onto the stool beside him before he can answer. 

“Was sitting out there wasting my gas ‘cause of you.” He’s willing to waste way more than that.

“My sincerest apologies.” You give his thigh an affectionate squeeze. 

A month ago, Joel would’ve graciously pushed your hand away because of the thought of too many eyes. Too many trains of thought that could derail full steam ahead in the wrong direction. He learned from his father to keep his cards close to his chest—good hand or bad. In the end, all that mattered was how he deciphered their potential and chose to play them. But letting the world in was inevitable, and inevitability wasn’t always so bad.  

Joel takes another sip of his beer, this time to distract from the absentminded way you run your hand along his thigh, back and forth over his denim jeans. He wishes your touch was against his skin. You’ve always been so gentle that he’s begun to consider the possibility he could break after all. 

You briefly perk up in interest when the band starts playing a new song.

“We gonna sit here all night, or can I go ahead and take you home?” 

“What’s the rush?” 

“There ain’t one.” Life and patience are one and the same. “It’s just loud. A lot going on.” The type of scene that fueled him once upon a time.  

“We seem to be hearing each other just fine,” you say lightly. “One more song, okay?” 

Joel hums low in agreement. 

Thankfully, you hold fast to your promise. As the closing chord hums throughout the room, you stand and lead Joel out of the bar with one of his large hands at the small of your back. A few other patrons file out alongside you while others file in. 

Outside, as the Maverick’s sign glows bright, fluorescent red, the warm air is a welcome surprise. It’d been cooler the last few nights, and now there’s no need to hug your arms and walk swifter. Even though there are plenty of open spaces, you spot his charcoal f-150 parked further away than most cars. 

“How’d you know I needed to get more steps in?” You playfully peek back at him as he walks a few paces behind. 

When you’re seconds away from opening the passenger door, Joel rests a steady hand on your hip and uses it as leverage to make you turn and face him. No sooner does his large frame crowd into your space until your back meets the metal of his truck. Every move is careful and intentional. Not a single second passes where he isn’t gauging your reaction. Ready to course correct on a dime. 

When a surprised smile curls at your lips, he dips his head down to kiss it away with a tenderness that aches. Joel’s beard is a welcomed brush against your skin. A pleasant weight settles low in your gut like a small stone finding its home at the bottom of a riverbed. 

He cups your cheek with a calloused palm as his lips move against yours. He takes his time. Let’s himself enjoy the softness of your lips, the privilege of your proximity. It’s the most spontaneous he’s been in a while, but the moment washes over him so seamlessly he can pretend he’s this brave every night. Pretend that his inhibitions don’t take the reigns more often than not. 

When he pulls away, his breaths fan over your lips as he looks down at you. There’s a palpable fondness in his gaze that makes you wish you could get lost in his dark eyes forever. He’s the constant you’ve been needing as life attempts to pull you every which way. Wise, strong, dependable.  

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs gruffly, thumbing gently along your lower lip. 

The distant sound of rowdy laughter tethers you back to earth.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[helen-with-an-a]

do ale/amor deal with any jealously issues?

specifically with it being amors first real wlw relationship

also if alexia’s past with Jenni is in this world does amor cope with that very well

I feel like when amor goes to England camp alexia isn’t jealous she’s just clingy because she misses amor but she does get a little stand offish when everyone is speaking in rapid English and using slang and she’s like wait what is going on, or when the girls tease amor about people from her past because they grew up together

but amor is like you can’t be jealous I only ever hooked up with those girls I only love you, but Alexia has an ex who she was with for a longggg time and amor could spiral and try and compare the two. Also the same issue when alexia and Jenni meet up and speak rapid Spanish and Amor is standing like what are you talking about!

Ok so lemme split this up, yeh?

Jealousy surrounding Alexia-Jenni relationship

There was a little bit at the beginning

Not so much in the sense of like ‘omg what if Ale still likes Jenni’ type jealousy because it is painfully obvious that Ale loves Amor so so so much

But more ‘omg what if Ale realises she wants someone who’s got experience in relationships/wlw relationships’ but that was quickly shut down with just how in love Ale is

It took Amor a minute to figure out Jenni and Alexia’s friendship but she’s chill with it all - she was more confused rather than unhappy about it

Amor knows that Ale would rather die than do anything remotely disrespectful and she knows she doesn’t have to worry about that at all

Amor is actually pretty good at Spanish now so Ale and Jenni chatting shit doesn’t really bother her, she can keep up fairly easily - it’s when Ale forgets Amor is there and starts yapping in Catalan around her friends and family that Amor is like babes stop

Jealousy surrounding National Camps

They both hate that they didn’t meet sooner in life but they can’t really change that

There is a little bit of confusion around the languages sometimes and they both feel a little left out at times but the other realises really quickly and fixes it asap

After tournaments both their accents get thicker and it takes them a minute to figure out words sometimes. They’re both like huh? when they come back from a tournament and have strong accents again and use slang without thinking

They don’t really get jealous over the friendships and stuff in the camps themselves - both know nothing would ever happen and they’ve all been friends for years/grown up together