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someonegoood · 6 months ago

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I’m not a kid! pt. 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

in which you’ve always had a hopeless crush on your brother’s best friend, Jungkook, who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t feel the same—until a family vacation forces buried emotions to the surface.

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! idolverse, age gap, arguments, jungkook is an ass with reader, making out…

NOTE: i’ll upload part 2 later… someday!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

part 1, part 2.

my main masterlist! ❀

The salty breeze of Busan’s coastline always carried the scent of the ocean and the faint cries of seagulls circling above. The city was alive with contrasts: the bustling fish markets that lined the shore and the quiet charm of the winding streets that climbed up the hills.

For Jungkook, Busan had always been home. The neighbourhood where he grew up wasn’t particularly special, but it was familiar—a place where kids spent endless summers playing soccer at the nearby park. That’s where he first met Minho.

Minho, your older brother, was the kind of boy everyone gravitated towards. He was a social butterfly while Jungkook was a shy eight-year-old, reluctant to join in but unable to resist Minho’s easygoing charisma.

“You’re on my team, Jeon,” Minho had declared one afternoon, tossing a worn-out soccer ball to Jungkook without waiting for a response.

From that day on, the two were inseparable. They shared everything: snacks bought from corner stores, secrets whispered during sleepovers, and dreams about what they wanted to be when they grew up.

That’s how you came into the picture.

You were Minho’s little sister, always tagging along, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. You were the sunshine to Minho’s confident energy, with an eternal optimism that made everyone crack a smile. But to him, you were just Minho’s sister—someone to tolerate because you came with the package.

Instead, over the years, your bubbly nature and obvious admiration for Jungkook became harder for him to ignore. You lingered on the sidelines of their soccer matches, offering water bottles and clapping too enthusiastically when he scored a goal. You laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t funny and gave him small, thoughtful gifts on his birthday—things like handmade keychains or little notes tucked into envelopes.

And while Minho teased you endlessly about your obvious crush, Jungkook’s reaction was always more severe. He hated it—not because he didn’t like you, but because he didn’t know how to like you. That made everything infinitely more complicated.

So, he did what he thought was best: he pushed you away.

NINE YEARS AGO…

The evening had the magic that only Busan nights could conjure: warm, salty air and the soft glow of lanterns strung along the bustling street-side restaurant.

Your family and the Jeons had planned this dinner weeks ago, a casual gathering to catch up and enjoy good food before Jungkook left for another training session in Seoul.

“I’m moving to Seoul,” he announced some years ago at your family’s barbecue, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just shattered your world.

Your heart sank.

“For what?” your brother asked, genuinely curious.

Jungkook’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. “To be a trainee. BigHit is giving me a shot.”

You froze, the words hitting you harder than you expected. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t even hinted at it. That night, you cried alone in your room. You felt betrayed: that was your only dream since childhood. Eventually he left Busan to become a trainee, which had made you wonder if you’ll ever have an opportunity in the industry.

The long, wooden table was nestled under a canopy of fairy lights, with plates of grilled fish, spicy tteokbokki, and steaming bowls of jjigae scattered across its surface. You sat beside Jungkook, not by choice but because the seating arrangement had worked out that way. Your mother was chatting animatedly with Mrs. Jeon, and your brother Minho was in a heated debate with Jungkook’s older brother about which soccer team was superior.

You couldn’t focus. Not with Jungkook so close, his presence filling the air between you. He was dressed casually in a black hoodie and jeans, his dark hair slightly messy from the seaside breeze. He was scrolling through his phone, barely acknowledging you, but you could feel the heat radiating from his shoulder whenever it brushed yours.

As the clock neared midnight, the temperature dropped. You rubbed your arms, the thin pink cardigan you’d worn doing little to ward off the chill. You tried to focus on the conversation, but your shivering gave you away.

“Are you cold?” your mom asked from across the table, concern in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, forcing a smile.

But you weren’t fine, and Jungkook noticed your trembling.

Later, when the two families were chatting, you hesitated for a moment and then glanced at him. “Can I… borrow your hoodie?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“Your hoodie,” you repeated, trying to sound casual. “I’m freezing here.”

He stared at you for a second longer than necessary, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, without a word, he pulled the hoodie over his head, his black t-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a toned stomach. You quickly looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Here,” he muttered, holding it out to you.

You slipped it on, the fabric warm and smelling faintly of his cologne—a mix of citrus and vanilla. It was far too big on you, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said softly, stealing a glance at him.

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It’s just a hoodie.”

But as the night went on, you noticed little things. How he subtly shifted closer when the breeze picked up. How his knee brushed against yours under the table, and he didn’t pull away. How, when he thought no one was looking, his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just a hoodie after all.

That dinner had stirred something in you. Maybe it was the way Jungkook had handed you his hoodie without hesitation or the bubble gum scent on it. Whatever it was, the feelings swirling inside you.

SEVEN YEARS AGO…

It all started at one of Minho’s infamous parties. The room was crowded, music pumping, and you tried your best to enjoy yourself but the thought of being there just because you were Minho's sister made you cringe. That was until you saw Jungkook laughing in the corner with his friends. He had got back from Seoul a few days ago because his company gave him some free days.

Your chest tightened as you saw him. It was impossible to ignore how Jungkook’s carefree laughter carried across the room, pulling you into a spiral of softness. You retreated to the kitchen, determined to drown your emotions in a cup of punch. That’s where Juwon found you, one of your brother's friends.

"Stop pouting," he teased, ruffling your hair. "What’s wrong, kid?"

You shrink at the thought of being called a "kid". "I’m not a kid," you snapped, pulling away. "And nothing’s wrong."

Juwon didn’t believe you, but before he could pry further, Jungkook walked in. His sharp jawline, dark eyes, and smirk made your heart skip a beat.

"Juwon-ah," Jungkook greeted casually before his gaze flicked to you. "What’s with the long face? Did someone steal your crayons?"

Your jaw tightened, and Juwon chuckled. "She’s sulking about something. Probably got dumped." You glared at him, but Jungkook’s smirk only widened.

"Dumped?" Jungkook tilted his head mockingly. "You’d have to date someone for that to happen, kid."

That was the last straw.

"Stop, I’m not a kid!" you snapped, slamming your cup onto the counter. "I’m not some little girl you can just mock whenever you feel like it, Jungkook!"

The room went silent, tension crackling between you. Jungkook’s smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. Juwon shifted uncomfortably, sensing he’d made a mistake by staying.

"Alright..." Juwon muttered. "I’m leaving you two to... whatever this is." When he left, Jungkook leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

"You’re really something, aren’t you?" he said, his voice low. "Always so desperate to prove yourself. What are you trying to prove this time? That you’re all grown up?"

You felt the sting of his words but refused to back down.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually apologize. Instead, he muttered, "You’re too young to understand."

"Stop using that excuse!" you shot back. "I’m not a kid anymore, and you don’t get to decide how I feel!" The argument hung in the air like a storm ready to break. Jungkook opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, his expression darkened immediately. He went closer to you, his height suddenly making the space between you feel even smaller.

“Are you kidding right now?” he asked, his tone cold. Your noses were almost touching.

Your heart sank and you closed your eyes. “I… I just want to be serious. For once.”

“Serious?” His voice rose, sharp and cutting. “Kid, you'll never be.”

The words hit you like a slap. You blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanour.

“I don’t need this,” he continued, his frustration spilling out. “I don’t need you trying to play house or whatever weird crush you’ve got going on. Stop wasting your time on me. You’re just a little kid.”

Your chest tightened the sting of his words bringing tears to your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. The cup you were holding was long forgotten.

"You’re... impossible, stubborn, and way too good for someone like me." Your breath hitched as his hand brushed against yours.

"Kook..."

He pulled back suddenly, as if afraid of what might happen next. "We can’t," he muttered, more to himself than to you. But before he could walk away, you grabbed his wrist.

"You’re an idiot," you said, tears pricking your eyes. "But if you walk away now, you’re proving me right."

Jungkook froze, his expression conflicted. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours. He began to kiss you, gently biting on your lower lip trying to make you open your mouth. You had never, in your whole life, thought Jungkook would be kissing you.

The kiss was messy, desperate, and everything you’d imagined it would be. One hand on your waist gripping you tightly, rubbing circles with his thumb as his other hand is gently holding the side of your face.

Jungkook began to press kisses along the length of your neck, stopping just above your jawline.

“That feels nice,” you blushed.

He chuckled as he leant in towards you, brushing his hand against your cheek. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his voice shaky.

“We can’t… You know we can’t.”

Once again, his eyes travelled to your lips but before he could kiss you he turned quickly, rushing back into the living room before you broke down completely.

Or so he thought. That was the first time Jeon Jungkook kissed you.

That night, sitting alone in your room with tear-streaked cheeks and a heart that felt both shattered and strangely free, you made a decision: it was time to focus on yourself.

Becoming an idol had always been your dream. You remembered the exact moment you decided this was what you wanted—a moment of clarity during a school talent show when the cheers of the crowd and the spotlight on you felt like home.

But dreaming of something and pursuing it were two entirely different things.

When you told your family you wanted to audition, they smiled indulgently, thinking it was a phase. Your brother, ever protective, had scoffed, telling you to "be realistic." Jungkook, who was still part of your life, had smirked and asked, "Are you trying to be me? Do you even know how hard life my is?"

And he was right.

Auditioning for agencies was gruelling. There were days when you faced rejection after rejection, each one feeling like a crack in the foundation of your confidence. You’d wake up at 5 a.m. for practice sessions, juggling school, part-time jobs, and long hours of singing and dancing in a cramped studio. Every week, you had to convince yourself to keep going when everything in you screamed to quit.

The hardest part, though, wasn’t the physical exhaustion—it was the emotional toll.

Friendships began to slip away, you missed birthdays, family dinners, and countless moments that made your hometown feel like home. Moving to Seoul for training was bittersweet. You were chasing your dream, but it felt like leaving behind pieces of yourself.

Training wasn’t glamorous, either. There were days when your trainers yelled at you for missing a note or a beat, and you’d spend nights in the dorm crying into your pillow, wondering if you’d ever be good enough. Some trainees around you gave up, packing their bags and leaving without a word. But you stayed because deep down, you knew this was what you were meant to do.

And then, one day, after years of relentless hard work, you got a call from BigHit. You had been selected to debut. You and the four other girls you’d grown close to over endless practice hours were going to be idols.

But with gaining fame came him.

Jungkook had debuted first, of course, with BTS. And every time you crossed paths at the company, at award shows or music programs, he made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about it.

It was a surreal moment as you and your group—Mimi, Sky, Nari, and Yunjin—stepped into the large studio for the BigHit family photoshoot. The air buzzed with energy as staff members rushed to set up lighting and cameras. You were dressed in coordinating white outfits, your makeup and hair perfected to the last detail, but none of it stopped the nervous flutter in your stomach.

The nerves only intensified when you saw BTS already gathered near the set, their laughter and chatter filling the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them; in fact, you’d met the members long before they became global sensations, back when Jungkook was still a trainee.

Taehyung and Jin had always been the most welcoming, making an effort to befriend you during those early, uncertain days of training. You had countless memories of Taehyung showing you silly tricks to lighten your mood and Jin bringing snacks to share after practice sessions. Even now, they greeted you with warm smiles, as if no time had passed at all.

Taehyung waved enthusiastically as you approached. "Look at you! All grown up now."

You laughed, cheeks flushing. "And you haven’t changed a bit, Tae."

But the moment your eyes landed on Jungkook, your breath hitched. He stood near the backdrop, hands tucked in his pockets, looking impossibly good in his fitted suit. His gaze met yours briefly, and he gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.

You had seen him a few weeks ago at a family lunch back in Busan, but every encounter still carried a weight you couldn’t quite shake.

"Alright, everyone!" The photographer clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention. "We’re starting with the full group shots. BTS and our newest girl group, together."

Your heart sank. You weren’t sure you could survive being this close to Jungkook, especially under the teasing gaze of your members and his.

As the groups began to arrange themselves, chaos ensued. Jin insisted on being in the middle, Taehyung joked about needing his best angle, and your leader, Mimi, declared she wouldn’t stand anywhere near Namjoon because he was too tall. Amid the commotion, you somehow ended up right next to Jungkook.

You tried not to panic as you felt his body press against your back in the cramped arrangement, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Y/N," Sky whispered, barely containing her laughter. "You’re blushing."

"Shut up," you hissed back, but your cheeks betrayed you, turning even redder.

"Look at them," Jimin teased loudly, his voice drawing everyone’s attention. "Our maknaes! Should we make room for you two?"

"Jimin," you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

Sky and Nari joined in, giggling as they exchanged knowing looks with BTS’s members. Even Yoongi couldn’t resist chiming in. "Let’s make a maknae photo. Everyone else, move aside!"

The teasing only worsened as the photographer tried to get everyone to focus. Jungkook remained quiet through it all, his expression unreadable, but you were hyper-aware of his proximity.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"Enough," Jungkook said, his voice firm but not harsh. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to him.

He looked down at you, his expression softening. "Let’s just take the photo, okay?"

You nodded, too flustered to say anything. The teasing subsided after that, and the rest of the shoot went smoothly, though you couldn’t stop your heart from racing every time Jungkook shifted beside you.

As the session wrapped up, Taehyung leaned over and whispered in your ear, "He still cares, you know."

You didn’t respond, but the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s presence and the memory of his quiet defence stayed with you long after the photoshoot ended.

The photoshoot felt like a blur in your memory, but one moment lingered vividly—Jungkook standing beside you, his quiet presence both overwhelming and grounding. When he had stepped in to silence the teasing, you’d felt a warmth you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just his defence but the softness in his eyes, the unspoken understanding that had stayed with you.

Since then, things between you have been… complicated. Jungkook was still distant most of the time, his words often cold, but there were cracks in his armour. Small, fleeting moments where his gaze softened or his words carried a hint of something deeper.

Now, backstage at the award show, the weight of his presence pressed on you like a phantom. You hadn’t exchanged more than a glance, but his impact lingered, just like it always did.

“Okay, so who’s the most nervous?” Nari teased, trying to break the tension as your group sat in a quiet corner.

“Not me,” Sky declared, though her knuckles were white around her water bottle.

“What about our maknae?” Mimi leaned closer to you. “You’ve been off all morning. Thinking about Jungkook again?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as the others giggled. “I’m not,” you lied, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“You totally are,” Yunjin added, poking your side. “He’s got you all flustered, and he hasn’t even spoken to you yet.”

Before you could respond, Taehyung and Jin appeared, their easy smiles immediately lightening the mood.

“Ladies, looking stunning as always,” Taehyung greeted, his tone playful as ever.

Jin offered his signature kind smile. “Nervous? Don’t be. You’ll do great.”

Their presence was a welcome distraction, and you couldn’t help but laugh when Taehyung dramatically declared, “We’re here to protect you from Jungkook’s glaring.”

But the laughter was short-lived. Across the room, Jungkook leaned against the wall, his sharp gaze fixed on you. When Jin ruffled your hair, earning a bright laugh from you, Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the performance ahead. But just as you steadied yourself, he approached the group.

“Hey,” Jungkook called softly.

Everyone turned, surprised to see him standing next to you, his expression unreadable but his tone lacking its usual sharpness. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside your group's dressing room.

“Don’t let me ruin this for you,” he said, his voice so low you could bearly hear him. “You’re… good at this. Just do your thing.”

It wasn’t an apology for everything he had done, but it was something.

Your eyes searched his, looking for any trace of malice, but all you found was a flicker of uncertainty. For the first time in what felt like forever, his walls seemed to lower, if only slightly.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, unsure of what else to say.

As he walked out, Yunjin sidled up beside you, a knowing grin on her face. “What did Jungkook say?”

“Nothing important,” you lied, though your heart told a different story.

“Sure,” she teased.

The words stayed with you as you stepped onto the stage, ready to perform. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the same boy you’d once known, but beneath the cold exterior, there was still something there. Something worth holding onto.

The night of your group’s single release party was supposed to be a celebration. The venue buzzed with excitement, filled with industry friends, labelmates, and staff. Your group were the stars of the evening, basking in the glow of your latest success. You’d worked tirelessly for months, and now, you deserved to let loose.

You flitted around the party, sharing laughs, clinking glasses, and posing for photos with everyone who came to congratulate you. But a familiar tension brewed in your chest, one you tried to ignore as much as you could.

It didn’t help when Jungkook and his members arrived.

You didn't expect him to come, even though he’d been the first on your personal list. Yet there he was, standing near the bar in a sleek dark outfit, grey jeans and a black oversized t-shirt that fitted him nicely. His gaze found yours almost instantly, but he didn’t approach. Instead, he stayed rooted in place, sipping his drink and chatting casually with Hoseok.

“Babes,” Sky called, tugging you out of your thoughts. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

But the truth was, Jungkook’s presence threw you off. The history between you—complicated and unresolved—lingered like an unspoken storm. His quiet indifference always hurt more than it should have.

As the night wore on, you avoided him, focusing instead on celebrating with your group. You danced, laughed, and tried to push him out of your mind. But when you stepped outside for a moment of air, the cool breeze hit you, and so did the realization that he’d followed you.

“Couldn’t even last the whole party?” Jungkook’s voice carried a teasing edge, but there was a hesitation in his tone.

You scoffed, not turning to face him. “Why are you here, Jungkook?”

“To congratulate you,” he said, stepping closer. “Big night for you and the girls.”

You turned to find him standing a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. “Funny,” you muttered. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I care,” Jungkook stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “You’ve been avoiding me since the backstage moment.”

You laughed bitterly. “And you’ve been ignoring me for years. Why do you care now?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was palpable, years of unresolved feelings bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t ignore you, kid.” He said finally, his voice quieter.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I think we’re okay, you push me away again.”

His gaze dropped to the ground, and for a moment, he looked almost guilty. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” you pressed, the frustration you’d bottled up for so long finally spilling out. “If you don’t want me in your life, just say so. Stop playing this game, Jungkook. I’m tired.”

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Kid... I never wanted you out of my life.”

“Stop calling me 'kid'” you demanded, your voice breaking. “Why do you act like I don’t matter?”

“You matter,” he said, stepping closer. “You matter so much it scares the hell out of me.”

The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw. Your heart pounded as he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. You pulled away, tears brimming in your eyes.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours. “But I don’t know how to let you go.”

You stepped back, creating space between you. “You need to figure it out, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep doing this.”

The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, but neither of you said another word. You turned and walked back into the party, leaving him alone in the cold night.

"Let me take you home," he said. His tone was strong, not what you were used to. Still, the ride to your flat was silent, you sitting in the front with Jungkook while faint music played on the radio.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white. “Did you really think you mean nothing to me?” You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Jungkook rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

"I got them!" You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Jungkook in the eye for the first time since the party.

"Thank you," he didn't want to hear it. After all, you were just his best friend’s sister.

"It's no big deal."

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back. He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Goodnight."

It’s been two months since the party. When your mom first suggested a getaway, you thought it was the perfect idea to forget Jungkook’s situation. “You’ve been working too hard,” she had said over the phone, her voice tinged with concern. “A little break will do you good. Sunshine, good food, some family time—it’s exactly what you need.”

You’d been reluctant at first. The idea of slowing down felt foreign when your life had been moving at a breakneck pace for so long. But your mom’s persistence—and your own exhaustion—eventually won you over.

“We’ve already rented a villa by the beach,” she added, excitement in her tone. “Oh, and the Jeons will be joining us. It’ll be like the old days!”

The Jeons. You hadn’t heard that name in a while, but the memory of warm summer evenings spent with Jungkook’s family hit you like a wave. Your stomach sank as you considered the possibility of seeing him again.

“Do you mean the whole Jeon family?” you had asked hesitantly, trying to gauge just how much of a challenge this ‘relaxing’ trip would be.

“Of course!” your mom said brightly. “It’s been so long since we’ve all gotten together.”

You hadn’t been able to come up with a convincing excuse to avoid the trip, so you packed your bags, hoping the villa would be big enough to keep a comfortable distance between you and Jungkook.

But the moment you stepped onto the patio of the villa, you knew that hope was futile. He was there, leaning against the railing, staring out at the ocean like he belonged there. And when he turned and saw you, the atmosphere immediately shifted.

His dark eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. You felt his gaze move over you briefly before he turned away, as if dismissing you altogether.

Your brother’s voice broke the tension. “Surprise! Kook managed to clean his schedule.”

You forced a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Great,” you said, your voice flat.

“Hey kid,” he smirked.

“I’m not a kid!” You wanted to scream for help.

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smiteswrites · 24 days ago

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Okay, hear me out… Robby with a partner who has a hard time orgasming (because I need to feel seen, and hopefully y’all do too). MDNI 18+!!!

a/n: I know we all love a good smutty fic where the reader gets to cum like three times, but let’s be honest, that is not reality for most people. I need some representation for those of us who live the antidepressant lifestyle. I know I asked about Robby/Michael, but something about this felt like a 'Robby' fic (idk). Next time I write about this man we will go with Michael, pinky promise. Wrote this after working a 50 hour week and did not revise it. Also haven't written smut in literal years. You have been warned.

In recent years, getting yourself to orgasm has become a challenge. Sure, you can get there on your own with some patience and a trusty vibrator, but it takes time. And sometimes being with a partner, especially a new one, means you don’t really want them trying to get you there for forty fucking minutes. So, when you and Robby start seeing each other you don't exactly fake it, but you don’t let him focus his attention on you for long before you turn the tables and start pleasuring him.

But Robby isn’t stupid, and he needs to know you’re enjoying yourself as much as he is. So, a handful of times into sleeping together, he finds himself in a familiar position: dressed in only his briefs, lying sprawled out on his stomach, head between your open legs, putting his mouth to good use. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel fucking amazing. His beard scratches at your inner thighs and below your entrance as he uses his tongue to steadily lap at your clit. The pressure and rhythm he's giving you is enough to make pleasure burn low in your pelvis; you can’t help but rock your hips into his face, using your grip in his hair as leverage to make sure he keeps his tongue right fucking there.

Robby can feel the urgency in the way you’re pulling his face impossibly closer. He knows damn well that you haven’t cum for him in any of your previous times together, he’s had over thirty years of experience with women, not to mention he’s a fucking doctor, he knows what an orgasm looks like (and sounds and tastes and feels like). He can tell each time you give up and move the focus away from your own pleasure, trying to distract him. This time though, he isn’t stopping until he gets what he wants. He moves his hands from where they rest passively on your thighs, one going to grip your hip and anchor you to him, the other coming to rest flat and warm on your lower stomach. You let out a moan at the feeling of his palm on your stomach, the feeling in your pelvis has grown into something that feels more tangible. So much so, that your legs begin to shake with it and you think you might actually cum this time. Robby thinks so too, feeling your thighs trembling on either side of his head. He groans softly into you, and chooses this moment to push down on your belly.

You jolt your head up in surprise, grip tightening on his head. “Fuck, Robby that feels good.”

He moans again in response, and thanks to your more upright position you catch his hips rolling into the mattress. Dutiful as ever, he continues applying pressure with his palm and doubles down with his tongue, pushing himself to go faster, harder, anything to feel you cum on his face.��

You’ve moved to be fully sitting up now, one hand behind you for support and the other firmly anchored in his hair. You grind your hips almost frantically, sweat beginning to collect on your face and neck, chasing an orgasm that is so close you can taste it.

“Oh,” you huff out followed by a hum that borders on whiny, “I think ‘m getting close.” Your teeth grit around the words, body tensing up in its pursuit of pleasure.

Robby opens his eyes to peer up at you. Your head has lolled back, eyes squeezed shut, your mouth now hangs open on a silent moan. Your clit has gotten more swollen than he thought it could and he can feel you getting wetter by the second, it’s practically dripping off his chin. You are so close, so nearly there.

And yet…

“Fuck,” you whine out, and not in a good way. Your hips stop their movement, thighs no longer shaking with pleasure. Robby slows his ministrations and watches as you flop onto your back once more, arms coming to rest over your face, pout evident on your lips.

With a grunt, he pulls himself up and crawls to lay beside you.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?” He places a hand on one of your arms, tugging gently to remove it, only to be met with firm resistance.

“No.”

“Please?”

You let out a sigh and allow him to move your arms off of your face. He pulls the one between you into his chest, interlacing your fingers with his.

Still refusing to look at him, you stare straight ahead at the ceiling. This close, Robby can see the tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. Your face is flushed, now from a mixture of embarrassment and exertion.

When you remain silent and continue to avoid his gaze Robby prompts you further.

“You’re okay, nothing to be embarrassed about,” his thumb rubs soothingly along the back of your hand, “All I want is to make you feel good, sweetheart. But, I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me about what's going on.”

Your eyes close tightly, tears finally spilling over and running down your cheeks as you nod in agreement. After a moment you open them again and finally turn to face him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper softly, eyes darting between his own. You elaborate a few moments later: “for not communicating.”

“It’s okay, what’s important is we’re talking now. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

Robby waits, prepared to begin asking you questions in a diagnostic manner if you don’t speak up, but is pleased when you begin without prodding.

“I- uhm,” a pause, “It takes a lot for me to uh- finish, most of the time.”

He hums in acknowledgment, scooting closer and pulling you into a quasi embrace, hand draped over your waist.

“Can you tell me what ‘a lot’ looks like for you?” Your eyes meet his again, unsure.

His voice is low, almost gravelly, “When you touch yourself, what do you like? How do you make yourself cum?”

He asks with genuine interest in learning how best to please you, but his manner of speaking makes you feel suddenly hot as your thighs squeezing together. Robby doesn’t miss it.

“I use my fingers mostly… but I have a vibrator too that I like. Mostly it just takes a really long time.”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he waits for your nod of assent, “There is nothing I would rather do than take my time making you feel good.”

Feeling at a loss for words, a small ‘okay’ escapes you.

“Good. Now, how about we try again and you tell me what you need from me, and we’ll go for as long as you want to. I would happily go all night without getting off if it meant I got to see you cum for me.”

A smile grows on his face as he speaks, the tone shifting from serious to playful once more. You mirror his energy, grinning as you respond, “That sounds really fucking nice.”

Forty seven minutes later (after Robby had all but tackled you into the bed for a solid makeout sesh and used his mouth once more to warm you back up) you find yourself perched on his lap, cock snug inside you. Robby sits with his back against the headboard, hands on your hips to guide the steady rock of your hips into his own. You have a tight grip on one of his shoulders to steady yourself, and an even tighter grip on the vibrator that you had sheepishly produced from the bedside drawer.

“Come on baby, you’re doing so good for me, take whatever you need,” he encourages, voice rough with his own pleasure.

“Feels really good, Robby,” you moan, resting your forehead against his as your hips pick up speed.

Robby rolls his own up to meet yours, feeling you start to clench around him periodically.

“I know it does, can feel you gettin’ all tight on me,” he laughs and all you can do is moan weakly in response. “Turn up the vibrator, you can take it sweetheart.”

He feels you almost shake your head no to his request, before giving in and increasing the speed.

“Oh- oh shit,” the effect is instant, your cunt feels so wet and warm as it grips him somehow tighter. Robby can feel his control starting to slip, and despite his earlier promise he knows he won’t last forever like this. Oh shit indeed.

“Feel so good around me. Tell me what you need, baby. Please,” He begs.

“Talk to me? Please, Robby ‘m so close, just wanna know I’m being good for you.”

“I got you baby, we’ll get you there. Me and that vibrator,” you both laugh at his comment, but Robby doesn’t lose focus for a second, using his grip to maintain your rhythm. “You’re doing so good, keep riding me just like this.”

Nodding, you can feel the tell tale signs of your orgasm starting to creep in. The relentless buzzing at your clit coupled with Robby’s assistance in rolling your hips back and forth have you barreling towards the edge.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just let it happen baby you’re right there, gripping me so fucking tight.”

Your movements start to grow erratic, hips beginning to lock up.

Robby reaches down and places his thumb over yours where it rests on the “up” button.

“Gonna look so pretty coming on my cock, such a good girl,” he presses his thumb down.

It comes on fast and strong. Your core is tightening as your back curves, your hips go dead still and lift ever so slightly as you shake on top of him. “Robby, please,” it comes out as a pitiful whine, begging him for something, anything, even as your orgasm is ripping through you.

“Fuck,” he grits out, hips slamming up into you, continuing to use his one hand to make sure the vibrator stays on your clit.

Robby can feel you still clenching around him as his own orgasm overtakes him, and he rides it out for as long as he can, groaning out incoherent praises as his hips begin to slow.

He’s brought back into reality when you whine frantically and at your joined hands holding the vibrator, suddenly oversensitive. Even without the stimulation, the aftershocks are powerful as you quake above him. He does his best to pull you back flush with his hips, tucking you into his chest as you ride it out.

After several minutes of holding you in his lap, Robby helps you to the bathroom, only teasing you for how bad your legs shake once. Once you’ve both cleaned up, you wind up back in bed.

“Thank you for that, I think you’ve ruined me for all other men.” You say it jokingly, but there’s nothing but truth behind the words.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He kisses the top of your head where it rests on your chest.

Just as you're drifting off to sleep you hear him mumble, “Do I need to be jealous of that vibrator?”

#michael robinavitch #the pitt #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robby robinavitch x you #smites fics #smites smut #dr robby smut

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yasministration · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Love your writing!

Could I request a fic with George x reader x Fred, or poly!Marauders x reader, either is fine, and a reader that loves to wear necklace because the boys always pull on it to grab her attention???

Necklace - Poly!Marauders

i love it. literally read the request and began making scenarios in my head. warnings: allusions to sex, suggestive 1k wc

The first time it happened, the action had come from an impatient Sirius, waiting for you to finish revising for your upcoming assessment. His restless whispers of your name and tireless poking had gone ignored. You were too used to it. However, when Sirius spotted the new addition of jewellery you bore around your neck, a lightbulb lit up in his mind. A loud gasp slipped out of your mouth when his finger curled around the necklace, tugging at it hard enough to pull your neck down slightly. Sirius waited for your reaction: would he get yelled at, or would you finally give him your attention. You turned your head to the side, looked at Sirius with a shocked look on your face. "Sirius." The exasperated yet amused sigh of his name had the boy smirking.

"Can I finally have your attention now?" With an arm now draped across your shoulders, you let the boy lean into you, pressing his lips against yours. Placing your pen on the table, you cupped Sirius's face, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He moaned quietly, the sound muffling in your mouth, and adjusted himself to hover over you slightly — something he only dared to do in the darkest corner of the library, otherwise you'd have his head. You parted from the kiss panting, looking up at your boyfriend with complete amazement, a laugh bubbling in your chest. "Sirius get down!" You whisper yelled at him, pushing his chest away from you. "Fine." The boy replied, with a grin too big for him to be up to any good. Sirius slipped onto his knees in front of you, parting your legs only for you to immediately shut them. "Absolutely not." You scolded, a hand tightly gripping his collar in a poor attempt to pull him back on the sofa booth. The boy pouted, climbing back next to you and pecking your lips a few times whilst saying in between kisses "Well at least come with me to the dorm."

And you had.

Sirius considered it a successful mission, laying down with you in his bed, getting your well-deserved rest after such intense events that had occured. He stroked your hair, watching your peaceful expressions while you slept, not having to worry about any of your boys. When the door opened and James and Remus had entered, stopping in their tracks at the view in Sirius's bed, he had grinned widely, telling them "You guys have to hear this." while James moaned "Without me?"

Remus had scolded Sirius at the time, saying something about 'being careful' and 'not hurting you', but now, looking at where you sat next to him in the common room, chatting with Marlene, he became curious. He rested his head on your shoulder, watching your face, becoming giddy at the hand you rested on his thigh, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be the centre of your attention now. Sirius and James sat on the opposite couch to you two, giving each other a look. This was unusual for Remus. The tall boy hesitantly reached up and tugged at the chain hanging on your chest. You barely felt the pull, but it was enough for you to avert your attention to him. "Hey, you." You mumbled, cocking your head to the side. The tired boy smiled softly, returning the greeting. You reached a hand up, brushing long strands of hair away from his eyes. "Want some attention, do you?" You mumbled, opening your palm face up on Remus's thigh for him to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Remus nodded, asking shyly "Can we go on a walk or something?" You hummed, standing up and excusing yourself from the conversation, guiding Remus out of the common room by the hand. Sirius's trick really did work.

Staring at yourself in the mirror a couple of weeks later, you began thinking. Sirius and Remus had taken advantage of the Christmas gift from your parents, using it to grasp your attention, but James hadn't. You hummed — Sirius had definitely told both of the boys about it, so what was stopping James?

It only happened with him later that day, when you were in the boys' dorm, feet kicked up on Sirius' lap with Remus sat by your side. James came storming through the door to their dorm, kicking his shoes off his feet and pulling frustratedly at his tie. The three of you sat up straighter, alarmed by the boy's irritation. You had a feeling that if anything else vexed him, he might burst into tears. James didn't greet any of you until he'd put on a comfortable jumper and joggers, walking over to Sirius to press a kiss on his forehead before doing the same with Remus, who placed a caring hand on his back. James strode over to you, hooking his finger around your necklace and pulling you upwards from where you sat.

Your eyes widened when James didn't let go of your precious necklace, in fear that it might snap. However, James only continued tugging at it, forcing you to stand from your seat until he was close enough to press his lips against yours. When you finally stood straight, throwing your arms over James's muscular shoulders and tangling a hand in his luscious waves, he secured his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground just slightly. You broke the kiss, gasping out James's name as Sirius teasingly wolf-whistled — a risk to take given the boy's mood.

James returned you to the ground, but didn't loosen his grip on you, instead digging his head into the crook of your neck as he muttered "Haven't seen you all week. Could only think about you all of detention." Your eyebrows furrowed with worry, and you asked "Who gave you detention?" "Slughorn. Could've been with you instead." You smiled, flattered by his words, and stage whispered "What to cuddle for a bit? We don't have to invite the other two." Mock complaints were immediately thrown by Remus and Sirius, who finally scoffed "We can also cuddle without you guys!"

You let James drag you to his bed, laying down so you can hold him in his arms before making eye contact with Remus, who finally stood up, walking over to you both, and leaned down to press a kiss on James's forehead. "We're here for you if you need anything, mate."

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taeyongdoyoung · 2 months ago

Text

t-t-teach me

summary: college life sucks. but at least you get to study with the hottest guy on campus... pairing: soobin x reader genre: college au, slight angst, smut, colleagues to study buddies to lovers warnings: academic setting, studying, mild allusions to anxiety/insecurities, reader is older than soobin, kissing, praise kink, size kink, handjob, fingering, lots of touching, protected sex (gasp), manipulation if you squint but it's all consensual, some lyrics references as usual author's note: someone on social media commented that soobin's "t-t-teach me" part in love language lowkey sounds like "t-t-touch me" and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are... word count: 2.2k

Your college life is pretty boring. Study, eat, study some more, eat again, sleep, repeat. So, when your most handsome colleague (in your humble opinion) asks you to help him study for the upcoming exams, you are tempted to agree.

"Pleaseee, Y/N," Soobin begs so cutely. The way his glasses are slightly tilted doesn't help your case. "I can even pay you!"

"I don't want your money, Soobin," you shake your head, determined to play with him a little longer. After all, it is not every day that such a hot guy acknowledges your existence.

"What do you want, then? I'd do anything, I really need to pass, my whole future depends on it."

"Well, shouldn't you have studied throughout the year?" you tease him. "Instead of, I don't know, partying or whatever it is you and your squad do."

"I don't even go to parties. I'm just in my dorm playing games all the time."

"Case in point," you tsk, pretending to be disappointed.

"Okay, I realize I should have taken the courses more seriously, but can you please consider it?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I told you already, the sky is the limit. Just t-t-teach me the material," he stammers sweetly. "When the professors do it, I literally can't focus and understand anything."

"You do realize this isn't an easy task, right? We have less than a month until finals. Even if I do help you study…I can't promise you'll pass."

"Where's your confidence, teacher?" Soobin pouts.

"I haven't agreed yet!"

"Oh, but you just did," Soobin is too adorable to say 'no' to.

So, this is how it starts. Every day, after your lectures end, you go to Soobin's dorm to study. You use every method that has been helpful for you throughout the years. Highlights, flashcards, quizzes, you try everything and anything in order to help Soobin understand the material. At the end of each week you prepare a short test that is meant to aid Soobin in revising the most important information. The first week, his results are disastrous. You honestly don't see any hope but you promised him you'd try your best so you keep modifying the material in order to improve his understanding. The second week, his results are still below average, but slightly better. By the third week, he has definitely reached the expected pass level.

"My God, Soobin, this is amazing progress!" you praise him honestly.

"Really? You think I'd be able to pass?" he asks, still worried about the upcoming exams.

"If you keep up the great work, you surely will," you are confident that he'll make it. "We have one more week until the first exam, I'm sure we'll manage to cover some more ground and revise the essentials."

"Yeah, I think there's still enough time to stick to the plan you made," Soobin nods thoughtfully.

"Here's an idea that might be motivational. If you pass all your exams, I'll reward you."

"Reward me how?" Soobin eyes you curiously.

"However you like."

"What about me paying you back?" Soobin reminds you of the original deal.

"You can just buy me dinner at that sushi place near the university," you suggest simply.

"Sounds good. I'll do my best to pass."

"I know you can do it!" at this point, you genuinely believe in him and are amazed to see how much he's improved.

The exam period starts sooner than you'd like and you now have less time for your study sessions with Soobin, prioritizing individual preparation instead. Honestly, you kind of miss seeing his pretty face every day and explaining things to him. Talking about the material out loud has been helpful for you, as well. The final exams pass by in a flash and now you only have to wait one more week for the results to come out.

"How do you think you did?" you ask Soobin on the phone.

"Ugh, don't ask," he complains. "Even though I felt like we covered all the material, having to explain it in my own words and provide examples was so draining. I have no idea how I did but don't get your hopes up."

"I see," you reply with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna ask how you did, because I'm pretty sure you nailed them," Soobin shuts down any possibility of boasting before it even started.

"Hey, the exams were pretty difficult for me, too," you mumble shyly.

"Yeah, yeah, talk to me again when you flaunt those 100 points."

"Just because I tend to get high results most of the time, doesn't mean I don't struggle," you express your feelings a little harsher than intended.

Soobin is stunned into silence.

"Sorry, that was insensitive of me to say. I guess I never realized how much effort you put into studying."

"It's okay, I'm used to being misunderstood," you answer sheepishly.

"Just because you're used to it, doesn't make it okay. Get some rest. You sure deserve it."

"You too, Soobin."

And with that, the phone call ends. Tensions run high as you anxiously check your email once every two hours for results. You probably care more about this than you should. Only this time your own results are not the only thing on your mind. You really want Soobin to be satisfied with the work he's done. Because you feel like you poured more energy into helping him and you would really hate to see him fail. Not only because you'd feel responsible for it, but because you genuinely like him and want to see him happy.

After what feels like forever, the results are out. Of course, you can only see your own due to privacy reasons. But you know Soobin has also received the same email as every other student. It is only the content that varies. You quickly check your stats and though you didn't get a 100 points everywhere, as Soobin jokingly suggested, you are still pretty proud of yourself. You eagerly grab your phone, meaning to call Soobin when you stop yourself in the last second.

What if he didn't pass all the exams? What if he doesn't want to talk about it? So, instead, you wait until he contacts you first. Luckily, you don't wait long.

"Come over" is the simple message he sends you.

You put on a jacket and practically sprint to his dorm. Is he okay? Is he inviting you over to celebrate or to drink his sorrows away? Your mind races and so do your legs as you near his room. A hesitant knock on his door. A quiet "It's open".

You cautiously enter and study Soobin's expressions in an attempt to read the room. He doesn't look depressed but he doesn't look ecstatic either. What's going on? You just need to know, the uncertainty is killing you.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Soobin asks you coldly.

"Uh…good news?" you mumble, feeling more nervous about whatever he has to say than about your own results.

"Good news is I passed all my exams. I got between 60 and 75 points on most of them."

"That's…incredible! Congratulations, Soobin!" you exclaim proudly. "I'm really happy for you! Wait…what are the bad news, then?"

"The bad news is…you promised me a reward," he whispers darkly.

"Why is that bad news?" you are utterly confused, as you sit down on the couch next to him. "You deserve to be rewarded, you worked so hard to accomplish this."

"That's true, but…I'm not sure you'll like the way I want to be rewarded."

"Anything is okay," you vow, not knowing what's in store for you. "I'll keep my word."

"Oh, I know you will," Soobin smirks and crashes his lips against yours, shocking you completely. Is this really happening? Did you just…both pass all your exams and are now kissing with the hottest guy in your university to celebrate?

"T-t-touch me," he begs so prettily who are you to reject him?

"Where do you want me to touch you?" you easily agree.

He grabs your hand and slides it under his shirt so that you are now caressing his abs. Fuck, his skin is so smooth and hard.

"You're so pretty," you mutter what you've been thinking every time you see him.

"I try to look my best for you," Soobin admits.

"Shut up," you shake your head in disbelief.

"Yes, teacher," he teases you.

"Don't call me that," you groan.

"What would you prefer? Ma'am?"

"Ugh, no, that makes me feel old," your eyes roll.

"Well, you are older than me. How about noona?" Soobin blinks cutely.

"Oh my God, do you ever shut up?"

"Touch me somewhere else," he doesn't ask this time, he demands. You don't even have the time to ask where he'd like to be touched before he's grabbed your wrist again and moves it right on top of his clothed cock. You're seriously gonna die. You're gonna die right in this moment and you won't even go to that cute sushi place. "Take my jeans off."

Your hands are shaking but you do your best to follow Soobin's orders. All your academic knowledge is completely useless in this moment. What you lack in practice, you try to make up for with enthusiasm. Stroking his length and licking him softly seem to do the trick and Soobin grows harder under your touch.

"Why are you so pretty?" you can't help but marvel.

"It's both a blessing and a curse," Soobin grunts loudly. "Wait, stop."

You immediately halt your movements, letting go of his cock.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" you ask nervously, almost getting teary-eyed at the thought.

"What? No, you're doing amazing, I just…didn't want to come yet."

"Oh, I see," you reply, even though you can't see shit. "When do you want to come?"

"Wrong question, teacher," Soobin disregards your preference for not being called that. But in this moment, you no longer care. "Replace the wh-word with another wh-word."

"Hmm," you ponder out loud. "Where do you want to come?"

"Inside you. If you'd let me."

"Erm, I'm not sure…" you try to find a polite say that you are not really interested in getting pregnant at this point of your life.

"Relax, I've got condoms," Soobin laughs at you gently. "We can save the risky activities for after graduation."

He's already thinking that far into the future?

Soobin touches your folds gently, trying to ease your worries.

"Does it feel good?"

"So good, Soobin," you confess.

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly, as his long finger stretches you open. "Bet I can teach you a thing or two myself."

"I believe you," you sigh wistfully, as you near your high.

While Soobin puts on protection, you try to think of a logical solution as to how this will work. Honestly, you are too wet to care but his enormous size is still intimidating. Your brain seems incapable of coming up with a formula, so you give up entirely. Thinking only makes it worse.

When he slides inside of you, the feeling is so overwhelming you need something to keep you from falling apart.

"Talk to me," you beg.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Soobin asks.

"Anything."

"Linguistics is the scientific study of language. The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax, morphology, phonetics and-"

"Oh my God, really?" you scoff in disbelief. "Exams are over, let's put that behind us."

"What's your love language?" Soobin wants to know.

"Probably words of affirmation. What's yours?"

"Same. Quality time, as well," he responds.

"Oh yeah, definitely," you agree.

"You're taking me so well," Soobin immediately puts the newfound knowledge to use.

"You're fucking me so well," you whisper sincerely.

And this is all it takes for you two burst in each other's arms, experiencing pleasure like never before.

Once you've dutifully helped clean each other up and are cozied up underneath the sheets, the time for a more serious conversation arrives.

"I don't wanna lose this," Soobin gestures in the air between the two of you.

"We can keep studying together," you reply dumbly.

"That's not what I meant," Soobin chuckles. "Wanna spend time with you. We don't have to be studying, we can watch movies and I can teach you how to play games and…other stuff."

"I like the sound of that," you smile warmly.

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Soobin blurts out.

"Oh?"

"Deep down, I knew I'd pass the exams somehow," Soobin whispers. "I just couldn't be bothered to study. Needed an excuse to get close to you."

You can't even be mad at him.

"I have a confession, as well," you say in return. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to know more about you. I could tell you're smart."

"Is it the glasses?" Soobin pouts adorably, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah, you just give off that…sexy nerdy vibe. Glasses or no glasses."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is. From one nerd to another."

"I can live with that," Soobin flicks your nose playfully.

"You still owe me sushi, by the way. For helping you study."

"Oh, teacher. Sushi is not the only thing you'll be eating tonight."

The End

#txt #soobin #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #txt imagines #soobin imagines #writing

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aquarius-johnny · 1 month ago

Text

Taste. | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: smut | wc: 7.5k | deadly sins series | m.list navi pairing: virgin! jaehyun x afab! reader warnings: virginity loss (m), oral (m & f), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, protected & unprotected sex, piv, creampie, accidental release in mouth, begging (mainly from jaehyun), checking in, confessions, ambiguous ending, friends to lovers, positions — cowgirl/standing missionary/mating press, pet names — baby summary: your best friend, jaehyun, has asked you to do the biggest favor for him — take his virginity! you, being a good friend, agrees only for it to not go as exactly as planned… both sexually and romantically. | deadly sin: gluttony a/n: this has gone through so many revisions, it’s not even funny anymore (ᵕ—ᴗ—) and as i’m getting through the list, it’s getting harder and harder to make it not sound similar to the ones before. hopefully the theme of gluttony is noticeable because if not i’m throwing away this whole blog heheh enjoy!

As you put away the groceries you bought earlier, you hear your phone ring a familiar tone that was set by your best friend.

“Hey Jae,” you greet as you hold your phone between your ear and shoulder, unpacking the gallon of milk before shoving it into your refrigerator.

“Hey, I’m outside. Could you open your door? I don’t think your doorbell is working.” Jaehyun asks. “Tried knocking, but I don’t think you could hear me.”

“Oh! Sorry, I was listening to music.” You giggle, making your way to your front door.

As you open it, you both bring your phone down from your ear, Jaehyun hanging up on his end. He walks in, removing his shoes before following you to your kitchen.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask, sticking your arm in the big brown paper grocery bag to fish out the vegetables you were planning to use for dinner.

“I wanted to ask you for a favor,” he softly lets out before he helps you unpack your groceries, knowing where you keep your canned foods and potato chips.

“A favor you couldn’t ask over the phone?”

“It’s not really something you ask someone in general, but I thought I’d give it a try.”

Halting your movements, you turn to face him. Taking note of his demeanor, you notice a hint of nervousness — he’s looking down at his feet, avoiding eye contact with you and he’s pulling down on the collar of his sweater as if it’s constricting his ability to breathe.

“What is it?” Your movements are slower now, anticipating his words before you commit to putting more of your groceries away. You stick your hand into the paper bag once more and take out whatever is left at the bottom.

“Here me out, okay?” He starts off. “Have sex with me.”

Taken aback, you run through a series of emotions before finally finding the words to respond to him.

“I’m sorry, excuse me?” You’re shaking your head in disbelief. “Did I hear you correctly? Have sex with you?”

“Yes.”

“Jaehyun I need more context, please.”

“I need you to take my virginity,” he sighs.

“I need to?” You repeat. “What are you talking about?”

Jaehyun lifts himself onto the kitchen counter next to you, nearly bracing himself to give you a long winded explanation.

“I’m sick of being the virgin of the group,” he whines. “I hate having to lie about it when my friends ask about it. It’s genuinely embarrassing.”

“Then don’t lie.”

“Too late,” he rolls his eyes. “Come on, you see how ruthless the guys are. I’m not putting myself through that ridicule from them.”

“Fine, alright I understand that, they can be dicks about it but you literally have a pool of women to choose from. Go to the bar or club and you’ll have a bunch of people to lose your virginity to, why are you asking me?”

“Because,” he groans. “You’re a lot kinder about my predicament than anyone else and I trust you. You won’t judge me.”

Your heart sinks at your friend’s desperation. You see how horrible his friends can be even though you know for a fact some of them are playing up their sexual experiences, just like Jaehyun. You stay quiet, contemplating his offer.

Your silence forces him to say something, anything, to push the idea to the side, already regretting asking for the favor.

“If you don’t want to, I understand. It’s a lot to ask.” He speaks up, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I’ll figure it out,” he chuckles. “I shouldn’t have put you in this position, I’m sorry.”

You know he’s not trying to guilt trip you. He would never coerce you into something like this. You know your best friend well enough to understand that he’s thought a lot about what he’s asking.

“When do you wanna do it?” You question, heat running under your skin as you look at Jaehyun.

He scrunches his eyebrows at your question. “You’re serious?” He tugs on his bottom lip before pulling on the collar of his sweater again.

“Yes.”

“Why?” He’s shocked — shocked that you agreed and shocked that he’s actually going to stick his dick into something that isn’t his fist.

“Because,” you stand in front of him, placing both hands on his thighs. “You’re my best friend and I can see how much this is bothering you. If this is how I can help you, then I will. So… when do you wanna do it?”

“When are you free?”

“Does tomorrow night work for you?”

He nods, a relieved expression painted on his face before he pulls you in for a hug.

A familiar knocking pattern is heard on your front door and you’re greeted by a painfully nervous Jaehyun.

“Hey,” he smiles, trying his best to hide his trembling voice.

“Hey, come on in.” Stepping aside, you watch him take off his shoes and strip himself of his jacket — leaving him in a white t-shirt and his dark blue jeans.

He rubs his hands together, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with you. “Do you,” he clears his throat. “Still want to do this? I was thinking a lot about it and if you changed your mind, we could watch a movie or go out to dinner instead.”

“Oh,” you pause, the singular syllable holding a punch of disappointment. “Did you change your mind?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “No,” he shakes his head. “But if you did, I’m okay with that.”

Relief washes over you. “I haven’t changed my mind,” you grin before grabbing his hand. “Come on, we can do it in my room.”

He follows without protest.

You notice his palms are a little sweaty and he looks around your room as if he hasn’t been there millions of times before. You close the door behind him as he stands awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“Jaehyun,” you sigh. “Do you really want to do this?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers. “It’s just, I want to be one hundred percent sure you’re okay with it. I thought about it last night and —”

You quickly press your lips on his, swiftly cutting his sentence midway. Your hands slowly caress the sides of his face, allowing his hands to rest on your waist. Deepening the kiss, your tongue runs along his bottom lip silently begging for access to his tongue in which he gladly parts his lips. Rolling your tongue over his, he lets out a tiny hum, letting you know he’s enjoying it before you slowly pull away.

“Does that prove I’m really okay with this?” You giggle, hands still pressing against the sides of his face.

He nods, eyes hungrily locked onto your lips before leaning in to give you another frantic kiss. Your fingers tangle itself in his hair and his arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer to him, arching your back in the process.

You feel his bulge through his jeans as he continues to move his lips with yours.

When he pulls away, he’s breathless and dizzy from the rush of emotions all at once.

You lead him to your bed, inviting him to make himself comfortable before you take the opportunity to straddle him, feeling his erection harden under your covered heat. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you lift his chin to gently guide his eyes to meet yours. Slowly rolling your hips against him, he gasps, causing you to proudly smile.

“Can you take off your shirt?” You ask, tugging on the collar of his white tee.

Pulling the back of his shirt over his head and in one swift move, it’s off his body and on your bedroom floor.

“Can you take off yours?” He nervously asks, earning an endearing smile from you.

“Why don’t you take it off for me?” You giggle, guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt.

He gladly lifts it up and over your head with your assistance, leaving your upper body bare and exposed for him. Jaehyun tries to bite back a smile only to have his dimples betray him.

Without a word, you guide his large hands up the sides of your waist and to your breasts knowing he won’t do it himself.

“Can I?” He breathily asks, licking his lips before his brown eyes innocently look at you for approval.

You nod, your fingers running through his hair before your nails softly rub his fresh undercut.

Pushing your breasts together, he traces his tongue around your perky nipples before sucking them into his mouth. He flicks his tongue against your nipple, causing a tingling sensation to run through your body before peppering kisses against your supple skin.

His hands move to the sides of your neck, pulling you into another intoxicating kiss. He’s hungry for you. He needs you in every way.

Tugging on your bottom lip before his kisses turn sloppy, he moves from your lips to the side of your neck and collarbone — clearly allowing himself to let loose.

You feel him suck on the tender skin on the crook of your neck, ensuring to leave a remembrance of this night while wrapping his arms around your waist. You’re unable to squirm away from him and you’re forced to enjoy the warmth of his chest.

“Have you ever gotten head before?” You ask, whispering in his ear.

He shakes his head, lips still attached to your skin.

“Do you want me to?”

He pulls away, looking up at you. “If y-you want,” he stutters nervously.

“Do you want me to?” You repeat, a smile pulling from the corner of your lips.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I want you to. Please.”

You place a sweet, soft kiss on his swollen lips before trailing kisses down his neck, chest, and abdomen. You begin to undo his pants and with his help, you pull the fabric down his thighs and legs before throwing it to the side. You position yourself between his legs and slip his erection out of his underwear, finally freeing his length from the restrictive fabric.

He’s rock solid — veins protruding against his shaft and his blushing mushroom tip leaking a trail of precum. Not to mention his impressive size.

“It’s a shame you’ve been keeping this to yourself,” you let out, looking up at your best friend as you slowly begin to stroke his length. “It’s honestly selfish of you if you ask me.”

Jaehyun’s cheeks bloom a red tint that spreads and paints his pale chest, embarrassed at your praise and too overwhelmed by your touch.

Your lips wrap around his tip and it’s music to your ears when you hear him let out a deep, throaty groan. Sinking further, you feel his tip hit the back of your throat only to realize you aren’t able to take all of him in. Your mind races at this revelation and excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

Jaehyun holds your hair out of your face, watching your lips wrap perfectly around his girthy member. Your hand compensates for the area of his shaft you’re unable to take into your mouth, slicking up and down, and occasionally twisting your wrist.

Jaehyun throws his head back and begins biting the bottom of his lip to hold back his whimpers. His body tenses up and his fingers rake your bedsheets under him.

Swirling your tongue against his sensitive tip proves to be too much for him when you suddenly feel warm ropes of thick liquid shoot into your mouth without warning.

Swallowing what’s in your mouth, you look up at your best friend who looks down at you in shock before profusely apologizing.

“Dammit,” he groans, brows furrowed. “I knew you giving me head would be too risky.” His eyes close and his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated.

Sitting on your knees next to him, you attempt to comfort him by rubbing his arm. “I don’t think sticking it in me would have been any better.” You say in an attempt to make him feel better.

“Yeah, but then at least I wouldn’t have been a virgin.” Another frustrated groan leaves him. “I’m so sorry I wasted your time.”

You give him a sympathetic laugh as you push his hair back. “Don’t be sorry, I told you I’d help you and I will. Do you want to stay the night? We can pick up where we left off in the morning.”

“I’m seeing my parents tomorrow for lunch and the drive is pretty brutal,” he pouts. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“I can clear my schedule for you,” you grin.

“No, don’t do that.” He places his hand on your thigh. “If you’re busy, we can do it another time.”

“I want to,” you reassure him. Quickly grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you text the group chat with your friends and let them know something came up and you won’t be able to make it. “And I’m officially yours tomorrow night,” you tell him with a toothy grin.

You disappear into your bathroom to grab a warm washcloth for your best friend, helping him wipe off the mess he made when you return to your previous spot.

“Do you want to grab something to eat or watch a movie?” You ask, attempting to toss the washcloth into the hamper near your bedroom door before you feel a tug on your arm, catching your attention.

“I want you to teach me how to make you feel good,” he says, eyes locked onto yours and begging for your approval.

“W-what?” You stutter before Jaehyun’s hand wraps behind your neck, pulling you to his lips.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he repeats between kisses. “I wanna make tonight worth it for you.”

An eruption of butterflies flutters your stomach. You feel an arousal build in your core, hearing the words spill out of Jaehyun’s mouth — his voice low and smooth. You allow your body to fall into your mattress with Jaehyun falling on top of you, his lips still attached to yours. Soon enough, you feel his lips attacking your neck, swirling and sucking on your skin.

“Show me what you can do,” you breathily let out.

His hand palms your breast, rolling and pulling your aroused nipples between his fingers before his tongue takes over. His swollen lips trail open mouth kisses down your cleavage and to your stomach.

You guide his hands to the waistband of your shorts before instructing him to help you take it off.

He happily complies, throwing your shorts and underwear behind him without a second thought.

You grip his chin and lead him up to your lips, which he gladly adheres to. Grabbing his hand, you bring his middle and ring finger to your mouth and suck on it — watching Jaehyun’s mouth slightly part at the sight of your lips wrapped around his digits.

He slowly pumps his slender fingers into your mouth as you roll your tongue. Taking a hold of his wrist, you slowly guide his fingers down to your slit, sliding them up and down to collect your wetness before instructing him to trace circles on your bud of sensitive nerves.

“Keep doing that,” you instruct as he tilts his head towards you, allowing you to give him a kiss. You continue to guide him with your words, instructing the speed and pressure in which he gladly follows well. Soon enough you feel the tension in your stomach tighten. Your breathing shallows and your toes begin to curl from the satisfaction.

“I’m so close,” you whimper, biting down on your bottom lip.

Jaehyun continues to rub his fingers against your clit at a steady pace, pushing you over the edge within seconds. Your whimpers are silenced with his kisses.

He swallows your moans and he continues stroking your soaking pussy until you ride out your high with his fingers. Slowly sliding a finger into you, he pumps it a few times before sliding in another finger.

You feel a slight stretch as Jaehyun tries to soothe the uncomfortable feeling with his lips against the crook of your neck, sucking on your skin desperately. Pumping slowly inside of you, you feel yourself loosen around his digits.

“Curl your fingers,” you softly instruct him.

Jaehyun does what you say, causing you to let out a satisfied exhale when he grazes your sweet spot. He continues to pump his fingers, harsher this time, as he curls his fingers like you taught him. His lips never straying away from the crook of your neck. He takes it upon himself to speed up his movements, the sounds of your squelching cunt bounces off your bedroom walls as the palm of his hand meets your clit when he’s knuckles deep into your pussy. He roughly moves inside of you, causing your jaw to drop as bliss washes over you.

You feel your abdomen tighten and the sounds rolling off your tongue grow louder and louder, giving Jaehyun encouragement.

“Gonna come, baby?” He asks against your skin.

You nod rapidly, feeling Jaehyun smirk.

He feels your cunt tighten and your walls pulse around his digits. Jaehyun pulls another intense orgasm out of you. Your jaw drops, watching his fingers disappear inside of you through lidded eyes before you take a hold of his hand to halt his movements when his palm rubs against your sensitive clit.

He brings his fingers to his lips, licking off the wetness that covered his digits — tasting your arousal.

Your face heats up in embarrassment at the lewd sight, knowing your best friend is tasting your juices.

Jaehyun gently tucks your hair behind your ear, rubbing your heated cheek with his thumb to comfort you.

“How many orgasms have you had in one night?” He asks, his lips softly brushing against your exposed shoulder before dragging it under your jaw.

You swallow hard. “The most was 3,” you giggle. “Why?”

He hums, trailing soft kisses from your jaw and up to your cheek. Jaehyun’s finger guides you to look at him before pressing his lips against yours.

“I wanna give you my thanks,” he lets out before repositioning himself with his knee between your thighs. “Can I eat you out?” He asks as his calloused hands rub against your waist and thighs as you’re reeling from your back to back orgasms.

You nod your head slowly.

Jaehyun opens up your legs before dipping between your thighs, hot breath breathing against your sex. He delves between your folds, licking strips with the tip of his tongue. When he finds your clit, you let out a loud gasp — giving him the encouragement needed to continue what he’s doing. Focusing on your sensitive bud, he kisses, flicks, and sucks on it, causing moans to slip between your lips.

“Keep going,” you softly order. “Feels so good.”

Jaehyun slides his finger into your entrance causing you to gasp from the feeling. He slowly pumps into you, curling his fingers and showing you what he’s learned.

You push his hair back, watching as his tongue flicks against your clit and how his mouth wraps around your clit before feeling him suck to his heart’s content.

A fire in your stomach ignites and your fingers firmly grip on his hair, hearing him let out a groan as you tug on it.

Jaehyun pushes against your thighs, widening your spread. The pads of his fingers dig into your skin and he flattens his tongue, licking a long, teasing strip between your folds before he quickly flicks the tip against your clit, keeping his movements consistent.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper. “Keep going please.”

Jaehyun’s movements don’t falter and he pushes you to your orgasm, helping you ride it out. He feels you jolt under him and he chuckles against your heat at your overstimulation as he continues his movements.

“W-what’re you doing,” you stutter, trying to pull yourself up the bed only to be pulled back down with Jaehyun’s strong arms.

“You taste too good to stop, I want more.” He murmured against you.

“You don’t have to.” You let out a squeal then a giggle when he begins to suck on your clit again. He locks his fingers together over your stomach, keeping you in place before lifting his head — your arousal glistening against his perfectly shaped lips.

“I want to. Like I said,” he kisses your inner thigh. “I want more.” He drags his soft lips against your skin and back to your slit.

He devours you over and over again — eating and slurping you up like a horrendously starved and thirst deprived man until you’re coming on his tongue. Your vision blurs and your mind goes dizzy.

“Jaehyun,” you loudly whimper. “I-I need a break.” Your heart thumps hard against your chest, feeling like you just finished running a marathon.

Your best friend lifts his head between your legs, innocently looking up at you. You kick your blanket towards him, telling him to use it to wipe your juices off his lips.

“I’ll get you some water.” He stands, puts his underwear on, then leaves your bedroom.

Pulling yourself up and resting against your headboard, you try to steady your breathing as you shut your eyes to stop the room from spinning. You hear your fridge open and Jaehyun quickly returns with two water bottles in his hand.

“Was it too much?” Jaehyun asks, watching you slowly flutter your eyes open to look at him. He holds out an opened water bottle for you before opening the other for himself — placing himself next to you and using your blanket to cover your nude body for you.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him before taking a long sip of water, nearly finishing half of it in one go. “I just never had so many orgasms before. For a virgin, you know how to work that mouth of yours.” You giggle, placing your bottled water on the nightstand next to you.

Jaehyun presses the opening of the bottle against his lips, pausing to smile at your compliment before he drinks.

“Faked any of them?” He jokingly asks, securing the cap onto his bottle. “If you did, lie to me. I don’t wanna know.” He chuckles, taking your hand into his.

“Fortunately for us,” you nudge his shoulder with yours. “All six of them were very much real.”

“Six, huh?” His brows lift in surprise, his dimpled smile bigger than it was before. “Wanna make it a lucky seven?”

“Shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes at his comment.

“I’m serious.”

You snap your sights onto his face, silently reading his expression. “You’re not tired? C’mon, your jaw must be in pain by now, right?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

Jaehyun’s hand pets the back of your head. “You’re always putting others before yourself.” He states, inches away from his lips. “It won’t kill you to be selfish for once.” He presses kisses against your neck before slowly pressing his lips down your collarbone.

“Stop me if you don’t want me to continue,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Keep going,” you whisper.

Jaehyun peels your blanket away from your body and throws it to the side, making his way between your legs once again and having you open wide for him. Grabbing a hold of your waist, he roughly pulls you down until your cunt meets with his lips.

“You’re insane, you know that?” You jokingly remark before you gasp, feeling his fingers slide between your folds again.

He gives you a quick lick before lifting his head. “I’d say more of a glutton with a strong desire to please,” he says before flashing you a wicked smirk.

“Deadly combination,” you smile.

“With fantastic results,” he adds.

Without a second thought, he spreads your lips open before working his tongue over your pussy again. This time, his movements are slower and a lot more sensual than previously. He’s taking in your taste, enjoying every bit of it. His tongue explores every crevice of your sweet heat. The sounds escaping your lips adds to his experience.

His hands find yours before lacing his fingers between your fingers — a gesture you find extremely intimate under the circumstances that got you in the situation to begin with.

Soon enough, the familiar feeling begins to settle inside of you and you’re arching your back from pleasure. Jaehyun lets go of your hands to keep you in place as he helps you through your release.

You’re writhing — lightheaded and floating on cloud nine when you’re overwhelmed by pure bliss. Biting down on your bottom lip, you muffle your whimpers and moans as Jaehyun’s mouth continues to suck on your swollen clit.

“S-stop,” you mumble, your muscles going limp from pleasure.

Jaehyun’s soft lips kiss your inner thighs once more before he lifts his head to meet your glazed eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks as his palms rub against your soft skin to soothe you.

You simply nod — eyes shut and chest heaving up and down as you try to recollect yourself.

“Want me to order your favorite meal?” He chuckles, pushing the thought of going out to a place to eat out of his mind — considering your exhaustion.

“Please,” you give him a tiny laugh. “Thank you.”

When you receive a text from Jaehyun letting you know he’s outside, you hastily make your way to your front door. You swing your door open to find your best friend holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“What’s that?” You ask, knitting your brows in confusion.

“For you,” he smiles, extending his arm to give you the gift as he steps in. “A thank you for last night.”

You giggle, carefully holding it in your hands and excitedly making your way to fetch a vase to put them in as Jaehyun trails behind you.

“If I remember correctly, you already said thank you last night.” You quickly cut the bottom stems of the bouquet as Jaehyun watches. “Seven times to be exact.” You smirk, looking over at a shy Jaehyun who tries, and fails, to hold back a smile.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “Just another way of saying thank you, then.”

As you place the vase of flowers in the middle of your dining table, you catch Jaehyun’s eyes wandering down to the hem of your oversized shirt that ends mid thigh before he meets your eyes — ears tinting as deep red, embarrassed he got caught checking out his best friend.

“Did you bring condoms?” You question, taking one of his hands into yours.

“Yeah.” He fishes for the pack in the pocket of his jeans before handing it over to you.

You quickly scan the box, nodding your head in approval — although you didn’t have much of a preference. “Good,” you smile before slinging your arms over his broad shoulders and pulling him to your lips. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Jaehyun wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his pelvis. You’re already feeling his large bulge pressing against you.

“Me too,” he whispers between kisses. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” He confesses, pulling away from your lips.

“Glad to hear,” you giggle. “Let’s make sure you lose your virginity tonight.”

You quickly make your way to your bedroom and Jaehyun closely follows behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist. Casually tossing the box of rubbers on your nightstand, Jaehyun quickly spins you to capture your lips with his.

You frantically help Jaehyun remove his clothes while he does the same with yours, leaving both of you completely nude before you both stumble onto your bed. This time, Jaehyun invites you to straddle his lap.

You comply, feeling his thick, warm, and veiny shaft settle against your slit. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth, Jaehyun’s pink tinted lips part and a shaky breath escapes.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, amazed and grinning from ear to ear. His words spill out no louder than a whisper as his eyes slowly glance up from your core to your stomach, then up your chest, before meeting your eyes.

His tongue delves into your mouth, rolling over yours and taking your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a soft tug before letting go — a gesture that drives you crazy.

“Let me taste you again,” he begs, pressing desperate pecks against your cheek. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You smile at his revelation, relishing his unexpected needy demeanor. “Yeah?” You tease. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Sit on my face baby,” he groans. “I wanna make you come.” Jaehyun quickly lowers his body until his mouth meets your sweet pussy.

“Jae,” you whine, surprised at his movements. “I don’t — I haven’t sat on someone’s face before.” You confess, heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes, his warm breath against your heat before he presses a soft and innocent kiss against your aching clit. “I’ll do all the work. Just stay like this and don’t hold back.”

You grip your headboard, slightly hovering over his mouth as his tongue works its way around your wet folds. A giggle escapes and you feel his tongue flatten before swerving side to side against your bundle of nerves.

Jaehyun’s arms pull you down with a grunt, forcing you to properly sit on him. His fingers press into your hips from behind you, preventing you from squirming away. He moves his mouth frantically against you, eyes peering up as you rake your fingers through his hair.

Jaehyun gropes and harshly squeezes your ass. His palms slide against your skin and to your waist, his nails dragging against your skin. He guides your hips back and forth, encouraging you to move your hips against his tongue. As he begins to suck on your clit, you feel your empty walls flutter.

Using his tongue, you grind against it just as he instructed. You quickly inch closer and closer to your climax. The tight coil snaps suddenly and you jerk at the feeling of Jaehyun’s tongue flicking against your clit.

Your attempt to lift yourself off him fails when Jaehyun pulls you back down to his mouth, continuing his movements on your overly sensitive clit and causing you to twitch as his tongue swipes against you.

“Jae,” you gasp.

“Just one more, baby.” He growls, palming your thighs. “Just one more for me, please. I need it. I need you.”

Your face grows hot and your skin prickles hearing his words — words you never expected to hear from your best friend.

With each flick of his tongue, you’re twitching above him. Your sweet, sensitive, and overwhelmed clit aches with pleasure as Jaehyun begins to suck on it knowing you’re merely seconds away from becoming undone.

The air thickens and your pulse quickens as a familiar feeling approaches quickly. Your body begs for a release as you hear Jaehyun slurp the wetness dripping out of you.

“I’m close,” you croak. You cry out his name and he doesn’t budge until he pulls another intense orgasm from you.

His movements slowly come to a stop and he flutters soft kisses against your swollen clit before allowing you to finally get off him. You melt into your bed as you try to catch your breath.

He shifts to reposition himself against the headboard. “You okay?” He questions, biting the corner of his bottom lip as he smiles. He lifts the back of his hand to wipe your wetness that’s glistening on his chin.

Lunging towards his lips, you catch him by surprise that causes him to chuckle at your actions. You take his erection into your hand, giving him a few slow pumps and allowing a pool of spit to fall onto his reddened mushroom tip before using your hand to spread it against his length.

Jaehyun reaches over to open up the new box of condoms before he rolls one on. When he does, you quickly position yourself on top of him and carefully guide his tip to your entrance.

You slowly sink onto him, feeling his tip stretch out your cunt and mold to his impressive size.

“Oh my god,” Jaehyun whispers, biting down on his bottom lip before his jaw drops at the feeling of you around him. His hands desperately grip onto your breasts, pushing them together and nipping your soft skin around your nipples.

When he completely fills you up, you go still for a moment to adjust to his size. The tingling around your nipples add to the ecstasy you’re experiencing.

When Jaehyun leaves your breasts with a pop, he quickly meets your lips with his, pulling you down and onto his chest.

“You feel—” he stammers. “Like heaven.” His lips messily move against yours, already intoxicated with the feeling of being inside of you. His arms pin you against his chest before lifting his hips into you.

You gasp against his lips and he lets out a trembling exhale.

“Sorry,” he gulps. “Was that too much?”

You shake your head. “I’m ready,” you whisper. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

And with your permission, he finally lets loose. He frantically drives himself into you, holding onto your body and keeping you in place when you jerk forward with every thrust. The room fills with your whimpers, his grunts, and the sounds of skin slapping against each other.

You’re intoxicated. Desperate for more — for him.

In one quick motion, you’re now under him — trapped between his body and the mattress. His eyes soften at the sight of you before he peppering soft, gentle kisses against your cheek.

“Are you okay?” He checks in, breathlessly.

“Yeah,” you swallow. “Don’t stop, I want you to feel good.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “You feel amazing,” he softly praises as he gently sweeps his lips against your cheek before ghosting above your lips. “You’re absolutely perfect.” Each word is punctuated by a deep thrust of his hips.

Your fingers comb through his hair before finally pulling him down to your lips. The way he passionately kisses you contrasts heavily with how his hips selfishly splits you open but somehow both move as if it knows this is their last time with you.

Heat spreads under your skin and the familiar pleasure building in the pit of your stomach causes the ache between your thighs to heighten.

“I’m gonna come,” you frantically warn.

“Me too,” Jaehyun mumbles.

When your orgasm washes over you, you fall apart — your shattered breath is heard as you tremble from the pleasure. You cling onto your best friend as if you’re stopping him from leaving you.

His grip tights around you and his hips begin to falter when he bucks into you. When he freezes, he allows his release to fill the tip of his latex protection.

He collapses onto your body, chest heaving up and down. Your fingers gently scratch the back of his head, his eyes slowly closing and focusing on the comfort you’re radiating. You both lay there for a moment, basking in each other’s presence.

That is until his phone rings and catches both of your attention, pulling you out of the moment and shoving you back into reality. He quickly pulls out of you to retrieve his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey,” he greets the caller. You watch Jaehyun throw away the used condom before getting dressed as you lounge on your bed with an unreadable expression on your face. “Y-yeah, uh, I’ll be there. Just give me like 30 minutes.” It’s clear he’s still reeling from his orgasm and you assume the caller notices too. “My breathing?” He turns to look at you. “Oh, I just got done with an intense workout.”

You give him a thumbs up, playfully approving the lie he just told one of his friends.

“I’m leaving now, I’ll see you guys soon.” Jaehyun informs the caller before hanging up.

“No pillow talk?” You giggle. “That’s brutal.”

“Didn’t think you’d be the cuddling type,” he softly laughs. “I’m sorry, I forgot I promised the guys I would go with them to this—”

“It’s alright,” you lie. “I’ll walk you out.” You throw on the old worn out t-shirt on the floor before leading Jaehyun to your front door.

“Thanks,” Jaehyun pauses. “You’re a really great friend for helping me with this. I owe you one.”

“Yeah,” you softly chuckle. The stinging in your chest heightens. “You were desperate, it’s the least I could do.” You playfully and awkwardly nudge him in the arm.

He slowly nods. “Have a good night.” Jaehyun lifts his hand to the back of his neck. For a second, he’s unsure if he should give you a hug or a kiss.

“You too. Have fun tonight,” you force a smile before opening the door and ultimately making up Jaehyun’s mind. “Drive safely.”

Jaehyun gives you a nod before walking out. The door slowly shuts and you lean against it, exhaling the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Your mind replays the night and you mentally scold yourself for your naive thoughts that there was something more.

When Jaehyun makes it to his destination, he sits in his car in silence — hands gripped tightly around his steering wheel and his jaw clenched, already regretting leaving you the way he did and missing you more than he should.

It’s been a week since you’ve heard from Jaehyun. Your heart aches at the thought of your friendship changing, but you convince yourself to give him some time — hoping things will fall back into normalcy.

Cuddling into yourself on your living room sofa, your eyes mindlessly stare at your television screen as your childhood comfort show plays and you pull your blanket over your body.

A low rumble of thunder echoed through the vast sky as the dark, charcoal clouds continued to roll in. Rain accompanies the dreary evening and continues to hammer against your glass window.

You’re caught off guard when you hear your doorbell ring — mind wondering who would be idiotic enough to be out as a storm brews above the city.

Squinting an eye to peer through the peephole, your front door hastily flies open at the sight of a drenched Jaehyun standing outside. His dark shirt clings onto his body for dear life as the tips of his hair drip water onto the ground beneath him. His eyes slowly lift to meet yours — glassy, bloodshot, and flooding with regret.

Without a word, you harshly pull him into your apartment, worried about the cold he’ll catch being drenched in rain.

“Wait here, I’ll grab you a towel.” You turn on your heel only to feel an ice cold touch on your forearm.

“Wait,” he whispers.

“Jae, you’re gonna get sick.” You pull your arm from his grasp before making your way to your linen closet to grab a bunch of towels to help wipe him down.

When you return, you quickly instruct him to remove his soaking clothes, assuring you’ll give it a wash. When he doesn’t comply, you open your mouth to say something only for him to swiftly press his lips against yours.

The taste of alcohol still lingers on his lips and it trembles against yours — almost unsure if he should be doing this; if he was allowed to kiss you again.

He pulls away just a bit, enough for your lips to chase after his. “You’re always just out of reach,” he lets out. “I want to stop chasing. I want to have you.”

Crashing his lips into yours, his urgency ripples through his body and into you. You quickly lift the hem of his soaked t-shirt up his body and over his head as a plop is heard when you let it fall against the floor beneath you.

He does the same with yours, leaving you in your underwear, before pressing your back against the nearest wall, caging your body with his. He trembles — maybe from the cold, maybe from your touch, but his movements don’t stop when he begins to undo the button of his jeans. The fabric bunches around his feet before he kicks them to the side.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he begs. “That what I feel for you is okay.”

You nod frantically. “It’s okay.” You softly speak against his lips. “I want you, too.”

A shattered breath parted his lips. “Say it again,” he gulps. “Say you want me. I need to hear it.”

“I want you,” you chant as if it’s a ritual to keep him with you, even if it's for a moment.

He presses his body against yours. Shockwaves jolt through your body and a gasp escapes as his cold skin greedily and desperately swallows some of the warmth you radiate.

Hooking an arm behind your knee, he holds it up as the tip of his cock probes your covered entrance. You pull the fabric to the side and guide it to the base of your hole. With your silent permission, Jaehyun slowly pushes his hips up and into you — slowly filling you up until he isn’t able to anymore.

“I can’t stop thinking about the way you feel,” he breathes. “Under me. Against me. Around me.” Each statement punctuated by a sharp and harsh thrust.

You’re nothing but a mess. Your nails claw at Jaehyun’s pale and damp chest, leaving red streaks behind before cupping the sides of his neck as each thrust completely ruins you.

Jaehyun presses his forehead against yours, shutting his eyes as his unforgiving movements continue to jerk you up, causing you to stand on your tiptoes.

“Look at me Jae,” you whisper. “Look at me while you break me open.”

Jaehyun sharply inhales at your words. “D-don’t say that,” he dryly chuckles. “I can’t think straight if you—” his voice hitches, but his brown eyes lock onto yours, softening at the sight of you — as if he’s been waiting a lifetime to finally be this close to you again.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jaehyun mumbles under his breath before he pushes you further into the wall and pressing the tips of his fingers against the solid foundation behind you. His free hand finds your clit, tracing circles against your aching ball of nerves.

A fire ignites in the pit of your stomach and heat pools in your lower back. Your thighs tremble as you tighten your grasp around Jaehyun already knowing your knees are going to buck. You chase your climax, moaning and whimpering against Jaehyun’s soft, pink tinted lips.

You choke out an abrupt warning before your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You sob and whimper into Jaehyun’s shoulder, gripping his wrist to stop his movements before moving your lips in sync with his.

His hands guide you back to your living room sofa. Your back presses against the cushions and Jaehyun pushes your knees to your chest, folding your body in half as his cock pushes into you once more.

Each thrust of his is deep, frantic, and ruthless with feral grunts accompanying his intent. He uses your body to chase his climax and by his sloppy thrusts, you tell he’s close.

“Jae—” you call out.

“I-I’ll pull out,” he grunts. “Just — just a bit more.”

“D-don’t. Don’t pull out.”

His eyes slightly widen, mind clearly racing from your words. “Fuck, no don’t say that,” he growls. “No going back if we do that.”

“I mean it,” you swallow. “I want to be who you lose control for. I want all of you.”

A tiny whimper leaves his lips before he agrees. He plunges himself into you, over and over again. He’s so deep your mind goes blank — unaware of where you end and where he begins.

His warm, velvety ropes release inside of you and he bites back a groan as he empties himself. The grip he has on you slowly loosens when he pulls himself out of you.

“Are you okay?” He softly questions, gently moving a strand of hair away from your eye.

“I’m fine,” you nod. “Are you okay? You must still be cold.”

“I’ll be okay,” he shyly smiles. “Sorry, I should’ve called before coming over.” He takes a seat next to you, sinking into the sofa.

You gently shush him. “You’re shivering. Let’s shower first and we can talk about it afterwards.”

“I need to say it now before I lose the confidence to say it.” He swallows hard, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I left you last week. I wanted to stay, I wanted to be with you and the second I left, I knew I made a huge mistake. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I started missing you more than I usually do.”

You place your warm blanket over him, keeping him covered for the time being before lifting your hand to run your fingers through his wet hair. “You’re here now,” you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “That’s all that matters.”

“Maybe it was my fault for asking you to take my virginity knowing my feelings for you,” he sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to feel these intense emotions after burying them for so long.”

You gently hold his hand in yours, swiping your thumb against his skin. “Stay the night,” you quietly offer. “Let’s talk about where we can go from here.”

#j*#nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct jaehyun smut #jh:smut #deadly sins series #jung jaehyun #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 jaehyun #jaehyun nct 127 smut #nct 127 jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x reader #nct 127 jung jaehyun #nct jung jaehyun

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dreamwritesimagines · 21 days ago

Text

Declassified [9] - Overprotective

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷 I hope you like this chapter as well! 🥰 And please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.

Warnings: Explicit language, yearning, drinking.

Word Count: 3.7k

Series Masterlist

One had to be fast and adaptable in order to work in politics, everyone knew that. The excitement was one of the best things about it, and you thought you knew just how chaotic it could get.

Until you moved to DC with Bucky and the rest of the team.

This was a whole different level. Your caffeine intake had doubled up in the last month, you were waking up from your sleep to note down ideas to add into the draft you were working on, and just last week someone had started an argument at the cafeteria because apparently he had been so on edge due to not having slept in two days, so needless to say you were right in your element.

And at least all this chaos distracted you from your feelings for Bucky.

…Mostly.

“Yeah no, we are not adding that,” you said, holding the phone between your shoulder and your ear, mouthing thank you to the barista as you took the cup. “No way.”

“Did you check the revisions?”

“I actually did, and they’re still very open to interpretation.” You rolled your eyes. “No offense, but it’s an amateur loophole.”

“Can you at least make sure Barnes sees it?”

You scoffed a laugh.

“John, I know we don’t exactly know each other, but trust me when I say Congressman Barnes is not going to see that draft until I give the okay, and I won’t give the okay until you fix the parts I asked you to.”

“He—”

“I speak for him,” you cut him off. “Before you ask again.”

He heaved a sigh. “You’ll have it before the recess.”

“Thank you,” you said and hung up, then shook your head and made your way through the hallway to the stairs, but your head whipped around when you heard someone calling out your name. A cute guy strode to you, then leaned down a little with his palms on his knees to catch his breath.

“Jesus, they were not joking about you,” he commented, still out of breath, then held up your wallet, making your jaw drop. “You forgot this.”

“Oh my God!” You took the wallet from him. “Thank you.”

He cleared his throat and gave you a smile.

“I’m Lucas, I work for Congresswoman Gray,” he said, offering his hand and you shook it, introducing yourself as well.

“Oh I know,” he said. “Trust me, everyone knows. You work for Barnes, and you’re Drexel’s prodigal daughter who climbed her way to the Congress.”

“Well, could’ve been worse,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, then took a sip of your coffee. “Hold on, what did you mean? They weren’t joking about me?”

“Your nickname.”

“Sorry?”

“You’re the new kid on the block,” he said. “You all have nicknames. Don’t worry, I had one too when I first got here.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Wh—what’s my nickname?”

“Well, you scared the shit out of Harry when he tried to bypass you, your name is already in a draft, and on your first week here you managed to charm Congresswoman Lawrence, which, she is not impressed easily.”

“So the nickname is…?”

“Hurricane on heels.”

You made a face and shook your head, then started making your way to the office with him walking beside you.

“I talked to Congresswoman Gray on the election night.”

“Oh I know, she really wants you,” he said. “The minute Barnes lets you go…”

You hummed. “And what makes you think he’d let me go?”

“Well he won’t if he’s smart,” Lucas said. “But seriously, I checked your credentials that night. You’re pretty good.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said as you entered the office and he followed you to your desk, making Caleb and Kelsey exchange glances before they turned to watch him. You stole a look at Bucky who was reading the file you had given him, then forced yourself to turn to Lucas.

“I’m in charge of the clean energy draft team,” he said. “And I happened to have read your project last weekend.”

“You just read random projects on your weekends?”

“Only if the person who writes them is as pretty as they are smart.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky’s head snapping up and you arched a brow, then repressed a smile.

“Wow. Smooth.”

“Not my best work,” Lucas said, making you huff out a laugh while Bucky stood up from his chair to make his way through his office. “No but seriously, I meant—you have good ideas, we have a draft, and the people we work for have the same political stance. Why not work on it together?”

“I was told the bill wouldn’t be ready until next year, so I made my schedule accordingly.”

“We’re pushing for six months.”

“And I’m pushing for a dessert bar in the office.” You snorted. “Equal odds. You can’t pass it in six months.”

“We think we can.”

You thought for a moment.

“No offense, but I’ve only seen the first version of that bill. If I’m going to move it up, I’d need to see the revisions you’ve made since then.”

“Not a problem, I’ll send it right now,” he said, taking his phone out oblivious to Bucky who was leaning sideways to the doorframe, glaring daggers at him while he held the back of Caleb’s chair as if he wanted to do something with his hands. Caleb craned his neck to look up at him, then turned to you and wiggled his brows.

“There,” Lucas said. “Just emailed you.”

You looked down at your phone. “Oh, thanks.”

“And if you want, we can grab coffee this weekend to discuss—”

Your head shot up when a crack echoed through the room, making you turn your attention to Bucky who apparently had grabbed the back of the chair too tight.

“Jesus Christ, could’ve been my fucking neck…” Caleb muttered, standing up from the chair and Bucky cleared his throat, putting the small piece of wood on Kelsey’s desk.

“I uh—the arm malfunctioned.”

Kelsey raised her brows. “It can do that?”

“You were holding the chair with your right hand, Bucky,” Caleb added helpfully while Bucky kept glaring at Lucas and you looked between them, your brows furrowed.

What the hell was happening?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Lucas Anderson, Congressman Barnes. I work for Congresswoman Gray, it’s an honor to meet you.”

Bucky didn’t even dignify that with a response and Lucas shifted his weight under his glare, then turned to you.

“I’ll—I’ll email you, is that okay?”

“Sure!”

“See you later, Hurricane.” He joked as walked out of the office, and Caleb grinned as if he was having the time of his life while Kelsey rolled her eyes, muttering something that awfully sounded like “men” under her breath.

“You know, it wouldn’t physically hurt you to be nice,” you told Bucky as you followed him into his office and shut the door behind you.

“It might.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“You scared the poor guy.”

“Good,” he said as you sat down across from his desk. “Maybe next time he will think twice before pulling that nonsense.”

“What nonsense?”

“He—” Bucky gestured at the door. “He crossed the line.”

You hummed. “And the line would be…?”

“He asked you out!” Bucky insisted, making you let out a laugh.

“To discuss the clean energy bill that bounced months ago!”

He shot you a look. “Birdie.”

“He just wants to work together and get that bill passed.”

“That’s an excuse,” Bucky told you. “A gateway. That’s how it starts. One minute he’s talking to you about the bill, the next minute he’s trying to convince you to go to his place and then...”

You tilted your head. “Why do you sound like one of those vintage anti-drug PSA movies?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“After all those two minutes you spent in the same room?”

“And what was that hurricane thing?”

You slipped a little on the seat and rolled your eyes. “Apparently, we all have nicknames now that we’re the new guys.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “So not only did he ask you out, he also gave you a nickname?”

Of course Bucky wasn’t jealous.

He didn’t get jealous over you.

“I don’t think he was the one who came up with that nickname—”

“What’s next?” he asked. “Moving in together?”

“No, we will actually elope,” you told him, trying to keep a straight face. “Right after I get pregnant out of wedlock. Because apparently we’re just tossing impossible scenarios around now.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought the big bad scary Winter Soldier was sulking.

“I’m being serious.”

“You’re being childish.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Only one person in this room has a toy.”

“For the millionth time, it’s a plushie,” you said and pointed at him with your phone. “And keep Blinky out of this.”

“The guy asked you out,” he insisted as if he was trying to make you see an undeniable truth. “It’s very clear what his intentions are!”

“I’ll react exactly the same way the next time a congresswoman wants to discuss anything with you,” you said with a grin. “I’ll be screaming my head off about how they’re after your virtue at the door.”

“To repeat, people aren’t asking me out on dates in the middle of the office.”

“Well that makes two of us, because he did not ask me out on a date,” you retorted before scoffing a bitter laugh. “It’s not like I could’ve gone anyway, by the way. I’m going to be very busy this weekend, remember?”

His gaze softened in a second. “Dinner with your family?”

“Yep,” you said. “I’ll do that on Saturday, and probably I’ll spend the entire Sunday trying to pull myself together. So no dates.”

His jaw tightened.

“Birdie, I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Maybe I should come with you.”

You pulled your brows together. “What?”

“Yeah, to dinner.”

“Don’t you think it’d be a bit weird if I took my boss to my family dinner?” you asked with a grin. “Not to mention, you told my father to go fuck himself the last time you saw him, which I’m incredibly thankful for, but unlike me he didn’t like it.”

“Someone should be watching your back in there.”

You could feel a pleasant warmth blooming in your chest.

“Bucky, I’m not going to war,” you reminded him. “It’s just family dinner.”

“How about that time you lost your voice after that screaming match?”

You smiled. “I didn’t know you still remembered that.”

He looked at you like a kicked puppy as if the only way to soothe him was to let him come with you to dinner. You heaved a sigh at his furrowed brows and his downturned lips, and had to physically grip the arm of your chair so that you wouldn’t fling yourself to him to kiss away that expression.

“My mom will be there,” you managed to say. “She’s the only reason I said yes to that dinner anyway. And she doesn’t like it when we talk politics or when we fight, so we will play nice.”

“But will he?” he insisted and you thought for a moment, then nodded your head.

“Oh yeah,” you said. “And either way, you don’t need to worry about me. I will be totally fine.”

Well.

You had spoken too soon.

If anything, the dinner had started pretty normal. You made sure to stick to the topics your mother chattered away; about her vacation plans for the summer, her retreats and the families of her friends.

But of course, eventually the main topic of the conversation turned to you.

“Your father tells me you’re knocking everyone out the park in the Congress!” she said. “How’s that going?”

You nodded vigorously, sitting up straighter.

“I think people like me,” you said. “Just today one of the people who work for Congresswoman Gray told me she wants to work with me on the clean energy bill, it bounced a couple of months ago I don’t know if you remember—”

Your father frowned. “You’ll work with Gray?”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? Gray of all people in the Congress?”

“I think she’s very successful.”

“Not very successful at passing bills.”

Nope.

Nope, you were not going to take that bait.

You licked your lips and turned to your mother.

“But also, Bucky is doing a great job,” you said, a smile warming your face the moment his name left your lips. “We are actually working on this veteran bill, and then after that we’ll focus on the education of children in low income families, it’s going to be amazing. I have so many ideas and he supports all of them.”

“And he is quite handsome,” your mother said and you bit back a giggle.

“Um, it’s—we actually joke about it a lot at work,” you said. “Like, half the reason why he got elected was because of his looks.”

“And because people love a hopeless idealist,” your father said, making you narrow your eyes.

“He’s not a hopeless idealist. He wants to help people just like I do.”

Your mother took a sip of her wine. “And he used to be an Avenger, no?”

“Yeah.”

“And before that, he used to be an assassin,” your father added and you scoffed.

“Not by his own choice.”

“Oh I’ve seen the PR campaign you guys ran,” your father said. “I mean it’s good, don’t get me wrong, but some of us aren’t naïve enough to fall for that.”

You bit inside your cheek, commanding yourself to be calm.

“What’s his star sign, by the way?” your mother asked and you huffed out a laugh.

“Pisces.”

“Aw, no wonder why you two get along.”

“Really?” You made sure to keep your voice flat. “I didn’t know that.”

That right there was a goddamn lie. You definitely knew.

Kelsey had pulled up his birth records to check your compatibility just the other day.

“I don’t trust him,” you father said. “I mean, his past…”

Don’t take the bait.

Do not take the bait.

“And regardless of what your bleeding heart tells you Pumpkin, some people don’t deserve second chances. Least of all the Winter Soldier.”

Fuck it, let’s take the fucking bait.

“He is not the Winter Soldier anymore, and he is the best man I’ve ever met in my entire life,” Pride was laced in your tone, making your mother tilt her head while your father raised his brows. “He’s smart, he’s loyal, he’s brave—before he was tortured and brainwashed, he fought in the Second World War with Howling Commandos and Captain America. He put his life on the line to protect people, and then HYDRA took him, they tortured him, they…they put him through things no human being could survive.”

Your mother grabbed her wine glass to down it, then filled it again.

“Then, when he actually broke through decades of brainwashing, people said all that shit about him, and even then he tried to save the world. He tried to protect people knowing that those same people could imprison him for something he couldn’t control, something—something HYDRA made him do,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t give a shit about his past, I’d follow him anywhere.”

And just like that, the mood of the room shifted.

“…That’s quite the loyalty for your boss,” your father pointed out, his glare enough to pin anyone to their spot but you glared back at him.

“Yeah,” you said, your nose in the air. “Yeah, and you know what? I’m not going to let you or anyone else disrespect him.”

“I’m sure your father didn’t mean—”

“No mom, he did. And Bucky deserves better than being criticized like that,” you insisted and turned to your father. “I’d trust Bucky with my life. So how about you show him some goddamn respect when we both know you wouldn’t be able to survive if you went through quarter of the things he went through?”

Your father kept his eyes on you as if he was trying to read your mind and you let out a breath, then pushed your chair back and stood up.

“I’ll talk to you later, mom,” you muttered and your mother heaved a sigh.

“Honey, please sit down.”

“I have things to do,” you said, averting your gaze from your father. “I’ll call you later.”

With that, you walked out of the house, your ears still muffled with blood rushing in them, fury pounding in your head.

Fine.

Alright, maybe you had lost control and went all “But daddy I love him!”

Whatever.

You were still angry but you managed to smile at the Uber driver and thanked him when he pulled over in front of your place. You got out of the car, trying to decide whether to ask Caleb and Kelsey if they needed anything before going in, but before you could pull your phone out, you heard a familiar voice.

“So how did it go?”

Bucky.

You could feel the anger leaving your body as you turned around to look at him, a smile warming your face. He was leaning against his motorbike, his gaze fixed on you as you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“That bad?” he asked and you nodded, biting inside your cheek. He eyed you up and down, then licked his lips and nodded at the small pub around the block.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“You look like you need a drink,” he said and pushed himself off the motorbike, then gently touched the small of your back to steer you. “So we’re going to drink.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you started walking beside him, and he shrugged.

“I was worried about you.”

Like it was normal.

Like it was an everyday occurrence.

Matter of fact, simple, and honest. I was worried about you.

“How’s your throat?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t a shouting match.”

“But…?”

“But it wasn’t pleasant,” you said slowly. “But hey, it’s not like we expected pleasant, right?”

He hummed as you both entered the small pub and sat down at the closest table, Bucky ordering two glasses of whiskey for you. You put your bag beside you and looked for your compact mirror, but it was very hard to find it with the files you had taken to your father so that you could go over them if you had the time, so you pulled out the files out of your bag first to put them on the table, then checked yourself in the mirror.

At least your makeup was still fine.

Bucky watched you while you put the mirror back in your bag and the waiter brought your drinks to place them on the table. You smiled at him, then turned to Bucky to gently clink your glass against his.

“Thank you,” you muttered and he raised his glass a little.

“Don’t mention it, Birdie.”

You took a sip of your whiskey, then let out a breath and leaned back, running a hand over your face.

“Gosh, it was a disaster,” you whined, pressing your palms on your eyes, then dropped your hands. “Like, yes there was no shouting but I think I basically gave my father a very passionate TED talk—not that he didn’t deserve it.” You added in a hurry. “He did. He crossed the line.”

You took another sip and made a face.

“And like— what gives him the right to even…even criticize?” you asked, motioning vaguely. “As if he knows what he’s talking about. It’s not just crossing the line, it’s also the audacity. You know?”

“I don’t actually,” Bucky said with a small smile. “You’re gonna need to give me some idea about what happened if you want me to contribute to this conversation.”

You scoffed. “He’s just vile. No respect whatsoever.”

“What was it?” Bucky asked. “The bill we're working on? The projects? The clean energy—”

“You.”

Confusion pinched his brows together. “What?”

“He badmouthed you.”

For a couple of seconds, he only stared at you without even saying anything, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head while he tried to wrap his mind around what you said.

His voice was soft when he spoke: “Birdie…”

“I know what you’re going to say.” You shook your head. “So save it.”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Well, good thing it’s my choice and not yours.”

“Listen, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Obviously I hate your father, but you shouldn’t just throw yourself into a fight because of me.”

“To repeat, he said bad things about you!”

“Sweetheart, a lot of people say bad things about me.”

The patient tone of his deep voice combined with that term of endearment was enough to wake a fire underneath your cheeks but you licked your lips, trying to focus.

“Well, they can’t say it in front of me though, can they?” you asked, determination clear in your voice. “No. Because tough shit.”

“You—”

“That’s simply not going to happen,” you insisted, “because I won’t allow it.”

“That’s not how it—”

“I’ll protect you.”

You only became aware of the silence falling upon him after you took a sip of your whiskey. You frowned slightly and put your glass down, then turned to see him watching you with awe etched on his handsome face, that fond light gleaming in his blue eyes.

Focus.

You gave him a quizzical glance and he tried to pull himself together.

“Sorry?” he managed to ask and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ll protect you,” you repeated, fire still burning your cheeks. “Do you have a problem with that?”

He paused for a moment as if he was surprised by your words, and a boyish smile flickered across his lips before he shook his head.

“No ma’am,” he said, that old Brooklyn accent peeking through his voice. “No problem at all.”

You held back the giggle threatening to climb your throat, then stuck your nose in the air.

“Good,” you said and held up your hand to motion at the waiter. “Glad we cleared that out. I’m gonna order fries, want some?”

Chapter 10

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#congressman bucky barnes #congressman!bucky #congressman!bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic

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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Seven

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, McLaren almost making a generational fumble, pregnancy, strong language, implied sexism in motorsport

Notes — Missed you all so much! Enjoy this longggg chap <3

From: Susie Wolff <[email protected]>

To: Amelia Norris <[email protected]>

Date: January 2, 2024 – 09:17 AM

Attachments: F1A_AdvisoryBoardOverview.pdf

Amelia,

I’ll get straight to it, as I know you don’t love preamble.

I think now is the time to formally invite you to join F1 Academy as a technical advisor and consulting board member, effective from the start of the 2025 season. Your experience, both practical and personal, is precisely what this program needs.

This role would involve quarterly strategic reviews, input on technical education frameworks, mentoring touch-points, and representation at select events — all designed to build a tangible technical pipeline.

I, of course, understand that this role would have to work-around your prior F1 commitments.

Let me know your thoughts. If you’d like to speak in person.

Warmly, Susie

From: Amelia Norris <[email protected]>

To: Susie Wolff <[email protected]>

Date: January 2, 2024 – 12:04 PM

Hi Susie,

First: thank you.

Second: I’ve read the overview twice already (I annotated the PDF, sorry in advance). It’s smart. Practical. Grounded. That’s rare in programs like this. You’re doing it right.

Third: Yes, I’m in. Fully.

I’ll carve out the time. If we’re serious about keeping girls in the sport, and I am, then this is the most productive way I can help. I’d also like to propose a technical “shadow program” for the engineering side — similar to what the Driver Academy does. We can talk more about it when you have time.

Appreciate the offer. And the trust.

Best, Amelia

From: Susie Wolff <[email protected]>

To: Amelia Norris <[email protected]>

Date: January 2, 2024 – 1:30 PM

Amelia,

That’s the best “yes” I’ve received in months. And I’ll happily take annotated PDFs if they come with your brain attached.

Let’s lock in a short meeting before we fly out next month. I’d love to dig into the shadow program idea — it’s aligned with something I’ve been building out with the FIA technical department. Timing might be perfect.

(Also, your idea about reinforcing retention through non-driver career tracks? Spot on. We’ll need that thinking on the board.)

Thrilled to have you with us.

Susie

From: Amelia Norris <[email protected]>

To: Susie Wolff <[email protected]>

Date: January 2, 2024 – 2:18 PM

Let’s do Thursday morning — Monaco? I’ll bring revised notes and a framework draft for the shadow pipeline.

From: Susie Wolff <[email protected]>

To: Amelia Norris <[email protected]>

Date: January 2, 2024 – 3:04 PM

Thursday it is. I’ll send you the address of a lovely little restaurant on the harbour.

Looking forward to what we’ll build together. The sport’s lucky to have you.

Warmly, Susie

—

It was 8:12 a.m. and the kitchen smelled like toast, fresh coffee, and the faintest lingering whiff of washing up liquid — and Amelia's nausea was only made even worse when Lando toasted the wrong kind of bread.

“Why is there no oat milk?” Amelia said flatly, standing in front of the open fridge and glaring into it.

Lando, half-asleep and shirtless in his McLaren joggers, yawned into his coffee. “What do you mean ‘why is there no oat milk’? You finished it yesterday.”

She didn’t turn around. “No, I finished the backup oat milk yesterday. The good one ran out two days ago. You said you were going to pick some up.”

“I did! They didn’t have your usual so I just got almond instead.”

Amelia shut the fridge and pivoted slowly, expression blank. “That’s not the same.”

Lando blinked. “It’s... kind of the same.”

“I can’t froth almond milk, Lando.” She told him.

“You can’t even drink coffee right now, baby.” He tried.

She stared at him. “Every morning, I drink a decaf latte with oat milk, and you know that, but you’re trying to act stupid so I can’t be mad at you.”

Lando set his mug down very slowly. “Okay. Okay. Let’s breathe through this.”

Amelia pointed at him. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to start throwing things at you.”

“I feel very lucky,” he said, smiling despite himself as he crossed the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll go get your silly oat milk after breakfast.”

“My oat milk is not silly. It is gentle and stable and doesn’t split under pressure. Unlike some things.”

“Oh wow,” he muttered, grabbing the butter. “We’re speaking in metaphors now, are we?”

She sat at the table, still glaring at his toast. “You bought the one with sesame seeds. You know I can’t do the texture right now.”

Lando stared at her. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t think I had to! You should just know! You’ve watched me do complex simulations while dry-heaving at the smell of overripe bananas. Sesame seeds are in the same category.”

Lando looked down at his toast, then back up at her. “Okay. So we’re adding a sesame embargo. Got it.”

She let out a sharp sigh, then scrubbed her hands down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m just—”

“Gestating a human?”

She nodded. “It’s so much. Like. All the time.”

Lando softened immediately. He took his plate, dumped his toast in the bin, and set a banana-free, sesame-free bowl of oatmeal in front of her. “Here,” he said. “Neutral foods only. Plain and safe. Like... Switzerland.”

She blinked at the bowl. “This has potential.” She poked the spoon. “You made this with the almond milk?”

“No. Water.” He said. She sighed with relief. He smiled, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. “You have my word that I will never again confuse almond milk with oat milk ever again.”

Amelia muttered into her oatmeal. “You’ve lost food shopping rights.”

He grinned. “I’ll earn them back. Watch me.”

She ate in silence for a minute, then reached for his hand under the table, fingers curling around his.

He squeezed gently. “Better?”

“I still want my oat milk latte.”

“I’ll run down to the shop and get your oat milk.”

“And a bottle of caramel syrup.”

“Of course, baby.”

—

The café on Rue Grimaldi was just beginning to hum with the late-morning crowd when Lando ducked in, hoodie pulled up and sunglasses still on, despite being indoors. He made a beeline for the counter — three cartons of oat milk secured in a small paper bag under one arm, coffee on his mind — only to stop short when someone clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, mate,” came the familiar voice, warm and unmistakably Monegasque.

Lando turned to find Charles, dressed casually in a t-shirt and sunglasses pushed up into his hair, holding a takeaway espresso and looking smug about catching him off-guard.

“Shit. Sorry. Hey,” Lando grinned, adjusting the paper bag before offering a quick one-armed hug. “Didn’t know you came here.”

“You know that I live only three buildings away,” Charles said, amused. “You’re out early for once.”

“Amelia sent me to get oat milk,” Lando told him. “Life-or-death situation. I’m on a mission.”

Charles laughed, gesturing to the barista for another coffee. “How is she?”

“She’s good,” Lando said, instantly softening. He leaned against the counter and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes going distant for a moment. “Actually... she’s kind of amazing.”

Charles raised a brow, sipping his espresso.

“I mean, I always knew she was brilliant, but now with the pregnancy, she’s like... this whole new version of herself. Still very Amelia. Like, intense and sarcastic and kind of terrifying. But also just... soft sometimes. Like, in ways I’ve never seen. And she lets me see it.”

Charles’s face melted into a smile. “You’re in love.”

Lando snorted. “Well yeah. We’re married, remember?”

“But this is different. You sound like... you’re seeing her again for the first time.”

Lando paused. “Yeah. I think I am.” There was a beat of quiet between them as the barista handed over his coffee. He took it with a small nod of thanks, then glanced at Charles. “Think I’ve managed to fall in love with her all over again, you know?”

Charles blinked, visibly touched. “Mate.”

“I know,” he said, grinning awkwardly and taking a sip of his drink. “I’m being all sentimental and shit. Don’t tell Carlos, he wouldn’t let me live it down.”

Charles laughed. “I won’t. But Amelia might appreciate hearing it.”

“She knows,” Lando said quietly, then added, “But yeah. I think it’s good to keep reminding her.”

They stepped outside together, the warm Monaco sun washing over them.

“You’ll be a good dad,” Charles said eventually, nudging his shoulder.

Lando scoffed. “God, I hope so.”

“You will,” Charles repeated with certainty. “I’m sure of it, brother.”

They parted ways at the corner; Charles off to his sim session, Lando heading home, oat milk secure. And for the rest of the day, his smile didn’t quite leave his face.

—

The sun was low, bleeding orange across the horizon and painting long shadows down the winding streets of Monaco. The forest-green supercar purred beneath them like a living thing, gliding effortlessly through the city’s golden-hour glow. The streets shimmered with reflected light, windows catching fire as they passed, the sea winking silver to their right.

Lando’s hands rested easy on the wheel — one perched casually at ten o’clock, the other drifting occasionally over to Amelia’s thigh. The car, already easily recognisable in a city full of fast cars, was still impossible to ignore when he was driving it. Monaco might be saturated with wealth and speed, but Lando Norris in a sleek green supercar turned heads.

Especially when he was wearing that hoodie.

The white Playboy logo, stretched across the back of a black hoodie, had become something of an internet legend. Worn in interviews, airport photos, Twitch streams — it was a piece of lore now. And tonight, with the hood pulled halfway up and his curls just visible underneath, he looked more like a teenager sneaking out after curfew than a world-class F1 driver. But it didn’t matter.

Everyone still knew exactly who he was.

Amelia sat in the passenger seat, the window cracked open slightly, letting the wind tug loose strands of her hair. Her head rested against the seat-back, eyes closed, soaking in the smooth hum of the engine and the scent of salt in the air. After a day full of logistics and troubleshooting — packing, chasing suppliers, managing Oscar’s sim data issue, redoing schedules for Bahrain testing — this was the first moment she’d had to simply breathe.

“This is nice,” she said softly, voice barely carrying above the low purr of the car.

Lando glanced at her and smiled. “Told you it would help. You needed to de-stress.”

“And you needed to stop pacing around the apartment like a caged animal.”

“Fair,” he said with a shrug. “But I pace elegantly, don’t I?”

She cracked one eye open, amused. “You pace like a man trying to calculate the optimal lap around the kitchen island.”

They wound up the coast slowly, not in any rush, Lando deliberately choosing the scenic roads, detouring through the quieter corners of the city. Monaco rolled out around them like a movie set — warm light, quiet glamour, the soft hush of money that didn’t need to announce itself. But eventually, as the streetlights began to flicker on and the sea turned indigo, he turned off toward the familiar façade of the Casino de Monte-Carlo, its gold-lit entrance grand and welcoming.

Amelia blinked as he pulled up to the valet. “We’re eating here?”

“Yeah,” Lando said easily, already unbuckling. “Come on.”

Before she could protest, he was out of the car and jogging around the front, hood still up. She rolled her eyes, but her lips tugged into a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m a good husband,” he corrected, pulling open the door.

Phones were already up. Across the street, a handful of passersby had clocked him immediately, cameras out, the sound of whispers and low murmurs rising like static.

She stepped out into the warm evening air, and he offered his hand — palm up, open, steady.

She took it. “You know this is going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

He shrugged, brushing a curl off her forehead. “Let them look.”

And they did.

By midnight, the photos had already gone viral.

One showed Lando — hoodie on, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other casually holding open the car door with a soft grin. Another showed Amelia stepping out of the passenger seat, hand lightly resting on her stomach in a way she hadn’t even noticed at the time. Her dress fluttered slightly around her legs in the breeze, and her smile was half-laugh, turned back toward Lando like he’d just said something that made her forget that the rest of the world existed.

The captions rolled in fast.

“lando norris taking his wife out for a quiet dinner before sakhir testing”

“is she touching her stomach???? IS SHE PREGNANT?????????”

“that bump is bumping i fear…”

“i swear if they announce they’re having a baby i’m throwing myself in the sea”

“seeing the hoodie again has awakened something in me…”

“her HAND is on her STOMACH and he’s wearing the PLAYBOY hoodie i’m going to PASS OUT”

Inside, the Casino’s main dining room was quiet and dignified — white linen tablecloths, the hum of polite conversation, low light glittering off the crystal chandeliers. They were led to a booth near the back — a soft, curved corner table with views of the harbour, tucked just far enough away from the main room to feel like a secret.

It was their table.

Amelia leaned across the polished surface and tilted her phone toward him. “I’m being tagged in a million things.”

He squinted at the screen. “That’s a lot of caps lock.”

She scrolled. “Someone says that if I have a baby I should name it after Daniel Ricciardo.”

He smirked, sipping from his water. “Hilarious idea.”

“They’re very invested.”

“They like you.”

“They like you. I’m a side character.”

“You’re my favourite character,” he said easily, and something in her eyes softened.

Bread and olive oil arrived, without needing to be ordered, and Amelia absently dipped a piece, still half-scrolling.

She looked up again, a small crease between her brows. “Do you think I make it obvious that I’m pregnant?”

Lando shrugged. “Maybe. You look happy.”

She frowned. “I wasn’t expecting people to notice this fast.”

He reached over and gently wiped a smear of oil from her mouth with his thumb. “You’ve got a glow. And It’s not your fault people are obsessed with you.”

“I think it might be your fault, actually.”

He smiled again, soft and private. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Their food arrived. Lemony pasta for her, grilled steak salad for him. She picked at her plate for a while, quiet. Then, finally, she set her fork down and said, “It’s going to be different soon, isn’t it?”

He looked up. “What is?”

“This. Life. Dinners. Feeling like we still get to be just… us.”

Lando didn’t rush to answer. He leaned back a little, watching her — her face, her hands, the quiet vulnerability creeping in at the edges. “Maybe,” he said eventually. “But different doesn’t have to be bad.”

She nodded slowly. Bit her lip. “You’re going to get such an ego when the fangirls start calling you a DILF.”

He grinned. “Won’t be a lie.”

“Oh, please.”

“I’m just saying." He said. She rolled her eyes at him and he huffed out a laugh. "If our kid has your attitude, I’m going to need divine patience.”

She stopped mid-bite. Blinked. “Oh.”

Lando tilted his head. “What?”

“What if…” she hesitated. “What if they are like me?”

He sat forward, instantly alert. “Baby—”

“I mean it,” she said, voice cracking just slightly. “What if they’re too smart, or too intense, or too weird, and they don’t fit in anywhere? What if they’re… different, and it’s hard, and people expect them to be like you, but they’re not?”

Lando reached for her hand. Held it steady. “Then they’ll be lucky.”

She looked at him, startled.

“I mean it,” he said, voice soft. “If they’re like you, they’ll be brilliant. Strong. Honest. The world doesn’t make it easy on people like that, but you’ll show them how to do it anyway.”

Her mouth trembled.

He leaned in. “I didn’t fall in love with you despite those things, Amelia. I fell in love with you because of them.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, muttering, “Now I’m crying into my pasta.”

“Adds flavour,” Lando said.

“You’re the worst.”

“I love you.”

She smiled through it, eyes still glassy. “You’re going to be a really good dad.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“Not strict,” she said, teasing. “But good.”

Lando grinned. “I can’t even tell you no. How am I supposed to say it to a miniature you?”

She laughed, soft and real, and somewhere between the candlelight and the quiet clatter of cutlery, everything settled.

It was different now — but maybe, just maybe, it was... better.

—

The apartment was quiet when they got back. Amelia slipped off her shoes in the hallway, sighed, and leaned briefly against the wall as Lando locked up behind them.

She trailed behind him, fingers tracing the edge of the marble countertop in the kitchen. Her body was tired, heavy in a way it hadn’t been before pregnancy; like her muscles were constantly working overtime to keep up with the quiet, miraculous thing happening beneath her skin.

She stood at the sink, sipping a glass of water slowly, letting the silence settle.

Lando reappeared a few moments later with the familiar glass bottle in his hand. It was half-used now — the bump oil she’d started applying a week ago. Some natural blend that smelled faintly of neroli and sweet almond, promising hydration and elasticity and comfort.

But more than that, it had become a ritual. A pause. A grounding point at the end of the day when everything else felt like it was moving too fast.

He held it up. “You want the honours, or shall I?”

Amelia stared at him. “Your hands are warmer.”

Lando grinned. “You just like being pampered.”

“Who doesn’t?”

They migrated to the bedroom, the soft white light of the bedside lamps casting everything in a low, golden haze. She pulled her dress off and tossed it gently over the chair, leaving her in a bralette and cotton shorts. The curve of her stomach was still so subtle — just a hint of bloating that she never usually suffered with, a visible whisper of the life growing inside her.

She lay back against the pillows, propped slightly up, and Lando sat cross-legged beside her, the bottle uncapped, hands already slick with oil.

He started slow, careful, hands gentle as he spread the oil over her skin, fingers smoothing in slow, deliberate circles. He was quiet while he worked, but it wasn’t a heavy silence. It was reverent. Focused. Loving.

“You’re getting good at this,” she murmured, eyes slipping closed.

“I practice on watermelons when you’re not home.”

She huffed a soft laugh.

His thumbs moved lower. “I’m absolutely obsessed with you.” He mumbled against the skin of her hip.

“I know.” Her voice was sleepy now. She reached out, hand brushing against his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, then pressed a kiss low against her stomach, just beneath his hands. “Hi, baby-bunch-of-cells,” he whispered, lips brushing warm against her skin. Her lips twitched. “You’ve got the coolest mum in the world, you know that?”

Amelia blinked hard. “Stop making me cry,” she muttered, voice cracking.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, smug and soft.

She smacked his arm lightly, and he caught her hand, twined their fingers together, and settled down beside her, cheek resting gently against the swell of her belly.

They lay there like that for a while — the room quiet, the scent of the oil soft in the air, his palm warm and open against her skin.

Eventually, Amelia got up to change into a sleep-shirt, all bleary eyed as she wandered back into Lando’s waiting arms.

“You okay?” Lando murmured into her hair, thumb brushing over the bare skin of her hip where her sleep shirt had ridden up as she wriggled her way under the covers.

“Mmhm,” she hummed. “Just tired.”

He didn’t answer right away, just let the silence stretch, the rhythm of their breaths syncing. Her hand was pressed to her belly again — not dramatically, not even consciously. It was just where it always landed now.

And Lando noticed.

“Tell me more,” he said quietly.

She lifted her head. “More?”

“About what you’ve learned. About... all of it.” He tilted his chin toward her stomach. “I know you’ve been reading non-stop. I want to know.”

She blinked, a little surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of it.”

Amelia yawned, then launched in; quieter now, but no less enthusiastic. “Okay, so the placenta doesn’t fully take over hormone production until about ten weeks, which means all the weird mood swings and the nausea and the exhaustion are mostly just the hCG hormone hijacking my system.”

“That’s the one doubling every couple of days?”

“Exactly. I read this one article that called it ‘a hormonal rollercoaster without a seatbelt,’ and it’s one of the only metaphors that I’ve every genuinely understood.”

Lando chuckled softly, fingers drawing slow, idle shapes along her back.

“And apparently,” she continued, “the nausea’s not about throwing up. It’s like this constant, cloying, edge-of-sick feeling that never fully goes away unless I’m horizontal, full of carbs, or momentarily distracted by you being sweet.”

He kissed her temple. “I’ll do my best to be a cure.”

“You’re good at it.”

They lay there quietly for a beat.

“I can’t eat sushi,” she said suddenly. “Or swordfish. Or soft cheese. Or deli-meats. Or sprouts.”

“Brussels sprouts?”

“Alfalfa sprouts.”

“Oh. Honestly that feels like a win.”

“I also can’t take long hot baths or sit in saunas. No ibuprofen.”

“That one seems unfair.”

“Right?” She sighed. “And then there’s this thing called round ligament pain, which apparently is just surprise stabs in the pelvis because your uterus is growing too fast and the ligaments are mad about it.”

He winced. “Sounds... ouchie.”

“Everything about pregnancy is ‘ouchie’. It’s just all been politely marketed.”

Lando let out a low laugh, his chest shaking beneath her. “Baby.”

“I’m serious.”

He turned onto his side, bringing them face to face, his hand splaying wide across her lower stomach like a gentle shield. His thumb brushed slowly just below her navel.

“You’re really doing it,” he said quietly.

“Doing what?”

“This.” His voice softened. “Making a whole human. Half you, half me.”

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, fighting the familiar sting behind her eyes. “I don’t feel like I’m doing anything most of the time.”

“You’re doing everything,” he said. “Even when you’re just laying here talking about ligament stabs.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it quickly with the edge of the duvet and muttered, “Now I’m crying in bed.”

Lando smiled. “Well, there goes the dry side of the pillow.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I love you.”

When she finally fell asleep, it was with his hand still resting over her belly and a vow stitched into the silence of their bedroom.

—

The cabin lights were dimmed to a sleepy gold, the hum of the engines a constant low white noise in the background. Lando had kicked his shoes off an hour ago and was now curled sideways in his seat, legs stretched across the aisle to rest against Amelia’s footrest, a battered hoodie bunched around his shoulders like a blanket.

Amelia had her noise-canceling headphones looped around her neck, but wasn’t using them. Her head rested against the window, fingers lazily tracing patterns on thigh through the soft cotton of her leggings.

Her seat was reclined, her feet tucked up beside her, a half-finished crossword open on the tray table. She wasn’t filling in the answers anymore — just twirling the pen between her fingers, eyes glassy with that deep-travel fatigue that always hit halfway through long-haul flights.

Lando cracked one eye open and looked at her. “You asleep?”

“Nope,” she said, voice soft. “Just thinking.”

“About the car?”

“About the twelve hours I’ll spend at the track tomorrow.” She rubbed her temple. “Oscar’s nervous. The aero team still hasn’t patched the instability in the rear. And I’m definitely going to throw up in the hospitality bathroom at least once before 10 a.m.”

Lando yawned, unbothered. “Sounds like a normal Thursday.”

Amelia kicked lightly at his shin. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to. I’m trying to distract you.”

She glanced at him, skeptical.

He sat up slightly, stretching across the console between them to brush a piece of hair out of her face. “Want me to list all the things I think you’re going to smash tomorrow?”

“No.”

He grinned. “Tough. You’re gonna boss Oscar’s testing schedule. You’re going to yell at one engineer and make them better for it. You’re going to make that car faster in a week than some teams do in three months. And you’re going to throw up very discreetly, like the absolute professional you are.”

She snorted, biting back a smile. “Helpful.”

“I try.”

Amelia tilted her head against the headrest and murmured, “Love you.”

Lando reached for her hand under the shared armrest and laced their fingers together, thumb brushing slow circles against her skin.

They sat like that for a while, not talking, not needing to, the lights dim, the flight steady, and the love endless.

—

The paddock wasn’t quite awake yet.

The early morning desert sun cast everything in long gold shadows, and the garages buzzed with that low, electric anticipation that only came with testing. Engineers murmured over telemetry, coffee steamed in paper cups, and the distinct scent of warm asphalt clung to everything.

Amelia sat on the wide concrete step outside the hospitality unit, a bottle of water between her hands and her sunglasses pushed up into her hair. She didn’t look pregnant yet, not unless you were looking, but she felt it anyway — in the way her shirt tugged tighter around the middle, in the constant low hum of her body doing something without asking her permission.

She didn’t look up when Celeste dropped down beside her with two iced coffees in hand.

“Stolen from Red Bull catering,” Celeste said brightly, offering one. “I’m not above crimes, and they all love you too much to snitch. Yours is decaf, obviously.”

Amelia took it without a word. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sun hot on their skin.

Eventually, Celeste nudged her knee. “You good?”

Amelia hesitated. Then. slowly, like peeling something back, “I’m not... bad. But I’m not good.”

Celeste looked at her, eyebrows lifted, but didn’t interrupt.

“It’s just…” Amelia gestured vaguely at her stomach, then let her hand fall again. “Everything’s changing and I didn’t give it permission to.”

Celeste blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “Yeah?”

“I know that’s sort of the point of pregnancy,” Amelia said, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “But my body doesn’t feel like mine right now. And not just the physical stuff. My routines are off. My sleep feels weird. I don’t like food I used to like, and I suddenly love things I used to hate. And I can’t regulate my temperature or my moods and none of my bras fit and—” She stopped. Swallowed. “I just... I feel hijacked. And it’s really hard not to spiral about it.”

There was a beat. “That makes perfect sense,” Celeste said, voice low and steady. “You’re used to having a say in everything. Your clothes. Your space. Your schedule. Your comfort. Your body. And now all those things are changing at once, without warning.”

Amelia nodded, quick and tight, eyes stinging. “And the worst part is — I want the baby. I love the baby. But I feel like I’m being dragged behind my own life, and I keep thinking... ��If I’m already this overwhelmed, how the hell am I supposed to do the next seven months?’”

Cleste didn’t offer clichés. She didn’t say “you’re strong” or “you’ll be fine.”

Instead, she reached out and gently touched Amelia’s forearm. “Okay. So let’s start with what isn’t changing today. What do you still have control over?”

Amelia sniffled and looked down at her shoes. “My spreadsheets.”

Celeste smiled. “Great. What else?”

“My noise-canceling ear defenders. My sleep playlist.”

“There you go. Small things are still yours.”

Amelia let out a shaky breath. “I keep telling myself that it’s just sensory overload. That I’ve handled worse. That it’ll pass.”

“But even if it doesn’t,” Celeste said gently, “you’ll adapt. You always have. And if it helps at all, I think what you’re feeling is incredibly valid — and not remotely selfish.”

“I feel selfish.”

“You’re not. You’re neurodivergent, pregnant, and also a woman working in the highest level of motorsport. If you weren’t feeling overwhelmed, I’d be worried.”

Amelia huffed out a laugh, surprised. “That’s... actually helpful.”

Celeste bumped their shoulders together. “You’re allowed to love the baby and hate what pregnancy does to your routine. Both things can be true. You don’t have to be one or the other.”

For the first time all morning, Amelia’s posture eased slightly.

“Do you wanna come hide in the RedBull motorhome for a bit?” Celeste offered. “I think I saw one of the catering guys stash the good pastries behind the juice bar.”

“I shouldn’t abandon my team on day one,” Amelia said, already standing.

Celeste rolled her eyes. “It’s lunch time. I think you’re allowed a croissant.”

—

The sun was beginning to sink behind the Bahraini paddock, casting long gold stripes through the motorhome windows. Most of the team was trickling into the hospitality area for water, air-con, and a brief moment of respite.

Amelia was halfway through a half-melted protein bar and hunched over her laptop, squinting at a CFD report that felt like it was written in Elvish. Her brain had long since checked out. She barely noticed the door open until a familiar voice cut across the quiet.

“Well, if it isn’t the boss herself.”

She looked up — and grinned, the kind of grin that cracked her whole face open with genuine affection.

Oscar stood in the doorway, sun-browned from a week back home in Melbourne, hair a little longer, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms. He looked… relaxed. And irritatingly cheerful.

“You’re late,” she said, standing up and crossing the room in three long strides before throwing her arms around him in a hug that knocked the breath out of him.

“Jesus,” he wheezed, but hugged her back without hesitation, forehead dropping against her shoulder. “Missed you too, I guess.”

“Shut up,” she said into his hoodie. “You were gone for seven days. That’s the longest we haven’t spoken in two years. It was disorienting.”

He laughed, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t,” she said flatly. “They changed the diffuser without me.”

Oscar winced. “I heard. Sorry. Want me to key somebody’s car?”

“No, I can’t have you being charged with a crime this close to the first race of the season,” she sighed. “But thank you anyway.”

They sank into the cushy booth under the window, Amelia tucking her legs up beside her and watching as he peeled open a protein bar of his own.

“Home okay?” She asked.

Oscar nodded. “Yeah. Mum made me a list of things to bring back that I forgot entirely. My sister says hi. Oh — and Dad said ‘congrats on the rugrat’.”

Amelia snorted. “He did not.”

Oscar shrugged, his lips twitching. “He did.”

She laughed, leaning her head back against the booth. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m very loveable. Anything explode while I was gone?”

“Just my patience. And there was a very minor fire in the CFD department.”

Oscar winced. “Anyone hurt?”

“No. Just some bruised egos.” She sighed. They sat in companionable silence for a while. Outside, the sound of reporters and tool carts echoed through the alleyways. Inside, it was calm. Steady. After a moment, Amelia nudged him with her knee. “It’s good you went home. Family time is important for optimal motivation.”

“I know.” He said. He was smiling at her.

“Did you bring me back a souvenir?” She asked.

Oscar grinned. “Check my backpack.”

She leaned over, unzipped the top pocket; and let out a delighted noise at the sight of a tiny stuffed koala wearing aviators.

“His name is Downforce,” Oscar said proudly.

Amelia held it up and stared at it. “I’m putting him on the dash of the simulator.”

“Please do.”

And just like that — they were back. Her with her sharp edges, him with his dry sarcasm, and something between them that felt like a shared backbone. Stronger for the distance. Ready for whatever testing, and the season ahead, threw at them next.

—

The desert heat hadn't even peaked yet and Amelia was already sweating.

Engineers in crisp polos darted between garages with clipboards and headsets; pit crew rolled tires across the hot concrete; camera crews hovered at the edges, hungry for glimpses of shiny new bodywork or strained facial expressions.

Amelia stood just inside the garage, arms crossed tight over her chest, her clipboard clutched in one hand like a weapon. Her sunglasses were perched high on her nose, more for the glare of her own frustration than the sun. In front of her, the MCL38-AN, her car, in every way that mattered, sat on its stands, monitors blinking with diagnostic readings. And she hated what she saw.

It wasn’t bad, technically. Nothing catastrophic. But it was wrong.

The wrong wing configuration. The wrong ride height assumptions. The rear diffuser changes she’d flagged three weeks ago had been pushed through without her sign-off — a democratic decision made by the broader engineering committee while she was out for the afternoon with a migraine. The moment she’d seen the telemetry from Oscar’s first handful of laps, she’d known that’d cost them at least two-tenths on the straights.

And now? It was too late to fix it.

“Still gathering data,” one of the aero leads said beside her, hopeful. Too hopeful.

Amelia didn’t look at him. “You’re gathering confirmation bias. You want the data to tell you it was worth it.”

He blinked. “We can’t reverse the updates before the first race.”

“I know,” she said tightly. “I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you that they shouldn’t have been implemented in the first place.”

He took a step back.

Oscar pulled back into the garage just then, visor up, sweat beading at his temples. He popped the wheel off and offered her a sheepish smile. “Feels like I’m dragging a parachute on the straights.”

Amelia didn’t smile. “You basically are.”

Oscar winced. “Well, that’s nice.”

She handed the clipboard off to a mechanic without a word and turned on her heel, storming down the garage tunnel toward the back paddock.

Lando caught up with her a minute later, jog-walking like he knew better than to grab her arm when she was in this mood. “Hey. Hey—baby.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She spun to face him. “They changed my car, Lando. They changed my car without consulting me, and now it’s dragging down the straights like a brick with wings. And everyone’s acting like it’s going to be okay because they modelled it that way.”

His expression softened. “You told them that diffuser adjustment was a mistake.”

“I told them ten times.”

“You also told me you’d be polite and calm in front of the media,” he teased gently.

“I lied.”

He stepped closer, bumping his shoulder lightly against hers. “We’ll fix it.”

“No,” she said, throat tight. “We’ll mitigate it. We’ll bandage the decision they made without me. But it’ll still be wrong, Lando.”

Lando didn’t argue. He knew her well enough not to.

Instead, he stood beside her quietly, both of them staring out at the line of cars rumbling through pit lane in the rising heat.

After a long moment, Amelia let out a breath. “I hate when I’m right.”

“I don’t,” Lando said. “That’s why I married you. It’s helpful to always have the smartest one in the room on my side.”

She didn’t smile, not quite, but the fury softened at the edges, just enough.

—

The room was too bright. Too cold. The kind of sterile that made every emotion feel like a liability.

Amelia stood at the end of the table, spine ramrod straight, her hands braced on the glass surface like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the floor. Zak sat near the head, arms folded tightly across his chest. Andrea was beside him, flipping aimlessly through the printed test data, though his eyes never left her.

She didn’t wait for an invitation. She didn’t sit.

“This isn’t working out.”

Zak blinked. “Amelia—”

“No. Don’t try to explain it to me.” Her voice was even, but it cracked with a sharpness that made Andrea stiffen. “I’ve been quiet about the changes. I’ve followed the chain of command. I’ve backed off. I’ve trusted the process. But I’m telling you now: the car is wrong.”

Andrea opened his mouth, but she didn’t let him speak.

“I don’t care what the wind tunnel says,” she continued, tone clipped and fast, like she had too much to say and not enough runway. “I don’t care how many simulations you run with this configuration — the car is fundamentally slower through mid-to-high speed corners and we are losing straight-line efficiency. I flagged this four months ago when the adaptions were suggestion, and I was ignored.”

Zak exhaled slowly. “We made collective decisions, Amelia. You were—”

“No,” she said, and it wasn’t loud, but it hit. “Decisions were made, yes. But I wasn’t listened to. There’s a difference.”

Andrea’s voice was quiet but firm. “The engineering team felt—”

“The engineering team,” she cut in, “is brilliant. I have never questioned their intelligence. But they are second-guessing me — consistently — because I’m who I am. And don’t you dare try to tell me that’s not part of it.”

Zak’s expression tightened, and for a second, he looked like her father again — not the CEO, not the face of McLaren, just a man caught between protectiveness and policy. But he said nothing.

Amelia leaned forward, tone even sharper now. “You gave me my title. Chief Technical Director. You paraded me in front of press as the future of McLaren. But when it mattered, when it came down to actual performance philosophy, you let them override me. You didn’t back me.”

There was a long, taut silence.

Her hands curled into fists against the glass.

“I am telling you now,” she said clearly, eyes burning but voice terrifyingly calm, “You have until Miami to revert the floor spec, the rear suspension setup, and the aero surfaces back to my configuration. You have until Miami to stop pretending that compromising on half a dozen micro-decisions makes a faster car. It doesn’t. And I won’t let my work, my life’s work, be slowly watered down until it’s just another near-miss.”

Andrea looked at her, slow and wary. “You’re saying you’ll quit.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m saying I’ll walk.”

Zak looked like she’d punched him. “Honey—”

“No,” she said. “I’m not bluffing. I’ve given everything to this car. I built the MCL38-AN from the ground up. It is mine. And I’m watching it get torn apart by people who didn’t have the vision and don’t have the stakes I do.”

Her voice caught, just for a second; not from tears, but from fury held too long in her chest.

“I am not normal. I’m autistic,” she said bluntly, like she was listing part numbers. “I have spent my life learning how to make people take me seriously. I have sat in rooms where grown men laughed at me. I have had to make everything perfect just to be considered competent. So when I say that the car is broken, that your changes are wrong, it is not emotion. It is not ego. It is fact.”

She let that hang in the air.

Zak looked stunned. Andrea finally glanced down at the table.

Amelia straightened, pulling her hands from the glass. “Miami. That’s your deadline. Fix it, or I walk. And don’t think for a second that I won’t be taking both of my drivers with me.”

She turned before they could answer, too wired to hear excuses, too angry to be placated.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And somewhere down the hall, someone exhaled like they’d been holding their breath the entire time.

—

SkySportsF1 — An Interview with Amelia Norris

Naomi Schiff smiled at the camera as the red light blinked on. “Welcome back to Sky Sports F1. I’m joined now by McLaren’s Chief Technical Director, Oscar Piastri’s race engineer, and — of course — Lando Norris’ better half, Amelia Norris.”

Amelia, seated beside her in her team polo and her aviators hooked neatly into her collar, gave a small nod. “That’s a long title.”

Naomi laughed. “It’s earned. You’ve got more job descriptions than most team principals.”

Amelia tilted her head. “Efficient, not overcommitted.”

Naomi grinned. “Noted. Let’s start with something beyond car development — I know, shocking. F1 Academy is heading into its second year. More races on the main calendar. More visibility. How does it feel to see that kind of progress?”

Amelia’s expression shifted. Still composed, but with the slightest hint of warmth. “It feels... structural. Like we’re finally reinforcing the foundation instead of just repainting the surface.”

Naomi raised a brow, impressed. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“I don’t do metaphors often,” Amelia said dryly. “But that one felt accurate.”

Naomi leaned in slightly, tone softening. “You’ve spoken before, pretty openly, about how difficult it was to be taken seriously in motorsport. As a woman. As someone neurodivergent. What does this shift toward real support for women in the sport mean to you, personally?”

Amelia paused, more out of precision than hesitation. “It means I don’t have to keep hoping someone else fixes it. I can actually contribute. Visibility isn’t enough. It has to come with access. Tools. Pathways. F1 Academy’s starting to offer that.”

Naomi nodded, clearly moved. “And — not to blow up your spot, but — there are rumours that you’ll be working more closely with them in 2025?”

Amelia gave her a dry look. “Did Lando tell you that?”

Naomi smiled innocently. “I have many sources. All of them chatty.”

A breath, then Amelia gave a small, firm nod. “Yes. I’ll be joining the F1 Academy as a consultant next year. I’ll be working with Susie Wolff to develop a clearer technical development route for girls who want to work behind the scenes; not just drivers, but engineers, analysts, strategists. The full picture.”

Naomi’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s overdue,” Amelia said plainly. “You can’t call it a pipeline if it only works for certain people. And I know there are girls watching now who love this sport but don’t dream of being the one in the car. I’m doing this for them. Or someone like me, fifteen years ago.”

Naomi nodded. “And I assume McLaren’s more than happy for this to happen?”

Amelia shrugged. “Can I be honest? I haven’t even asked. It won’t affect my workload, and it certainly won’t affect my ability to do my job.”

Naomi laughed. “So you’re not going to slow down anytime soon?”

Amelia shook her head. “Statistically unlikely.”

Naomi turned slightly to the camera. “Well, there you have it. Amelia Norris — technical director, race engineer, soon-to-be F1 Academy consultant, and managing to make the rest of us look lazy.”

Amelia leaned toward the mic. “If anyone catches me napping in the background of any kind of weekend coverage, keep it quiet.”

Naomi laughed again, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she added, teasing, “One last question, off the record — and this is very important. Have you tried ginger nut biscuits?”

Amelia blinked. “I don’t really like cinnamon.”

Naomi tilted her head. “They’re not made with cinnamon.”

Another blink. Amelia was processing.

Naomi just winked. “Woman to woman.”

There was a beat of silence, then Amelia deadpanned, “That’s a reach.”

But her hand twitched toward her stomach, just slightly, as Naomi stood to wrap the segment.

“Thanks for joining us, Amelia,” Naomi said with a smile. “We’ll be keeping an eye on you — and your napping schedule.”

“Please don’t,” Amelia muttered as she removed her mic.

Off-camera, Naomi gave her a wink again. “You’re glowing, by the way.”

Amelia looked at her, unreadable. “That’s just my moisturiser.”

Naomi grinned slyly. “Sure it is.”

—

The desert heat shimmered off the tarmac in visible waves.

Oscar’s McLaren skimmed past the pit wall with that clean, calibrated roar, and Amelia tracked the car’s movement without flinching, her eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses.

“Box this lap,” she said calmly into the headset.

“Copy, boxing,” came Oscar’s voice, easy and even, like it always was. There was something reassuring about his tone; not casual, but not strained either. Balanced. Controlled.

Andrea leaned over her shoulder, pointing to the small uptick in temps on the left rear. “He’s pushing.”

Amelia didn’t look up. “Yeah. That was the instruction.”

Oscar pulled into the box, the car gliding to a stop just as the garage crew surged into motion — tire blankets off, engineers at the ready. Amelia stood, tugging her headset off and walking to the front of the garage.

Oscar cracked his visor. “That middle sector’s still a bit off.”

“Because you’re braking into 10 a touch early,” she said, handing him a bottle of water. “You’re playing it safe.”

“I like keeping the car in one piece.”

“You’re not going to bin it.”

Oscar arched a brow. “You say that with such confidence.”

“I built the balance map. I know what it can take.”

He took a sip of water and gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been a bit grumpy today.”

Amelia crossed her arms. “Because I feel like I’m being ignored and I don’t like it.”

Oscar smirked. “You sound like Lando.”

“I married Lando,” she muttered.

Oscar exhaled a quiet laugh and climbed out of the car. “Alright. Back in ten?”

“Back in seven,” Amelia corrected, already turning toward the data wall.

As he walked past her, he added, “You missed me, didn’t you?”

“I missed clean telemetry,” she replied without looking up.

But her mouth twitched.

Oscar tugged off his gloves. “I’ll take it.”

She didn’t say anything, but when he sat back down in the debrief chair, she handed him the revised turn-in model she’d finished before lunch — already annotated, already highlighted, already calibrated to his feedback.

He looked down at it, then back at her. “You ate lunch, right?”

“I did,” Amelia said flatly, taking her seat at the pit wall again.

Over comms, the crew confirmed readiness.

Oscar nodded to her. “Let’s go again.”

“Push lap. Use the whole track. Let it breathe in 12.”

“Copy.”

—

The moonlight caught Amelia’s cheekbones when she leaned her head against the headrest, her arms folded tight across her chest.

Oscar was on her left, earbuds in but not playing anything. Lando sat on her right, one leg folded beneath him, picking at the label on a water bottle.

The car was quiet in that post-testing way; all of them wrung out, smelling faintly of heat and rubber, the air-conditioning humming low.

Amelia finally broke the silence.

“I gave them a deadline,” she said.

Lando glanced over. “Who?”

“My dad. Andrea.” She didn’t look up. “I told them they have until Miami to either revert the car back to my spec and implement the rest of the changes — or I walk.”

Oscar blinked. Slowly pulled his earbuds out. “You what?”

“I’m not doing this,” Amelia said, voice cool and measured. “I refuse to accept excuses and be forced to sit back and watch the car become less than what it could be.”

Lando didn’t speak. He just reached over, his hand warm where it closed around her wrist, grounding.

Oscar leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “You said that to their faces?”

“In Zak’s office. Door open. With Andrea across the desk. I told them straight — they’ve got until Miami to course-correct, or I’m done.”

Lando’s jaw flexed, but he stayed quiet.

Amelia kept her eyes fixed out the window. “They know it’s true. They’re letting politics win over performance. And if they don’t fix it, I’m not going to sit there and let them ruin our chance of a championship to preserve some internal power structure. I’m tired of pretending the problem is something else.”

Oscar shifted. “You think they’ll actually listen?”

“I think they’ll think about the gap they’ll have to fill if they lose me mid-development. They’ll run the numbers.”

Lando exhaled through his nose. “You shouldn’t have to threaten to leave just to get them to listen to you.”

“I know,” she said. Quiet. Blunt. “But they weren’t going to do it otherwise. I’ve tried calm. I’ve tried patient. I’ve tried proving them wrong. They still my decisions be overridden. So now they get consequences.”

Lando rubbed a hand down his face. “I’ll back you. Whatever happens.”

Oscar nodded. “Same.”

Amelia finally looked at them. “You’re both under contract.”

“And you’re the reason we were podium-capable last year,” Lando said. “If they don’t see that, they’re idiots.”

Amelia didn’t smile. But the line of her shoulders softened just a little.

Oscar leaned his head back against the headrest. “Miami’s in, what — two months?”

“Eight weeks,” she said.

“So... no pressure.”

Amelia snorted. “You’re driving the car, ducky. Pressure’s on you.”

That earned a tired chuckle from the Aussie.

Lando leaned into her shoulder gently, head tipping against hers. “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back, okay?”

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, just long enough to breathe it in. “I know.”

NEXT CHAPTER

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happyyyandcrazyyy · 1 year ago

Text

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not an ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’d been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep enough to sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself upright, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

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harukyuu2 · 5 months ago

Note

Hii! I hope you're doing well! I saw your wind breaker with a childhood friend and I loved your writing! Could you write how the Furin first years would react when seeing fem.reader beating up a couple of guys causing trouble? Like, she would be pretty strong and beautiful, also really good at fighting. It could be a scenario or headcanons, whatever's best for you ^^

"Hold my purse, i'm gonna kick their asses!" - Furin first years x Fem!reader

!! - Fluff, headcanons !!, some of them can be a little ooc since im not sure how good i can write them, established relationship but first months of it (?? - small revision only

୨�� - As you were walking to meet your s/o, your ears caught a weird sound coming from one of the valleys. As you walked over, you saw some guys threatening a girl against a wall— and you werent about to let her down! With no one else around to help, you went in alone, taking a deep breath and hoping the outfit you just put on wouldnt get ruined… or else you were going to kick their asses again once they're unconcious!

୨୧ - Haruka Sakura

❥ This man thought for a moment you werent coming at all, maybe you had something more important to do. But still, he started walking outside of the Cafe looking for you

❥ When he heard a harsh thump and saw that you beated up like four men alone?? , he wont admit it but it made him fall more for you than he already did

❥ He would probably rush to you and start lecturing you on why you shouldnt fight without asking for Furin's help— that its their job after all! But the way his eyes scan your body tells you everything… he's worried about you

❥ If your hair gets messy or your clothes a little dirty, he doesnt mind that much—youre still pretty, so he doesnt see the problem. If you start whining about a broken nail, he's not too sure what to do, but he might make a quick stop to buy you a bandaid and then grab your hand to make you feel better shut up!

❥ He would probably ask you for a fight, he just has that thing of loving to challenge strong people and not seeing it weird... Still, just give him a kiss to shut him up adding a small punch to his arm and you win tbh

❥ Would offer you a piece of his food to make you feel better and not guilty of making him wait. Please notice HE is sharing HIS FOOD, that just shows love!!

୨୧ - Hayato Suo

❥ This man worried so much that you werent coming by now, or even texting him back :( The moment a minute passed, the moment he went out looking for you

❥ He was walking towards the street you usually get distracted by the stray cats, but he stopped in his tracks recognizing your voice with another girl in one of the valleys

❥ The scene unfolding in front of him was honestly amusing to him and piqued his curiosity— a girl sobbing into your shoulder while you comforted her, and a group of men lying on the floor? Was that… your handiwork?

❥ He walked up to you and smiled gently, asking if you two were okay! He has zero shame, so he probably grabbed your hands to check them, maybe sneaking in a caress here and there while scolding you for not telling him you were about to pick a fight. You left your boyfriend scared! He also checked on the other girl— just not touchy as he is with you ofc

❥ When the girl thanked you two, probably exchanged her socials with you and leaved, damnnn, expect a wave of teasing from Suo. No matter how you respond, he'll find a way to twist it back into teasing until youre pouting. Then, with that smug grin of his, he'll say he doesnt want to pick a fight with you, so you should calm down!

❥ If youre sad that your hair got messy, he's instantly brushing it for you. If your outfit got a little wrinkled, he would fix it with his hands! maybe a little squeeze here and there to annoy you.. and if any of your nails got broken, he would offer to pay an appointment with a nail salon for you— Basically he would treat you the rest of the date since you amused him and because you need it after a fight <3

୨୧ - Mitsuki Kiryu

❥ He sent you more than 300 messages and stickers, lets not even mention the calls. He usually goes with you to make sure your date goes safely, but this is the first—and probably last—time he lets you walk alone, knowing how dangerous the streets can be at this hour. Yeaahh, maybe he's exaggerating a little. He'll let you walk alone again… probably. But still, he feels a little guilty that something could had happened to you

❥ Once he searches for you and founds you on a dirty valley being thanked by a girl while the floor has fainted mans on it, he isnt too surprised— he knows he choosed a strong and pretty girlfriend! Still, he feels kinda guilty that he wasnt there for you...

❥ Baby goes to check on you two quickly and pats your head saying you made a good job, but of course scolds you saying that you should warn him about this situations, he wants to take care of you too!

❥ You two walked the girl to her house making sure she gets there safely and then finally started having your date! He would get you to buy accesories, clothes or something you want if youre grumbling about the fight ruining your outfit— he wants to see you happy <3

❥ Probably ended in the arcade to get plushies and play some of the games, Kiryu loves them and also loves you so its the perfect plan! It wont be easy getting a win against him tho, but atleast he reassures you with plushies

❥ To be honest, it was one of the best dates—you got lots of praise, playful teasing, and even some gifts from him. Sure, you also got scolded for not telling him you were about to fight, but hey! You saved a girl! Definitely a day you two will remember for a long time

୨୧ - Nirei Akihiko

❥ Panics the first five minutes of you dissapearing and without thinking too much just starts running around looking for you, no matter what situation you are in, he will go for you!

❥ Once he founds you on a valley?? with like four men laying on the floor?? AND A GIRL HUGGING YOU LIKE YOU JUST SAVED HER LIFE?? The poor boy is going through seven different emotions and at the same time thinking he has to fill more your part in his journal

❥ He rushes towards you and starts asking you million of questions in a milisecond: "Are you okay?" "Youre hurt?" "did you beat up those guys?" "Where did you learn to fight?" "Oh, youre hair looks pretty! you used the conditioner you told me, right?" His mind is rushing just like his words, but calms down once you squeeze his shoulders

❥ He probably invites you to eat but can't help feeling a little guilty, unsure if he could've protected you the same way you did for that girl. You'll have to reassure him—just a little—to lift his mood up for now

❥ I cant unsee this relationship like "Sir, he asked for no pickles" type of thingy and i love ittt, once Nirei gets over his feeling of guilt he admires you so much that he sometimes doesnt know how he pulled you, youre on his mind 24/7 <3

୨୧ - Taiga Tsugeura

❥ Man said that if you didnt appear the moment he ends his ab crunches he would start looking out for you, and so he did! it was kinda scary for the people on the street seeing such a big guy running like his life depend on it, but atleast he is from Furin so no big problem!

❥ While you reassured the girl, she probably got scared seeing a big guy running toward you two— but quickly turned confused when he accidentally kicked one of the unconscious men, muttered a quick "sorry," and then suddenly softened up, asking if you were okay and telling you that you missed him doing twenty ab crunches!

❥ He probably apologized for not being here to you two and then suddenly told you that this is your virtue! being a strong and pretty girl who saves other girls!

❥ This man got obsessed with the idea of his girlfriend being strong! He'd start ranting about workout routines you could try at the gym, maybe even recommending proteins you might like. Oh! And dont forget—you need a good balance of food too! Yeah, he got pretty excited about the idea of you being strong

❥ Still, he would tell you that you dont need to fight all the time since he is there for you and would remark it if you start whining of your outfit getting messy

୨୧ - Kyotaro Sugishita

❥ He thought for a moment you were showing up later as a revenge because last time he accidentally overslept for five minutes, but still decided to look out for you just in case he was wrong

❥ When he found you after beating some guys up?? he was stressed and mad. Not at you— of course, but at those guys! such scumbags making stressful situations for nothing.

❥ Sugishita is still learning about all this couple thingy, but atleast he goes to ask if youre ok and tries to reassure you giving a weird squeeze to your shoulder— its a start!

❥ He doesnt directly mention that your hair got a little messy on the fight, in his eyes youre still pretty so no need to mention it. But, if you bring it to the conversation— he'll probably find a way to fix it and give you a cute hairstyle, Tsubakino always gives nice tips to him about it!

❥ Probably bringed you a handmade gift from his grandma since she's supportive ofc but got a little scrunched up when he was walking faster than usual to find you...

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #haruka sakura #haruka sakura x reader #sakura haruka x reader #hayato suo #hayato suo x reader #nirei akihiko #nirei akihiko x reader #kyotaro sugishita #kyotaro sugishita x reader #taiga tsugeura #taiga tsugeura x reader #mitsuki kiryu #mitsuki kiryu x reader

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cimmanonrowl · 5 months ago

Text

Focus

It’s hard to please Daddy when it’s finals season and everything feels overwhelming. There were stack of books everywhere, unwashed mugs of coffee piling on your study table, and there seemed to be not enough time to revise for every course. And when Aaron finally had enough of your attitude, he decided to take the matter into his own hands.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x student!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Content: mention of starvation & hair pulling, academic pressure, huge age gap, consenting adults, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, soft daddy dom!aaron, bratty!reader, powerplay: older man x younger woman relationship.

Note: Read the content warnings and proceed with your own discretion. If it's not your cup of tea, scroll up and have a good day.

The door clicked softly as Aaron stepped into your shared apartment.

The weight of his busy day still clung heavily to his shoulders. It had been one of those days in the office—long hours of reviewing reports, draining meetings with the board; the kind that gnawed at your patience until you only had so little left to give. Some days, he’d prefer to be out on the field so he can freely stretch and move his body. Most days, he doesn’t— simply because he doesn’t want to be away from you.

He kicked off his shoes, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion as he did so. The usual sense of relief for being home hadn’t yet settled in as he glanced around the dimly lit space, his thick eyebrows pinched together in a confused frown.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Honey? I’m home,” he called out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the small apartment.

Worry trickled down his spine with the unusual sight. He had hoped to come home to something different— a warm meal, maybe, with the sound of your favourite songs blasting in the background. Or better yet, you wrapped in his favourite lingerie; the one that barely covers your pussy and clings to your body in a godly sight, kneeling on the living room floor with a sweet smile, ready to take his cock deep down your throat until he was shaking and begging to finally take your tight cunt.

Just anything– anything to signal that you had taken a break, that you weren’t still buried under the mountain of stress he’d seen building in your eyes over the past few days.

But the apartment was as silent as it had been when he left that morning.

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he made his way down the hallway, the muted light from your own study spilling out into the corridor. He had an idea, a feeling more like, as to what might greet him as soon as he sees you.

Goddamn, this girl.

The door creaked quietly as he pushed it open. And he felt his heart sink as he found you exactly where he had left you that morning— hunched over your desk, the same thick textbook open in front of you, surrounded by the same clutter of mess. The only difference was the growing pile of empty coffee cups at your side.

Had you even moved all day?

“Honey…” he tried again, softer this time, as he leaned against the door frame.

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were locked on the page in front of you, and he could see from the tension in your shoulders that you were anything but focused.

Aaron’s gaze traveled over your form, noticing the same clothes you’d worn earlier, and the half-eaten sandwich he had left on the corner of your desk that morning. His chest tightened, concern quickly overshadowing the fatigue he had brought home with him. He could make out the tension looming over your crouched figure.

“Honey…” his voice came out a whisper, curiously watching you as you murmured the words you were reading in your textbook, memorizing every word earnestly.

Aaron stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the way your hand was gripping your hair, pulling the strands tangled tightly around your fingers. You didn’t even seem to realize you were doing it— too caught up in your own world to understand what you were doing.

“Hey!”

You jumped, your hand releasing your hair so suddenly that you winced as a few strands were pulled free.

“Aaron! Y-you scared me!” your eyes finally lifted to meet his, wide and startled, as if you were seeing him for the first time that day.

He crossed the room in quick strides, worry etched into his features as he reached out to pull your hand gently away from your head. His thumb brushed over the raw area where your hair had been yanked, and he felt a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner.

“Darling, you’re doing it again,” he said quietly, his voice tight with concern. “I thought we talked about this.”

You blinked slowly. “I—I’m sorry. Yeah. I didn’t notice. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” he scanned his eyes over the desk for any sign that you had taken a break, had eaten something, anything. The half-eaten sandwich was evidence enough that you hadn’t.

“I was just trying to finish this stupid chapter,” you mumbled, your voice small, almost ashamed. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I’ll eat after, I promise.”

Aaron sighed heavily. “You didn’t eat. You didn’t move. You’ve been sitting here, pulling your hair out over these stupid finals all day, and you didn’t even notice?”

Blood rushed through your warm cheeks. And you felt the sudden urge to yell at his face.

Stupid finals?

Stupid?

You looked down at your hands, irritation slowly flooding in as his words sank in. He wasn’t wrong— you’d been so consumed by the pressure to finish everything as quickly and efficiently as you could, to get everything right, that you had lost track of everything else. But stupid… really? What you were doing was far from that word. How insensitive could he be?

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your rising temper.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in your chest. “I just wanted to do well. I didn’t mean to…”

Aaron’s expression softened at your words. He’s as frustrated as you were yet he’s concerned more than anything else. He crouched beside you before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly as his warm gaze lingered over your face.

You look tired, he noticed.

“Baby…” his voice was soft it almost made you tear up. “I know you’re stressed, but this isn’t healthy. You know that, right? You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

You nodded slowly. “I know. I just… I don’t want to mess up. I want to make you proud, Daddy...”

“Oh, sweet girl. You already do,” he took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But you’re more important than your grades. Daddy needs you to take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he added, gently rubbing the spot where your hair had been pulled.

“But… I don’t want to slack off...”

Your pout deepened as Aaron frowned down at you.

“You’re the most hard working girl I know in this world, baby,” he said seriously. “What I need you to do is promise me that you’ll take breaks, eat on time, and stop… this…”

Whatever this is, you knew what he wanted to say.

“But—”

“Are you talking back to me?”

Hesitation clung to you with the sudden drop of his voice. The promise felt heavy on your tongue. There’s still a lot to do, deadlines to beat, too much reading to finish, papers to write and revise. You know with the current state of events, you can’t carelessly promise anything to him, but the way Aaron’s eyes squinted at your defiance was enough to make you nod quickly.

“S-sorry, Daddy. I promise.”

Aaron searched your face for a moment longer, then finally relaxed, though the worry didn’t entirely leave his eyes.

“Good. Because if I come home tomorrow and find you in the same spot, I’ll drag you out of here myself and punish you, baby. And no more coffee after 5 p.m.,” he added, eyeing the empty cups with disdain and disapproval.

You managed a small smile, the first genuine lightness you’d felt all day, and nodded again. “Yes, Daddy. No more coffee.”

“There’s my good girl.” Heat dusted over your cheeks as you giggled at his praise, and this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. “Now, enough of that, come on. We’re ordering takeout, and you’re taking a break. No arguments.”

Panic settled on your heavy bones.

“Huh- what–” you stammered, peering over your books and the half-finished paper on your laptop. “Daddy, I nee– just one more chapter, please. I need– just another paragpra–”

The stern look he gave you made you stop. He didn’t have to say anything. Just seeing the scowl on his face; his thick eyebrows tugged together, his eyes narrowing in silent warning, was enough to put you back in place.

You pursed your lips immediately, and finally let him lead you out of the study, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease just a little.

That night, Aaron let you use his cock for relief. He’s always been true to his words. He ordered a take out from your favourite Chinese restaurant down the block, ran a bubble bath and joined you shortly to wash your body, massaged your scalp and shoulder, showered you with praises for being his good girl, for being hardworking and smart, and for being the prettiest girl in the world. Then you let Daddy fuck your wet, needy cunt with his thick fingers until you came and writhed against his soft touches.

It was almost midnight when you heard your neighbor pound angrily on the thin wall separating your apartments, screaming in frustration to tone down your fucking. Which you only giggled. Daddy gave you permission to ride his big, fat cock the way you like it. And you did. But it was only after he lapped and ate your pussy like a starved man that he made you cum twice on his tongue, until your legs were spasming uncontrollably from the blinding pleasure.

The next few days were just as rough.

It was an underestimation on some angle, but nothing but the truth as a whole. You and Aaron were arguing nonstop. He was scolding you too much. You cry nearly every night. But he never stopped breathing down your neck: reminding you to take a break, eat the food he ordered for you from his office, drink your vitamins, don’t drink any more coffee, eat the fruits he bought instead of potato chips, rest your eyes, take a bath, take a walk, threatening to punish you if you don’t.

“Are you seriously fucking kidding me?” His voice was flat, his weariness laced with something sharper, though you couldn’t tell if it was frustration or concern. Maybe both. Or maybe he’s seriously just pissed off.

Slowly, with brows pulled in a tight frown, you glanced over your shoulder.

You didn’t hear Aaron walk down the hall, didn’t hear the way his pace slowed just outside the door, or how he lingered there for a moment, leaning against the frame to watch you in annoyance. His frustrated sigh filled the room, deep and full of exhaustion, but that you heard.

Your hand went limp, your fingers still tangled in your hair as you stared back innocently at him.

Aaron stood there, quietly observing you from your seat, still in his work clothes— his tie loosened, shirt untucked from where he’d probably tugged at it during his long day. His expression, however, was fully focused on you, and the hint of gentle smile he usually carried whenever he comes home to you was absent, replaced by a frown etched deep in his rugged features.

“What, Daddy?” you asked in a small voice, as though you hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

You felt the pull of your own hand still gripping your hair. Slowly, you released it, lowering your hand to your lap.

Aaron let out a sigh, running a hand through his own tousled hair before crossing the room to you. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm.

“Have you been sitting here all day?”

What?

You blinked, looking around for a clock to confirm what he was saying. You barely remember anything that happened. All you can recall was being kissed on your forehead before he head out to work, reminding you to eat the breakfast he prepared for you, and to keep your promise. But now the light outside had faded into complete darkness, the street lights illuminating the crossroads outside, streaks of moonlight painting the night sky.

Almost like an afterthought, your stomach growled faintly. You suddenly realized you hadn’t eaten since… that morning…

Maybe.

“I… I guess so,” you murmured, as if admitting it out loud will make everything worse.

He crossed his arms, thick muscles bulging against the tight fabric of his dress shirt.

“You guess so? Try again, little girl.”

“I—” You wandered your eyes over the pile of untouched notes, the cold cup of coffee still sitting on your desk, and the empty plate from a hastily eaten sandwich. “I… I didn’t, sorry. I didn’t notice the time.”

Your mind was wrapped too tightly around the fact that you still have one more essay to finish before the due date. It was a frustrating day. You caught yourself a lot of times staring mindlessly at the words printed on your book, though they blurred and danced right before your eyes. You stared at the same paragraph for… how long each? Minutes? Hours? You weren’t even sure anymore.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he crouched down next to your chair, his gaze level with yours now.

“I told you to eat proper meals, didn’t I?” He pointed out, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed under your eye, and you realized how dry and tired your skin felt. “And you still haven’t eaten, have you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head slightly. “I wasn’t hungry, Daddy. I just wanted to get through this part—”

“No,” Aaron cut you off, shaking his head as he firmly gripped your shoulders, turning your chair so you faced him fully. “No. Enough of this now, little girl. You’ve been doing this to yourself all week. Staying up too late and skipping meals. This is not good for you.”

Your eyes started to burn—not from exhaustion this time, but from something heavier, something you’d been holding in for days now.

“You don’t understand, Daddy. This is important to me!”

The stress, the pressure, the sense of being completely overwhelmed. You felt like you were sinking, and somehow, it all spilled over the moment Aaron looked at you with those tired, worried eyes.

“I just…” Your voice broke, and you looked away, blinking rapidly. “I have to do well, Daddy. I can’t mess this up. I have one semester left until graduation. I can’t– I have to do well.”

Aaron’s expression softened as he listened, and his hands moved to cradle your face, gently turning you back to meet his gaze. “Baby, Daddy knows how important this is to you,” his voice was calm and steady. “But you can’t do well if you’re running yourself into the ground. You’re hurting yourself, and you don’t even realize it. I’m not doing this to sabotage you, honey.”

His thumb brushed over the spot on your scalp where your hair was still tender from your unconscious pulling, and you winced slightly.

“Sorry—” you apologized quickly. “I don’t realize I’m doing it, daddy. I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed at that, and he lowered his hands, his worry etched into every line of his face. “Just promise me you’ll stop,” he whispered, as if the words themselves could break you. “Or else I’m putting mittens on these little hands of yours.”

You nodded quickly, stifling a giggle. “I promise, daddy. I didn’t even realize I was doing it—”

“I know,” Aaron cut you off gently before you could finish. He stood up then, his hand dropping to yours, tugging you softly up to your feet. “C’mon. You’re done for the night.”

“But—” You glanced back at your desk, at the still-open textbooks, the unread chapters waiting for you. “I’m not done. I have so much left—”

“What do you still need to do?” He asked, following your gaze on your table.

“I’m halfway through this paper and I still have to revise them. Then…” your lower lip prodded a little as you stared up at him. “I need to review for my deptals. I just finished making flashcards on my iPad, Daddy, but I haven’t checked them yet…”

“Then we’ll do that tonight,” he said as he steered you out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. “First, you need to eat. And then, we’re going to bed.”

“Daddy, I just said I need to revie—”

“Yes, yes, you will, honey.” He squeezed your hand gently as he led you to the kitchen table. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You’ve got Daddy. I’ll help you tonight. So be a good girl for me and eat first.”

You sat down heavily in the chair as Aaron started pulling out some leftovers from the fridge, reheating them with quick, efficient movements. He didn’t ask you to explain yourself or demand an apology. He just moved around the kitchen with an ease that came from his conscious effort to know you— knowing when to push, and when to just be there quietly.

When he placed the food in front of you, you hesitated for a moment before picking up the fork.

“Daddy…”

He hummed. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between bites. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Aaron pulled up a chair beside you, leaning forward on his elbows as he watched you eat; a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “I know you didn’t, little one. But you did. And I’d rather see you take care of yourself than get another A.”

“You’re just saying that, Daddy. You said I’ll always get a reward if I do well in school. You were bribing me.”

“Maybe…” he grinned, the tiredness in his eyes easing a bit. “But I still mean it.”

As you continued eating, Aaron reached across the table, brushing his fingers against your hand again. “Remember your promise?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll try harder not to do it anymore.”

“Good girl,” he leaned back on his chair with a relieved sigh. “Now, finish your meal. What would you say if Daddy help you study?”

You smiled wider at that, nodding your head quickly. “I’d like that, Daddy.”

“What if you sit on Daddy’s big cock while I ask you your reviewer questions? Would my little girl like that?”

Heat pooled in between your legs as you listened to the vulgarity of his words. He gave you a small smile, reaching his hand to your face before gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

“S-sounds good, Daddy,” you said weakly, blushing as you crossed your legs under the table. “D-do I get to come?”

“If you answer the questions correctly, yes you will,” he said lowly, lightly caressing your exposed neck with his thumb.

A low whimper rumbled on your throat.

“But wha– what if I don’t, daddy?”

“Then we’ll just have to see, don’t we, little girl?”

Aaron laid on his back, looking so comfortable and snug as ever, with the soft glow of your iPad casting a faint light in the dimly lit bedroom. The night shirt he previously worn was already discarded on the floor, completely unforgotten. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through the flashcards you’d painstakingly made for your departamental exams, his fingers gently swiping the screen.

“Alright, honey,” Aaron said, his voice low and focused. “Define ‘morphological productivity’ for me.”

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to pull the answer from the jumble of concepts crammed into your brain. A low whine escaped your lips under the intensity of his gaze; exactly just as you felt his thick cock twitch against your walls.

“Daddy… f-feels so good…” you shook your head weakly as the pad of Aaron’s calloused palm traveled your bare thighs.

“I know, honey. But I need you to be a good girl and focus right now.”

Your heart raced, though it wasn’t just from the pressure of not knowing the answer to his question. His presence—so close, so steady—and the familiar heady smell of his bodywash was making it harder to focus. The warmth of his body underneath you, his big cock inside your wet cunt, the way his voice dropped whenever he asked a question, all of it felt heavier, more instense than usual.

“Morphological productivity…” Your mind raced to remember the specifics. “It’s when the… morphology is productive—oh fuck!”

Aaron barked a hearty laughter, sending shivers down your spine with every twitch of his cock inside your hole.

“Just joking, Daddy…” You pouted adorably, slowly grinding your hips to feel more of his girth. “It’s… it’s… t-the guide that control how words are formed and structured in a l-language, r-right?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, baby. Can you give me an example?”

“One e-example is affix… affixation…” You moaned softly, stopping your hips from grinding back and forth as Aaron gripped your thigh in a silent warning. “Sorry, Daddy. F-for instance, you can add ‘-ness’ to the root word ‘happy’ to make ‘happiness’ and it still makes sense.”

Aaron gave a small nod, his lips curving slightly in approval, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Close enough,” he said, his voice steady.

His eyes flicked toward your bare chest before returning to the iPad, and you felt wetness pooling in between your legs intensify.

“Next, baby,” he said, swiping to the next card. “What’s the difference between a free morpheme and a bound morpheme?”

You shifted slightly, pressing both your palm on his stomach, trying to stifle a moan.

“A free morpheme can stand alone as a word,” your voice came out a little softer, distracted by the way his fingers moved so casually across your thighs. “Like ‘book’ or ‘run.’ A bound morpheme can’t… it… it h-has to be attached to something else, like pre… oh, Daddy… pre…fixes or s-suffixes. Like ‘-s’ or ‘-ing.’”

Aaron’s eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His gaze was heavy, like he was weighing more than just your answer, and the quiet that followed hung between you, thick. You could feel the heat of his body underneath you, and his pulsating cock inside.

“C-correct,” he murmured, but his voice had dipped lower.

His fingers lingered over the screen, not moving to the next flashcard right away. The air between you seemed to hum, each small movement or breath amplified in the quiet room.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. The weight of his gaze was now making it difficult to focus on anything but the heat of your skin together. Studying had always been stressful, but this… this was different. His serious, deliberate tone, the way he was so focused, so intent on helping you, made it all the more difficult to not cave in to your crushing desire.

“Now, this one should be easy. What is a washback?” he asked, his voice still low, though his eyes hadn’t left yours.

You hesitated, distracted by the way his lips formed each word. “It’s also… uh I think it’s also called the washback effect. It is the influence of an assessment on teaching and learning. It can be both beneficial or harmful, and is a common phenomenon in institutional learning.”

“Mm-hm,” Aaron hummed in approval, his eyes darkening slightly as he nodded. “Good girl.”

He didn’t move to the next flashcard right away. Instead, his hand shifted slightly inches slightly to your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles. It was such a subtle motion, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Daddy… please…” You bit your lip, trying to refocus. “Are you… Are you going to ask me the next one?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying your growing distraction.

Aaron’s gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest second before he looked back at the iPad, though the movement wasn’t lost on you. He cleared his throat, as if remembering the task at hand, and swiped to the next card, though his thumb lingered on the screen a little longer than necessary.

“Define… vowel harmony,” he said, his voice slower this time, before gently bucking his hip like his simply adjusting his position.

You whined loudly, the tip of his cock hitting the special spot inside, your mind scrambling to pull the answer from the depths of your memory.

“It’s… uh… Daddy… stop m-moving…” You swallowed, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s when… when… vowels within a word need to m-match in some way. Just… just l-like in certain languages, all the vowels in a word have to be either front or back vowels.”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving just slightly in a faint, knowing smile. “Very good.”

His hand shifted again, this time closer, brushing down your inner thigh, right where your bodies meet. The heat from his touch seeped through every fiber of your being, flooding your senses with heat and desire. And lust. Overflowing heat and lust.

Your breathing quickened, your mind no longer on linguistic theories or exam questions.

“Do you want to keep going?” Aaron asked, though his voice had lost the strict, studious edge it had earlier. His hand still rested on your inner thigh, his fingers ghosting against your throbbing clit, as if waiting for your answer to decide where they might go next.

“D-daddy…” you said in a whisper, slowly grinding your hips again. “N-need you… plea…please… daddy…”

Aaron didn’t move for a moment. He kept watching your desperate movements with that same heavy gaze, his fingers slowly teasing their way to your needy cunt, sending another shiver through your body.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he set the iPad aside, his hand resting fully on your hip now.

“My little girl’s been studying hard…” his voice was low and rough, the pad of his big, calloused hands against your skin. “And you’ve got all these answers down.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body instinctively leaning into his touch. The anticipation was almost suffocating in the best way, choking you. He started to rock his hip slowly, the trail of hair from his cock grinding against your clit in a heady way.

“F-fuck…” your voice trembled as you impatiently increased your pace. “Y-yes, D-daddy… please...”

He sat up to lean towards you, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “Baby, you’ve earned a break,” the words filled with a promise that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll fuck you nice and good, hmm?”

As Aaron’s lips brushed ever so lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck, your world crumbled and you couldn’t focus on anything else.

His lips trailed down your exposed neck, his nose pressed against your skin, taking in your scent as he left a soft trail of light kisses. A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you felt his hands tighten around your waist, guiding you in back-and-forth motion. The way his big and girthy cock was stretching your leaking cunt was intoxicating. You whimpered in embarrassment, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as you felt the tip of his cock deep into your belly.

“D-daddy… can you move, please?” you whispered in a weak voice.

“You want Daddy’s cum inside you, sweet girl?”

You nodded, feeling Aaron move gently to fix his position. “I d-do, Daddy… s-so much… please...”

“Then you’ll get it, princess.”

With a yelp, Aaron’s girthy cock rammed in and out of your waiting cunt. The shrill sound that escaped your lips made Aaron smirk in satisfaction. This is where you belong; in his arms, perched on his lap with your warm, velvety walls wrapped tightly on his cock, his name leaving your lips like a desperate prayer.

Deep grunts and small whimpers tangled in the air like harmony. Your voice was raw, and your throat dries as he assaulted your greedy, little cunt with deep thrusts. His breathing was ragged and heavy.

“Da…Daddy…” Your fingers tightened on his hair, pulling a little with every plop of your sweaty skin. “C-close, ‘m close… Daddy…”

Aaron let out an amused laugh. “No, not yet. Wait a l-little more, you can do that f-for Daddy, princess?”

You whined.

“N-no… I-I want… Daddy… come, p-please… Want to c-come…”

A sharp slap on the side of your thigh stilled you.

“Who fucking own you, little girl?”

“Y-you... Daddy…”

“And who fucking own this greedy cunt, huh? Who get to say when you’re allowed to fucking come?”

A particular thrust set your nerves on fire. “Y-you, Daddy! Only y-you… fuck… that feels g-good! There- t-there! R-right there! H-harder, Daddy! Fuck– f-fuck me!”

“There’s my good girl.”

You felt the familiar coil twisting in your belly. The squelching sound of your wet hole being pounded hard and fast was dirty and somehow humiliating. He kept hammering his hips into you, the tip of his throbbing cock nudging the most sensitive spots deep inside your body. Parts you never knew existed until you met Aaron. He has always loved you hard and always fucked you even harder. Like you’re nothing but a fleshlight. A toy. A fuckdoll he could use just the way he wants it.

“Y-yes! Yes! D-daddy! Right-r-right there! F-fuck!” Your release inched closer, roused by his pained grunts and heavy breathing. “Please! P-please! Please, Daddy! Come in-inside me! Breed m-me… please! I’m a g-good girl, r-right? Fuck m-me full of c-cum, please! W-want it s-so bad— want y-you so bad!”

“Come, princess. Go on. Let go.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like an avalanche. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. Aaron’s loud grunt and your whiny moan pierced the silence of the night, his fat cock spurting ropes and ropes of warm cum into your waiting womb. Shivers ran down your spine, your bones weak, legs trembling.

“That’s it... good girl... my sweet girl...” Aaron murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Just take it, princess. Daddy loves you.”

A loud pounding on the wall startled your calming heart. It even made Aaron jump a little. Seconds ticked in and the familiar voice of your angry neighbor echoed inside your sweaty, sex-filled room.

“Stop fucking in the middle of the night, for fuck’s sake! Some people have fucking exams tomorrow unlike you fucking horny crackheads! Fuck!”

You could only giggle in exhaustion.

Guess who’s back, bitches! (affectionately) Please give me some love and appreciation in the form of your thoughts or reactions. Also, don’t forget to drink your water and keep slaying, babes!

Tag list: @downbad4reid ,@roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @anime-lover-forever-1127, @hazel-babbit, @3amcloudss, @seraphinlover

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaron hotchner x you #daddy!aaron

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written-in-knife · 25 days ago

Note

Hi! Do you write for Sebek? Could I maybe ask a fic where he slowly starts liking the reader/yuu but can only show it in his own harsh and loud way...the reader likes him too but eventually just gets mad at him and ignores him because he keeps blabbering about and comparing them to Malleus and keeps calling them 'human' instead of their name. He then realizes his feelings and tries to fix it, and like accidentally blurts out that he even imagined them getting married or some other crazy thing lol. Something along those lines....(he would absolutely pass out the first time he gets kissed and I am 100% convinced that he is the type of husband, later on in life, that would pass out when you're giving birth to your child)

Thanks!

Book Club

Sebek Zigvolt x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, fluff, hurt/comfort but in a very light way, mutual pining,

WC: 4806 can a bitch not get carried away? holy shit.

I totally agree, he's a fainter but like also the biggest supporter? I feel like during the birth of his child he would INSIST on seeing it happen, that he'd be fine, then fuckin hit the deck the second he actually looked. I changed the prompt just a little bit because i'm a big fan of two idiots mutually pining for each other until it gets stupid :)

When Malleus asked you to reach out to his retainer, worried he wasn't getting along with his fellow first years, you were a bit hesitant. You'd heard of Sebek, mostly from others complaining about how loud he was. But you weren't one to turn down requests from dear friends, so you went with him to Diasomnia to invite Sebek over to Ramshackle with the rest of your first year friends to participate in a movie night.

When Sebek got your invitation to watch movies at Ramshackle, he almost immediately shot it down. He had better things to do than waste time goofing off with you and your gaggle of troublesome friends. But the second he said that out loud to you, Lilia appeared behind you, glaring him down and shaking his head in disappointment. He was reluctant, but revised his answer, agreeing to ONE movie night. Surely he could suffer through one evening.

You had to talk the others into it, damn near threatening Ace to be nice when you told them you'd invited Sebek. They had similar complaints that you'd already heard, he was loud, rude, bossy, but you weren't having any of their lip. You jabbed your finger at Ace when the final knock came on Ramshackle's front door, reminding him to behave as you went to answer it. You opened the door to Sebek waiting on the front porch, standing as militarily poised as ever, a basket in his hands.

"HUMAN." He shouted in greeting, thrusting the basket forwards. "Lilia sent me with various snacks to partake of during the film."

You took the basket slowly, wincing slightly as you looked over it. "He didn't... cook any of this himself, did he?"

"Ah, no. Silver insisted he just pick things up from the school store," he explained as you felt the tension in your shoulders release, "something about different tastes. I wasn't listening."

"Well, thanks." You gave him a smile, stepping aside to let him into the dorm. "C'mon, we're still setting up."

You closed the door behind him before leading him to the lounge where Grim and Ace had picked up their argument about which movie to watch, Ortho rattling off ratings for either of the movies that he pulled up from his spot on the couch. You watched Jack roll his eyes at them for what seemed like the hundredth time as you set the snack basket down on the coffee table next to the tray of baked goods Trey had sent with Ace and Deuce. Sebek was still hovering by the doorway, looking extraordinarily out of place, fingers flexing at his sides anxiously. You wandered back over to him, catching his awkward gaze.

"You can grab a seat anywhere," you offered, gesturing to the couch and chairs around the TV, "Epel's heating up some cider his parents sent over, and Deuce is off gathering blankets to make the floor more comfortable for him and Ace."

"You're making your guests sit on the floor?" He asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at you.

"More like seating constraints are." You sighed heavily. "Grim usually sits in my lap so he doesn't have to strain his neck on the floor and everything else is just first come first serve. Deuce offered to take the floor so you don't have to for your first time here."

"I see. Very well, I will sit on the couch." He announced before marching over to sit on the far end, opposite Ortho.

You shrugged as Jack gave you a look before moving over to Ace and Grim, snatching the movie Ace was holding and bringing it over to the TV, ignoring Grim's protesting as you went. It was some horror flick his brother had sent him, which explained why Grim was so hung up about it. You popped it into the player and grabbed the remote as Deuce came in behind you, dumping an armful of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the TV. He and Ace started spreading them out as Epel came out with a tray of mismatched mugs, setting it on the coffee table before grabbing one and going to sit in the armchair opposite Jack. Which left the spot between Ortho and Sebek for you. When Grim noticed this, he grumbled something under his breath and went to join the Heartslabyul boys on the floor, making you roll your eyes. You went to sit down, noting how completely stiff Sebek was in his spot, back completely straight, hands resting firmly on his thighs, sort of glancing around at the lounge's decor. You tried not to smirk, grabbing a mug for yourself and one for him, holding it out for him to take.

"Thank you." He nodded slightly as you settled into the couch, pulling your legs up to get more comfortable as he stared into the mug. "What... is this?"

"It's apples, man." Epel said simply, giving him a confused look.

"It's good, don't worry." You nudged him lightly with your elbow before starting the movie, Ortho flipping off the lamp next to the couch.

The movie was your typical slasher horror, it seemed the genre overlapped the two worlds. Ace and Deuce kept quietly poking fun at Grim whenever he got scared, leading him to eventually move over to sit with Epel. You stole a few glances at Sebek, trying to keep your laughter to yourself when you realized how intensely he was watching. He never flinched at the jumpscares, didn't seem to react much at all, but he was giving it his undivided attention. He didn't even glance over at you when you tried to pass him some of the snacks, having to reach around him to pass them down to Epel. When the credits rolled, Ortho turned the lamp back on and Sebek finally tore his eyes away from the screen.

"That seemed wholly unrealistic!" He complained, setting his half drank mug on the coffee table to cross his arms. "Why would they run upstairs when the exit was right behind them?"

"I wanna know how stupid you'd have to be to go investigate the spooky noises when you know someone's out to murder you." You scoffed, standing up to swap out the movie to Grim's pick.

Ace groaned, rolling onto his back to look up at you. "It's a movie. It doesn't have to be realistic."

"I just feel like the characters being morons kinda takes me out of it a little." You shrugged at him, stepping over his legs to get to the TV. "Doesn't mean it isn't a good movie."

You pulled out the horror movie, putting it back in its box as Epel stood and plopped Grim into his spot. "I gotta head out, Vil's got some facial thing he wants me to go to in the morning." He grumbled as he stretched. "I left the rest of that cider in the fridge for ya."

"Aw, alright. See you next time?"

"For sure. Night y'all."

Sebek perked up as everyone said good night to Epel, waiting for him to leave the lounge before standing up himself. "I must also leave."

"What really?" You asked, glancing at the time on your phone. "I'm sure Malleus wouldn't mind if you stuck around for one more."

"Do not presume to know Malleus's mind, human!" He snapped before clearing his throat. "Thank you for inviting me, enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Sure..." You hesitated, glancing to Ace and Deuce who immediately shook their heads. "Open invite for next time, by the way. We do this every other weekend." You ignored the boys on the floor as they dramatically rolled their eyes, Ace even going as far as to bury his face in a pillow to grumble into it.

"I... will think about it."

When Sebek returned to Diasomnia, Lilia and Malleus were waiting for him in the lounge, Lilia immediately perking up as he walked into the room.

"So? How'd it go?" Lilia asked, folding his arms on the back of the couch and propping his chin on them, practically kicking his feet in anticipation.

Sebek hesitated for a moment as they stared at him. "It was enjoyable." He landed on with a nod. "There was hot apple juice, and your snacks seemed to be appreciated."

"Did you enjoy the film?" Malleus asked, pleased his plan of "get Sebek to make friends" seemed to be working.

"Not particularly, but everyone else seemed to. I also utilized your advice, Lilia."

"Oh?" Lilia hesitated for a moment as he thought, turning to Malleus slightly. "...Did I give him advice?"

Malleus shrugged, shaking his head slightly as Sebek continued. "To not talk during any show or film. You explained it to me when I rudely interrupted one of your drama shows."

"Ah yes! Well, good! I'm glad you had fun!"

"I believe the Ramshackle dorm hosts these events on a regular basis," Malleus mused, "perhaps you should attend them again, when you have the time."

Sebek wanted to say it was only because Malleus encouraged him to that he returned for movie night, but he'd be lying if he said that were the only reason. The movies were never good, but he enjoyed the camaraderie of watching and disliking them as a group. It took a couple times of him going to actually stay for the second movie, and one time the third, which usually only Ace and Deuce would stay for since they had sleepover permissions. After that, you started waving him down in the cafeteria at meal times, Silver and Lilia having to shove him your way the first few times you did. Sebek noticed after awhile that you were the only one to ever sit next to him, and you knew it was because the others didn't want him yelling in their ear. You didn't bother telling him that, however. But he grew to appreciate your presence at his side, handing him snacks, muttering to him during particularly terrible parts of movies-- which is how he found out that talking was allowed during movies and shows, but you had to keep it to a whisper-- propping your arm on his shoulder to accentuate your point when you were getting really into a story, explaining things in a very casual manner when he didn't quite understand. It was nice. You were nice, he liked you. Perhaps... as a bit more than a friend. He nearly screamed into his pillow when he made that connection before falling asleep one night. He desperately tried not to make his affections towards you obvious after that realization, trying to keep up the casual, friendly atmosphere that had been set. But he thought about you far more often than he'd like to admit.

Which was why he was hesitating by the door to Ramshackle. It was movie night, he did still have a standing invitation, but he was finding it harder and harder to focus on the movies when you were always right there. He eventually did knock, confused and a bit concerned when he had to wait longer than usual for you to come to the door. He saw your face pop up through the window, giving him a confused look before a realization hit. He heard you curse to yourself before pulling the door open, giving him an apologetic look.

"Shit, Sebek, I'm so sorry," you said quickly, pulling out your phone as he looked you over, finding you in your pajamas, "I forgot we never added you to the group chat. I'll do that right now..."

"Has something happened?"

"Yeah, everybody else cancelled on me." You huffed as his phone dinged in his pocket. "Ace and Deuce are on lockdown cause they broke something at Heartslabyul, Epel's on lockdown because Vil found his snack stash, Jack sprained his ankle, and Idia is having some sort of mental breakdown about a girl group I think? Ortho's handling the fallout."

"Is Grim not present?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stuffed your phone back in your pocket. "He just got back from detention with Crewel for blowing up our potion in lab today. So he's here somewhere pouting that I locked away the good tuna."

"I see..." Sebek muttered, shuffling his feet for a second. "Can we not watch the movie without them?"

You gave him a fond smile. "I don't actually own any movies. Everybody else has just been bringing the ones they want to watch. I'm really sorry, Sebek." He nodded slowly, adjusting the ends of his sleeves awkwardly. There was a long pause and he was about to announce his leave before you spoke up. "But... if you still wanna hang out, we could do a little one session book club. There's plenty of books in here." You jabbed your thumb behind you, giving him a look that almost seemed hopeful.

He hummed in thought for a moment. "I suppose I could peruse your collection."

You smiled wide at him, stepping aside for him to come in like you always did. The two of you ended up on the couch in front of the TV, like usual, books in either of your hands. You'd curled up on one side of the couch, your legs tucked up by the arm while you propped your torso up with a pillow in the middle, and he'd taken his usual spot on the other side, as perfectly postured as ever. The two of you were silent, other than huffs of quiet laughter or small gasps in reaction to your stories. Sebek had been expecting it to be far more awkward, but it was just... nice. Nice to enjoy your company away from the rest of the group, nice to share an interest, nice to have a quiet moment. He had gotten engrossed in his book, barely glancing up when you readjusted yourself to a more upright position in the middle of the couch. It was only a few minutes later that he was startled out of his reading by your head landing on his shoulder. He was about to reprimand you before he turned to see that you'd completely fallen asleep, book caught loosely from falling by just your thumb and your knee, shoulders completely slumped as you relaxed against him, and he froze. Not sure what to do other than not move to avoid disturbing you, he tried to go back to his book, tried to ignore your warmth pressed against his arm, but he couldn't. It wasn't like you'd never touched him before, but those were casual, friendly gestures, not practically cuddling. His face was burning as his thoughts raced, completely betraying him by picturing what a life with you might be like. Would you understand fae courting customs? He was desperate to go back to reading. He reread the same page maybe twenty times by the time you woke up again, groaning lightly as you sat up, allowing him to nearly fling himself to the other side of the couch.

"YOU MUST GET PROPER SLEEP, HUMAN." He shouted, face still burning as you winced slightly at his volume so soon after you'd woken up. "IT IS COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE TO FALL ASLEEP WHEN YOU HAVE COMPANY!"

"I'm sorry, Sebek, it's been a long day..." You apologized through a yawn from behind your hand before placing your book face down on the coffee table. "Feel free to take that book with you, lemme know what you think..." You were actively falling asleep again as you spoke, leaning to your other side to lay your head against the arm of the couch.

"Do you not have a PERFECTLY good bed UPSTAIRS?" He shouted incredulously, startling you awake again.

"That's all the way up there..." You groaned, burying your face in the throw pillow.

Sebek scoffed, shoving the piece of scrap paper you'd given him for a bookmark between the pages before setting the book on the coffee table and standing. "There is no way to get a good night's rest sleeping on this terrible lumpy couch!" He declared with his hands on his hips.

"It'll be fine, Sebek..." You grumbled again, lazily waving your hand at him.

He sighed heavily before deciding this was now a task that had been placed upon his shoulders. You squeaked out a yelp as he scooped you off the couch and into his arms, flinging your arms around his neck to keep from falling, as if he would ever drop you. He'd been to your room once before after volunteering to carry Grim to bed when he fell asleep during a movie and you had to clean up, so he at least knew where he was going. You didn't look at him as he carried you up the stairs, your face had to be as red as his now. Neither of you said anything until he brought you into your room, sitting you down surprisingly gently on the bed before straightening out like a soldier standing at attention.

"There." He huffed, not looking directly at you. "Ensure you get proper amounts and quality of sleep in the future, human."

"Will do... Good night, Sebek."

"Good night, human."

He marched out of the room, shutting the door behind him as you laid back in your bed, climbing under the covers. You were wide awake now, no hope of going back to sleep any time soon. You'd initially invited Sebek over because Malleus had asked you to, but you thought he was actually really nice to be around. You understood why people complained that he was loud and rude, but it was mostly just that he was blunt. He was loud, though. Past that, he was actually very kind and fun to talk to. You liked his little competitive streak, though he definitely needed to work on losing with grace, and you liked how animated he got when he was talking about something he was passionate about, but he should really find other interests past Malleus. Overall, you did really like being around him. You tried not to acknowledge the crush on him that had grown a little too quickly for your liking, knowing it was obvious when Ace started to tease you about it. It's not like you could help it, he was sweet and it was easy to fall for him. Before your little book club accident, you'd even gotten him to start calling him by your name, but you guessed that the sudden contact had shocked him out of that pretty hard. He went back to calling you human all the time, much to your distaste.

You did, however, offer to continue that little book club, meeting up on opposite weeks from movie nights to talk about the books you'd read and recommending new ones for each other. It was at one of these that your irritation with his... less desirable traits got the better of you. He'd compared you to Malleus in the past, usually sidetracking himself into another Malleus anecdote you'd already heard three times, but you could usually brush it off just fine. But you'd be lying if you said it wasn't grating on you. You were telling him about how you'd scared off the birds that were hanging out around Silver when you'd stumbled on him napping in one of the courtyards and how you felt kind of bad about it. He went off on a tangent about how most animals were afraid of Malleus, how the birds wouldn't even dare come around when Silver was attending to his duties, and all the reasons they shouldn't be afraid of his magnificence. You sighed quietly as he continued to rant about Malleus, something inside you just deciding that you couldn't put up with it anymore.

"Hey Sebek?" You called out to him softly, cutting off his ramblings. "I'm so sorry, I just realized how exhausted I am. Maybe we could go over our books next time? I don't wanna make you carry me upstairs again."

Sebek huffed out an annoyed sigh, giving you a disappointed look. "I thought we had discussed the importance of proper sleep, human!"

Human. You tried not to show your annoyance on your face, tried not to let it seep into your tone. Would he even notice if you did? You were fairly certain he didn't notice you at all. "We did, which is why I'm gonna send you home now so I can get proper sleep for tomorrow."

"Very well, we will pick this up next time." He sighed, closing his book and tucking it under his arm as he stood. "I expect a thorough breakdown of your thoughts on that book when we reconvene."

"Sure. Night Sebek."

"Good night, human."

You prayed he didn't notice the way your eye twitched as he turned to leave, barely resisting the urge to grumble that your name wasn't human by biting your tongue near to bleeding. He'd noticed your clipped tone, but just attributed it to your exhaustion. He didn't think anything was really wrong until the next movie night. Deuce let him into the dorm, and you had already made yourself comfortable with Grim in one of the armchairs, only just sparing him a greeting before going back to your conversation with Ortho. Sebek took the armchair opposite you that night, confusion and worry keeping him from focusing on the movies. He stayed for the third that night but you still barely spoke to him, past the courtesy hello and good night, all your answers were as clipped as ever. That night was the first sign anything was off. He still joined the group for meal times, but there was no longer the friendly, casual air between the two of you. It had grown tense, and you were both sure everyone else had noticed it. You were at least sure Ace had, he'd tried to get you to tell him what was up a few times and you kept shooting him down.

Sebek's last straw was a text from you on Saturday, hours before your book club was supposed to start. "I'm not feeling great, gotta cancel. Sorry!" If he'd gotten that text with no other warning signs, he would've brushed it off as truth, but now he was just sure you were avoiding him. And it hurt, not knowing what was wrong and not knowing how to fix it. Two weeks and he was realizing just how bad he missed you. He wasn't sure what to do.

You were sitting on the front steps of Ramshackle, staring at the unfamiliar stars and trying to pull the unfamiliar constellations to distract yourself. You knew it was wrong, you knew you should just tell him why you were mad, but you were honestly a bit worried. He adored Malleus, you can't imagine telling him that you can't stand being compared to his idol anymore would elicit a good reaction. Not that this was any better. Your gaze was pulled by a firefly, then another, and you rolled your eyes slightly as you recognized the flashing just before Malleus appeared just down the walkway.

"Child of man."

"Hornton."

He smiled at you fondly as he walked over to stand in front of you, expression turning to concern as you didn't return it. "What troubles you?"

You sighed, shaking your head as he moved to sit on the step next to you. "Nothing. Personal stuff."

He hummed in understanding as he nodded, a smirk playing at his lips. "Is it something to do with Sebek, perhaps?"

"...Perhaps."

He nodded again. "I see. He came to me earlier today to see if I, as your friend, had any insight into your behavior recently. He's under the impression he's done something to upset you."

Your tongue clicked in annoyance before you could stop it as you rolled your eyes and averted your gaze, opting to look out at the darkened sidewalk. You heard him sigh next to you as you crossed your arms, leaning them forward onto your knees.

"Judging on your reaction, I feel it's safe to assume he was correct." His tone was flat, like he had to have this conversation often. "May I ask what happened?"

"Actually, it's kinda all your fault." You joked, turning to smirk at him to make sure he didn't take it seriously.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you're too damn perfect or whatever," you scoffed, tone dripping with vitriol, "and god forbid the human tells a story for thirty seconds without it being about Malleus." You turned back to the sidewalk, glaring at the cobble. You felt bad, it wasn't Malleus's fault, he wasn't even the one you should be saying this to, he didn't deserve your hostility. "I'm just getting so sick of being compared to you. Really makes me feel inadequate."

You watched him pinch the bridge of his nose out of the corner of your eye as he let out a deep sigh. "Fear not, my friend," he said as he stood, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, "you are not inadequate, and this shall be resolved soon."

Before you could think to respond, he was gone in a puff of fireflies. You didn't move from the front step for awhile, opting to just watch the stars again.

The next morning, you woke to faint-- but frantic-- knocking, far too early for a Sunday. You dragged yourself out of bed, not bothering to get changed before going downstairs to the entry hall. You were too busy rubbing the sleep from your eyes to check who was banging on the door before opening it, only seeing Sebek's face for a brief second before he dropped. Your eyes shot open wide as you tracked him down to where he'd fallen hard to a knee in front of you, head bowed.

"I've come to beg your forgiveness." He announced, keeping his head down as he wrapped an arm around to place a fist on his chest.

"Sebek--"

"Please." He said, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he cut you off. "I never should have made undue comparisons. I often find it difficult to draw from other topics, being Lord Malleus's retainer is my entire life. However, that is no excuse." You could hear the slightest tremble in his voice as he spoke. "I am so incredibly sorry, Yuu. I will do anything to make it right, and if I cannot, know that I will carry this regret to my grave." It was getting dramatic, and you could tell he was rambling now, but you didn't have the heart to stop him. "Your presence in my life has become an absolute joy, a highlight of each day. As often as I tell you about Lord Malleus, I tell Lilia about you. The book club and the movies and the conversations, and he laughed at me when I told him I imagined a future with you and when I asked if you would understand fae courting--" His voice fizzled off and you heard his teeth clack together as he squeezed his jaw shut.

You were certain he was bright red, despite the fact that he was now completely statue still. To be fair, you could feel your own cheeks turning red as you smirked at the top of his head. "He laughed when you told him what?"

"NOTHING. I TOLD HIM NOTHING." He shouted frantically. "PLEASE FORGIVE MY RUDENESS, IT WAS NEVER MY INTENTION TO TREAT YOU SO POORLY."

You laughed, sitting on your knees in front of him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I forgive you. And... I'm sorry too. It wasn't fair of me to just ignore you like that, I was just... worried."

"Worried?" He asked, quickly looking up to meet your eye. And oh boy were you right, he was red.

You nodded. "I was worried if I told you that you comparing me to Malleus all the time was making me upset that you would get upset about it and... well, I was worried you would hate me for it."

"I would never hate you for speaking your mind." He said plainly. "I know you and my Lord are close friends, I know I don't have to worry about you disparaging his name."

You sighed heavily before giving him a fond smile. "So what are the fae courting rituals, anyways?"

The blush that had died down slightly was now back in full force as he stammered incoherently. You laughed at the reaction, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He completely froze again, and for a second, you were worried he might pass out until he ducked his head again, mumbling about Briar Valley's courting customs. None of it was entirely clear, but you hoped he would follow through on them for you.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland fic #mine #usually to catch the muse for characters i dont write for that often i go and listen to their voice lines #and holy shit yall i get why you love this dude now #his summoning line for the new years card ALONE is fucking everything he's so good #i think his and ace's voice actors are my favorites #if sebek seems a little autistic that's because i figured out that he's just like me fr and IM autistic #so i just modeled him on an exaggerated version of me. anyways im super in love with sebek now if you couldnt tell by the word count #also soft sebek supremacy all the way he deserves to be soft with his LOVE

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