#dream a little bigger masterlist
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
crack baby ; one
wc ; 3063 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ? tw ; brief mentions of death, neglect, abuse, curse words
prologue, one, two, three, tbc..
The walls feel different, you’re unsure why or how but they seem almost suffocating, each crevice and crack threatening to suck you up, to consume you and hold you between its atoms until you can’t breathe, until you’re stuck in eternal darkness between the Manor’s walls, ordained to watch your family thrive without you.
Though, that may very well be because of Bruce flipping Wayne walking besides you, an awkward silence stretching between the two of you, his stature large and intimidating, covered in scars from adventures you wouldn’t dare to even dream about.
As the vigilante Batman, you held an undetermined amount of respect for the man. He is Batman, after all. He protects Gotham, and by proxy, he protects you. But as Bruce Wayne, you feel little to nothing for the man.
Sure, the actual sixteen-year-old (Name) would’ve jumped for joy at a chance to even see her father, let alone walk the halls with him, at eighteen there was a period of time where you loathed the man, where you would curse yourself for sharing DNA with him. But you’re technically twenty-one, and twenty-one year old you was grateful to him for housing and feeding her, but resentful for the neglect she faced.
These conflicting emotions inside you mixed together to create a cocktail of complete and utter apathy towards the man.
“Alfred mentioned you didn’t come down for breakfast, you’re growing, you should eat a sufficient amount of food everyday.” His voice broke through the deafening silence, the Manor feeling bigger for some reason as you send him a confused expression, your brows furrowing as you take in your father in earnest.
There wasn’t a time where you had a chance to take him in fully. Aside from when you first came to the manor, but that time was behind you and you made an effort to push anything about that to the back of your mind.
He looked cold, as untouchable as he did on TV, he felt far away despite the fact that he was right beside you. For a moment, you were transported back in time, back to when you’d sit on the floor, knees to your chest as you stared at the old, laggy TV before you.
“You look like him.” Your mother hummed from behind you, she was sat on the old beat-up couch where she slept each night, brushing your hair with the utmost of care as she avoided the man on TV, Bruce Wayne, your alleged father. A smile dawned your face as the flickering of the TV casted an almost eerie glow into your living room, a premonition for what’s to come, evident by the way your mother’s movements grow more rough, by the way her hand curls in your hair, forcing you to look away from the man. You didn’t protest, you knew better.
You look like him? You wouldn’t say so, when you picture yourself you picture your mother – though that may be your bias talking, you’ll always prefer your mother, despite the ache in your heart whenever you think of her.
“Right..” You mumble, not sure how to reply to him. This was uncharted territory! How do you converse with a father who you’ve never spoken to before despite living under the same roof for ten years, despite sharing blood, despite sharing a last name.
You’ve always felt like a black sheep, uninterested in the nitty-gritty of being a vigilante. You had nothing to contribute, in a family where transactions formed bonds, you had nothing to give. You were nothing, not Batman, not Robin, not anyone. Just (Name), like a piece of cheap plastic glued into a small crack on a pristine, porcelain vase. You didn’t belong, you cheapened them all, it’d be better to peel you off.
It’s why they never looked back at you, no matter how much you cried, begged, It’s why Dick would send you a half-hearted grin and a promise of ‘’I’ll take you somewhere later’ to placate your begging, to make you shut up. It’s why Jason would push past you in the hallways, why Tim would blatantly ignore you, and why Damian would sneer whenever he’d see you.
You weren’t able to migrate to Cass or Steph, and by the time Duke had joined, you had already given up on the prospect of forming any meaningful relationship in this Manor and it’s looming walls.
Then suddenly, a thought hits you, a rush of something – this was your perfect chance, you likely wouldn’t see your father again so it’s okay for you to ask now, right? There will be no other chances.
“Can you.. lend me some money?” You ask suddenly, cringing on how that sounds. That isn’t really the best thing to ask the father who you haven’t interacted with for fuck knows how long – he was probably picturing you as some money-hungry leech. Which is fine, his opinion of you meant nothing to you anymore, he can imagine you as whatever he likes.
But you need money if you’re going to live in a half-decent area of Gotham, getting a job and saving money for a house would take too long on a minimum wage salary, and your piggy bank was completely empty, and you couldn’t move cities. Not at sixteen.
“What do you need it for?” Bruce asks, his eyes sliding over to you cooly. A pang of something hitting his gut like a physical blow, his hands clenching as he struggled to look at you for too long. You looked like him.
When Alfred came into his office, sighing about how he was worried for his second-youngest child, Bruce was confused. Tim was fine, he hadn’t gotten hurt on patrol, and he wasn’t sick – at least, to Bruce’s knowledge.
“I’m not talking about Master Tim, I’m speaking of Master (Name), they’re acting in an unusual manner.” Alfred sighs, his gaze narrowing at Bruce – the judgement clouding his gaze heavy as he stares down his master.
“(Name)?” Bruce mumbled, his brow raising – he remembers you. Maybe. He remembers the concept of you, the product of a one-night-stand he had, a child he was forced to take in because of the death of your mother. He remembers the look in your eyes as you stared up at him, and he distinctly remembers the way you had clutched onto his hand, tears pooling your eyes as you sniffled, scared of the world, seeking comfort from the man everyone called your father.
But after that, nothing. His mind drew a blank when it came to picturing you – his first born blood related child, the thought made his stomach churn with guilt. His hand clenching as he avoids Alfred’s disdainful stare.
He tried to read the documents before him once more, his loyal butler’s scornful gaze burning into his back as the guilt in his stomach dug it’s claws into his lungs, squeezing until it became unbearable.
He’ll check on you, he decides. He’ll make an image of your face, that’ll settle the all-too familiar guilt inside him. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as Alfred led him down the familiar halls of his Manor, until he hit the other side – a side untouched ever since Bruce was a child, an area of the Manor he didn’t bother with.
Why were you here? The guilt in his stomach intensified, clawing it’s way up his throat as he reached your door. His hand hovering over the handle. This wouldn’t do. His guilt was increasing, weighing heavy on his back. The silence was unnerving, on the other side of the Manor, where everyone else resided – there was always some sort of background noise.
The silence surrounding your room was sickening, threatening to encase his form. This really wouldn’t do, he’d create an image of your face and move your room, somewhere close to his. Somewhere where he can occasionally drop by, he’ll sedate his guilt surrounding you, cutting off the bud of the problem before it can grow into something deeper, he didn’t have time for any of that as Batman.
And with that, he opened your door.
“I need it to buy a house.” You shrug, feeling a little awkward talking about this with your father. Did he even care? You didn’t think so. Oh goodness, the silence was so stifling you wish you could be shot all over again and–
You stop when you notice he isn’t walking beside you anymore, turning your gaze behind you to take in his expression and– why the fuck does he look shocked?! Your expression scrunches up as you take in thee Bruce Wayne, thee Batman looking at you, completely caught off guard.
It’s an expression you’ll never forget until the day you die.
“Buy a house? Why?” He asks, his lips tugging into a tight line as he stares at you with that same calculating expression, the one that made your nerves stand on end – the one that made each cell in your body burn with the urge to curl into yourself, to appear as small as possible and and plead for mercy. You hate it (It reminds you of her).
“I’m– moving out..” You say, your voice smaller than you had intended. The walls are slowly crushing you, you’re sure. This all feels like a cruel dream, a twist of fate you don’t want to accept. Oh, please, you don’t want that look, you want him to look at you with another expression (with the expression he gives others, the expression of a father),
Bruce paused, his body going rigid as he exhales through his nose – the guilt simmering in his body, each muscle threatening to snap, he hates this feeling. He wants to know you, he wants to know his child, the child tucked into the corner of the Manor. How cruel is fate, to threaten to rip you away, to pluck you from his garden the moment he took notice of your pretty petals.
“Do you have any in mind?” Bruce asks, his head tilting as he scans you from head to toe, his voice growing lower, colder. A familiar rush runs through you, the rush you felt when you were in that piss-soaked alley. The undertone of danger clear – what was his problem?
“I’m not sure yet, but– I saw a nice apartment by Gotham Harbour..” You mutter, your hands wringing behind your back nervously. This was strange, scary, unnerving, anxiety-inducing – pick your damn description! “I’ll.. see about sending you some.” He says gruffly, before nodding and walking away without another word. Instantly, you let out a deep sigh, your hand clutching your heart as you mumble curses, stumbling back to your room. That was–..
If you were actually the sixteen-year-old (Name), you’d probably be on your way to get a tattoo saying ‘my father spoke to me!’, but as you walk down the long, foreboding hallways all you can muster is fear. You don’t know why, but that exchange felt like a catalyst for something big, the future has changed. You’re swallowed by the realization that whatever power you had is slipping away, the future has changed almost comically fast and you’re left standing alone in an abyss of uncertainty.
Something’s going to happen, you just hope you’re not a part of it.
Meanwhile, on the other, brighter side of the sullen Manor, Bruce is brooding in his office, the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock matching the pace of his heartbeat. His dear (Name), his child, moving out? At sixteen? Blasphemous. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply once more, ignoring the pointed look from his youngest son standing before him.
“Father, I believe it’s time to start training. I surmise you haven’t forgotten your promise?” Damian asks, taking in his father’s disgruntled appearance. Strange. It’s certainly not unheard of for Bruce to be in a disheveled state, what with him protecting Gotham every night. But last night was quiet, there wasn’t anything big going on so they were able to take it easy. He should be relaxed, or at least put together.
“Damian, I haven’t the time, Dick is staying in the Manor today, ask him.” Bruce says, standing up from his chair as he walks towards the door – ignoring Damian’s rattled expression, his young son following his footsteps with a huff.
“If I had wanted to train with Richard, I would’ve asked him.” Damian retorts, following his father around with his arms crossed around his chest – miffed by the turn of events. What on earth was keeping his father from training with him? He had been looking forward to this! He continued to protest as they ascended down the stairs, past the living room where Dick was lounging all the way to the kitchen where Alfred was already preparing a feast, the butler diligently working with practised ease.
“Master Bruce, Master Damian.” Alfred greeted, the smell of his cooking wafting through the air as he took in the sight of Bruce’s frown and Damian’s pout, they looked alike, it was almost comical, not that the butler would voice that out loud.
While the old man may seem relaxed, his hands were clenched a little too tightly to pass off as natural. He was waiting with baited breath to see if his plan had borne fruit, if Bruce had managed to find out the reason for your odd behaviour. Of course, Alfred could’ve asked you himself, but you had never been one to open up.
No matter how much the old butler tried, he wasn’t able to break through the walls of defence you had built around yourself during your stay in the Manor, hopefully the man you craved affection from would be enough to crack that impenetrable shield.
“Did you know that (Name) is planning to move out?” Bruce asks suddenly, his blunt words cutting through the mouth-watering aroma of the carefully seasoned chicken in the oven. Bruce’s eyes remain trained on Alfred, watching as his mouth drops slightly. So he didn’t know. He ignores Damian’s aghast expression and Dick who had sauntered in moments ago.
“No.. I wasn’t aware.” That was unexpected, of all the things Bruce could’ve said, Alfred wasn’t prepared for that. You? Move out? You were merely sixteen, a child! You weren’t even the age to earn a livable wage and you wanted to move out? Unbelievable! “What– What did you just say?” Dick stammers, his eyes flickering from Bruce to Alfred as the tension in the room silently grows, weighing on the room like a guillotine, an unspoken threat looming above each of their heads. Dick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You wanted to move out? His precious baby sibling? The sweet child who would follow him around shyly, who would light up at the smallest hint of affection, the child who couldn’t ride a bike or do their times tables or–.. No, that was years ago, right? Or, at least he thinks so.
To be honest, when Bruce had said your name, he was initially confused. (Name) was unfamiliar to him – but that feeling went away when he pictured the small child hiding behind the corners of the Manor. His precious sibling! So, it doesn’t matter, right? He forgot about you but he remembered you just as quickly. He’s your older brother, he couldn’t have forgotten you. No, not when he’s everyone’s reliable older brother, that’s impossible! Disgraceful! Deplorable!
How old are you now? He wonders bitterly, a heavy, unsettling feeling forcing it’s claws in his throat as he feels a dull ache stretch through his body, his heart pounding through his ears. You? Move out? That’s insane, you can’t move out. He still needs to take you out to that restaurant he promised you (all those years ago), he needs to help with your math homework, he–..
He feels like he might throw up, he takes a tentative step back, ignoring the expression on Damian’s face. He needs to see you, to grab you and demand answers, he can’t believe such a thing to be true. Sure, maybe he hasn’t interacted with you at all, and maybe he can’t picture your face, or your personality in his mind aside from the small, lingering child who would follow him around – but you can’t leave! Not before he takes you out to that restaurant, like he promised. What kind of big brother doesn’t follow up on his promises?
“This is a ploy for attention.” Damian huffs, glowering at the mention of you. So, you’re what’s driven his father away from training with him. Figures. You’re jealous and weak, it’s natural you’d make empty threats to scavenge for attention like the filthy leech you are. Pathetic.
So why? Why was father making such an expression? Why was Dick so pale, as though he’s about to hurl? Even Alfred looks caught off-guard. What’s going on with these buffoons? Can they not see the foolishness in the idea of you moving out?
But, there’s a feeling in the air, masking Alfred’s cooking that tells him you’re serious. You’re planning on moving out. What a stupid notion – he should go to your room and smack you for even suggesting it, that you would survive outside of the Manor, in Gotham no less.
“What will you do, Master Bruce?” Alfred asks after a beat of thoughtful silence, the air in the room crackling with the weight of everyone’s ideals, his eyes narrowed at Bruce’s tightened expression.
“They’re.. too young to live alone.” Bruce’s tone is even, the same voice he uses when going over a mission plan and such, but the message in it is clear. You can’t go, and they all understand it, they understand it well.
Alfred watches the three part ways, each of them with a newfound goal in mind, and he can’t help the relief that washes over him. This is great, he had been worried that they would let you go – that they wouldn’t care to keep you, Alfred would have to do all the work himself then, and he’s much too old for that.
Yes, this is much easier. The cogs of fate are turning, the strings on your limbs tightening with each passing second. You’ve inadvertently set your role in an inescapable performance – maybe next time, go downstairs for dinner – no matter how shaken up you are.
yall i was gonna post this later.. but everyone is so nice omg. i feel so scared to post PLEASEUHH constructive critisicm is appreciated <3 :3 also thank u for being so kind on the prologue :p
#dc fanfiction#batman x reader#bruce wayne x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#nightwing x reader#dick grayson x reader#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#batman#dc x reader#platonic batfam#platonic yandere#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere damian x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere bruce wayne#platonic dick grayson x reader#platonic yandere batfam
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
the ride ; skz ; chan x reader
original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis
+
original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜
pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.
masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.
enjoy!
-
“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says. “I called dibs.”
“Too bad.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Learn to run faster, loser.”
Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car. You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it.
You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school. You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift. With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides.
Just because of the weather. Not any other reason. Of course.
You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat. Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams. He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything.
And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side. When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness.
“Right then,” he says. Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!”
“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror. “You have your presentation notes, right? You don’t want to forget them.”
Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them. You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.
“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I thought I put them in here. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan. It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt.
“Silly boy,” you say. “What should we do while he’s gone?” You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs.
Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue. He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away. He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh.
“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”
He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip. Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel. You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.
You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee. He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat. You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh.
“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real.
“Don’t—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Don’t say my name like that. You know—”
“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh. You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.
He visibly swallows, throat bobbing. The redness has spread from his ears down his neck.
“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush. “We’ve been good so far, okay?” If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good. “You’re my – you’re my friend. You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah? Yeah… Yeah!” He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket. He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip. “Don’t make this so hard,” he says.
“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words. A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans. “Is it something I can help you with?” You lick your bottom lip then smile.
“Oh,” he says. His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering. “You really wanna play that game, huh?”
There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes. You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window. You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart.
Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you. Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad.
“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder. “Are you fucking my sister!”
“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second. “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”
“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing. “You can do better, man.”
“Jeongin, shut up!” You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.
“All right, all right!” Chan says, breaking you up. “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? Okay.”
“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite.
Chan squeaks.
Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.
“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.
-
Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home. When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.
You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs. It sounds more amused than frustrated.
“Where’s your brother?” he asks.
You shrug with theatrical exaggeration.
“Right,” Chan says, starting the car. “Got it.”
He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car. That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong. You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives.
Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee. At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh.
“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road. Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent.
“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence. Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee.
Unlike this morning, he does not play nice. You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching. Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean. He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. He never takes his eyes off the road. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand.
“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again. “We’ll see about that.”
You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you. Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie. You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him. He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness. He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful. Your body practically sings under his touch.
“Channie,” you say, breathless again.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Always.”
“Take care of me how?” Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too. This game has been escalating slowly over time. You want more and you are starting to get desperate.
Chan looks at you. His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie. He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again.
“Fuck,” he says. “I want to fuck you so badly. You have no idea.”
His words have a raw, honest edge. He swallows, hard. You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart.
“Please,” you say in that breathy voice. “Make me feel good. No one else can like you.”
You do not make it all the way home. There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups. Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers. You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure. It makes you both giggle.
Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.
“Mmm,” you hum against his lips. You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair. “Channie, please,” you say.
He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly. His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief.
“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest. He unzips the rest of your hoodie. His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again.
He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts. He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket. You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap. Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt.
“Let me,” he says. He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you. He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing. Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him. He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says. “You know what you do to me?” he asks.
“I dunno, Channie.” You pout and bat your eyelashes. “You better show me.”
He laughs. He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you. You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you. But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good. You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan.
“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside.
“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says. His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment. “That’s it,” he says. “Have a little trust in yourself. I know you can take it.”
His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you. Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily. It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire. You know you will need him again, the way he needs you. Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again. It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you.
“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”
When he gets close, he pushes the seat back. You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth. He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name. Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest. You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation.
“Fuck,” he eventually says. He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face. “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”
“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him. He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness.
You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you. Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time. Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.
You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods.
“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”
You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads: My ride fell through. When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me? Thanks. Sluts.
#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#chan x reader#chan x you#bang chan smut#chan smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz x you#valentinesdaystories
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
ocean view
member — junhui x f reader genre — romance, smut, strangers to lovers, soulmate au word count — 8.8k synopsis — an all expenses paid trip to greece for your friend's wedding seems too good to be true, but it gets even better when you meet a handsome stranger on the beach. with the help of a mysterious old lady, her magic deck of tarot cards, and one too many coincidences, you're starting to believe things really do happen for a reason. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, unprotected sex, fingering, marking, an oddly romantic one night stand, mentions of past hookups, reader wears dresses, way too much yearning, happy ending ! notes — my part for the @svthub world tour collab; check out the masterlist here! thanks to @multi-kpop-fanfics for answering all my questions and the biggest thanks ever to @onlymingyus for proofreading & helping me brainstorm throughout !! inspired mostly by the spell mv but also a little bit from nana tour and in the soop bc of the vacation vibes. disclaimer i know nothing about tarot but i did a ton of research so i hope that part makes sense anyway :) this fic was a huge challenge to write so please please reblog if you enjoyed reading, the feedback is super appreciated and it helps me keep writing!! read bonus material here!
they say time flies when you’re having fun.
it felt like just days ago when your best friend had announced she was flying everyone to athens for her destination wedding. between helping prepare for the wedding and getting yourself packed for the trip of a lifetime, a weekend on the beach sounded like exactly what you needed to unwind.
but now that you’re here, you’ve quickly realized that your dreams of lazy spa days, massages, and lounging on chairs in the sand with cocktails aren’t on your friend’s itinerary.
what is on her itinerary, however? clubs. lots of clubs, and bars, and raves.
the night before the wedding, you’d showed up at the place you had all planned to meet at for her bachelorette party, a popular bar right on the beach in the center of everything. you hadn’t been sure what to expect, so you’d worn your swimsuit underneath your sundress just in case. between wedding plans and jet lag, you hadn’t yet had the chance to explore the beaches, and you weren’t about to let your favorite white strappy one-piece go to waste without wearing it the whole trip; especially not when you’re surrounded by gorgeous clear waters you don’t get to see while you’re at home.
you tug at your dress a little awkwardly, a simple off-white piece with buttons all down the front. cute and casual, the perfect thing for an evening on the beach. except an evening on the beach is not what you’re getting.
“next round is on me!”
all the girls let out a cheer, clapping and whooping as they raise their glasses. you’re still not even halfway through your first drink; the night is young, but your friends are more enthusiastic partygoers than you are.
you lean away to check the time on your phone, trying not to feel defeated when you see how early it still is. you’ve been trying to hype yourself up for tonight all weekend, but it doesn’t help that your friends are bigger partiers than you. that isn’t to say that you dislike parties, or that you never go out; but parties like this, huge events with hundreds of people packed into a small space with loud music and flashing lights, aren’t really your ideal way to spend a saturday night. even for such a special, rare occasion like a bachelorette party in another country, you can’t bring yourself to get lost in the scene. you should’ve known how this would go, and yet here you are, standing at a cocktail table by yourself surrounded by drunk women.
you turn back around and suddenly the bar is a sea of unfamiliar faces, everyone around you lost in their own worlds jumping and dancing to the music that booms from the speakers. you stand up on your tiptoes to see above the crowd, trying to push your way through in search of someone you recognize, but it seems like they’ve all vanished.
the pounding of the music is starting to give you a headache, so you down the last of your drink and head away from the bar, pushing past people until the crowd eventually starts to thin and you break out into the open air.
it’s still light outside, but the contrast from the darkened bar makes it feel like stepping into another world. the noise gets quieter the farther away you move, and you find your feet carrying themselves down the beach. you walk backwards, turning to look over your shoulder one more time to see if you can spot your friends, but all you see is a crowd full of strangers.
it’s easier to breathe out here, feeling the freshness of the ocean breeze and the salty air in your lungs as you get further and further from the people and the businesses. you turn around again and almost run straight into a man walking from the opposite direction, and you stumble into his arms before you realize what’s happening. you let out a little squeak in surprise and jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet but his hand instinctively shoots around your waist to help keep you upright.
your cheeks burn with embarrassment, an apology already ready on your lips, but he beats you to it. “sorry,” he says with a shy laugh, slowly letting go of you and offering his hand for balance as you slip your sandal back on that had come off. he steps back and gives you a polite smile, trying to move out of your way. “you look like you’ve got somewhere to be.”
“the opposite, actually. escaping my friend's bachelorette party," you explain.
"we're in the same boat, then," he chuckles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "trying to ditch the bachelor party. it’s a popular place for weddings, huh?”
“seems like it.” you hum, turning to look out over the water. the setting sun glints off the surface, a clear and bright sparkling blue, and you lift your hand to keep the glare out of your eyes. “i just didn’t think it’d be so…”
“…hectic?” he asks, and you laugh a little.
"yeah, you could say that.” a warm breeze ruffles through your sundress, and you cross your arms over your chest. “i guess all weddings are like that, though.”
he nods, following your gaze off into the horizon. you go quiet, listening to the music still loud in the distance and the sound of seagulls cawing above your heads. "i was hoping to get a chance to explore more of the beaches while i'm here. i don’t get to see it often."
"wanna go for a walk?” you ask suddenly, uncrossing your arms. maybe it’s the fresh air of a new place, maybe it’s the comfort of finding another person wanting to get away from it all, but some part of you wants to stay here and find out. you’d wanted to see more of the landscape anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any, especially now that you’ve got company.
he looks over at you, judging your expression before his face softens. “that sounds perfect.”
it’s still early enough that the beach is still mostly full of tourists, adults lounging on towels while reading books and kids splashing water at each other and playing in the sand. you walk further down the beach, passing in front of a grey haired old woman sitting cross-legged on a towel, shuffling a deck of cards in her wrinkled hands.
"always lovely to see couples enjoying the islands,” she calls out to you. there’s an almost rhythmic lilt to her voice, and it’s so sudden that it makes both of you pause and turn around, having paid her no mind as you walked past before. she gestures down at the deck and you finally notice that she’s holding a set of tarot cards, a deep matte black that seems to glitter and sparkle even while shadowed. “would you like a reading?”
your cheeks start to warm, and you push down the butterflies that flutter to life when she assumes you’re together. "oh, no, we're not—”
"sure," jun says over you, and you sneak a glance up at him when you think he's not looking. "how much?"
she clucks her teeth and shakes her head, staring directly at you although she’s answering his question. "no, no, no, my dear. just offering a bit of friendly advice. won’t cost you a thing."
jun nods, but she seems like she’s waiting for your answer so you quickly nod, too. “okay. what… do we have to do?”
she places her palms over the deck and closes her eyes, falling silent. you stand in front of her, feeling a little awkward to be hovering over her like this, but she it’s like she doesn’t even notice. you share a look with jun, but after a beat he grabs your hand and grins as if to say, just go along with it.
her eyes suddenly fly open and she seems pleased with whatever she was doing. “i knew i could feel it,” she says cryptically as she begins shuffling the cards. “but let’s just see what fate has to say about it.”
she stops and pulls the top two cards from the deck, placing them face down on the towel as she motions at them with her hand. at her signal, jun bends forward and turns over one of the cards, reading it aloud. “ace of cups.”
“ace of cups,” she repeats. “an invitation. the open, uninhibited flow of emotions, creativity, and love; the awakening of your spirit. this is a new beginning for you, the start of a new season. trust yourself and your feelings, and embrace the opportunity to grow with your emotions.”
jun nods seriously like he’s taking in her words, but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips that he’s trying to suppress.
she looks at you expectantly, and you hesitate before realizing she’s waiting for you to flip over the second card. you cheeks heat as you read it, but you try not to let it show. “the… lovers?”
she smiles, and although her face looks kind you have a sense that there’s something she’s not telling. “the lovers,” she says, almost solemnly. “many people think this card is strictly about romance. and in some ways it is, but what it really represents is a choice. two diverging paths, two responsibilities. will you choose with your head, or with your heart?”
she stares at you for another moment, then looks back at jun. you both stay quiet and still, subconsciously hanging on her every word as she pauses, clearly having more to say. “having these two cards come up together… now, that’s fascinating for you two, isn’t it?”
you find yourself nodding silently, although you have no idea why. you feel jun’s hand in yours, warm and soft and grounding, and the smallest shiver runs down your spine.
“the lovers and the ace of cups are the potential for new beginnings and the fulfillment that comes with following your heart,” she says, her eyes locked with yours. “this is a very powerful and meaningful connection, but only if you make the choice that is most heartfelt. you must be willing to be your most authentic self and hold nothing back. keep your eyes open, and you will be rewarded with profound joy and happiness.”
immediately you turn to look at jun to see his reaction. he looks just as confused—but is that a hint of excitement in his eyes?—as you do. the woman’s words are… cryptic, to say the least, but it stirs up a feeling of excitement in the back of your mind that you’re trying to ignore. it probably doesn’t mean what you think it does, right?
"hey, wait, so what does—”
you turn back to look at the woman for another explanation, but there's no one there. the beach is empty except for you and jun and the slowly setting sun, a few boats tied up at the dock. you’ve walked so far down the beach that even the distant music has faded into obscurity and you’re left standing alone together, surrounded by nothing but the sounds of the waves. even the wind has died down, and it feels eerily quiet but in an almost comforting sort of way, to be alone together in a place like this.
"you believe in that kind of stuff?" you ask curiously as jun starts to walk away.
"mm… not really. but she seemed like a lonely old lady. i thought it'd make her day." he looks down at your entwined hands and squeezes lightly, almost teasing as you look up and see the grin on his face. "why, do you?"
you can't help the butterflies that instantly flutter to life in your stomach when you feel his warm hand in yours, but you shrug. "why not?"
jun doesn't reply, just nodding thoughtfully as you continue to walk hand in hand.
with the way the atmosphere has suddenly changed, it feels like time has stopped as you meander your way along the edge of the water. you chat off and on with jun, but there’s a hefty amount of silence that neither one of you feels obligated to fill. talking to jun feels like talking to an old friend, and maybe it’s the beautiful scenery or maybe it’s the way both of you had found yourselves here looking for company.
after a while you come to a stop just below the rocks where you’d started. your footprints from where you’d run into each other are still visible, little indents in the damp sand, and it reminds you of what you were running away from in the first place. maybe you don’t want to run anymore.
"well…” jun says, inhaling slowly. "we should get you back to your friends. i'm sure they're looking for you."
"would it be so bad if i said i didn't want to find them?"
he pauses to gauge your reaction, and you don’t miss the flicker in his eyes as he looks at you. after a moment nods and points up the shallow cliffs, towards a little stone staircase worn down from years of being travelled on. "my hotel is just up there. if… if you wanted to stay a little longer? with me?"
you pull your lip between your teeth, looking up at him and the way the fading sunlight shines through his soft brown waves, and it only takes a second to make your decision. “i’d really like that.”
it turns out that missing out on your friend’s party for a few more hours is an easy price to pay for more time with jun.
the door of his hotel room barely has time to shut before your hands are on each other. you tug him closer by shirt with an eagerness you rarely allow yourself and he immediately reciprocates, pulling you by the waist until you’re pressed chest to chest.
his hand skims over your collarbone towards your neck, and you shiver at the warmth of his fingers caressing the side of your jaw. he angles your chin upwards and leans in as you meet him halfway and your lips finally touch, a low sound escaping from your throat as his nose brushes your cheek.
he makes a soft noise as he inhales, deepening the kiss until you feel your knees go weak. his hand cups your jaw harder, trying to draw you further into him, unwilling to break apart. he kisses you so softly yet you can still feel the intensity behind every movement of his lips, exploring your mouth with a gentleness that feels more natural than anyone you’ve ever kissed before.
jun curls his arm around you tighter, and you’re sure he can hear how fast your heart is beating as he kisses you again and again until you’re breathless. you slide your hands away from his chest and start to undo the buttons at the front of your dress, but he stops you. you look up and meet his gaze as his hand on your cheek moves to wrap around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back onto it.
he lets out a quiet groan as you pull him down with you, landing on top of you and catching himself on his forearms beside your head. his face is inches away from yours, staring into your eyes for a beat before he presses down to capture your lips again.
his kisses feel like magic, and you almost forget exactly what you’re here to do. you’d be content to spend hours with his lips on yours and nothing else, but you’re quickly pulled away from it when he sits back and starts to slide his hands down your body, his nimble fingers skillfully undoing the buttons of your dress one by one.
he pulls the fabric away and lets it fall to the floor before leaning to kiss you again, and a grateful sigh slips from your lips at his touch. your fingers tug at his shirt and he breaks away once more to quickly pull it off over his head, tossing it behind him without a second thought.
your hands slide earnestly across his body, your fingertips trailing down his torso and the deep lines of his abs. his fingers brush over your swimsuit in tandem, tracing the cutouts of the fabric where your skin is visible and making you prickle with goosebumps at his touch.
he seems equally as content to just continue doing this, but eventually his hands make their way upwards and gently slip the straps off your shoulders. he doesn't move any further than that, waiting for you to move instead, his fingers resting at the base of your neck just beneath your chin.
you follow his actions and shimmy the suit down, letting it bunch up at your hips. only then does he finally break apart from you, moving his mouth down to your exposed breast and letting his tongue glide over your peaked nipple. your skin tastes like salt and sweat, like sunny days and warm breezy nights, and he can't get enough of you.
the first moan you let out is like music to his ears, and immediately he craves more of them. he wraps his mouth around your other nipple while keeping his hands attached to your body like magnets, desperate to be the one to draw more of those pretty noises from your lips.
you lift your hips just a little and he quickly gets the hint, wordlessly pushing his fingers between your skin and the fabric of your swimsuit before tugging it all the way off. he pulls it down your legs and you help him kick it away, leaving you completely bare beneath him.
your hands slide across his shoulders and up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair with another moan that sends a shiver down his spine. you can’t help but roll your hips upwards against his body, squirming for more friction as your nails scratch at his scalp.
his face stays buried in your chest for a long time, moving between your breasts and planting wet kisses all along your skin. your head is spinning at the sight of this gorgeous man working his magic on your body, his hands wandering up and down with a tender purpose. you don't even know his name but you already know you're gonna be thinking about this night for months, probably even years. you're shocked at how good he is at this; there's a melancholy feeling looming in the back of your mind, knowing that this is probably the first and only night you’ll get to spend with him, but you don't have time to focus on that when you have the tingly feeling in your stomach to focus on instead.
despite not saying anything aloud you can tell exactly what he wants from you, and something about how easy this is sends a feeling of relief through you. all of the mistakes of your past hookups feel like a distant memory. there’s none of the empty conversations meant to do nothing more than fill the silence and the awkward, tentative movements that you’ve become accustomed to from strangers who aren’t familiar with your body.
but something about the way jun touches you does feel familiar, like you’ve been waiting all your life for it, for him. his silence, something that most of your partners in the past had fought so hard to avoid, now only leaves more room for you to enjoy the sounds that often go overlooked: the wet hum as his lips connect with your skin, the distant crash of waves outside the window, the quiet whir of the ceiling fan.
jun leans down and kisses you again, shifting on top of you as his hand wanders down your hips. you pull him closer and let your hand travel a similar path, and you bite your lip in excitement when your fingers skim over the bulge straining against his shorts.
he lets out a strangled noise almost like a whimper at the contact but the sound only encourages you to add more pressure, soaking in his reactions. he whines again, pushing his hips into your hand and exhaling a shaky breath as you continue to palm him, feeling the hard outline of his cock as he struggles to keep his composure.
his knee is against your thigh and he repositions himself to press it higher between your legs, returning the favor and giving you something to grind on. instinctively your legs widen a little to give him easier access, and he rewards you with another hot, messy kiss.
you groan at the feeling, pushing your hips down towards him and rubbing yourself on him. it’s a little rough at first, but you’re already so wet that it doesn’t take long before his knee is coated in your arousal and you slide along him easily.
after a minute he pulls back just an inch, giving you room to breathe, but one hand is still on your hip and the other curled behind you to support your neck. “good?” he asks breathlessly, and even though it’s clear as day that you’re enjoying this as much as he is, you still nod and give him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a smile of his own. “just let me know,” he says, and the sultry yet sweet tone of his voice makes your heart skip a beat.
at your approval his hand begins to wander again, trailing over the top of your thigh. his finger slowly make their way down and you shiver, your hand stilled against his abdomen as you anticipate his next move.
you take this moment to get a good look at him; you’d been too shy to stare earlier on the beach, unsure how things were going to go. but now that he’s on top of you, shirtless and obviously just as eager as you are, you let your gaze roam unabashedly across his body. your eyes glide over his torso, the hollow slope of his collarbones and his hardened nipples, the deep-set grooves of his abs and the faint lines of his ribs beneath his skin. you want to reach out to touch him and run your hands over every inch of him, but you’re trying to be patient. and although you know your time here is limited, it seems like jun is only just getting started.
his fingers finally make it to your inner thighs, tracing the area around your pussy, but it’s still not close enough for your liking. you wiggle a little to try and encourage him, whining softly and letting out a little plea. his lips quirk up and he nods, his grip on the back of your neck tensing and tangling in your hair.
his fingers finally brush against your entrance and you gasp, writhing at how gentle his touch is. he dips his middle finger into your heat before pulling it back out, trailing upwards to your clit to circle it for a moment before heading back down and repeating the process. it’s barely enough, yet it leaves you breathless almost instantly.
he’s staring down between your legs with an intense focus, spreading your arousal around before sinking back into you for more. and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he pushes his finger in deeper, holding it still for a second even though you’ve already adjusted to it. he waits until you start moving, arching your back and trying to get him to go further, before he adds his ring finger and begins slowly thrusting both fingers in and out together.
you whimper and curse under your breath, trying to roll your hips to match his rhythm. he starts to curl his knuckles and you swear you see stars, despite the fact that he’s barely moving at all.
after a moment when you’ve regained the ability to breathe normally again you start to move your hand back against his bulge, shaky fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. you wrap your hand around him and your eyes widen at the thickness, the heavy weight of him in your hand and how you’re sure he must be aching by now. you feel the way his cock jerks when you squeeze ever so slightly, his fingers inside you freezing for a split second as his brain tries to process before he plunges them in even deeper, curling into you with even more fervor than before.
you hold him tighter and run your thumb over his tip, swollen and leaking with precum. he gets a little noisier with every move you make, unable to contain the pleasure he gets even from this. even the smallest touches from each other have both of you on edge in a way you’ve never felt before, drawn to each other like no one you’ve ever had before.
his clothes in the way are starting to frustrate you, so after another second you release his cock and move your hand up to the waistband of his shorts instead, trying to tug them down but it’s difficult from the position you’re both laying in.
“please,” you pant out desperately after having little success, and he obliges, pushing his shorts away as fast as possible before resuming his motions. he’s still almost completely ignoring himself as he continues to focus on you and only you, and his complete devotion gives you another boost of confidence.
now freed, his hard cock slaps against your thigh and you moan happily at finally being able to see all of him. it looks even better than it felt, thick veins bulging out across his length and his tip flushed a deep red. you wrap your hand around him once more, flicking your wrist as you start to jerk up and down.
his fingers curl upwards to massage the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and if you had any functioning thoughts left you would’ve marvelled at the fact that he was able to find it so easily, but you’re too busy arching your back against his pillow to think about that.
he can feel you starting to clench harder around him, making his fingers stutter inside you, so he pushes his other hand down on your hip to stop you from moving so much. he pulls his fingers out and your eyes dart back up to his face for an explanation, unable to stop the whimper that escapes from you at the loss, but the look in his eyes instantly puts you at ease. you can already tell he knows what he’s doing, and somehow he seems to know exactly what you need, so for once you don’t mind sitting back and letting someone else call the shots.
“can i fuck you now?” he murmurs, and it takes you a second to even hear what he said because you’re shocked at how low and rough his tone is since the last time you heard him speak. he wipes his fingers against the inside of your thigh as he waits for your reply, and you shiver at the cool wetness on your skin.
the best you can manage is a stuttered “yes”, and without a word of acknowledgement he pulls you off the bed, guiding you off your back and onto your hands and knees.
you let out a squeak at the sudden change but you let it happen, and a second later you hear his voice beside you, his breath warm against your ear. “still okay?” he asks, and despite the gruffness in his voice you can still hear the soft edge to his words.
“yeah,” you repeat, suddenly losing the ability to say anything else to express your pleasure, but somehow you know he understands. your stomach flutters at the low tone of his voice, steady and calm but so full of warmth and lust.
you feel the heat from his face move away from your skin, and you know he’s sitting up on his knees behind you. his hands slide down your sides, reaching under you to cup your boobs with both hands as he groans at the feeling. you let out a matching whine, pushing your hips back against him to feel his hard length against the soft flesh of your ass.
his hands still holding your breasts, he leans down over you to keep you flush to his body, your back pressed against his chest. he presses a kiss in between your shoulder blades, letting his tongue trace lightly over the ridges of your spine.
you grind backwards against him harder, your body on fire from his kisses as he starts to suck gently at the back of your shoulder. you’re not sure if it’s hard enough to leave marks, but you kind of hope they do, because then you’d be sure this encounter wasn’t a dream. what other explanation is there for the fact that you’ve not only met the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but that you’re currently on your hands and knees in his bed as he runs his lips over every single inch of you, waiting for him to fuck you? it’s too good to be true.
but it is true, and you know it when he pulls away to brush your hair to the side and expose more of your back for him. his fingers are still so gentle against your skin, his touch heavy but soft, and it makes you even more desperate for him.
after a while he lets go of you and leans back, taking his cock in his hand and gently tapping it against your ass. you groan and fall forward, pressing your face into the pillows and arching your hips up into the air. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist with a low groan as he leans forward to kiss the side of your neck again.
he finally pushes all the way into you, and it feels so good it takes your breath away for a second. you can feel your walls throbbing around him, struggling to adjust to the feeling of being so full in the best way, a way you haven’t felt this strongly in so long. it’s a feeling like no other, and it makes you wonder why you ever settled for anything else before this.
his hands are all over you like he can’t decide what to do first, but after a while they settle at your hips and give them an encouraging squeeze, waiting patiently for you to set the pace. finally you bring yourself to move, tipping forward to let him slide out of you just a bit before you lean back into him.
he adapts quickly to your rhythm, thrusting in and out and matching your pace, using his grip on your waist for leverage to push himself deep inside with every stroke.
“fuck,” he moans under his breath, finally breaking the silence, and with just that one sound you feel yourself starting to let go.
the words tumble out of your mouth and you ball your fists into his sheets, clinging to the bed to keep you grounded while your head is spinning. “please, please, yes—”
everything finally hits you all at once, like a tidal wave pouring over you as you fall forward and bury your face into the pillow with a broken whimper.
“don’t stop, please,” you whine breathlessly. your words are muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he’s heard them because his grip on your hips tightens even more, slamming into you with just as much force as before and carrying you through your orgasm.
jun has to bite his lip not to sail right over the edge with you, focusing all his energy on holding himself back until he feels your body go limp all at once, the waves finally subsiding and you let out a deep, pleasured exhale. he’s so close he can practically taste it, his skin flushed and damp with sweat and his abs burning with exertion. only once he’s absolutely sure that you’ve finished cumming does he let himself break, pulling out as fast as he can and wrapping his fist around his length with all the energy he has left.
he moans weakly at the loss of your tight, warm walls hugging him so perfectly, but the view as he jerks himself over you all but makes up for it. the sight of your ass pressed flush against his thighs, your lower back arched and on display like a gorgeous blank canvas, and it gives him such a rush until he can’t hold on anymore.
the warm, sticky liquid hits your back and you whimper into the pillow, instinctively lifting your hips even more towards him. his cum spurts out in thick ropes, painting your skin and pooling in the little divot at the base of your spine, running down your ass until it feels like you’re soaked in it.
he finally pulls back and lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in, groaning as he sees you sitting still on the bed with your hips in the air. you feel the bed shift with his weight as he gets up, but you don’t pay any attention to it as you focus on trying to steady your breathing instead. something in your gut tells you to stay put, and sure enough, a minute later you hear the sink running and then feel the cool fabric of a damp washcloth brushing over your back.
he lays his hand on your ass and gently gives it a little squeeze to signal that he’s finished, and you finally fall over onto your side. you’re coasting on cloud nine, and everything feels both dulled and hypersensitive at the same time. the whir of the overhead fan is a little more prominent now, and the quiet drone echoes around in your brain.
“do you need water? or do you want a snack, or something?” jun asks, and while his voice still has a touch of shakiness as he’s recovering himself, you can tell his tone is back to the gentle and polite sound you’ve become used to hearing from him.
you shake your head, and he hums softly in acknowledgement as he points to the nightstand on the side of the bed closest to you. “there’s an extra water bottle there, if you need it. i haven’t opened it.”
you nod against the sheets, suddenly too tired to even think about forming words. jun climbs back onto the bed next to you, stretching out his long limbs and leaning against the headboard with a satisfied sigh.
you surprise yourself when your body automatically reaches out for him, curling into his body and laying your hand across his forearm like a weight keeping him close. but what surprises you even more is when he mirrors the action, scooting closer to you and letting your head rest against his stomach. your first thought is that he makes a very comfortable pillow, and you let your eyes fall shut for a moment as your breathing returns to normal, wanting to savor this moment as you collect yourself and prepare to leave.
you open your eyes what feels like minutes later, but when you reach over to check your phone you realize you’ve been asleep for more than an hour. you inhale slowly and swallow, blinking a few times as the sore feeling in your hips reminds you of where you are.
instinctively, you start to panic a little. your friends are probably looking for you. you disappeared without telling anyone, and now you have to get back to your hotel and make sure you have enough time to sleep properly and get ready for the wedding in the morning. never mind that it was probably the best night you’ve ever spent with another person, and never mind that your friends are probably still out partying and haven’t even noticed you missing yet.
you slide off of the bed as quietly as you can, stumbling a little when your feet hit the floor. you crouch down to pick up your swimsuit off the floor and put it on, hopping on one foot as you slip each leg through the holes. it's darker outside now, but the street lamps and the moonlight shining through the sliding glass door that leads to the balcony of his hotel room are bright enough that it still feels like day. you're so focused on getting dressed and mentally running over your to-do list that you completely forget there's another person in the room until you hear his voice cutting through the silence.
“you don’t have to do that, y’know.”
you freeze and look up, your half-buttoned dress hanging loosely from your shoulders, your cheeks burning at the realization you’ve been caught.
jun swings his legs off the bed, crossing the room in a couple of strides before he’s standing in front of you. he’s wearing nothing except for the boxer shorts he threw on right before you fell asleep, and your cheeks flush even harder at the sight, despite the fact that you’ve already seen much more of him than this.
it takes every ounce of restraint you have to keep your eyes from straying, locked on his face before your gaze falls quickly to the floor where your sandals are left in a heap.
you didn’t mean to sneak off. but what else were you supposed to do? you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and stay as long as you did, either, and now you were stuck with the awkward conversation that always comes afterwards. the inevitable hurried goodbyes and uncomfortable tension as you try to put yourself back together and leave as fast as possible.
jun takes a small step closer to you, and despite all the confidence you know he has, it feels almost… tentative. as if you’re meeting for the first time and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to touch you yet.
there's a lingering feeling that you can't quite put your finger on yet. it's conflicting, because you know you can't stay but everything in you is screaming not to leave. maybe there's something you can do, anything you can do. is it all worth it? to turn your life around in a complete 180 for someone you barely even know— and yet, the last few hours that you’ve spent with him have been incomparably the best of your life.
after a moment he reaches out and starts to finish buttoning your dress for you, his fingers working them back through the loops with just as much care as he did when he was taking them off earlier.
“sorry,” you manage quietly, though you’re not even really sure what you’re apologizing for. a lot of things: sorry for running away, sorry for having feelings you probably shouldn’t be feeling, sorry for knowing this won’t work out despite the way you really, really wish it could.
but he just shakes his head as he finishes buttoning the last button. “i took it off. i can help you put it back on, too.” you can tell he knows what you had actually meant, but he’s ignoring it either for your sake or his. something about his words feels so easy, like all the problems in your head don’t mean anything anymore. here you are, an anxious and awkward and confused mess, and there he is, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress like it’s something he’s been doing all his life.
he adjusts the strap on your shoulder with a gentle pat, but his hands linger for a few seconds longer than they should, and you lift your eyes to meet his. “can i kiss you again?” he asks quietly, and for some reason his choice of words sticks with you. not one final kiss, not a goodbye kiss, just again. like he’s refusing to admit this will probably be the last time you’ll ever see each other.
and you nod, and his hands slide up to cup your cheeks and pull you back into his lips, just as warm and just as soft and just as familiar as the first time. there’s something so innocent about kissing him, even in the midst of a complicated and confusing mess of emotions that makes you second guess everything. somewhere in the back of your mind you vaguely register that this is the last time you’ll ever kiss him, but as long as his lips are on yours it doesn’t matter. you’ll figure out how to deal with all that later; for now, the only thing you’re concerned about is the way he grips your chin and pulls you even closer.
it feels like hours later when you finally pull away, letting out a slow exhale as you try to blink yourself back to reality, and you know what has to happen now. “can you find your hotel on your own? do you want me to walk back with you?” jun asks, and you can feel the hesitancy in his voice.
“it’s not far,” you sigh quietly, turning away to slip your feet into your sandals that wait by the bed where you’d taken them off earlier. you should’ve said yes. “but… thank you.” your words hold a sincere weight to them, and it’s silent for a few seconds as you cross the room quicker than you want to.
“you could stay,” he says finally, but his hand is already on the doorknob and you both already know the answer. you hate that you have to be the one to tell him no, even though it’s been clear from the start what the outcome would be. you give him a small shake of your head, and he pulls on the knob.
he stands and stares for a minute, watching you walk down the hallway and praying you’ll turn around. and then you do, glancing back at him over your shoulder, and he almost allows himself to have a little bit of hope that you might come back, even though you both know you can’t. when you find him still standing in the doorway your eyes light up just the slightest bit, and finally you disappear with a tiny little wave.
the door clicks shut again, and the silence that follows is louder than anything he’s heard all day.
“and you didn’t even get this guy’s number?!”
you wince at the tone in jeonghan’s voice, rubbing the back of your shoulder guiltily. “his name, either.”
“even after the magic old lady said all that shit about soulmates?”
“she didn’t say that!” you huff. your tone rises almost defensively, although it probably has no reason to. she didn’t say anything about being soulmates… right? “she said something like, ‘keep your eyes open for stuff around you’. but he said he didn’t even believe in it, anyway.”
a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses walks past, and he snags a couple of them, holding one out to you. “well, it doesn’t sound like you’re keeping your eyes open. it sounds more like your eyes are closed, actually. are you blind?”
you scowl and take the glass from him. “my flight home is tonight, hannie. i’m not gonna see him again.” you take a sip, letting it sit in your mouth for a second before you swallow. “and besides, he said he was here for a wedding, too. he could be from anywhere in the world. it would be impossible to find him.”
“doesn’t hurt to at least try.” you both stop in front of a circular table covered in flowers, with a little placard next to one of the plates with jeonghan’s name on it. “i guess this is my table. you want me to help you look for yours?”
you shake your head, pointing to a table a little ways away. “i saw mine on the way in, it’s over there.”
“whatever,” he hums at you, but you know he’s just teasing. “i still wouldn’t blame you if you ditched and ran off to try and find him.”
“not happening!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away, matching his playful tone. but you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s right.
jun taps his fingers against the table, staring mindlessly at the bubbles floating in his glass of champagne. he’s stuck in his head— no, that’s not right. that’s not the problem. you’re stuck in his head. it’s nearly a full day later and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your breasts in his hands, the scent of the shampoo in your hair. if that wasn’t the most perfect hookup in the history of hookups, then he doesn’t wanna know what is.
he still feels bad for not even paying attention during the ceremony, because he was too busy imagining you and him up there on the altar kissing instead. god, what he wouldn’t give for another kiss like that. but just like you, he knows it never would’ve worked out, and despite the what-ifs that are chewing him up inside and the fact that he definitely, absolutely, totally would’ve tried to make it work however large the distance was, he knows it’s probably for the better. even if it means he’s gonna spend the rest of his life pining after a girl he met on vacation for less than a single day, and he’ll never even know your name.
he takes a swig of his champagne and tries to put on a cheery face. this is a wedding, after all, and he can’t afford to spend all his time pouting when he’s in a beautiful city by the seaside enjoying delicious food and near perfect weather.
and then he sees you.
not really, of course, because it’s probably the champagne going to his head after chugging the majority of his glass like a frat boy at a college party. but then he blinks, and it really is you, wandering around for a second before you sit down at a table on the other side of the venue, wearing a soft blue dress that’s even prettier than the one he saw you in yesterday.
he blinks again, not fully believing that it’s you and not just the combined effect of the alcohol and his daydreams, but you’re still there when he opens his eyes again. and he knows it’s you, because he can see the faint hickies on your back and shoulders that you clearly tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t fully reach.
the chances that he’d see you again—not even that, but the chances that you’d be attending the very same wedding he was—must be one in a billion. maybe even more. yet there you are, picking at your nail and staring wistfully at your empty plate as you wait for the reception to start.
he stares for another minute, just to make sure you’re actually real, before he stands up and makes his way to the terrace at the back of the venue where the groom is standing next to a tower of cupcakes.
“gyu,” he greets him, “hey. are we allowed to switch tables?”
“i… don’t think so?” mingyu hums, a little off guard by the sudden question. “i made sure we put you next to hao, but—”
“if i give you twenty bucks, can you put me at table 8 instead?” jun’s eyes flicker with desperation, and he has to force himself not to look back over at you.
mingyu whines apologetically and hesitates, glancing at his bride a little ways away as she talks to a table full of guests. “she did all this planning, jun, i can’t just change everything now…”
“it’s not changing everything.” jun pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket, already rifling through the bills. “i’ll make it a hundred. mingyu, please, just switch me,” he says.
the whine in jun’s voice makes him pause, and he bites his lip as he considers it. on one hand, he could have his brand new wife a little bit mad at him for a while (who’ll probably forgive him the second she gets in bed with him tonight), plus get to help his friend and get an easy hundred dollars out of it. or, on the other hand… he could not help him, and his wife would never know, and jun would probably hate him for some unknown reason even though he doesn’t think jun has a single bone in his body capable of hating anybody. the decision is easy.
mingyu takes the bills from jun’s hand and stuffs them in his pocket before anyone can notice. “go ahead,” he says, tossing his head in the direction of the table. “i don’t know what it is you want, but don’t let anybody see you.”
“thanks! i owe you!” jun grins and hugs him, letting out a noise almost like a squeal before he turns and dashes away.
you’re barely paying attention to the reception anymore as you sit with your chin in your hands, again mentally running over all the things you need to pack and how on earth you’re going to be able to board your flight tonight and leave everything behind. the beaches, the city… and him. how are you supposed to just get on a plane and get on with your life, knowing that he’s out there somewhere in the world, and you’re never going to see him again.
you’re trying not to sulk, but you can’t help the way your mood has been sour all morning, already filled with regrets and you haven’t even left yet. maybe you should’ve skipped the wedding altogether and spent another day in his bed, wrapped up between his sheets and lying in his arms. but then the rational part of your brain reminds you that he was also in town for a wedding, so even if he’d wanted to or even been okay with doing that, he probably had other plans anyway.
you’re still trying to figure out what to do about your hopeless situation when you hear a sound close behind you. it startles you into putting a smile on your face, preparing yourself to socialize although you really aren’t in the mood to.
“is this seat taken?” jun asks as he pulls out the chair to your left and sits down.
your brows furrow in confusion, trying to place the familiar voice, until you turn around and your jaw drops when you see who it belongs to.
you stare at him in shock, your eyes darting back and forth between his trying to figure out what to say. “you’re not joshua,” is the best you can come up with as your mouth hangs open and you whip your head around to check the list of names assigned to this table. you recognize them all, yet here he is: the nameless stranger you’ve fallen so helplessly in love with in so short an amount of time.
he smiles at your reaction, and it’s such a genuine smile that you know he’s feeling exactly the way you do right now. “i guess you’re right. i’m not.” he brushes the name card in front of him to the side and sets his own down in its place instead before he holds out his hand to shake. “it’s nice to meet you. i’m jun.”
you pause for a minute, staring at his hand. you can’t believe this is real, you can’t believe he’s real; you’d almost been able to convince yourself that the whole encounter last night was a fever dream, if you hadn’t woken up in the morning with a soreness between your legs that screamed that it definitely was not a dream.
finally you reach out and take his hand, and even in that little touch you can tell it really is him, from the way your heart picks up when you feel the familiar softness of his skin and the gentle squeeze that sends goosebumps down your arm.
“it’s nice to meet you, too.”
i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!
if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!
taglist — located in the replies
#1k#kvanity#kflixnet#k-labels#caratlibrary#[📌] — june.writes#jun smut#junhui smut#svt smut#seventeen smut#junhui fanfic#junhui scenarios#junhui x reader#jun imagines#jun fanfic#jun scenarios#svt scenarios#svt x reader#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#seventeen scenarios
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
just a little fluff + angst scenario i wrote because we don't have enough content of logan x reader looking after laura and the three of them forming a family.
english isn't my first language. marvel masterlist <3
—laura, go back to the couch —. logan grunted.
she had opened the door to your room and her head was peeking out. her big brown eyes stared at you. you were in bed, tucked in, waiting for logan to lie down next to you. the dim light from your bedside table was the only thing lighting up the room.
—don't make me tell you again, kid.
—it's fine, lo —. you grabbed his arm and stopped him as he was going to the door to close it. logan huffed. —is everything okay, laura? —you sweetly asked the little girl.
she simply stood in the doorway, biting the inside of her cheeks. laura looked at your bed, if logan lay down there wasn't much more space left but if you squeezed in a little bit maybe she could… logan called your name and shook his head. the little girl looked at you from the door with big dark eyes, glossy with exhaustion and decorated with small dark circles underneath them.
the night before logan and you woke up to her screams. you ran to the living room, followed by him, both scared that the men who wanted to hurt her might have entered your house. but laura was having a nightmare. when you knelt next to the couch and shook her gently to wake her up, she pulled out her claws in panic and cut you on the arm.
you hissed, watching as the blood began to run down your arm. she was more terrified by what she just did than you were.
it's okay, i'm okay, laura. look, it's nothing. are you okay? were you having a bad dream?
the girl nodded to your questions, her eyes could only stare at your arm, bleeding nonstop. logan knelt next to you and grabbed your arm to take a better look. he then looked at the girl, you could see on his face that he was angry. you put your other hand on top of the one he had holding your arm. i'm okay you assured him. his expression relaxed when he realized that with your eyes you were asking him not to blame laura. he walked you to the kitchen to clean your wound and then covered it with a bandage.
it wasn't her fault, lo. you told him and he looked at you in disbelief. he went to your room without saying a word to laura and you kissed her forehead after tucking her in. no matter how much you assured her that you were fine and that it had been an accident, laura didn't sleep at all that night, thinking that she had hurt one of the two people who cared about her the most.
but this night she was at your door as you looked at logan with your lips pressed together. he called your name again. —don't —. he spoke firmly. but how could you say no to the little one? she hadn't asked you anything yet you knew exactly what she wanted.
there was a few seconds of silence.
—you wanna sleep here? —you finally asked.
laura nodded and logan grunted. she was quick to enter the bedroom and close the door behind her. she was wearing a t-shirt of logan's that she almost dragged on the floor. she liked his t-shirts better because they were bigger and she could curl up in them while sleeping.
she went to lie down between the two of you but logan was quicker and took her place. laura huffed and you rolled your eyes. it was like dealing with two small children. but there was no way he was going to sleep apart from you, not even separated by an eleven-year-old girl.
laura ended up curling up next to you in bed and before turning off the light, you made sure that she was well covered by the blankets. she subtly moved closer to you, hiding her head in your chest, and she did not take more than five minutes to fall asleep. you didn't take long to fall asleep either, following the girl's deep breathing and playing with her hair.
the next morning logan was the first to wake up. your back was against his chest, one of his arms was hugging you against his body. well, one of his arms was hugging you both against his body. his arm not only reached you but laura too, who lay with her back against your chest as you hugged her from the back.
as he went to get up to make breakfast, he felt how some small fingers closed around his big ones and kept him from getting out of bed. he looked at the little girl sleeping peacefully, letting you be her big spoon while she held logan's fingers tightly in her hand.
he lay next to you on the bed again, he could afford to stay there a little longer just to spend some more time with his two girls.
#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool and wolverine smut#logan howlett#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett angst#logan#logan howlett smut#logan fluff#logan angst#logan smut#wolverine#wolverine fluff#wolverine imagine#wolverine angst#logan imagine#logan howlett imagine#wolverine x reader#wolverine fanfiction#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#hugh jackman#hugh jackman fluff#hugh jackman smut#x men#avengers#mcu#xmen smut#marvel#marvel angst#marvel fluff
906 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦
★ pairing: neighbor!chan x fem!reader
✦summary: You have a new life, in your dream apartment in the big city, your life is quiet, but suddenly your incredibly handsome neighbor across the door, Chan, decides to take you out of your comfort zone, you can't get him out of your head and you really plan to do something about it.
✭ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, fluff, fingering, masturbation, dry humping, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie, videotape, cunnilingus, use of nicknames, slight dirty talk, aftercare.
word count: 7.7k
╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist - taglist forms
୧ ‧₊˚request by anon₊ ˚⊹♡
divider by qqmariztwsse
You admired the place, happy, the movers did all their work, now you only had to unpack and arrange your new apartment, you had been dreaming of moving to a bigger and different city for a year now, you talked to your parents and siblings just for emotional support, and there they all were now. Your mother, your sister and brother, who were going to spend the first night with you.
The four of them decided to walk around the city for a while, eating and enjoying all the scenery and endless places you could just walk and walk to. You arrived late and exhausted to your new apartment, where only your sister wanted to stay one more night, your mother and brother had to go back to your hometown, where they all still lived, where you previously lived already alone as well.
“I'm going to be fine” you said to your mother as you felt her hug you tighter as you said goodbye, her big breasts crushing yours.
“Oh I know dear but now I have to catch a flight to see you, I'm not used to it” your mother said, in a high pitched tone as she pulled away from you.
No matter what, you would always be her baby, you were the youngest among your siblings, of which you had a very cute and close relationship with. You were always a bit overprotected being the youngest, you openly talk about things that cause you anxiety and you are a bit sensitive although you never express it as such, you like to make jokes and be sarcastic about it, you have a personality… quiet and quite relatable to others, that's why you create content videos on Youtube, mainly there you started, but you are in all your social media and you are something like a microcelebrity. That's why you could afford to live in the city of your dreams, in the apartment of your dreams and you were grateful.
Your mother and brother left, boarding that plane and you and your sister returned to your apartment where she kindly helped you unpack.
“I'll go check to see if I have my own mail space yet” you notified your sister, to which she shouted from afar okaaay.
And you walked out of your apartment, where as you crossed the hallway to the front, you found a male silhouette about to enter his apartment, for some reason you stopped a little to see him, wearing a suit with his jacket in his hand and his white button up shirt rolled up in his strong arms, he was handsome, you thought. He turned to see you too, smiled at you realizing you were his new neighbor and whispered kindly:
“Hi.”
His voice was thick and attractive, his appearance masculine, you suddenly felt in some type of way….
“Hi” you replied kindly smiling.
And before he could say anything else, you hurried your step to the end of the corridor, leaving. You didn't know how to react, you didn't expect to find a handsome man in front of your door while you were messily unpacking your entire apartment. He let out a chuckle when he saw your reaction but you didn't hear it.
[…]
“Agh, Y/N, I forgot my cell phone on the counter,” your sister said, already in the hallway, with her things ready to grab the cab downstairs to accompany her to the airport.
You rolled your eyes, looking for her phone but it wasn't where she had indicated, you got frustrated, the cab was waiting for you, and angrily said to her,
“Where is it? It's not here!”
But you received no answer, your sister ran into your neighbor across the hall, who was about to go out to do some shopping, she instantly smiled at him seeing that he was also handsome and your neighbor was as enchanted with your sister as he was with you. You on the other hand went to the bathroom, where your sister had previously been, finding her phone.
“We have to go now…” you said, locking your apartment and you were perplexed to see your handsome neighbor again.
He smiled downward at you, pressing his lips together, he had to admit that you were both pretty, but there was something about you that caught his attention more.
“He tells me you haven't introduced yourself” your sister spoke, looking down at the broad shouldered build of your neighbor and then back up at you.
“Well, I also just arrived recently for work. I'm Bang Chan, your neighbor” he let out a nervous chuckle, causing you to shiver, a good shiver.
You stared at him and greeted him with waving your hand, telling him your name followed by, nice to meet you.
“I think, you were about to leave so, I see you around” he said again.
You nodded and left with your sister, who was dying to talk and didn't until you got in the cab.
“Oh my god, he's really hot, you should go after him, if he doesn't have a girlfriend of course” your sister commented animatedly.
“Stop saying bullshit please” you replied, unwilling to continue the conversation.
The point was… you had never dated before, you were too picky and your love life was non-existent, but you liked being that way, staying at home with your cats, you even made money from complaining about how there is no one to get your attention, expressing it in your videos where thousands of girls around the world found you so real for speaking your truth. You just made your silly little vlog videos or anything creative you could think of, at the moment you were working on filming your move.
Your sister left, you stayed around the city until it got dark and you returned to your new home, you had to feed your cats and clean their litter, but to your surprise, you once again found Chan taking the elevator at the same time. He smiled tenderly at you as you both were about to press the button, he let you do it and you waited, until you both got in alone.
“I guess we're always going to bump into each other now” he said again with his typical soft chuckle.
“Yeah, well, same building, same floor” you said nervously, really with zero idea what to say.
“Did you move into the building or in the city in general?” he asked, so curious to hear from you.
“From the city” you answered, looking straight ahead and only occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.
The elevator doors opened, he let you out first and you stepped into your hallway.
“Well, if you need someone to show you around the city or help in any address, you know I'm in front of your door” he said, sweetly but something about his voice sounded so inviting, the way he spoke and that the vein in his neck stood out a little.
“Thank you” you told him shyly and walked into your apartment.
You couldn't help but smile… after so long you thought to yourself if, a crush, a fling of whatever with your hot neighbor would be worth it.
[…]
All the rest of the night you unpacked everything, almost finishing your apartment, you were tired but it was a nice spring day that you didn't decide to waste, so you went out to walk for a while, feel the sun on your skin, and feel again the minimal realization that there is a civilization outside, since last night you haven't stopped thinking about Chan, you even imagined how his apartment would be decorated by the way he was dressed, simple and in black. You imagined so many things, even his age, what zodiac sign he might be, everything. You hadn't felt this way about someone in a long time.
And, still in his apartment, Chan's younger sister put him in charge of taking care of the family dog, since no one would be home and she took advantage of the fact that her brother would be staying in the city for his job, so she left her with him. Chan greeted and petted the dog with affection and wanted to take her for a walk.
You arrived at the park near the block from the building and craved an ice cream, you felt the presence of more people but didn't take any notice, until when you asked, a familiar voice appeared behind you, sounding so sonorous that it rumbled your insides.
“Make it two, please” said that voice, you turned to see him.
It was Chan, you smiled at him, his skin glowed brighter as he wore all black and you noticed he had a cute dog on a leash, you honestly thought you saw it coming, he looked like an energetic guy who liked dogs more, you enjoyed the company of cats more, but you forgave him anything.
You quickly confirmed to the guy that it would be two ice creams so that he would take Chan's order as well. And, as he handed over the ice creams, he hurried to say.
“Can you hold them please, I'll pay” he said quickly, extending the money to the employee.
You couldn't even deny it when the clerk was already ready to give him the change when Chan said again, “Leave it like that, thank you.”
You walked a few steps from the ice cream cart, narrowing your eyes because you were bothered by the sun, still watching him, licked from your ice cream before it melted and said in a happy tone, “Thank you.”
“Oh it's nothing, it's just ice cream.”
“We meet again” you repeated amused, this time more relaxed and less shy.
“Yeah, well, same park near the building” he said, with a smile responding the same way you did last night.
You smiled back at him as you continued eating from your ice cream, as sweet, soft and refreshing as Chan's unexpected arrival, he looked like a cute guy.
“You have a dog?” you said to him, this time cooperating so that he picked up on the signals that you wanted to talk to him.
He looked at Berry, his little dog.
“Ahh yes, she's Berry, she's family, she doesn't live in my apartment but my sister let me borrow her to take care of her today.”
Uh, he has a sister, must be nice guy, you thought.
“I have two cats” you blurted out suddenly, blushing as you felt his gaze after he's seen the dog, “Their names are Edward and Lorelai. Berry is, a very cute dog” you said again, nervous.
You bent down to stroke his soft dog's fur with your free hand and stood up again.
Chan laughed, watching you, finding you incredibly adorable and began to walk slowly as you followed, “Edward and Lorelai?” asked Chan with a smile at hearing such names for cats.
“For Edward Cullen from Twilight and Lorelai Gilmore from The Gilmore Girls” you added, quickly and obviously, but you were a little shaken, you hadn't had an encounter with a cute boy in years.
Chan looked at you with admiration and amusement. You felt like you were in a movie walking with the attractive man in the park who bought you ice cream. Chan didn't take his eyes off you and without stopping laughing, and to have all those references, he thought you must have been young, you looked young, but living on your own in the city? Chan didn't know what it was exactly but he wanted to know more about you, he liked you since he first saw you, you looked just like today, a sunny, but not oppressive sun, spring day, with the green trees and the birds singing.
“I like cats too,” he replied, “But because of my work I travel a lot and it's hard for me to leave them home alone.”
“What do you do for a living…?” you asked without trying to be so obvious as you sat down on an available bench.
“I'm a stylist and creative director” he replied.
At this point you were so nervous you were about to finish your ice cream. You decided to play with him a little, to lighten the mood.
“Stylist in that outfit?” you joked.
Chan laughed genuinely at your comment, he looked and dressed so normal, all in black with a cap and sneakers and called it a day. You could notice his curls under his cap.
“You might be surprised how well I dress people.”
“Mmm who have you dressed?” you asked amused only to continue the conversation.
“It's usually celebrities, and occasionally rich people, I've worked for Jungkook, T-…”
You gasped in surprise which stopped Chan in his tracks.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to react like that, it's just, I don't believe you, you're fucking with me, right?”
Chan raised an eyebrow at your comment in such confidence, without wiping off his smile, his cheeks hurt from being with you so much.
“Are you a fan of his?”
“Oh no, just, everyone knows how great he is.”
“Well it's true...” he answered and you saw him go to his cell phone deftly looking for something.
He handed it to you, pictures of him sizing up the celebrity he had just mentioned and putting a jacket over him as proof, you opened your mouths in surprise that you are meeting a man who has direct contact with celebrities. You handed him back his phone.
“I work for specific brands or clients, that's why I travel, I work for Jennie Kim, Troye Sivan, that kid that's everywhere mmm, Olivia Rodrigo, Timothe Ch…”
Your heart stopped and your smile faded for a moment as he called Olivia Rodrigo a kid, you were pretty sure you were pretty close to her age… you wondered how old he could be. You also thought that looking like that, there was no way he wasn't dating a celebrity.
“Okay I got it, now you're just bragging” you replied amused to which he loved the way you teased him, “I think it's great” you said happily, “And also as a creative director?”
“Yes, I direct videos, I give concepts to artists, I usually work a lot for the K-pop world, that's why I'm hardly ever home.”
You looked at him closely, you were excited to meet an art-oriented person who was expert and passionate about what he does, someone intellectual who stimulated your inner self.
“If you dressed Jungkook, what the hell are you doing living in that apartment? I assume you can get something better” you joked again never to end the conversation.
You had already finished your ice cream and your hands were restless not knowing where to settle. Chan laughed again, showing his peculiar dimples, he kept laughing with you close by.
“I've lived in the building for a while now, it's cozy and a very nice place, isn't it?”
You nodded, “It's a nice place…”
“Besides…” he began to say apologetically, tilting his head a little and showing a full smile “it's a magical place full of surprises, just like your new arrival.”
You looked into his eyes and admired every part of him, unable to think that he had said your arrival was a magical surprise. Chan had already finished his ice cream, but he thought there was nothing sweeter that left his mouth like meeting you on a nice sunny day.
“So… you'll be staying here in the city?” you added curiously, since he mentioned he was hardly home, worrying you.
“Yes, at the moment I'm here working from home, I just came back from a business trip; but as soon as my client calls me, I have to go wherever they are” you saw him a little disappointed, promptly thinking that he constantly has to leave, until he spoke bringing you out of your trance, “And you… what do you do for a living?” he asked softly and incredibly attentive to what you had to say.
Your smile faded a little… it wasn't something you said out loud, you felt a little embarrassed but more so when he had a cool job and you… made videos for the internet.
“I make videos…” you said unsurely.
He raised his eyebrow, scared deep down that they weren't adult types of videos, he had nothing against it, but as someone as pretty and young as you, he couldn't help but feel disappointed if that's what it is, since he currently found himself so many girls making money from it.
“You edit videos?” he asked, somewhat alerted.
“Yes that too, well… I'm a YouTuber, not something I'd say proudly after hearing your amazing work history, but I also paint and sell my paintings and, I'm simply inclined to art, but for a living, videos on the internet. I'm also inclined to acting, I currently take online classes but since I'm in the city I really want to try my hand at an academy; you know everyone who thinks they're celebrities these days wants to put out music but I seriously think it's not my forte, I prefer something else” you blurted out suddenly, nervously trying to divert him from the main topic.
Chan laughed tenderly as he carried Berry to put her in the middle of you. He thought you were cute the way you wanted to excuse yourself, and almost sighed in relief that you hadn't been what he maliciously thought.
“That's very good, seriously, you can tell me you're a tiktoker and I'll understand, they make a lot of money nowadays” Chan joked.
You laughed, blushing that maybe it wasn't the kind of woman he was looking for, putting little part of her life on the internet. But you had him completely captivated, he couldn't deny it.
“So what do you do?” he said, you raised your eyebrows, “What do you tape?”
“Mmm little vlogs, things I come up with…”
“And what do you paint?” you looked at him surprised, that among your meaningless chatter, he did pay attention to you.
“Little flower paintings, I don't know, cute things” you laughed.
Cute things like you, wanted to say Chan out loud.
“And how can I find you?”
You widened your eyes in panic, but still told him sweetly, “Literally my name, just like that, I hope I show up.”
Chan stared at you for a while, so happy to have some time to relax.
“I'd love to direct a video, give you some ideas” Chan spoke slowly and seductively, not knowing what he was saying clearly, he just knew he was suddenly lost on you.
“I'd love to share your ideas…” you replied in the same way.
“I'd also love for us to go somewhere else but… I'm taking care of Berry” he mentioned, caressing her, you saw his big, masculine hands, surprising you a little, “Would you like to… have dinner at my place?”
You wanted to open your mouth in surprise, for the first time you would be going alone to a man's apartment, but you just nodded softly.
“You cook?” you asked, Chan nodded, “I also love to cook and bake” you said proudly.
He looked at you tenderly.
[…]
The evening progressed with more talk with Chan, getting to know him more and more, and of a delicious dinner he prepared. You were delighted, you were supposed to start shooting more content today but there was nothing better than spending the night in his apartment and, his decor was just as you imagined it, neutral colors, modern design and all tidy, the place smelled good, he smelled good, everything around him looked like a dream.
He came to drop you off at your door, balancing on your heels on the door frame, so close to him and admiring every part of his face, his cute little eyes, his full lips, you felt like you were in your own little rom-com. Chan leaned against your door frame, unwilling to let you go.
“Do you… want to see Edward and Lorelai?” you said nervously to which he nodded softly with a smile.
Chan watched you, you looked so cute to him that he wanted to squeeze your cheeks and shower you with kisses, but he just said yes to every little thing you said.
Your cats were in your cat tree, you let Chan pass by, who slyly watched your whole apartment.
“Orange one is Edward.”
Chan approached your cats, you had a cute Halloween combination, orange and black, who antipathetic and yet alert let themselves be petted, after he spoke to them in a high pitched tone, with tenderness. He came up to you.
“They're very cute, just like you” he said and your cheeks grew warm, you blushed so often with him, you hated it when your body reacted like that, “Do you mind if… tomorrow we go to the park on a picnic or something?”
You frowned, hard to believe what he was saying but you agreed.
“Goodnight, Chan” you said goodbye to him.
Within half an hour Chan had started following you on Instagram where to your surprise you found that he had more than twice as many followers as you and his feed was as sleek and tidy as he was, filled with celebrities he worked for and the occasional photo of him; he for his part was delighted with the cute and cuddly side you showed your life on social media and, you also noticed that he had bought the 10 paintings you had for sale on your website.
[…]
“You bought all my paintings” was the first thing you said to him when you saw him.
Chan's smile got bigger, “I had to, they were really good, you can help me put them in my apartment.”
You looked at him, not sure what he was up to but you just knew you were quickly falling for him.
You both went to the park.
“All right, you paint Berry and I'll paint… you have to choose between Edward or Lorelai to paint them” Chan spoke.
You were both on your date, on a picnic he planned, you had had this kind of outing with your girlfriends but not with a boy, this was definitely your kind of date. You looked at Chan, who was still looking all manly with his strong legs showing in his shorts despite doing soft and sweet activities.
You sighed in surprise, “You can't make me choose between two of my children.”
Chan laughed, “Okay, I'll paint them both and then we'll show each other our paintings at the same time.”
You nodded, “Show me a picture of Berry.”
“And you of your cats.”
Amid laughter, chatter and complicit glances, you finished your works, showing them. Chan's painting was good, not the best, they were a little crooked, but it was nice and you appreciated it and yours, truly and effortlessly you had excelled, Chan looked at you with admiration as he praised your work, no doubt you were someone worth getting to know more.
You spent the day together, he walked you around the city and as you were united walking side by side in your wide hallway of the building, he said to you:
“What's a movie that you can watch over and over again without getting tired and... would you like to see it in my apartment?”
The next thing you knew you were having your first movie night date with a man, since he wasn't a boy. Slowly you brought your bodies together and shortly after the middle of the movie you couldn't help but admire him a little, his pronounced side in profile, his strong arms; you wondered if you should kiss him or would you look like an easy girl, you had just met him but you weren't much of a fan of the slow burn, at least not in real life, that could stay on TV and books, you wanted Chan now.
Chan licked his lips and noticed that you didn't stop looking at him and slowly turned to see you, you abruptly averted your gaze in embarrassment. Chan sighed and moved closer to you, making you more tense, not because it made you uncomfortable, but because you really liked him and suddenly your body was acting weird. You stopped paying attention to the movie and only thought about the time and the anxiety that was slowly consuming you, you wanted to kiss him but you didn't know how to get closer, you wanted to taste his lips to check your fantasies that he really had it all and kissed well.
Chan noticed it instantly, your nervous body, your light sighs, he was going to take a chance and if you rejected him, at least it would be worth it.
He came close to your ear and his plan wasn't to sound this seductive, he still said it in that tone, “It's obvious you're not paying attention to the movie, why don't you better come and pay attention to me.”
You almost moaned loudly at what he said, it was so cringe, it was so fucking sexy it worked for you, coming from him everything worked.
You turned to look at him.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked.
You nodded without measuring anything that was happening, you just watched his slightly illuminated face for the TV light and move closer to yours and suddenly you met his lips, Chan started to move them over yours, you tasted the softness and how smoothly his fleshy lips were, then slowly he moved closer to you, when you unintentionally held onto his shirt, he started to kiss you deeper, his prominent nose colliding with your face, both breathless but unable to stop, addicted to the feel of each other until you broke apart.
“Come here” Chan whispered to you taking you by the waist and inviting you to sit on him for which you complied.
You let yourself fall into his lap with your body facing him, your legs beside his thighs, as you wrapped around his neck, ready to return to your sizzling make out session. This time Chan kissed you more desperately and excitedly, groping your whole body and tasting your tongue, at this point you were already so wet, his big hand stroking your body and the exquisite sounds of his lips colliding and his altered breathing made you so hot.
And that's when, as you let your body fall slightly, you felt his notorious, throbbing erection in your center, you were shocked, you didn't know whether to stop or continue but you didn't want to stop kissing him and you were getting more and more turned on. You separated, you saw his swollen, reddish lips and an expression on his face that you had never seen before, it was his usual look of tenderness combined with dark desire. Chan couldn't take it anymore and in a thick voice whispered:
“Should we continue this… or do you want to stop?”
You bit your lip, if you stopped there was nothing good in return, just you going to your apartment embarrassed and with your panties wet, yet you were so curious about what might happen if you didn't stop. You nodded and he looked at you confused.
“We should… continue” you sighed.
Chan smiled and kissed you again, running his hands down your back, this time under your blouse, unhooking your bra. You pulled away from him a little terrified and excited and let him remove your clothes, he brushed his lips down your neck until he reached your breasts where he sucked them hard, causing you to moan, but Chan wanted to make you feel so good that he was only going to focus on you and your pretty moans, so he had to take good care and treat your bottom area very well.
He pulled away from you and stared at you as he unbuttoned your shorts and then slid his big hand down and started stroking your clit over your panties with his long fingers. You gasped again, ecstatic and happy to be attended. You kissed again as between sighs you felt the satisfaction of his fingers rubbing your spot, you were enjoying it but it only made you wetter and needier and that Chan saw it reflected in your awkward but passionate kisses and your constant moans.
“C'mon sweetie, take off his shorts so I can touch you better” he whispered to you, “Gonna make you cum.”
With your breath hitching and heart racing, you heeded him, quickly standing up and removing your tiny shorts to sit on his lap again, this time your wet center feeling the stiffness of his cock. Chan gasped, you raised your ass a little and he wrapped his arm around your ass, sliding your folds aside with his hands and seeking your entrance, pulling the fabric of your panties aside, he stroked you a little, sliding all your wetness down your hole and inserted two of his slick, long fingers into your soft walls. You gasped, it felt so good to have your pussy filled.
“Oh, that's it dear, you feel so good, do you like it?” groaned Chan sweetly to you in a whisper which you whimpered in response.
Chan started to ram you with his fingers making you let out soft little whimpers, it felt so good, you could hear the wetness of your pussy being fucked, you were a little embarrassed to be so wet but you couldn't control it, your body was going crazy for Chan, as he enjoyed your sweet sounds coming out of your mouth and how choked his cock was in his denim shorts, he loved feeling the tightness inside you with the wetness of your pussy slipping on his fingers and, in a gasp and shudder, you felt your orgasm filling your body, spilling onto Chan's fingers and dripping onto his clothes.
You were beginning to feel ashamed, when you felt Chan's hands grip your waist tightly and cling to his cock as he bit his lip.
“Oh, you're so fucking sweet, c'mon” he moaned, moving your ass with his grip around his cock, squeezing it.
You turned on again in seconds and you understood everything, the heat of the moment took the best of you and you unbuttoned his shorts, being you now the one who put her hand in his crotch, feeling his wide hard cock over his boxers, you were surprised, you squeezed and caressed, trying to reach his tip but it was a bit difficult to which Chan helped you a bit to pull them down, finally seeing his prominent package and his dripping precum on his clothes.... once again you acted out of desire and lust and pulled down his underwear, revealing his member so highly visually appealing and large, you began to stroke it, and instantly turned to look at Chan, who was panting in pleasure. Once again you were so aroused, you wanted to do so many things but you just limited yourself to positioning his cock between your folds and start rubbing yourself on it, rubbing your soaking wet pussy through the feel of the fabric of your panties, while Chan revelled in the sensation with soft mmm's and you held tightly around his neck, and between kissing, fondling and Chan's stimulation of your breasts with his mouth, tongue and lips, the sizzling act brought you both to orgasm.
Both of your bodies trembled, Chan whimpered an “Oh, fuck” and you felt his throbbing sex and warm cum shoot between your folds.
Both of you had heavy breathing and suddenly you fell to realize what you had done, once again the heat now took over your cheeks and you tried to hide in Chan's neck; he smiled broadly and noticed your reaction.
“It's okay, princess, look at me, hey, it was beautiful, I loved it” he said sweetly, trying to get your attention.
You looked into his eyes in sorrow and he confessed in a whisper close to your lips, “Is it wrong that... I just met you but I feel I like you a lot? I'll take you on every cute date so we can get to know each other better.”
[...]
And so, after that night began a frantic story between you and your neighbor Chan, who was a little older than you and a mature man with his life and goals set, but he loved to do little things with you and help you and then have a fiery scene of making out and touching, you love to caress his hair every time you kissed him and he liked to help you in recording content and he would tell you how he was going to help you to offer you more work with recognized brands and, as days went by there was this afternoon, where he helped you and was there watching you recording, you were a little embarrassed but little by little you got used to it, and for some reason, your outfit consisted of a very short white plaid skirt, which drove Chan crazy in seconds.
He watched you attentively, sitting on your couch watching every little shot you made with your phone, you were completely dressed up while Chan was comfortable in his sportswear and black sleeveless shirt attached to his worked and muscular body, he was crazy about your short skirt revealing a little bit of your ass and how pretty you looked, while you were messed up seeing his biceps and marked pecs.
You finished recording your silly video, feeling embarrassed having Chan's heavy gaze on you the whole time as he smiled downwards at you and hugged one of your couch cushions, finally he stood up and walked over to you, unable to control his urges and placed his hands on your waist exposed by your short top. You raised your gaze slightly and smiled at him, he wordlessly moved closer to you to kiss you which you accepted by wrapping your arms around his neck.
“That little skirt is kind of dangerous, I feel lucky to see it on you before all your followers” Chan whispered to you, his hands moving down to your butt and squeezing it.
You were surprised and looked at him mischievously, and he surprised you again as he carried you by grabbing your ass and kissed you again, taking you a few steps to your room; for some reason you were aroused, and it was that particularly his strong arms with visible veins were doing in your arousal something, you hadn't had something sexual since that night in his apartment, you thought maybe it was time for something more.
Chan sat on your bed, leaving you on top of him, this time you kissed more passionately and desperately, both in the same synchrony and idea of what was about to happen, completely devoted to each other. And suddenly, you had the idea of tasting his cock. You smiled and lowered your kisses down to his neck, slowly you rolled off his lap and got on your knees between his legs, Chan licked his lips as he understood immediately and let you play with him a little as you slowly removed his shorts; Chan reflexively reached out his hand and it bumped into your camera on your bed, and a dirty idea occurred to him.
Chan grabbed your camera, turned it on and prepared to record, recording you making eye contact and finding it so fucking hot to him holding a camera at such a promising angle.
“Oh yeah, c'mon babygirl, suck my cock, is this your favorite YouTuber? She's a little fucking whore, look at…. ahh” Chan started to say but was cut off as he finally felt your mouth on his glans, “Mmm, she's taking my cock so well.”
You smiled with his cock in your mouth and began to suck him off, sucking his length to feel your tongue and cheeks, making him feel so good that he even gasped pitilessly.
You loved the feel of him, his big cock in your mouth while your hands caressed the rest of his member and from time to time you played with his balls, making Chan whimper and shudder, who at this point downplayed the camera in his hand and enjoyed live and direct the image of you on his cock, Chan stroked your hair, the muscles of his thighs trembled and in a sizzling whimper, Chan cum in your mouth.
You smiled happily, licking the cum from his length and swallowing every liquid deposited in you. Chan stroked your cheek for a few moments and gently motioned for you to stand up, then gently laid you down on the bed.
Once again, Chan held the camera and recorded the filthy process of lifting your skirt and removing your wet panties, finally getting a full shot of your soaking wet, throbbing pussy.
“Fuck” cursed Chan softly and aroused.
You looked so exquisite to him that he thought the camera didn't do you justice, you were a thousand times better in person. You watched him with desire and pleading eyes, inwardly begging to feel his big cock fill you with more.
“Take off your shirt” you whined, you wanted to see his abs.
Chan smiled arrogantly, he dropped the camera drop on your bed and obeyed your command, you bit your lip, you wanted him in missionary to have him close and touch his marked abs. Now, you were so needy. He took your camera again, with one hand he put your knees together and lifted them higher in the air, he stopped holding your legs and you left them like that, watching his dirty act of filming your pussy, Chan took his big cock and rubbed it on your pussy, making you gasp.
“What a fucking dirty slut, so ready to get fuck, isn't this y/n, your favorite little internet person, oh she's so fucking needy for my cock, aren't you, beautiful?”
You gasped as you felt his cock hit your vulva and then rub it through your folds and labia. Chan spread your legs again and finally entered you slowly and, capturing every scene of your tight hole stretching to make way for his cock.
You whimpered, slightly trembling and trying to adjust to his size, Chan sighed excitedly finally at the feel of you inside and began to fuck you slowly and recording a couple of moments, then throwing the camera back onto your bed and pulling his body closer to you, where he sweetly gave you kisses around your face as he rammed you moderately, sliding expertly into you.
“Faster, Chan” you begged, to which he smiled, more than happy to follow your commands.
You arched your back as you felt his strong, deep thrusts, filling your entire pussy to the deepest part of you, his tip brushing your cervix without issue due to his size and you felt your body fade beneath his. You entwined your legs around his waist and hugged him as he continued to ram your pussy hard, his warm moans in your ear.
You were so close, you hugged him tighter and your thighs gradually lost strength, trembling and falling into a deep orgasm at the sensation of his cock moving inside you. Chan continued for a while and finally cum inside you, relaxing his exhausted body a little on top of you.
He kissed your cheek sweetly, pulled away from you and, as a final shot, filmed his cock coming out of your hole as he was doing the perfect creampie scene.
Chan threw the camera back and moved closer to your tired body, showering your face with kisses, appreciating that you still had little traces of him around your mouth.
“I loved that, baby, that was so good” he whispered sweetly in your ear, "The little skirts on you drive me crazy."
[…]
The next day you set about starting to edit your videos and found yourself…. with the grotesque and silly footage Chan had made of you having sex, completely worthy of a homemade porn video, morbidly you watched it again, video shots moving, Chan shaking and his heavy breathing in the background, which turned you on a little, his comments in his thick voice, you sucking his cock and then him rubbing it in your pussy, shit, you were so horny, you couldn't help but watch in detail how good his cock looked for the camera, doing it complete justice, you had a very good camera after all.
You sighed totally aroused and almost as if by magic, there was a knock on your door, you paused the video, luckily at a part where Chan put the camera aside and your sheet was recorded. And you ran to your door knowing it was Chan, once you saw him you jumped into his arms, he laughed and returned the unexpected hug.
Chan had brought you flowers, you thanked him genuinely and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he was so sweet, you liked him so much but just now you needed him so much too. You quickly put his flowers in water and in a vase in the center of the counter.
“What were you doing, princess?” he asked you.
You decided to be honest and quick.
“I was editing my videos and came across what you shot yesterday, honestly I'm horny.”
Chan let out a chuckle at your honesty and walked over to you.
“And who am I to say no to you when you're like that?”
You bit your bottom lip as your smile got bigger, once again you kissed.
“Mm, you should watch the video later, you look so fucking good” you whispered to him between the small moments you parted.
“Fuck, I'm dying to see how I fuck you, but it's better to always live it up” he gasped, so needy with his throbbing cock.
You both headed back to your room, where Chan subtly motioned you to sit on your bed and, he with no time to waste, lifted up your little wool pajama top to reveal your breasts and pulled down your tiny shorts you were wearing altogether, he knelt between your legs and began to give hot and loud kisses down your belly all the way down to your mons pubis, he quickly got rid of your panties, and spread your legs to give him a better view of your pussy.
You were so aroused at his slightest movement, Chan smiled at the image of your exposed pussy and murmured, “I'm going to make you feel so good, princess.”
And, for the first time in your encounters, he directed his mouth to your pussy, gently caressing your clit with one finger, making you gasp and shudder at the sensation of his mouth on your cunt.
Chan licked the entire length of your folds, unashamed and totally satisfied with your taste, you were getting wetter and wetter, giving more and more way for Chan to enjoy your soaking wet pussy with delicious slurping sounds, you gasped and let your head fall back, completely yielding and pleased. You looked back at Chan, whose face was buried in your pussy, his big nose bumping against your labia and his tongue licking every taste in you; you bit your lip and stroked his hair, Chan made eye contact with you, he was enjoying it so much that he would end up cumming in his pants without any trouble merely with the feel of your soft wet pussy in his mouth.
With his free hand Chan began to fondle your breasts, completely ecstatic with pleasuring you, giving your sweet whimpers in response, which encouraged him more and more. Chan bit your labia softly, licked and sucked and, withdrew his hand from your breasts, to lean a little and separate your orifice, appreciating how needy it was, to then insert his tongue and feel your insides, you gasped more intensely, relaxing your body completely and, after an exquisite series of movements on your pussy with his mouth, you came to orgasm, panting loudly and seeing stars, Chan had eaten your pussy so fucking well.
Chan was also so close and cursed under his breath as he felt cum in his pants as he savored your sweet, glistening fluid from your orgasm.
He raised his face, and saw you, both of you happy, your chest rising and falling trying to settle down normal, him licking his mouth still with your taste, but Chan's smile was instantly wiped off, he recognized the sound of the door perfectly, his apartment sounded the same, he stood up quickly alerted.
“Did you hear that? Someone came in, are you expecting someone?”
You looked at him confused and instantly remembered, your mother and sister were coming to visit you, you had arranged it days ago on the phone and you had already warned the doorman to always let your mother and sister in up to your apartment. You closed your legs immediately and hurriedly pulled up your panties and shorts, your heart racing. Chan also stood up quickly and headed towards your bathroom as you frantically motioned for him to go in there.
You came out with a smile, brushing your hair a little.
“Heeey” you greeted.
“Where were you?” said your mother going to hug you.
You felt a little dirty, a few minutes ago you had an incredible orgasm leaving a mess. Suddenly your mother heard a noise in the bathroom.
“Is anyone else here?” she asked.
“My… neighbor” you replied to which your sister smiled broadly, “the toilet wasn't working right and he wanted to fix it.”
“Oh, honey, but why him, is he a plumber? Let me see what's wrong with…” mentioned your mother ready to go to the bathroom but noticed your sister's complicit look, “Why are you looking at each other like that…? Is he the boy Kaia told me about?”
“Chan is here?” your sister asked smiling.
“You told mom about him?” was all you could say.
Your sister knew nothing of your encounters, really the last thing she knew about Chan was when he showed up in the hallway. With embarrassed steps, you made your way to the bathroom, opening the door carefully where a shy Chan stepped out, his face and hands clean.
“Is… the bathroom ready?” you asked him, waiting for him to catch on to what he did instantly.
“Ah yes, it was nothing really.”
“Thank you.”
“I'm Bang Chan, nice to meet you” he introduced himself to your mother who smiled at him and received the gesture.
Still your mother was no fool, she knew immediately that the two of you were up to something, or maybe you were in the middle of something. Your embarrassed faces gave both you and Chan away.
“Hi, Chan” greeted Kaia, looking mischievously at him knowing that he was also there with you for something and that the bathroom was just an excuse.
He greeted her shyly and your sister's attention focused on your laptop on the counter, she approached the laptop animatedly,
“Ohhh, you're editing a new video, what's it about?”
You panicked and ran to close your laptop, causing her surprise and confusion, if she pressed play she was about to see the pornographic home video of you and Chan. You almost dry salivated, so terrified.
“It's a very important and secret video” you replied, sketching a smile and looking quickly towards Chan.
It was kind of weird, but you had to explain that you were in a way, dating him.
--------
𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89
#bangchan#bang chan#bang chan smut#bangchan smut#bang chan stray kids#bang chan skz#christopher bang#bang chan x reader#chan smut#bang chan x you#skz smut#chan x reader#bang chan fluff#stray kids smut#bang chan scenarios#stray kids bang chan#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#skz x reader#skz x you#bang chan hard hours#stray kids#skz scenarios#skz#ybklix♡₊˚⊹#𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Merry Christmas, Little Dove
18+. Minors, Do Not Interact
Summary: You and Joel celebrate your Christmas tradition. OR Joel fucks you in front of the Christmas tree.
WC: 3.7k of straight filth
AN: this is not proofread or beta read, so just take it like the good girl you are 😉 Headers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
TW: multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected P-in-V (relax they’re both in their 40’s and in a long term relationship), one single slap, two drops of spit, oral (both ways), mentions of alcohol consumption
Main Masterlist || More of Joel & Little Dove
You watch the way his soft, dark green t-shirt stretches against his muscle-lined back as he places the gifts under the tree. The house is quiet, and both your daughters are asleep in their childhood bedrooms. The living room is basked in the warm glow of only the tree and electric fireplace. Joel is meticulously putting presents out, completely focused on his role as Santa Claus. This is one of the things you love most about your partner. He might have this tough, grumpy exterior, but he’s never been afraid to exude the Christmas spirit. When Ellie and Sarah were young, he would spend hours driving from store to store to find exactly what they wanted. He’d stayed up all night once building Sarah’s Barbie dream house and Ellie’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pizza parlour so they’d be surprised in the morning.
You smile to yourself over the years and years of memories in this room, and the smile is bigger knowing your college-aged daughters still want to come home for Christmas with mom and dad. You tiptoe over to the record player, putting on Joel’s favourite Frank Sinatra Christmas vinyl. As the soft tones of ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ filter from the speakers Joel stands and turns to face you.
“Hi, baby. Where’s the girls?”
“I think someone got a little heavy-handed with the whiskey in the hot toddies,” you say with a raise of an eyebrow. He smirks, closing the distance between the two of you as he pulls you in to slow dance with him. “You might have two hungover daughters tomorrow morning.”
Your body meets his and need floods your system almost immediately. He smells like cedar and whiskey, his large palm rests on your lower back and you sway along with him.
“I’ll make them an Irish coffee tomorrow and they’ll be good as new. Besides, you and I wouldn’t be able to do our Christmas tradition if they were awake.”
“Joel Miller,” you say with a shocked laugh. “Did you do this on purpose?”
“Perhaps,” he smirks down at you, his dimple on full display as his eyes darken with arousal.
“Devious,” you whisper before his lips sponge against yours. Truthfully, it’s been years since the two of you did your actual Christmas tradition. When the girls were younger, after all the gifts were under the tree and the cookies were eaten, Joel would turn out all the lights and then strip you bare in front of the tree and fuck you softly. But when the girls became teens it was too risky to just fuck out in the open like that.
Joel’s hands come to your waist pulling at the black shirt you have tucked into your high-waisted jeans. You squeak as he pulls. “What kind of witchcraft is this?” He jokes between kisses when the shirt doesn’t come out.
You giggle against his mouth, “It’s a bodysuit.”
“Mmm, with the little snaps where my Christmas present is?” His voice is lower and more seductive now.
“Yes, sir.” You say, the shift in the air between you two makes it hard to breathe.
Joel makes slow work of the button and the zipper on your jeans before lowering you to the ground. The slow sounds of Frank Sinatra are somewhere in the background, but at this moment all you can see, hear and feel is your beautiful partner above you, kissing anywhere he can reach.
He raises on his knees and tugs your jeans off, guiding your feet to fall on each side of him, then pulls his shirt over his head. The glow of the tree turns his body into a work of art. The dips of his muscles along his chest and shoulders are darker, making him look bigger than he is. Your hands reach towards the button of his jeans but he grabs your wrists to stop you.
“Not yet, little dove,” Joel’s voice is a scratchy whisper as he leans forward, pinning your hands above your head. “Stay like this for me, ok?”
You nod and hum out an agreeable sound before he sits back up, his warm, rough fingers trailing along your covered arms, breasts, and stomach as he comes to rest on his heels. Your breaths quicken at the sight of him and then stop altogether as he runs a finger along the gusset of your body suit.
“Gods you’re so beautiful, baby.” He whispers it like a hymn like you’re the deity he prays to, and you know you’re about to be worshipped.
“I need you,” you moan, clenching your fists to stay in his desired position.
“Do ya now?” Joel smiles softly, his finger grazing at your clit through your clothing. “Tell me what you want.”
“Take the rest of my clothes off and fuck me all slow and gentle until I come and then fill me up.” It’s a whispered request.
His finger hooks through the bodysuit and you gasp, then grind your hips to try to get him to touch you where you need it most. His eyes widen and the feel of your soaked pussy along the back of his knuckle. “Did you attend our wholesome Christmas Eve family dinner without any panties on, little dove?”
You bite down on your bottom lip as your cheeks flush pink. “Yes.”
With the flick of his finger the snaps on your bodysuit open. “Naughty girl.”
You lift your hips so he can slide the body suit up, which he does until your lacy red bra is exposed, but he’s much too preoccupied looking at your completely bare pussy. “Something looks different here,” he says with an eyebrow raised.
You feel shy all of a sudden, butterflies bursting in your stomach. When the two of you were in your twenties this was standard, but as you both got older you started leaving more hair. Joel never complained, now you’re worried he doesn’t like it.
“I got it waxed for you.”
He licks his lips before looking up at you. “Little dove, you know you don’t have to do that, right? I love your pussy just as much when it isn’t shaved.”
“I know,” you say, bringing your knees together nervously.
“Whoa, not so fast,” his hands come to your knees, pressing them apart. “I just want you to know that before I go down and don’t come up. Because this was my plan either way. I’m going to lick your perfect pussy until you pry me off. And then I’m going to fuck you so slowly, and only when you’re begging for it am I going slam into you until you come.”
The silence between you is thick with arousal before you croak, “Colour system?”
Joel lowers his body to the ground. His warm breath hits your soaked cunt as he speaks. “Yes, little dove. What do you say if you want to stop?”
“Red,” your hips lift closer to his mouth, and he presses down against your hips with one of his forearms and tuts at you.
“And if you need a break or for me to slow down?”
“Yellow,” you whine.
He slides his forearm to the side, placing his warm hand on your mount and pulls back slightly to expose your clit. “Look at you, little dove. So wet and perfect. Give me a colour.”
Goosebumps break out across your skin and you sink into the floor, wholly submitting to Joel as you whisper, “Green.”
Joel’s lips come to your center kissing your clit lightly before he dives in. Licking long hot lines from the bottom of your pussy to the top. Your hands fly to hair, carding through the girls and he groans at the slight pain in his scalp as you tug.
“Oh god, fuckfuck,” you chant out along with his name as he pulls a quick orgasm out of you almost immediately.
“Already, little dove?” He asks, smirking between licks.
“You feel so good. Joel.”
He continues to taste you, now focusing just on your clit with the flat of his tongue. He applies just the right amount of pressure and circles your sensitive bud slowly. You arch your back off the floor as a tingling pleasure starts to build.
“I’m gonna come again, baby.” You gasp, keeping your voice low even though you want to scream.
He keeps doing exactly as he has been, knowing you’re loving it and soon you fall apart for him again. The waves of this orgasm are stronger and you try to squirm out of his grasp as you come down from high.
“Too much. S’too much,” it’s almost a cry.
Joel pins your hips down again, and with his broad shoulders between your legs you can’t close them. “One more, little dove. You can give me one more.”
“No, please. Fuck me now. I can’t.” You’re practically panting and the mixture of the pleasure and the hot totty from earlier has your skin on fire.
His free hand comes between your legs. He gathers your arousal with his ring and middle fingers, effectively turning you into a writhing, moaning mess before slipping his fingers deep inside you and sucking your puffy clit between his lips.
You slide your feet closer to your body and try to squeeze your thigh shut. It’s no use, you could clamp Joel’s head between them like an MMA fighter but that wouldn’t stop him and you know it.
“Relax,” he murmurs before suckling on your clit again.
“Fuck me, god. So good.” You’re sure that’s what you say but at this point, you can barely form a thought.
He taps his finger along the front wall a few times before hooking them forward. Pleasure overwhelms you and you go boneless. Your knees fall open, your hands all from his hair and your eyes shut. This is how Joel likes you. Pliable. Agreeable. Completely his.
“There’s my pretty little dove,” he admires and flicks his wrist up and down to taunt your g spot while sucking harder on your clit.
Pressure builds at the base of your spine and you mumble how good it feels. It takes all the strength you can muster but you get yourself up on your elbows to push Joel’s finger in deeper and within seconds the pressure snaps and every fiber of your being is lit ablaze as you come for a third.
“Joel, fuuuuuck. Yes, mmmmm, oh god.”
He lets out a quiet, devious laugh and it vibrates against your pussy, causing another strong wave of your orgasm to flood your system. You need him to stop but never want him to stop at the same time. Your hips grind on their own as you come down. Joel knows your body better than anyone so he stops moving; just keeps his finger crooked forward and his tongue pressed to your clit and lets you take what you need.
The whimper that leaves your lips as you slow your hips is his cue to stop teasing your clit. He pulls back and whispers up at you.
“You’re so beautiful when you fall apart like that. My naughty little dove. Right in front of Santa Claus and everything, hmm?”
“Fuck me, Joel. Please. I need to feel you inside me.”
He slips his fingers out slowly as he crawls up your body. His wet fingers come to your lips.
“Suck,” he commands, “But don’t swallow.”
Eagerly you suck his fingers into your mouth, lapping up your heady sweetness and letting it rest on your tongue. Joel slips his fingers from your lips and kisses you, ducking your tongue into his mouth and swallowing your arousal. You both moan in tandem, and as if his kiss has put you under some sort of spell you’re on the verge of coming again at just the feel of his strong body on top of yours. He breaks the kiss and then winces.
You stifle a laugh, “I guess we aren’t in our twenties anymore, are we?”
“No,” he huffs. “But that’s not going to stop me from fucking you on the floor tonight.”
You scratch your fingers through his soft, short beard. Admiring the way it’s more grey than just a few months ago.
“Why don’t you let me get on top, sir.” You soften your expression and bat your eyelashes, knowing he’s usually powerless under your puppy dog eyes.
He shifts his weight above you to his other knee; the left one, and you know that because it’s the one that bothers him less.
“You gonna listen when you’re up there?” His eyes darken as he says it. You aren’t sure what kind of punishment he could come up with the girls being home for the next two weeks, but you aren’t about to find out.
“Yes, sir,” you say with your voice full of sweetness. He rolls the two of you and you land on top of him with a quiet squeak. His legs part to make room for you between them. You already know what’s coming next.
“Take my cock out, little dove.” His voice a husky growl.
You sit up between his thighs, resting on your heels. Before following his demands, you reach for your bodysuit and slowly peel it off your body and over your head. He presses his lips together to stop the smile.
“No panties and that see-through red bra I love so much? Was someone planning to get fucked tonight?”
You trail your fingers along the cups of your bra, your nipples hardening at attention through the fabric. “Maybe,” you wink.
Joel sits up so quickly that it startles you, the strong muscles behind his soft tummy rippling as he does it. His hands wrap around your wrists and through gritted teeth he commands, “Then take out my fucking cock, little dove. Get it nice and wet. Then, when I tell you to, sit on it and stay still like a good little girl until I tell you what to do.”
You go to kiss him but he lays back down with his hands behind his head and a cock smile on his face. You’re panting, you’re not sure when that happened. You lick your lips and your hands fly to the button of his jeans. Undoing it with shaky hands and then pull at the zipper. He’s rock-hard behind his black boxers. He shifts his hips so you can tug the jeans and his underwear down to sit just below his ass. His cock springs free and you don’t waste a single second, grabbing it by the base and lowering your face towards him. He watches you intensely.
“That’s it. Get it nice and wet, baby. Gotta make sure he can slide into that tight, little pussy of yours.”
You stop your lips mere inches from the tip of his leaking cock and look up at him. Without breaking eye contact you let saliva fall from your mouth and land on his cock. You clock the way his breathing halts as he watches it fall from your velvety lips to his aching cock, and the way he shudders an exhale as it runs down his shaft to your hand. You do it again, this time smiling up at him and then biting your bottom lip and the spit makes its sensual trail from his tip to your hand.
“Suck my cock, little dove. Now.”
Your lips are around his cock in an instant, sliding down as deep as you can go and holding it there. You breathe through your nose and let saliva pool in your cheeks before sliding up to the tip, coating his shaft with your spit. When you reach the top, you flick your tongue along the bottom ridge.
Joel groans, “Such a good listener.”
The praise washes over you, encouraging you to repeat your previous motion. You press him deeper this time, stopping when you feel him at the back of your throat.
“Fuck, little dove.” Joel’s voice is rough but full of admiration.
As your saliva starts to leak from your lips you pull back slowly, swirling your tongue along every ridge and vein that line the bottom of his cock. Your eyes meet his again as your tongue rounds the tip of his dick, the salty tang of his pre cum floods your system like a drug.
“Sit,” he accentuates the T and you scramble to straddle him.
You put your right knee on the floor, bending your left leg up so you can put your foot on the floor. This position saves one of your knees and you can usually get better leverage in a half squat versus a straddle. One of his hands comes to your right hip, the other wraps around his cock, holding it steady as you line yourself up.
The thick head prods at your entrance and you moan as you slide down the first few inches. “So good, Joel.”
“Mm-hmm, you have been good. Keep going, baby.” He releases his grip from his cock so you can take more of him. “That’s my girl. Taking it so well.”
You breathe through the stretch as your hips settle against his, then lean back to rest your hands on his muscle-packed thighs.
“Little dove, tell me how it feels.”
“Mmmm, so full,” you half whine, half pant.
He flexes his hips forward slightly at the neediness in your tone. “Gotta relax for me before you can move.”
His thumb comes to brush your clit. A small sob escapes your throat, “M’trying to.”
“I know, baby,” he coos, his thumb barely touching you as he circles it along your swollen clit. “You’re doin’ so good. Just breathe, little dove. Make room for my cock in that pretty little pussy of yours.”
You make a conscious effort to relax; unclenching your jaw and then letting your shoulders fall. Your head lulls back, the star on top of the tree and the smell of pine needles surrounds you. A fresh wave of arousal floods between your thighs and the pinch of him turns to pleasure.
“Good job, little dove. Are you ready to move?”
“Please. Oh gods. Please!”
“Sshhh, you’re ok. Nice and slow, honey.” His hand on your hip guides you back and forth. The motion is almost infinitesimal, but the forward rocking puts pressure on your g-spot and the thumb that still hovers about your clit. “Eyes on me now, baby.”
You tilt your chin down until your sparkling eyes meet his dark ones. He continues, “Can you do as you're told?”
You nod as a breathy plea leaves your lips, “Yes, sir. I will. Please, it feels so good.”
“I want you to ride me until you’re right on the edge of coming and then stop. Can you do that?”
“No,” you whine. “Why? I wanna come. Please.”
“You will. If you listen like the good little girl I know you can be, I’ll let you come. But first, you have to earn it.” He squeezes at your hip, his short nails digging into the skin.
You stick out your bottom lip and say a sad, “Okay.”
“Give me your hand.” You move one of his hands from his thighs. He guides your hand to your clit and then wraps his hand around your left ankle. “Show me, little dove.”
You take the reins, rubbing tight circles along your clit as you grind back and forth. Your orgasm builds in an instant.
“Shit can feel how close you are already,” Joel grits out.
“Please let me come. I’ll do anything.” You change to a circular motion, shifting your weight to the left, using the squat position for more friction.
“Don’t you dare! You said you can do as you're told,” he reminds you roughly, then uses the hand that was clamped on your right hip to slap your inner left thigh. “Don’t make me punish you.”
The pain from his strike sends warmth right to your core and you stop before you come. You let out a sad whine and fall forward, hands landing on either side of your head as you catch your breath.
“Please!” You murmur.
“God, little dove. You have no idea what it does to me when you listen like that. Such a good little submissive, aren’t you?” His hand runs from your right hip up your back, finger flicking the clasp of your bra open. “Sit back up. You earned it, little dove. Use my cock. Make us come.”
The lacy red bra slides down your arms as you sit up and you toss it towards the tree before riding him like it’s the last time. Your hands fly to your breast, rolling your nipples between your fingers in time with your hips. Nothing compares to the feeling of Joel's thick cock filling you. It’s indescribable and so fucking addicting even after almost fifteen years together.
The rough pad of his thumb loves back to your clit and you gasp. “Please don’t make me stop again, Joel. I’m so close.”
“I know, baby. I won’t. Fucking Christ, squeezin me so tight. I’m not gonna last.” The last part is a whimper.
“I’m gonna come,” you moan.
“Me too, little dove. Let go, fuuuck, let go for me.”
The sparks behind your clit turn into a fire, scalding every nerve ending as it spreads throughout your body. You bite down on your hand to stop from screaming as you twitch on his cock. Your pussy clenches tightly around him a few times before you feel him burst inside of you. His grip on your hip tightens again as he whines softly. Your eyes lock on his, the veins in his neck popping as he whispers your name and praises how good you feel wrapped around him.
Your highs seem to last forever before he reaches up to pull you down on top of him. Helping you shift your weight so you straddle him fully. He plasters you to his chest, the thin layer of both of your sweat mixing. Your heart races behind your ribs as you catch your breath, an occasional after-shock causing your pussy to flutter gently on his slowly softening cock.
“Oh my god,” you say, relaxing into his warmth.
“You ok, baby?” He sponges a kiss to your hairline.
“Mm-hmm. So good. Sleepy, but amazing.” Your mumble, kissing his chest.
His hands run along the lines of your back. “Good. Merry Christmas, little dove.”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller fic#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel miller x f!oc#joel miller x female oc#joel miller x female reader#joel miller the last of us#joel miller au#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you
513 notes
·
View notes
Text
truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+
notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠
summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k
Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.
Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.
It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.
"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"
You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.
"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."
"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."
"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."
"But that means experience."
"It could also mean limp dick."
"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."
And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.
"I dare you to go over to his house."
You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."
You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...
They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?
"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"
Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.
It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.
You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.
Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.
You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.
--
He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.
But you don't.
"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.
The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.
His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.
Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.
His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"
It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.
"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.
"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."
He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.
"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."
At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.
"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.
You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.
"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.
He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.
"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.
He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"
Okaaaay, then.
You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.
"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.
"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.
"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.
"You never seen a flashlight before?"
Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."
You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.
"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"
He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.
"What do you want?" he asks blankly.
"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."
"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"
You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.
"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.
He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.
"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.
"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.
"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"
Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.
Except, they don't connect.
Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.
"Turn around and bend over."
"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.
"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."
He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.
"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.
"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.
"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.
"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."
You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.
"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.
He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.
"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.
"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.
"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."
He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.
"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.
"N-no, I swear, I-"
"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."
"But I-"
Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.
"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"
Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."
"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.
"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.
It's your last chance.
"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.
Run. Just run.
"Four."
But why?
"Three."
Why don't you want to run?
"Two."
Why do you want to stay?
"One."
He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.
As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.
"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"
"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.
"Say it."
"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."
He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.
"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"
"Y-yes."
"Yes, what?"
You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.
He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.
You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.
"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."
"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."
"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"
Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.
"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.
You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.
"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"
You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.
"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."
"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"
"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.
"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."
He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.
It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.
"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."
You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.
"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.
"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"
You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...
"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."
You nod again, "Y-yes."
"How many?"
"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.
"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"
Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.
"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"
"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.
"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."
"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.
Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.
"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."
You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.
"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.
Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.
"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."
He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.
"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."
He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.
He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.
When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.
"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.
His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.
"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."
It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.
"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."
Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.
"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"
"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"
You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."
"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."
"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."
It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.
"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"
You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"
"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.
He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.
"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."
He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.
"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"
"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.
"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"
"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.
You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.
"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"
You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.
"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."
You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.
"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."
It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.
"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.
For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.
He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.
"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.
You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?
These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.
"Turn around," he orders.
You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.
"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."
--
The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.
You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.
The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.
As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.
And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...
Maybe that's how it should be.
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.
Your wish is my command! 😘
Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real
Words: 2.4k
[As You Wish masterlist]
“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.
“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.
“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”
A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.
“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.
“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.
You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in…God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.
Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.
“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.
The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.
“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.
“Night, pal,” Eddie says.
You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.
The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.
“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.
“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.
“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”
“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”
“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.
The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.
“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.
“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”
“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.
“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”
Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.
“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.
With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.
“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”
A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.
“Bye, sweetheart.”
The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.
“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.
It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.
When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.
Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.
“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”
It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.
He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe….no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.
“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.
The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.
No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.
“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.
“Please.”
The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?
Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.
He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.
Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.
“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.
The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.
“Welcome home,” you say.
Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.
As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.
“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.
With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.
“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”
A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.
“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.
You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.
“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.
Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.
“I want to hear your noises, too.”
“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.
A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.
Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.
“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.
“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.
Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.
Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.
“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.
A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.
“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”
A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.
“Ready for me, princess?”
Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.
“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.
Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.
The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.
“Feels so good,” you whine.
“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I…oh, fuck.”
Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.
Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.
“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#older!eddie#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fan fiction#Eddie Munson fanfiction#Eddie Munson fan fic#eddie munson imagine#dad!eddie#AYW#AYWS#request
422 notes
·
View notes
Note
Reader always playing with something, she just has to have her hands occupied at all times - messing up her nails, playing with a pen or the hem of her dress, picking on her skin etc. - and when she starts dating Rafe, he notices it immediately and lets her play with his fingers and always tells her not to ruin anything with that habit of hers
just fluff🩷🩷🩷🩷😔😔🙏🏻
Busy Hands
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.3K
Masterlist
The tip of the pen glides smoothly across the rough material of the jeans. It was one of the things Rafe noticed about Y/N when they started dating. Her hands are always doing something. He likes to call her Busy Hands in his head because of that. Her favourite way of keeping herself busy is drawing with a pen. She’ll do it on any surface. In her notebook. On a napkin. On her clothes. Anything that belongs to her. Sometimes if she forgets her pen, then she’ll play with her rings. When she doesn’t have either, she will play with the hem of her dress or skirt. He knows it is linked to her anxiety and that the scars around her fingernails are probably linked to it. He wonders what needs to happen for her to resort to that habit.
———
The two of them are waiting at a restaurant for their table when the need to move her fingers happens. She looks through her purse to find her pen and it isn’t there. She looks down at her hand to see which finger has her ring and she forgot that too. Nerves shoot through her because she realizes she has nothing. Her dress is tight and goes to her ankles. She didn’t bring anything to cover her arms because the OBX heat would’ve made her boil. The itch grows bigger and she has no choice but to pinch the skin around her nails and begin to pull. Rafe is quick to notice. His hand shoots out to come between her hands. She looks at him in distraught and he flips his hand so his palm faces up. He leans toward her, “Why don’t you trace the palm of my hand? There is no need to ruin your pretty skin.” She tilts her head, unsure if this would help her with her need. She still tries. He feels the tap of her finger drop onto his palm and she first begins to trace the lines on it. Once she does that, she moves on to doing little drawings on his skin. Spirals. Circles. Hearts. She finds it calms her mind and allows her to focus. She looks up at him with a smile, “Thank you.” He kisses her. “You’re welcome.”
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Risky Fun
Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN and Harry have a little fun on the boys tour bus and get caught by Niall.
warning: sexual theme, oral (m receiving), smut, caught
Based on this request.
Craving each others touch and a moment alone to explore one and other, Harry and YN had snuck back onto the boys tour bus in between soundcheck and the show.
Harry was pleasantly surprised as he laid down in his designated bunk and YN wasted no time in reaching for his belted jeans, her smaller hands undoing them with ease.
“Someone’s eager!”. Harry gave a lazy smirk as he felt his lower half become harder with anticipation.
“Might wanna say that to your dick bubs!”. YN sent back a larger smile as the more she fumbled with his jeans, the longer and bigger his length grew.
Before Harry could return the quick whit, he felt the warmth release down his long length with ease and as he dared to look down, he was met with YN’s gentle strokes and her pink tongue swirled around his tip.
“Oh fuck…feels so good!”. Harry moaned into the air above him as his head voluntarily tilted back to meet the plump pillow. His fist traveled down and met with YN’s head to hold her ponytail tight.
As YN twirled her tongue with ease around the tip, leaving a path of wetness behind, her hand stroked up and down his length with rhythm.
“Oh yeah…uh fuck me!”. YN felt a pang at her ego rising and Harry continued to echo his moans with a grunt.
Knowing her wet tongue had teased Harry enough, she gently slid his long thick length down so it met the back of her throat causing her eyes to sting and his hips to buckle.
“Oh my fucking- your mouth is heaven”. Harry complimented as he took a shaky breath, feeling his thickness pushing its way down her tongue. Getting ahead of the feeling, Harry buckled his hips up to quick causing YN to gag on his length. “Shit…fuck…m’sorry babe!”.
Despite the worry in Harry’s voice as he panicked he’d pushed the moment too much, YN caused a whole new feeling inside him. “I liked it…do it again!”.
“Fuck me…you’re going to be the death of me!”. Harry dramatically announced into the air around them as he lolled his head back in search for comfort.
As YN’s mouth returned to her movements of licking and sucking his length, Harry moaned loudly without thought that they were only a few feet away from the others.
“Your moans are so fucking hot!”. YN spoke as she brought her mouth up for a break before her lips and nose met with the base of Harry’s stomach.
“Oh yeah….fuck…fuck…oh…oh…YN…yeah…I’m gonna cum…”.
In between Harry’s grunty moans, YN froze as she heard a familiar accent. A thick Irish one to be exact. “Fuck!”.
Harry’s ears quickly tuned into the noise coming from the other side of the curtain that kept them hidden.
YN could feel her cheeks rise with embarrassment as they heard Niall’s voice and loud contagious laughter. “Fucking hell lovebirds…you can hear you from the car park!”.
“Fuck off Niall!”. Harry was frustrated that their moment had been interrupted and the sound of his bandmates voice was enough to kill the mood.
“Oh yeah…feels so good…fuck…fuck…oh yeah YN!”. Niall mocked Harry’s moans before a teasing chuckle followed through the bus.
YN had made her way to lay next to Harry, knowing their moment alone was over. “Horan…kindly fuck off! You cockblock”. She felt Harry chuckle lightly at her honesty.
“Oi watch your mouth Tomlinson…or I’ll go and tell Louis what I’ve just heard!”. The couple knew Niall was teasing them, the comment was just banter but the heavy gulp in Harry’s throat spoke volumes at how worried he was about him spilling the information.
“Don’t test me Horan!”.
Tag List:
@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994
#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles x y/n#harrystyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfic#harry styles series#harry styles writing#one direction#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x tomlinson!reader#harry styles x oc#harry x reader#harry x yn#harry x y/n#harry x you#harry styles fic#harry styles series masterlist#harry styles masterlist#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine#louis tomlinson#niall horan#zayn malik#liam payne#harry 1d#one direction fanfiction#tomlinson!yn#harry styles smut
422 notes
·
View notes
Text
Masterlist
My name is K and this is the byproduct of my Min Yoongi and Bangtan Sonyeondan brainrot.
Please remember all stories herein are purely fiction. I do not claim to know BTS irl. I put warnings in every chapter. Please be guided by them, so you can have an enjoyable reading experience. I do not have an upload schedule. I will turn on my requests soon, but for now please enjoy my ongoing and completed stories below.
About Me | WIP update | Buy me a ko-fi Join my permanent taglist Requests are closed as of 11/08 Minors DNI
Wild & Free
Status: Completed Part 1 | Part 2
Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you. Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you. Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)
Terms & Conditions
Status: Ongoing ⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚ Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Teaser | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to? Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au
Love & Lullabies
Status: Ongoing ⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚ Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 Teaser | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5
Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.) Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (tbd), idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie
Friends & Fools
Status: Completed Click here
Summary: You and Yoongi have always been just friends—inseparable since childhood, roommates in the city, partners in navigating life’s chaos. At your high school reunion, the questions start: Are you two finally together? Uh, no. But as the night goes on, and Yoongi looks at you like that, hmm—has everyone else seen something you’ve been too scared to admit? Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, non-idol!au, best friends & roommates to lovers
A Christmas Encore {Holiday Fic}
Status: Pending Part One | Part Two
Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it. When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again? Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark
Let Me Love You {Song fic Drabble}
Status: Pending Click here for the Preview
Sweet & Spicy
Status: Completed Read here
Summary: Turns out some cravings are just so hard to ignore. Genre: Fluffy fluff, idol!au, strangers to ?, Reader is ARMY
Yet to come
Yet to come
Yet to come
Yet to come
Yet to come
Banners by the uber talented @glossdebut
#myg x reader#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi fanfic#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x reader#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts x reader#yoongi smut#min yoongi x you#yoongi fic#myg x y/n#yoongi fluff#yoongi x you#yoongi angst#suga x reader#suga x y/n#bts imagines#bts fanfiction#bts smut#bts x you#bts x fem!reader#bts x y/n#bts x oc#jeon jungkook x reader#bts jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n
487 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ad Astra Per Aspera
Your story goes deeper than what meets Alexia’s eye
Alexia Putellas x teen!reader
pt. 2 masterlist
Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. aditionally, alexia is pretty mean in this and there wont be a happy ending for a few parts 😬
A/N: massive thank you to this request for the amazing idea 🫶🏼. r is 18 y/o but still going under teen!reader. this is going to be multiple parts because theres so much i could do for this request that i find impossible to fit into one part and write to a good standard, so here you go!
The Stands
Football unites the world. It brings people, cities, and countries together, like nothing else.
You’ve seen it happen in your beautiful hometown of Barcelona — all you can see during the hours leading up to any match set to be played in the Camp Nou is red and blue in the sky. Blaugrana painted the streets below, and the entire city came alive with the commotion from the stadium.
You spent your entire childhood being part of the roaring atmosphere, waving your Barça flag proudly in the air alongside every other flag and wearing the infamous colours across your chest.
Most of all, you prayed with every bit of faith in you, that one day you’d be on the pitch, playing for the club of your dreams.
Everyone in the crowd had their own individual life. There could be a single mother, a lawyer who used up his last days of leave to attend the match, a young boy with his father, an elderly person on an outing with his wife, someone from abroad who’s spent thousands and travelled for hours to watch their favourite player in real life.
11 players could bring together almost 100,000 people just to watch them kick a ball around, and you wanted to have the same effect. You wanted to be so good at football and have the ability to transform a simple sport about kicking a ball around into 90 minutes of entertainment, performance, art. You wanted to do it with Barcelona.
You trained meticulously for months. You passed your small, worn out ball against the same fence in your backyard, you practiced your touch by juggling until the frustration made you storm away in tears and you learned new skills and used your own shoes as cones to pose as defenders and dribble around.
When you went to the Camp Nou to trial for the renowned La Masia academy, you were little and clutching your FC Barcelona backpack for support. The stadium already looked so big when you were up in the stands, but when it was empty and you were actually on the pitch, it was even bigger. You were stood on the same grass as your idols that once had the same dream as you, and that was unbelievable.
The start of your journey as a player at FC Barcelona had begun.
Day after day, you woke up early for training. Your siblings were never awake at that time, so the rare moment of peaceful alone time with your mother was something you looked forward to every morning.
She drove you to the La Masia facilities and then picked you up at sunset. Sometimes, when she had to work late, you and some of your teammates would go to the park and play with the other local kids until your parents came.
Those were the same teammates that you got promoted to the B team with, and the evening 5-a-side games in the park never stopped. They were your best friends — you all shared a common dream of getting to the first team and playing in big tournaments and winning titles, and even though you realistically wouldn’t all be able to do that, no one ever stopped believing that one day it would happen.
As you grew up and your career just started to take off, things started to change. Not just in football, but your life off the pitch too. All at the age of thirteen.
Your father started coming home late. As if your mother was stupid, he’d waltz into the house in the middle of the night, claiming he had to stay a little late because a last minute meeting was called or he lost track of the time. The mild arguments started, and when the late arrivals became more frequent, your mother’s suspicions grew stronger.
One night, it came to a halt. Just when you stopped expecting it, he came home at his regular time; half past six. The only difference was, he didn’t look happy to be home at all. A frown tainted his face ans there was something off-putting about his demeanour. Soon, it all made sense.
You watched from around the corner, your head barely peeking out. Your dad shrugged his blazer off, and you noticed the way his mouth twitched as if hesitating to say something. Once he spoke, a big part of you wished he hesitated a bit more and realised down the line that he was making a bad decision, but it was too late.
The reason he was working late, the secrecy, the floral smells that lingered on his shirts; he was never working overtime, the floral smells were not from the diffuser in the office, and he did have something to hide.
It was called infidelity.
Your siblings emerged from their rooms as soon as the cacophonous yelling started, and you were quick to usher them away from the arguing.
The reality of how bad the situation really was hadn’t yet settled in, but you knew the outcome wasn’t going to be good.
Your youngest brother complained about his rumbling stomach, and the other two were quick to jump on the hunger train. For a moment you were stumped, because you didn’t want to go into the kitchen where the argument was taking place and get dragged into it, so your solution was grabbing a €50 bill and sneaking out to the nearest restaurant.
You were the oldest of four kids. After you was one of two boys, Lorenzo, and then the twins, Magdalene and Dani. They shared the same passion for football as you, and your fondest memories consisted on being in the stands of Camp Nou with them.
All of you snagged a table in a cozy restaurant, one you were familiar with due to going there multiple times with the rest of your family.
The hour you spent in that restaurant with your siblings turned out to be the last hour of a carefree life you’d get to indulge in.
The Pitch
You turned 18 last week, but you got promoted to the first team last month. The headlines painted you as an emblem of success for Barça’s youth programme, the future captain of the first team, and there were all these opinions flying around about you as a player. The opinion that mattered most, though, was that of your captain.
You and Alexia Putellas didn’t get along. Her opinion on you was nothing short of disapproving, and she let you know of that as you arrived at practice.
“(Y/N),” the woman said, her voice holding notes of irritation as she approached you. You looked at her, preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture.
“You’re late again. You might be young, but over here you’re the same as all of us no matter your age, which means getting to training at the same time as us,” she berated you, her hands set on her hips and her eyebrows furled in annoyance.
“Look, captain, I had to–” you started, but your explanation was cut short by Alexia.
“I don’t have time for your excuses. Do better next time, or you’re sitting out of practice entirely. Go run your laps,” she snarled, dismissing you with a wave of her hand.
You could only watch in anger as she stormed away while the others looked at you sympathetically, and you bit your tongue as you walked to the locker room and dumped your bag in your cubby.
She belittled you in every interaction you two had, which was a shame because you really liked her beforehand. In fact, you looked up to her, and you looked forward to being captained by her, but now it was hell on earth every time you entered the gates and met her scrutinising gaze.
Training was nothing special. It was the same old passing drills, small-sided games, shooting and free kick practice, and then before you knew it, home time.
You slung your bag over your shoulder and left before Alexia could stop you and give you yet another lecture. After stopping at the primary school to pick up Magdalene and Dani, you three drove to the middle school to pick up Lorenzo. Barcelona rush hour was rife around the time you picked up your siblings, so you spent another half an hour stuck in traffic until you finally got home.
All you wanted was your bed, and a nap. Still, you dragged yourself to the kitchen to make something quick for dinner so it was ready for your siblings when they were hungry, and then you tidied up in the living room.
Ever since your dad left, your mother was a wreck, leaving you as the successor to her caretaking duties of the kids. She was never a drinker, but after he left, she found herself depending on alcohol for a quick escape.
It was nice for a little bit; a short break from the world that always ended too soon. She kept chasing and chasing that relief until she was in too deep, and it was never enough. The bottles multiplied, the cans lined the rubbish bins, the stench polluted the air that once smelled of a fresh vanilla essence, and she became latched onto it.
You blamed your father for it all, because it was his unchastity that motivated every drink. Your mother was a beautiful woman who loved her family more than herself.
That was what ruined her.
“Hermana, hermana,” Magdalene spoke, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt. You looked down just as you turned off the stove, and she rubbed her stomach, “I’m hungry.”
“Okay hermanita, ask the boys if they’re hungry, please,” you replied, smiling at her. She nodded and ran to their bedrooms, and soon they all emerged from around the corner.
After scooping generous amounts of macaroni and cheese onto their plates, you put some onto your plate and sat down with your siblings to eat. Together, you all talked about your busy days and they listened to you tell them all about your training. They loved hearing your stories about Barça, and every time, Magdalene and Dani would ask you to continue your stories until they fell asleep.
Tonight was no different as you tiptoed out of the twins’ bedroom, gently shutting the door behind you. As much as you loved sleeping after a long day, part of you also dreaded it, because it meant starting a new day and facing Alexia.
When you woke up, it was to gentle knocking on your bedroom door. You were awake enough to comprehend the quiet pattering of footsteps across your hardwood floors, and when tiny hands grazed your skin, you jolted awake. “Hermana, time to wake up! School time!” Magdalene chimed.
So your morning routine began.
With one sock and half your jacket over your head, you made three lunches for the kids right after making their breakfast. Your mother slowly slumped out of her bedroom, wrapping her robe tight around her.
“Bon día,” she mumbled, a smile on her face. With a glance over your shoulder, you acknowledged her before going back to slicing two oranges.
“Morning, mamá,” your siblings responded quietly, shoving food into their mouths to avoid speaking any further. She sat on the couch, sighing deeply.
As she walked past you, you could immediately recognise the stench of alcohol — no surprises there. Years ago, she would’ve smelled like warm musky perfume, not the pungent smell of chemicals.
“Can you make me something, hija? ‘M very hungry,” she said to you, looking your way. You kept your head down, sealing the lunchboxes and cleaning up the counter.
“No, ma, I have things to do. Make your own breakfast,” you responded coldly, “Hermanita, pequeños, bring your dishes here.”
Your siblings scrambled from the table with their empty plates, giving them a quick wash before retreating to their rooms to get their uniform on. On the couch, your mother was still begging for food.
“Hija.. I’m hungry,” the woman slurred.
“Mamá, I have to get your kids to school and go to my own job, which my captain is already angry at me for being late because I have to drive them all around Barna,” you hissed.
“Then I have to come home and make dinner after cleaning your mess. You can make your own breakfast, for once!”
You always felt bad for yelling at your mum, but your life was hard enough with trying to get to work and drop off your three siblings in time while worrying about making your mum a meal.
You had a chance at life. You had a chance to succeed, and you weren’t going to waste it. You weren’t going to rely on a man to look after you in the future until he turns around and wants to look after another woman, leaving you damned.
“Bye, mamá,” you grumbled, grabbing your keys from the bench and swooping your boot bag up from the floor.
It was Dani’s turn to pick which song to play on the radio on the drive to school. He chose a very popular song within your siblings; ‘Me Gustas Tu’. The song had been broadcasted on the radio one day, and everyone seemed to love it. Their favourite part of car rides to school was winding the windows down and singing as loud as they’d like.
Somehow, amongst your father leaving and your mother’s new habits, your siblings were always happy, and that’s what you admired most about them. Maybe they were unaware of the harsh reality, but they were still naïve and unscathed by everything that happened.
It was almost 9:30 in the morning when you started making your way to the training pitch. Mentally, you were preparing yourself for the big lecture you were about to get from Alexia and seriously didn’t need, but physically, you looked unbothered if not a bit tense in the shoulders.
You almost tripped on your way out of the car as you rushed around to get your gear. Walking into training everyday just to get yelled at by Alexia was never nice, but you were used to it. Unfortunately.
That wasn’t the sort of relationship a captain should have with one of her players. It was almost like she despised you, and if she had her way, you probably would’ve been off the team within the first week.
Sure enough, when you appeared on the pitch, the first thing you heard was the low whispers beside you.
“…She’s irresponsible and doesn’t belong on the first team. Being late once, I understand, but multiple times? Her excuses are not good enough–”
“Excuses? Ale, you’ve never let her explain herself.”
“There shouldn’t be any need for excuses anyways, because she shouldn’t be late at all. If she wants to take her time and be let off easy like a child, send her back to the B team. Look, she isn’t even here yet.”
“She is, though. Look behind you.”
The woman turned around, her glare settling on you and being as cold as ever. She spun her whole body around and folded her arms across her chest, her frown heavy.
You sighed, looking down to your feet. It made you feel even worse that you couldn’t help it, and you couldn’t explain it to her either, because that action had potential to get your siblings taken away.
“Drop your bag, get comfortable. You’re not training today,” she snapped.
Your heart sunk. You fought to fend off any tears from forming on your waterline as you nodded, raising your head slightly.
“Listen, (Y/N). This team is everything to me. I have lots of respect for the people who coach us and come here to be coached. You, showing up late? That shows a lack of respect for those people. You’re lazy, unorganised, irresponsible–”
Irresponsible was untrue. If anything, you were the most responsible person you’ve ever known, but Alexia didn’t know that because she didn’t care to know you.
“…I can’t expect you to represent our club and our city on big stages if you can’t even come to training on time. You aren’t FC Barcelona material, and unless things change, you never will be.”
Your lip quivered as your body aligned to bolt for the locker room as soon as she left you alone, away from the watchful eyes that surveyed you in pity when had you arrived. Alexia turned on her heel and stormed away past Mapi, whom she was talking to previously.
She left you in her wake, crestfallen and misunderstood, defeated by circumstances beyond your control.
#fc barcelona femeni#fc barcelona#fcb femení#woso#woso community#woso imagines#woso x reader#woso fanfics#fcb femení x reader#fc barcelona x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia x reader#alexia putellas#fcb femeni#woso angst#fcbfemeni#futfem#ad astra per aspera
774 notes
·
View notes
Text
off the table
pairings: lewis hamilton x fem!reader
word count: 13k
warnings: SMUT (wrap it before you tap it), toxic relationship, cheating, miscommunication, cussing, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, mentions of educational burnout, semi-double pov
authors note: listen to off the table by ariana grande ft. the weeknd 13k words is insane to me, this is the most i’ve ever wrote, i had so much fun writing this honestly, i pray it’s not shit…cause that would be embarrassing, ignore any typos please, also a little self indulgent (not all the way, trust)okay i’m done, hope you enjoy!!
want to be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE
f1 masterlist 1k celebration
You met Lewis when you were just seven years old. It was a typical summer day, the sun high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the park. You were new to the neighborhood, shy and unsure of yourself, clutching the handles of your bike as if it were your lifeline. The other kids seemed so confident, racing around on their bikes, laughing and shouting as they sped down the dirt paths. You stood on the sidelines, watching, wishing you could join in but not quite brave enough to take the first step.
That's when you noticed him—a boy with wild curls and a bright smile, his bike skidding to a stop in front of you. "Hey, do you want to race?" he asked, his voice filled with enthusiasm. You hesitated, glancing down at your bike, then back at him. He must have sensed your uncertainty because he grinned and added, "I'll go easy on you, I promise."
Something about his easy confidence made you smile, and before you knew it, you were racing side by side with him, the wind whipping through your hair as you pedaled as fast as you could. You didn't win—Lewis was too fast for that—but it didn't matter. For the first time since moving, you felt like you belonged.
From that day on, you and Lewis were inseparable. Every afternoon after school, you'd meet at the park, racing your bikes until the sun dipped below the horizon. He told you about his love for karting, his eyes lighting up as he described the thrill of speeding around the track, the roar of the engine in his ears. You didn't understand it entirely—karts seemed like a bigger, scarier version of your bike—but you loved listening to him talk about it, the way his passion seemed to pour out of him.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
As the years went by, your friendship with Lewis deepened. You became each other's confidants, sharing your dreams and fears late into the night. You told him about your dream of becoming a doctor, and he listened with the same intensity he showed on the track. In return, he confided in you about his aspirations in racing, how he wanted to be the best, to make his family proud.
There were moments, though, where something unspoken lingered between you—moments where his gaze seemed to linger a little too long, where his touch seemed a little too tender. But you never noticed, too caught up in your own world to see the way his feelings for you were evolving.
One day, when you were both fourteen, you were sitting in your room, studying for a biology test. Lewis had come over to help you with your homework, but you ended up talking about everything except schoolwork. "Do you ever think about the future?" you asked, lying on your bed with a textbook open in front of you.
"All the time," he admitted, glancing over at you. "I think about racing, where I'll be, who I'll be with."
You smiled, oblivious to the hint of something more in his words. "I bet you'll be famous," you teased, nudging him playfully. "I'll be able to say I knew you before you were cool."
He laughed, but there was a wistfulness in his eyes. "What about you? Where do you see yourself?"
You shrugged, turning your attention back to your textbook. "Hopefully in med school, maybe even Harvard if I can get in. Saving lives and all that."
There was a pause, and when you looked back at him, you saw something flicker in his expression, something you couldn't quite place. But before you could ask, he smiled and said, "You'll get in. I know you will."
You didn't know it then, but that was one of the many moments where he almost told you how he felt. But your casual mention of Harvard, of a future that seemed so far from his own, made him hesitate. How could he confess his feelings when it seemed like your dreams were leading you in opposite directions?
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
When you were sixteen, Lewis's karting career began to take off even more. He was spending more time at the track, traveling for races, and you were busy with school. But despite the distance, you stayed close, texting each other daily, finding time to hang out whenever he was home.
One evening, after one of his races, he invited you to a celebratory dinner with his family. You were honored, knowing how important these moments were to him. As you sat across from him at the table, laughing and talking with his family, you felt a warmth in your chest, a sense of belonging that you couldn't quite explain.
After dinner, as you walked back to your car, Lewis caught your arm, stopping you. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice unusually serious.
"Of course," you replied, a little surprised by his tone. You turned to face him, and for a moment, you just stood there, looking at each other in the dim light of the streetlamp.
He seemed to struggle with his words, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. "I've been meaning to tell you something," he began, his voice low. "It's just... we've known each other for so long, and you've always been there for me. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, completely missing the deeper meaning behind them. "You're my best friend, Lewis. I'll always be there for you, no matter what."
He looked down, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "Yeah, best friends," he repeated, his voice softer now. "But what if—"
Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket, interrupting the moment. You pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and saw a text from a boy in your class that you'd been talking to. "Sorry, it's just Josh," you said, quickly typing a response.
When you looked back up, Lewis's expression had shifted, the vulnerability from moments before gone. "No worries," he said, forcing a smile. "I just wanted to say that I'm really proud of you. For everything."
You felt a pang of guilt, sensing that you had missed something important, but you pushed it aside, giving him a quick hug. "Thanks, Lewis. That means a lot."
As you drove home that night, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Meanwhile, Lewis watched you leave, the words he had almost said hanging heavy in the air. He had been so close to telling you how he felt, but your mention of Josh had stopped him. How could he compete with someone who was already making you smile in ways he only dreamed of?
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
As you started high school, you started dating Josh. He was sweet, attentive, and everything you thought you wanted in a boyfriend. Lewis, ever the supportive friend, smiled and encouraged you, even as his heart ached every time he saw you with someone else.
He watched from the sidelines as your relationship with Josh blossomed, always there to lend a listening ear when things got tough. And when Josh broke your heart, leaving you devastated just before prom, Lewis was the first person you called.
"I can't believe he did this," you sobbed into the phone, your voice thick with tears.
"I'll be right there," Lewis replied without hesitation. Within minutes, he was at your door, pulling you into a comforting embrace. He held you as you cried, his hand gently stroking your hair, murmuring soothing words into your ear.
"You deserve so much better," he whispered, his heart breaking alongside yours. "Anyone who can't see how amazing you are doesn't deserve you."
You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Why can't all guys be like you, Lewis?"
He smiled sadly, wishing he could tell you that he would never hurt you the way Josh did, that he would cherish you and make you feel loved every day. But instead, he just said, "Because they're not smart enough to realize what they have."
In that moment, you realized how much you had taken Lewis for granted, how he had always been there for you, even when you didn't deserve it. But you still didn't see the depth of his feelings for you, too caught up in your own heartbreak to notice the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
When it came time to apply for college, you were determined to go to the one with the best medical program, whether it was Harvard, Yale, Duke, or John Hopkins. You had worked so hard throughout high school, dedicating countless hours to your studies, extracurriculars, and volunteer work. It was your dream, and you weren't going to let anything stand in your way.
Lewis, on the other hand, was focused on his racing career. He had already been scouted by several teams, and it was clear that his future was on the track. You were both proud of each other's accomplishments, but there was an unspoken tension between you as the reality of your diverging paths began to sink in.
The day you received your acceptance letter from Harvard was bittersweet. You were overjoyed to have achieved your dream, but the thought of leaving Lewis behind filled you with a sense of loss. You had always imagined that you would be there for each other through everything, but now it seemed like your lives were pulling you in different directions.
"I got in," you told Lewis when you saw him later that day, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and sadness.
He smiled, pulling you into a tight hug. "I knew you would," he said, his voice proud but tinged with something else. "You're going to do amazing things, Y/N/N."
"But I'll miss you," you admitted, your heart aching at the thought of being so far away from him.
"I'll miss you too," he replied, his voice quiet. "But we'll stay in touch, right? It's not like we're never going to see each other again."
You nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Of course. We'll text and call all the time. And I'll visit whenever I can."
He smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes that you couldn't ignore. "Yeah, we'll make it work."
As the summer passed, you and Lewis spent as much time together as possible, trying to make the most of your remaining days before you both went off to pursue your dreams. There were moments of laughter and joy, but also moments of quiet reflection, as you both grappled with the reality of what was to come.
On your last night before leaving for college, you and Lewis sat on the roof of his house, staring up at the stars. It was a tradition you had started when you were kids, a way to escape the world and just be together in the silence of the night.
"I'm really going to miss this," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Me too," he replied, his gaze fixed on the sky.
You turned to look at him, your heart heavy with a mix of emotions. "Promise me we'll stay close, no matter what."
He finally looked at you, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "I promise," he said, his voice steady and sincere.
You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Lewis."
He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You'll never have to find out," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination.
As you sat there together, the weight of unspoken words hung between you, but neither of you said anything more. There was a part of Lewis that wanted to tell you everything—to confess his feelings, to ask you to stay—but he knew it wouldn't be fair. You had your own dreams to chase, and he couldn't ask you to give them up for him.
So instead, he kept his promise, supporting you from afar as you embarked on the next chapter of your life. You texted and called as often as you could, sharing stories of your experiences at Harvard, while he told you about his progress in racing. The distance was hard, but you both did your best to stay connected.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
College was everything you had hoped it would be. You excelled in your classes, made new friends, and even started dating again. But no matter how busy you were, there was always a part of you that missed Lewis. You missed the way he made you laugh, the way he could always make you feel better no matter what was going on in your life.
You visited home during the holidays, and every time you saw Lewis, it was like no time had passed at all. You fell back into your old routines, spending hours talking and laughing, as if the distance between you had never existed.
But there were moments when you noticed a change in him—moments when he seemed quieter, more reserved. You didn't think much of it at first, chalking it up to the stress of his racing career. But as time went on, you began to wonder if there was something more.
One night, during your winter break, you and Lewis went for a drive, just like you used to do when you were younger. The streets were quiet, the city lights reflecting off the snow-covered ground. You talked about everything and nothing, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.
As you drove past your old high school, memories flooded back, and you found yourself laughing at the thought of how much had changed since then. "Can you believe it's been four years since we graduated?" you asked, glancing over at Lewis.
He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Yeah, it's crazy how time flies."
You sighed, your smile fading as you thought about how much your lives had diverged since high school. "Do you ever miss the way things used to be?" you asked, your voice filled with a touch of nostalgia.
"All the time," he admitted, his voice quiet.
There was a moment of silence as you both reflected on the past, and for a brief second, you thought you saw something in his expression that made your heart skip a beat. But before you could say anything, he turned away, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
"I've been thinking," he began, his voice hesitant, "about how different our lives are now. You're at college, I'm racing in F2... it's like we're living in two separate worlds."
You frowned, unsure of where he was going with this. "But we're still friends, Lewis. That hasn't changed."
"I know," he said quickly, "but sometimes I wonder if..." He trailed off, as if struggling to find the right words.
"If what?" you prompted, your heart pounding in your chest.
He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."
You wanted to push him, to ask him what he was really thinking, but something in his tone made you stop. Instead, you just nodded, deciding to let it go.
As the night wore on, you found yourself growing more and more frustrated with your inability to understand what was going on with Lewis. You had always been able to read him like a book, but now it felt like there was a wall between you, something unspoken that neither of you could break through.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
The next few years passed in a blur of classes, exams, and racing events. You and Lewis remained close, but the distance between you became more pronounced as time went on. You both pursued your dreams with a single-minded determination, but in the process, you began to drift further apart.
There were moments when you wondered if you had made the right choice, if maybe you should have stayed closer to home, closer to Lewis. But every time you thought about it, you pushed the thoughts aside, telling yourself that you were doing what you were meant to do.
Lewis, on the other hand, struggled with his feelings for you more than ever. He watched from afar as you continued to excel in your studies, as you dated other people, as you lived a life that seemed so different from his own. But he never stopped caring about you, never stopped being there for you whenever you needed him.
And though he never told you, he knew deep down that he would always love you, even if you never felt the same way about him.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Your life took a different turn when you least expected it. You had always been focused, driven, and passionate about becoming a doctor. The years of studying, the late nights in the library, the relentless pursuit of knowledge—it all felt like it was leading you toward a future you had envisioned since childhood. But as time went on, something inside you began to shift.
It started subtly at first, a creeping sense of exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to cure. The long hours in the lab, the constant pressure to excel, the never-ending cycle of exams and practicals—it all began to weigh on you. You could feel the burnout setting in, the stress gnawing away at your enthusiasm. You told yourself that it was normal, that every med student went through this phase, that it was just another hurdle to overcome. But deep down, you knew something was wrong.
Your friends noticed it too. They saw the dark circles under your eyes, the way you seemed to retreat into yourself, the way your laughter had become rare, replaced by a quiet, pervasive anxiety. One of your closest friends at the time, a fellow student who had always been attuned to your moods, suggested something radical: "Why don't you try something different for a while? Just to take the pressure off."
You were taken aback by the suggestion. "Like what?" you asked, genuinely curious. You couldn't imagine stepping away from your studies, even for a moment. But the exhaustion was so overwhelming that you were willing to entertain any idea that might offer some relief.
"Have you ever thought about acting?" your friend asked, a mischievous smile playing on their lips. "You've always had a flair for drama, and you're great at expressing yourself. It could be fun, and who knows? It might help you recharge."
The idea was so out of left field that you laughed. Acting? You had never seriously considered it. Sure, you had participated in a few school plays when you were younger, but it was always just for fun, never something you thought of as a career. But the more you thought about it, the more the idea intrigued you. Maybe stepping away from the rigid structure of medical school could be exactly what you needed. Maybe exploring a different side of yourself could reignite the passion that had been dwindling for medicine.
On a whim, you decided to give it a try. You signed up for an acting workshop, just to see if you had any talent or interest in it. To your surprise, you loved it. The freedom of expression, the creativity, the way you could lose yourself in a character and forget about the stress of your real life—it was exhilarating. For the first time in months, you felt genuinely happy, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.
Encouraged by the positive experience, you started attending more workshops, getting involved in local theater productions, and even taking a few acting classes on the side. It was all just for fun at first, a way to balance out the intensity of your studies. But the more you immersed yourself in the world of acting, the more you realized how much you enjoyed it.
Then came the fateful day when everything changed. One of your acting instructors, who had been impressed by your natural talent, mentioned that a casting call was being held for a new movie. It was a big-budget production, with a well-known director at the helm, and they were looking for fresh faces to fill the lead roles. Your instructor encouraged you to audition, insisting that you had the potential to land the part.
At first, you hesitated. The idea of auditioning for a major film seemed absurd. You were a med student, not a professional actress. But something inside you, that same part that had pushed you to explore acting in the first place, urged you to go for it. What did you have to lose?
So, with a mix of nerves and excitement, you prepared for the audition. You worked on your lines, practiced your delivery, and did your best to channel the emotions of the character you were auditioning for. The day of the audition arrived, and you walked into the casting room with your heart pounding in your chest.
To your amazement, the audition went better than you could have imagined. You felt a connection with the character, a sense of ease in front of the camera that surprised even you. The casting directors seemed impressed, and you left the audition feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
A few weeks later, you received the call that would change your life. You had landed the lead role in the movie. You couldn't believe it. This was supposed to be a temporary distraction, a way to relieve stress—not the start of a new career. But here you were, about to step into the world of professional acting.
The decision to accept the role was not an easy one. It meant putting your medical studies on hold, something that terrified you. You had worked so hard to get where you were, and the thought of stepping away felt like abandoning a part of yourself. But there was also a part of you that was excited, that saw this as an incredible opportunity, a chance to do something completely different.
You’re pacing your dorm apartment, the walls suddenly feeling too close, the air too thick. You can’t breathe. The call is stuck in your mind, you’ve been offered the lead role in a major movie—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But the timing couldn’t be worse. You’re just a year away from completing your medical degree. A year. After all the sleepless nights, endless studying, and grueling rotations, it’s all so close to paying off. And yet…
You drop onto your bed, head in your hands, and your thoughts spiral out of control. What if you’re making a mistake? What if you take the role and regret it? What if you stay in medicine and never know what could have been? You feel your chest tightening, panic creeping in. You need to talk to someone. You need to talk to him.
Without thinking, you reach for your phone and press Lewis’s contact. As the phone rings, you silently beg for him to pick up. “Please, Lewis, pick up. Please, please, please…”
The call connects, and you hear a groggy voice on the other end. “Y/N/N? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice is laced with concern, but there’s a hint of sleep still clinging to his words.
Your heart drops. You forgot. You completely forgot that he’s in Belgium for the race at Spa. You glance at the clock, realizing just how late it is over there. “Oh my God, Lewis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I completely forgot about the time difference and your race tomorrow…”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m awake now. Are you alright? What’s going on?”
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words tumble out in a rush. “I got offered the lead in a major movie, and I don’t know if I should take it. I’m just a year away from finishing med school, and it feels insane to stop now. But at the same time, this is such a huge opportunity, and I’m spiraling, and you were the first person I thought of to call.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and you can almost hear him processing what you’ve just said. “Lead role in a movie? Acting? You’re an actress? When did this happen?”
You blink, realizing you’ve never told him. Your heart sinks a little further. “Oh… yeah, I guess we haven’t talked in a while, have we?”
Silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unspoken words. “Yeah,” he finally says, the word carrying more weight than it should. “We haven’t.”
You clear your throat, trying to push past the awkwardness. “I was feeling burned out with all the studying, and a friend suggested I try something new to take my mind off it. I took an acting class, just for fun, but then one class turned into two, and before I knew it, I was hooked. And now… now I’m being offered a lead role in a movie. Crazy, right? How things change so fast…”
He exhales slowly, as if trying to absorb everything you’ve just told him. “Yeah… yeah, it is crazy.” There’s another pause, but this time it feels different—more contemplative. “Look, Y/N/N, I know this is a huge decision, and it’s not one you can take lightly. But I also know you. You’re not someone who backs down from a challenge. You’ve got this incredible intuition, this ability to know what’s right for you, even if it’s terrifying. If acting is something that excites you, something that makes you feel alive, then maybe it’s worth exploring. You’re not giving up on medicine; you’re just… taking a detour. Following your heart. And whatever you decide, I’ll be here to support you. I believe in you.”
His words wash over you, calming the storm inside your mind. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, easing the tightness that had gripped you just moments before. “Thank you, Lewis. I really needed to hear that.”
“Of course,” he replies softly. “I’m glad I could help.”
You smile, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Good luck with your race tomorrow. I’m sorry again for disturbing you.”
“Don’t be,” he says, his voice tinged with affection. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. And thanks—I’ll need that luck.”
A comfortable silence falls between you, the kind that only exists between people who’ve known each other for years. You can almost picture him on the other end of the line, smiling that soft, reassuring smile of his.
“It’s really good to hear your voice,” you say, your tone almost wistful.
“Yeah,” he echoes, a hint of something unspoken in his voice. “It is.”
You close your eyes, letting the moment linger, not wanting it to end. But eventually, you know it must. “Goodnight, Lewis.”
“Goodnight, Y/N/N.”
The call ends, and you’re left in the quiet of your dorm room, the weight of the decision still pressing on you, but somehow, it feels a little lighter now. You sit on your bed, staring at the wall, thinking about the offer, about your career, but mostly about him—about how much you miss him, miss his voice, his presence in your life.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
In the end, you decided to take the leap. You paused your medical studies, packed your bags, and flew out to the film's shooting location. It was a whirlwind experience—long hours on set, learning the ins and outs of the industry, working alongside seasoned actors who had been doing this for years. It was challenging, but also incredibly rewarding. You discovered a new side of yourself, a side that loved the thrill of performing, the camaraderie of the cast and crew, the magic of bringing a story to life on screen.
When the movie was released, it became an unexpected hit. Critics praised your performance, calling you a "rising star" and predicting a bright future for you in the industry. Offers for other roles began to pour in, and before you knew it, you were being whisked off to auditions, meetings with agents, and photo shoots for magazines. Your life had completely changed, and you were caught up in the whirlwind of it all.
As your acting career took off, your medical aspirations took a backseat. You told yourself it was just temporary, that you would return to your studies once things settled down. But the more time you spent in the acting world, the more you realized how much you loved it. Acting allowed you to explore different aspects of your personality, to tell stories that resonated with people, to connect with audiences in a way that was deeply fulfilling.
But with success came new challenges. The pressure to maintain your newfound fame, the scrutiny from the media, the constant demands on your time—it was all overwhelming. There were moments when you questioned whether you had made the right choice, moments when you longed for the stability and sense of purpose that medicine had provided. But then you would step onto a set, feel the rush of excitement as the cameras rolled, and you would remember why you had chosen this path.
You also had to navigate the complexities of your relationships. Some of your friends and family were supportive, thrilled to see you succeeding in a new field. But others were skeptical, worried that you were throwing away years of hard work for a career that was far less stable and predictable. You had long conversations with your parents, trying to reassure them that you hadn't abandoned your dreams of becoming a doctor, that you were just exploring a different side of yourself for now.
And then there was Lewis. His racing career turned out to be everything you imagined it would be. He’s a four-time Formula 1 World Champion, and despite all the fame and glory, he always made time for you. He had always been your biggest supporter, no matter what you decided to do. But even he had his doubts. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked one day, as you sat together in your apartment, reviewing the script for your next film.
"I think so," you replied, uncertainty creeping into your voice. "I never expected this to happen, but now that it has, I can't imagine walking away."
He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "I just want you to be happy, Y/N. Whatever that looks like."
His words stuck with you, a reminder of the person you had always been, the person you were still trying to figure out. You loved acting, but there was a part of you that missed the structure, the challenge, and the sense of purpose that medicine had provided.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
As your acting career continued to flourish, you made a promise to yourself: you wouldn't close the door on medicine entirely. The years of hard work and late nights studying had shaped you, and you were determined to find a way to honor that journey, even as new opportunities emerged in the entertainment world. It was during one of those opportunities that you first met Jensen. The encounter happened at a charity gala, an event you never imagined attending before your acting career took off.
You stood quietly in a corner, nursing a glass of champagne, your eyes scanning the room filled with celebrities and high-profile individuals. You had been invited because of your rising status in the industry, a status that still felt surreal at times. The room buzzed with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but it was Jensen’s presence that captivated you. He had an effortless charisma, a magnetism that drew you in from across the room.
Jensen, with his boyish charm and magnetic charisma, made his way through the crowd effortlessly. When his eyes locked onto yours, it was as if the world had stopped. He approached you with a confidence that was both alluring and intimidating.
"Hello beautiful, I'm Jensen," he said, his smile dazzling.
"Hi, I'm Y/N," you replied, trying to match his confidence but feeling your heart race.
From that moment on, your life transformed into a whirlwind romance. Jensen's world was intoxicating—red carpet events, glamorous parties, and moments that seemed too perfect to be real. He was attentive, always making you feel like the center of his universe. The late-night phone calls, surprise visits, and stolen moments of affection made you believe that you had found your fairy tale.
Your relationship with Jensen was the epitome of Hollywood glamour. Photographers captured your every move, and tabloids buzzed with stories of your romance. At first, the attention was thrilling. You felt special, adored, and on top of the world.
But as the months passed, the cracks began to show. Jensen's demanding schedule meant that he was often away on set, leaving you feeling lonely and neglected. The glamour started to fade, replaced by the harsh realities of a high-profile relationship.
Jensen's charm, which once made you feel special, started to feel suffocating. His possessiveness grew, and he began to dictate your choices. What you wore, where you went, who you spoke to—all became subjects of his control. At first, you brushed it off as his way of caring, but soon it became clear that his love was conditional.
The late-night arguments became frequent. Jensen's temper, once hidden behind his charming facade, surfaced. He would lash out, accusing you of not understanding his pressures and responsibilities. You tried to be supportive, to be the perfect partner, but nothing seemed to be enough.
You began to feel like a prisoner in your own life, trapped by the expectations and scrutiny of the public eye. The relationship that once made you feel alive now drained you of your happiness.
The turning point came one night when you discovered Jensen's infidelity. You found messages on his phone from a woman named Claire. The words were explicit, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Your heart shattered as you realized that the man you thought you knew had betrayed you.
Confronting Jensen was one of the hardest things you had ever done. He denied it at first, then tried to downplay it. But the evidence was irrefutable. The betrayal cut deep, leaving scars that would take years to heal.
Despite the heartbreak, you tried to salvage the relationship. You didn't want to believe that the fairy tale was over. You attended couples therapy, made compromises, and tried to forgive. But the trust was gone, and without it, the relationship was a shadow of what it once was.
The final straw came when another woman, Lisa, contacted you. She had photos and videos of Jensen with her, and she was threatening to expose them to the media unless you paid her a significant amount of money. You were truly at your breaking point.
The humiliation, the betrayal, and the constant pressure became too much to bear. You decided to expose Jensen and the women who had been involved with him. You gathered all the evidence, and with a heavy heart, you released it to the public.
The reaction was immediate and explosive. Social media was ablaze with shock and outrage. Jensen's image, once so pristine, was shattered. The world saw him for who he truly was—a man who had deceived and manipulated those closest to him.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Your phone buzzes incessantly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with each incoming call, text, and notification. It’s been going on for hours now, ever since the news broke. The media is in a frenzy, and your family and friends are no different. Everyone wants to know if it’s true, if the rumors about Jensen’s infidelity are real. But you can’t bring yourself to face it. You’ve been lying in bed, numb and drained, staring at the ceiling as if you could will the world away.
Each buzz feels like a jolt, a painful reminder of the life you thought you had, the relationship you thought was solid. Jensen had been controlling, isolating you from everyone you cared about, but you never imagined it would come to this. The betrayal cuts deeper than you ever thought possible, and the pain is almost numbing in its intensity.
You roll over, burying your face in the pillow, trying to block out the noise, the world, everything. But then, amidst the endless stream of messages and calls, a name flashes across your screen that makes you freeze. Lewis.
You haven’t spoken to him in what feels like forever. Jensen had made sure of that, keeping you away from your friends, especially Lewis. But seeing his name now stirs something inside you, a mix of longing, relief, and an overwhelming sense of loss. You reach for the phone with trembling hands and answer, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. The words are stuck in your throat, your heart pounding painfully in your chest.
“Y/N/N?” Lewis’s voice is soft, laced with concern, and just hearing it makes the tears you’ve been holding back start to fall. “Y/N/N, are you there?”
“Hi, Lewis,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking as you try to keep the sobs at bay.
“Y/N/N…” He says your name again, but this time, it’s different. It’s like he’s trying to reach out and hold you, even though you’re miles apart. “Where are you? I’ll fly to you right now. Just tell me where you are, sweetheart.”
You close your eyes, the endearment hitting you like a wave. It’s been so long since someone called you that with genuine care. “I just… I just want to be alone,” you whisper, barely audible.
“Y/N/N, no,” he says, his voice more urgent now. “You’ve been through so much, and I’ve been worried about you for the longest time. Please, don’t shut me out.”
“Lewis, please…” You’re crying again, harder this time, the words coming out between broken sobs. “I’m… I’ll be okay. I just… I need time. I need to be alone. And I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for not staying in contact with you. I should have…”
“Shhh, shhh, no, no, Y/N/N,” Lewis interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not.”
“But it is,” you protest weakly, your guilt and shame threatening to swallow you whole. “It is, Lewis. I pushed you away. I let him push you away.”
“Y/N/N, listen to me,” he says, his tone softer now, soothing. “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to carry that. I’m just so sorry you’ve had to go through this.”
You’re silent, your chest heaving with the effort of trying to breathe through the pain. You want to believe him, to let go of the guilt, but it’s so hard. Everything feels so heavy, so overwhelming.
“Y/N/N?” Lewis’s voice breaks through your thoughts, anchoring you. “Talk to me. Please.”
You swallow hard, trying to find the words, but all you can manage is a whisper. “I have to go.”
“No, Y/N/N, don’t…” He sounds desperate now, almost pleading. “Please don’t hang up.”
“Lewis, it’s okay,” you say, though your voice is shaking. “I just… I need to turn my phone off and go away for a while. I just wanted to hear your voice before I go.”
“Go?” Lewis’s voice is strained with worry. “Y/N/N, you’re scaring me. Please, don’t do anything—”
“I’m not going to harm myself, Lewis,” you quickly reassure him, though you can hear the fear in his voice. “I just need to be away from everything—the phone, social media, the public. All of it. I need space. I need silence. I need some peace.”
There’s a long pause on the other end, and you can almost feel his struggle, his desire to reach through the phone and hold you, to keep you from slipping away. “Okay, Y/N/N,” he finally says, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I just want you to know that I care about you so much. I’m here for you, no matter what. Always.”
Your throat tightens again, and you fight to keep your voice steady. “I know, Lew. I know.”
The silence that follows is both comforting and painful, a shared moment of understanding and loss. You can almost see him, the way he would look at you with those concerned eyes, the way he would hold you until the pain wasn’t so suffocating.
“Goodbye, Lewis,” you whisper, your voice breaking.
“I’ll talk to you later, Y/N/N,” he replies, a quiet determination in his tone that you know so well.
The call ends, and you’re left staring at the screen, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. The hurt is still there, raw and painful, but there’s a small sliver of warmth now, too. Hearing his voice again, knowing he’s still there for you, gives you a fragile sense of comfort.
You turn off your phone, letting the silence envelop you. The world outside fades away, and for a moment, it’s just you in the quiet, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of your heart.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
For the past year and a half, you distanced yourself from everyone, including Lewis. You buried yourself in work, traveled alone, and avoided any situation that might bring back memories of what you lost. Your heart ached, but you told yourself it was better this way. Safer.
You threw yourself into your career, taking on projects that challenged and inspired you. You even went back to school. You traveled to places you had always dreamed of visiting, finding solace in the beauty of the world. You spent time in nature, hiking, meditating, and rediscovering yourself.
The media had a field day with your disappearance. Speculations ran wild, but you remained silent, focusing on your healing. You took up new hobbies, learned new skills, and invested in yourself. Slowly, you began to rebuild your confidence and sense of self-worth.
You emerged from the shadows stronger, wiser, and more determined than ever. Your hard work paid off, and you made a name for yourself. Your projects received critical acclaim, and your name was on everyone's lips for all the right reasons.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Tonight was your first public appearance since exposing Jensen. The Met Gala was the event of the year, and you had been meticulously preparing for it. Your stylist had outdone herself, and when you looked in the mirror, you saw a vision of elegance and strength.
As you stepped onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the shouts of fans filled the air. You walked with confidence, your head held high, and a smile that spoke of triumph and resilience.
"Y/N, you look stunning!" the photographers called out.
"Over here, Y/N! Give us a smile!"
You obliged, posing for the cameras and greeting the fans. It felt good to be back, to be seen and appreciated for who you had become.
The crowded after-party buzzed with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. People mingled, dressed to the nines, chatting and dancing in the dimly lit room. The atmosphere was electric, but you found yourself standing still, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. You hadn't seen Lewis in years, and the sight of him now, just a few feet away, sent a shiver down your spine.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Lewis Hamilton, your former best friend. Lewis had been your rock, your confidant, and your best friend. He had been there through thick and thin, always ready with a comforting word or a warm embrace. It had been years since you last spoke to him, even longer since you last saw him, and the sight of him brought back a flood of memories. You hesitated, unsure of what to do.
Lewis spotted you and made his way over. His presence was as comforting as ever, and when he reached you, he placed his hand on your arm and leaned in close.
"Hi, Y/N," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves.
"Hi, Lewis," you replied, trying to steady your racing heart.
His eyes held a mix of emotions—concern, relief, and something deeper. His presence was both comforting and disconcerting. The familiar warmth of his hand on your arm, the concern in his eyes, and the gentle tone of his voice—all of it felt like home. And yet, there was something else, something new, stirring within you. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that made your chest feel light and your heart beat loudly in your ears.
You stood there, staring into his eyes, and your mind began to drift back to the countless moments you had shared with Lewis. The late-night conversations, the laughter, the shared dreams and hopes. He had always been your anchor, grounding you when the world felt too overwhelming. You remembered the way he would listen to you, truly listen, making you feel heard and understood. No one else had ever made you feel that way.
Lewis had been there during some of the darkest times in your life. When you first broke into the entertainment industry and faced the pressures of fame, he was the one who kept you grounded. He had a way of making you see the bigger picture, of reminding you of your worth and potential. His encouragement had been a constant source of strength for you.
As your mind wandered, you recalled the moments of pure joy you had shared with him. The spontaneous road trips, the late-night drives, the silly arguments that always ended in laughter. Lewis had a way of making even the mundane feel magical. He brought a sense of adventure and excitement into your life, and you cherished every moment you spent with him.
And then there were the quieter moments, the times when words weren't needed. Sitting in comfortable silence, watching the sunset, or simply being in each other's presence. Those moments had a depth and intimacy that you hadn't experienced with anyone else. It was in those moments that you felt truly seen and understood.
But as your relationship with Jensen took over, you had drifted away from Lewis. The demands of your high-profile romance consumed you, and you found yourself distancing from the people who mattered most. Lewis had tried to be there for you, but you were too caught up in the whirlwind to notice. You regretted that now, more than anything.
Standing here, face to face with Lewis, you felt a pang of guilt. You had shut him out, pushed him away when you needed him the most. And yet, here he was, looking at you with the same warmth and concern as always. It was a testament to the kind of person he was, loyal and kind.
But there was something else in his eyes tonight, something that made your heart race. It was a look you hadn't seen before, a depth of emotion that went beyond friendship. It made you feel vulnerable, exposed, and yet strangely exhilarated. You weren't sure what it was, but it made your chest feel light and your heart beat loudly in your ears.
You tried to make sense of this new feeling. It was a mix of longing, anticipation, and a hint of fear. Longing for the connection you once had, anticipation for what could be, and fear of the unknown. You had spent so long guarding your heart, protecting yourself from more pain, that this new sensation was both thrilling and terrifying.
As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, Lewis gently guided you to a quieter corner of the room. The noise and chaos of the party faded into the background as you focused on him, on the way his presence made you feel safe and cherished.
"How have you been?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to convey everything you had been through. "It's been... challenging," you admitted. "But I'm doing better now. I've been healing, focusing on myself."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad to hear that. I've missed you, Y/N/N."
Those words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had missed him too, more than you could ever express. The realization made your heart ache with a mix of regret and hope.
"I've missed you too, Lewis," you said softly, your voice tinged with emotion.
There was a moment of silence as you both took in each other's presence. It was as if time had stopped, and all that mattered was this moment, this connection between you. You felt a spark, a flicker of something more, and it both excited and scared you.
Lewis reached out and gently took your hand in his. The simple gesture sent a jolt of electricity through you. His touch was familiar, comforting, and yet it ignited a new flame within you. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time.
"I know things have been tough," he said, his voice low and earnest. "But you're stronger than you think, Y/N/N. You've always been strong."
Tears welled up in your eyes as his words touched a deep part of you. You had been trying to be strong for so long, to prove to yourself and the world that you could rise above the pain. Hearing Lewis acknowledge that strength made you feel seen and validated.
"Thank you, Lewis," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I don't know what I would have done without your support."
He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. "You've always had it in you, Y/N. You just needed to believe in yourself."
His words resonated with you, echoing the journey you had been on over the past year and a half. You had fought hard to rebuild your life, to find yourself again. And now, standing here with Lewis, you felt a renewed sense of hope.
As the night went on, you found yourself drawn to Lewis in a way you hadn't expected. There was a new layer to your connection, something deeper and more profound. It was as if the time apart had only strengthened the bond between you, and now it was evolving into something more.
You couldn't deny the way your heart raced when he looked at you, the way his touch sent shivers down your spine. It was a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time, and it scared you. But it also filled you with a sense of excitement and possibility.
You spent the rest of the evening talking, reminiscing about old times and catching up on each other's lives. The conversation flowed effortlessly, just like it always had. And yet, there was an undercurrent of something new, something that made your heart flutter.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
As the night drew to a close, you found yourself standing outside the venue, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the party. Lewis stood beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of everything you were feeling. The two of you had talked throughout the evening, catching up in a way that felt familiar yet distant. There had been laughter, shared memories, and a surface-level exchange about how your lives were going. But there was something deeper weighing on your heart, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.
“Lewis,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant, “I’m sorry.”
He turned to you, his expression shifting from the relaxed smile he’d worn all evening to something more serious, more concerned. “What for?”
You swallowed hard, gathering your thoughts, knowing this was going to be difficult but feeling an overwhelming need to say it. “I know tonight we talked a little bit about our lives and how we’re doing, but I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For not staying in contact with you throughout college as much as I should have.”
Lewis frowned, his eyes searching your face as if trying to understand where this was coming from. “Y/N, that wasn’t—”
“No, please, let me finish,” you interrupted, your voice shaking slightly as you pushed forward. “And then, when my career took off… You were there for me, supporting me, and I was with Jensen, and I cut you off.”
“Y/N, that wasn’t your fault,” he said quickly, his tone gentle but firm.
“I know,” you nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “But after everything that happened, I didn’t speak to you at all. It’s been three years, Lewis. Three years since it all fell apart, and tonight was the first time I’ve talked to you in years. And we didn’t even really talk. We just… surface talked. And you deserve more than that. So… I’m sorry.”
Lewis looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions—shock, hurt, confusion. Your words had opened up old wounds, bringing to the surface feelings he’d buried deep down. He was struggling to process it all, his heart racing as he tried to find something to say, to make sense of the flood of emotions you’d just unleashed. But before he could respond, you suddenly seemed to panic.
Your breath hitched as you realized the weight of what you’d just said, the vulnerability you’d exposed. “I—I shouldn’t have brought this up. Not here. Not now,” you stammered, your voice trembling. Without waiting for him to say anything, you turned and walked away, your steps quickening as you headed for your car. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again, but it was barely audible.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Lewis stood there, frozen, watching as you slipped away into the night. His heart ached, the apology you’d left him with echoing in his mind. “She’s sorry?” he murmured to himself, the words feeling hollow and incomplete. There was so much more to say, so much more he wanted to understand, but you were gone before he could even begin to process it.
As you sat in your car, your hands gripping your purse, you felt a wave of regret wash over you. “What did I just do?” you whispered, your voice laced with self-recrimination. “That wasn’t the time or place… I’m such an idiot.” You stared blankly ahead, the headlights of passing cars blurring as your mind replayed the scene over and over. You couldn’t believe you’d brought up something so deep, so personal, in such a casual setting. And then, you didn’t even give him a chance to respond. You just walked away. Again.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Meanwhile, Lewis remained rooted to the spot, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of confusion and hurt. Your words had ripped open old scars, bringing back all the pain of losing you, the ache of your absence in his life. And now, you’d said you were sorry, but what did that mean? Was that it? Was that all you had to say after years of silence?
“She’s sorry…” Lewis repeated, his voice barely a whisper. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t explain why you’d cut him off, why you’d let so much time pass without a word, and why you’d left him standing there without so much as an explanation.
As the chauffeur approached him, telling him his car was ready, Lewis felt a sudden rush of determination. He couldn’t let it end like this. Not again. He couldn’t let you walk away without at least trying to understand, without at least saying something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you over the years.
“Follow that black SUV that just pulled off,” Lewis instructed the driver as he climbed into the car.
“Okay, sir,” the driver responded, nodding as he pulled away from the curb, keeping the distance between the cars minimal.
Lewis leaned back in his seat, his mind racing. He didn’t know what he was going to say when he caught up with you, but he knew he had to try. He couldn’t let you disappear from his life again, not after everything you’d just unearthed, not after the years of silence and buried feelings that were now clawing their way to the surface.
He watched the road ahead, his heart pounding, as the chauffeur followed closely behind your car. He didn’t care how long it took, or what he had to do—he wasn’t going to let you slip away again. Not this time.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
You had just returned to your penthouse after the Met Gala after-party, exhausted yet exhilarated by the night's events. The gown you had worn now lay draped over a chair, and you had just managed to slip into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. The clock on your bedside table blinked 3:40 AM. You were about to crawl into bed when a knock on the door startled you.
"Who the fuck?" you muttered to yourself, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to the door.
Opening it, you were met with the sight of Lewis, looking disheveled and intense. You blinked, trying to process the unexpected visitor.
"Lewis? What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and concern.
He didn't say a word, just walked past you into the penthouse and sat down heavily on your couch. You stood there for a moment, stunned. This was not like Lewis. Closing the door behind you, you walked over to him, trying to understand what was happening.
"Uh, okay. What's going on?" you asked, your voice tentative.
Before you could say anything else, Lewis turned to you, his eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and frustration.
"You're sorry... Sorry, Y/N? After all these years of not speaking to each other and being best friends, that's all you have to say to me? Sorry? I deserve more than that. No, fuck that, I need more from you," he said, his voice trembling with emotion.
Your confusion deepened, and you took a step back, trying to gather your thoughts. "Lewis, I—what do you want me to say? I mean, friends drift apart, a lot of shit happened" you began, but he cut you off.
"Friends?! Friends, Y/N? I've known you since we were kids. I know your favorite movie, your favorite color, your favorite flowers—yeah, flowers, because you have three. I know how you like your eggs cooked, I know you love ketchup but hate tomatoes on anything. I know you're allergic to mosquito bites, and you hate when people say something and then say 'never mind'. I know you, Y/N, everything about you. You're my person, my Y/N. We are not just friends, Y/N. At least not in my eyes."
You stood there, speechless, as his words washed over you. He continued, his voice growing more desperate. "So yes, I'm mad at your 'I'm sorry' after three years of not hearing from you, having to call your parents, friends, your siblings, hell, even your assistant to know how you are doing. So, sorry if I feel like the girl I've been in love with since forever deserves to give me more of a conversation."
His words hung in the air, heavy and charged with emotion. You stared at him, your mind racing to comprehend everything he had just said. There was a silence, thick and palpable, stretching between you both.
"You... love me?" you finally managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.
The room seemed to close in around you as you waited for his response, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.
.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .
Lewis’s silence was deafening. He stared at you with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, his usual confidence stripped away by raw emotion. You could see the pain etched in his features, and it mirrored the tumultuous feelings inside you.
"Yes, Y/N," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And it’s not just some fleeting feeling or a phase. It’s been there, in the background, every day, every moment we’ve been apart. I’ve watched you build your life, your career, and I’ve cheered you on from a distance. But it was never enough for me to just be on the sidelines. I wanted more, I needed more, and I didn’t know how to make you see that."
You took a deep breath, your mind reeling from his confession. The realization that Lewis’s feelings for you were not just platonic but something deeper, something that had been lingering all these years, was overwhelming. It made you feel exposed and vulnerable in ways you hadn’t anticipated.
"I... I didn’t know," you said softly, your voice trembling. "I had no idea you felt this way."
Lewis’s eyes softened slightly, but the pain was still evident. "How could you? I kept it hidden, buried under layers of friendship and missed opportunities. I thought maybe if I stayed out of the way, you’d figure it out on your own. But the longer I stayed silent, the more I realized that I was just hurting myself. And when you disappeared, I thought I’d lost my chance forever."
Your mind flashed back to those moments when you were close, when you shared everything with him. You remembered how he always seemed to be just a step away from being more than a friend, but you had never let yourself acknowledge it. Your focus had been on your own life, your career, and Jensen. Now, standing in front of Lewis, you saw the depth of what you had missed.
"I was so caught up in everything that happened with Jensen," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "I pushed everyone away, including you. And now... now I’m not sure what to do with all of this. I didn’t know how much I missed you until you were back here, but I’m still trying to understand what this means."
Lewis stood up and walked towards you, his gaze never leaving yours. "What it means, Y/N, is that I’m here, laying it all out for you. I’m not asking for anything other than the chance to be honest with you. I need you to know how I feel, and I need you to decide if there’s a place for me in your life—beyond just friends."
The emotion in his voice was almost palpable, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. Your heart ached with the complexity of the situation. You had been through so much, and now faced with this raw, unfiltered declaration of love, you felt torn.
As the silence stretched between you and Lewis, you felt a tumult of emotions roiling within you. The weight of his confession had struck a chord deep inside, stirring feelings that had long been buried. His words had opened a floodgate, and as you stood there, the realization that you had harbored a deep love for him all along became crystal clear.
"I love you," you said softly, the words escaping your lips almost as a whisper but carrying the weight of years of unspoken emotion.
Lewis’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth slightly open as he struggled to process what he had just heard. "W-What?" he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The disbelief in his tone was palpable, and for a moment, he seemed frozen, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and the tears that threatened to spill over. You locked eyes with him, your gaze unwavering. "The recent years apart made me realize just how much I truly missed you. I was so naïve and stupid when we were younger. I didn’t see how you looked at me or how you treated me. You were always there for me, through the good and the bad days. Even when I wanted to rot away, you were there, holding me up."
Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you reached up to wipe them away with trembling fingers. "Tonight, seeing you again after all these years, my whole mind and body were flooded with emotions. It made me realize what I knew deep down: that I love you. I’ve always loved you more than a friend. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve put you through. I know I can’t make it up to you, and you have every right not to forgive me. But I am so sorry, Lewis. I love you. I really do. I’m in love with you."
Your voice broke as you spoke, and the tears you had been trying to hold back began to fall freely. The intensity of your emotions was overwhelming, and you felt a mixture of relief and sorrow as you poured out your heart.
Lewis’s eyes were wide with disbelief, and his own tears began to form as he processed your confession. He stood up slowly, the gravity of the moment clearly affecting him. Without a word, he walked towards you, his steps filled with purpose and urgency.
When he reached you, he cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch both tender and fervent. He leaned in, closing the gap between you, and his lips met yours in a passionate, urgent kiss. The kiss was filled with all the longing, love, and frustration that had been building up over the years. It was a kiss that spoke of pain and hope, of dreams lost and found.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were filled with a mix of wonder and joy. "You have no fucking idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words to me," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "I’m not even sure if this is real or if my mind is just playing tricks on me."
You managed a soft, tearful laugh, the joy and relief mingling with the sadness of your confession. You reached up, gently cradling his face in your hands. His hands were still on your face, his touch grounding and reassuring. "It’s real, Lewis," you said with a trembling smile. "I love you, Lewis Hamilton. I always have."
Lewis’s expression softened, and he returned your smile with a mixture of adoration and relief. "And I love you, Y/N L/N. Always have, always will."
With that, the intensity of the moment took over, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a fervent, passionate kiss. The kiss was deep and urgent, fueled by the years of longing and unspoken feelings that had been bottled up. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of the moment making you both lose track of everything but the electric connection between you.
As the kiss continued, Lewis’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the strength of his arms around you, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The kiss was a dance of passion and tenderness, each of you exploring the newfound closeness with a mix of fervor and delicacy.
With a sudden surge of energy, Lewis lifted you off the ground, his arms strong and steady as he cradled you against him. A surprised yelp of joy escaped your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by another deep kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the thrill of being held so securely.
Lewis pulled away briefly, his breath mingling with yours as he looked into your eyes with a mix of desire and determination. "Bedroom," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.
You nodded, guiding him towards the bedroom with a sense of excitement and anticipation. "It's this way," you whispered, your voice breathless. As he carried you through the penthouse, his lips never left your neck, trailing kisses that sent shivers down your spine.
When you reached the bedroom, Lewis gently laid you down on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. The atmosphere was charged with a mixture of passion and vulnerability, the culmination of years of unspoken emotions.
As you lay on the bed, Lewis’s hands roamed over your body with a mixture of reverence and eagerness. He kissed your neck, moving slowly down towards your collarbone, his lips brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart race. His touch was both soothing and electrifying, igniting every nerve in your body.
You reached up, your hands working on the buttons of his shirt with a sense of urgency. The fabric fell away, revealing his well-defined chest. You traced your fingers over his skin, savoring the warmth and strength beneath your fingertips. Lewis responded with a soft, appreciative murmur, his hands continuing their exploration of your body.
You continued to undress him, your movements growing more confident as you removed his pants and underwear. Each layer of clothing that fell away seemed to bring you both closer, the physical closeness mirroring the emotional connection that had finally been acknowledged.
His kisses were searing, each one more urgent than the last. His hands roaming your body with a hunger that left you breathless, igniting a fire wherever they touched. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, kissing, nipping, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You arched into him, the need for more overwhelming.
Without breaking contact, he settled between your legs, his hands sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head. As you unclasped your bra, Lewis’s eyes were filled with adoration and desire. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it while his fingers teased the other. You moaned, your back arching off the bed, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
Lewis trailed kisses down your body, his mouth hot against your skin, until he reached the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pulled them down, the anticipation building with every second. He spread your legs wider, his breath hot against your most sensitive area. When his tongue finally made contact, you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets. He licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every inch, driving you wild with need.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you."
You gasped, the sensation of his mouth on you too much and not enough all at once. "Lewis, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need.
"Patience, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to savor every moment."
He looked up, his eyes dark with lust, before diving back in, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. He slid one, then two fingers inside you, curling them just right, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your body responded immediately, the pressure building, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. When the first orgasm hit, it was like a wave crashing over you, your body tensing, then shuddering as the pleasure rolled through you.
But Lewis wasn't done. He continued working his fingers in and out of you, relentlessly, not giving you a moment to come down from your high. His tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers worked you, the sensation almost too much. You could feel another orgasm building, the intensity of it taking your breath away. When it hit, it was even more powerful than the first, your body convulsing with the force of it. You screamed his name, your vision going white with the sheer pleasure of it.
"You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I could do this all night."
He pulled back slightly, his eyes locked on yours. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.
You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "More than okay," you managed to say, your voice hoarse with pleasure.
He smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
He climbed back up your body, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. You could feel his erection pressing against you, the need in him just as fierce as your own. Without breaking the kiss, you flipped him onto his back, straddling him, your hands running over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingers.
"You’re so sexy," you murmured against his skin, your voice thick with desire. "I can't get enough of you."
You kissed him, your lips trailing down his neck, over his chest, worshipping his body. You moved lower, taking his thick cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking it deeper, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, his control slipping.
"God, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with need. "Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart."
You continued sucking his cock, taking your time to pleasure him until he was teetering on the edge.
But he didn't let you finish. He pulled you up, his eyes burning with lust. "I want to come in you," he said, his voice rough. He flipped you over, positioning himself at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, the sensation of him filling you making you gasp.
He moved with a steady rhythm at first, his thrusts deep and powerful. The pleasure built quickly, the sensation of him inside you driving you wild. "Who's my good girl?" he whispered in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "You like that, right?"
You could only moan in response, the pleasure too intense for words. He moved faster, his thrusts harder, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you. He leaned down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The combination of sensations was overwhelming, and you felt another orgasm building, the pressure intense. When it hit, it was like an explosion, your body shaking with the force of it.
But Lewis didn't stop. This time he put a pillow under your lower back, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His thrusts were relentless, powerful, driving you to the edge again and again. You could feel another orgasm building, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. When it finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, crashing over you, leaving you breathless, dizzy with pleasure.
Even though you had come, Lewis hadn't. He continued to move, his thrusts never losing their rhythm, overwhelming you with pleasure. You could feel another orgasm building, the sensation almost too much. When it hit, it was like a white-hot explosion, your body convulsing with the force of it.
"Lewis, I can't... it's too much," you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure.
"You can take it, baby," he whispered, his husky voice filled with love and lust. "You're a good girl, right baby. Take it for me.
Lewis finally let himself go, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. When he came, it was with a deep groan, his body tensing, then shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your skin, his body trembling with the aftermath.
He rolled off you, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft, concern lacing his tone.
You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "That was... incredible," you managed to say, your voice hoarse.
Lewis smiled, his eyes softening. "You were incredible," he said, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. He kissed you gently, his lips soft against yours, a stark contrast to the rough passion from earlier.
He got up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you up gently, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving yours. He tossed the cloth in the damper and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"I'm perfect," you said, snuggling closer to him, your body still humming with the afterglow of your multiple orgasms.
Lewis’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, his touch soothing and tender. He looked at you with a smile, his eyes filled with a mixture of contentment and adoration. "I never imagined this would happen," he said softly, his voice filled with wonder. "But I’m so glad it did."
You smiled back at him, your heart full and your soul at peace. "Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve never felt so complete."
He continued to hold you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You're everything to me," he said quietly. "I want you to know that."
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the depth of his words touching you deeply. You had always known that there was something special between you, but hearing it aloud made it all the more real.
"You mean everything to me too, Lewis," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
Lewis smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Good," he said, his voice soft. "I want you to feel safe and loved, always."
You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. "I do," you said, your voice thick with feeling. "I love you, Lewis."
He looked at you, his eyes shining with emotion. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sincere.
You lay there in each other's arms, the tension and passion of the night giving way to a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft beat of your hearts in sync. The world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's love and warmth.
.•☆.°. taglist ☆.°.• . @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @yoncesgroove @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel @xoscar03 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @xoscar3 @jimcarreyfann42 @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @oliviah-25
© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own
#.•☆.°.• victoria’s 1k celebration!! .• ☆.°.• .#ꨄ࿎ victoria’s writings!! ࿎ꨄ#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#lewis hamilton#f1#f1 fic#formula 1#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lh44#team lh44#lh44 x reader#lh44 imagine#lh44 fic#lh44 smut#lh44 x you#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton x black reader#lewis hamilton x fem!reader#sir lewis hamilton#formual one#formula one#f1 au#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton angst#lewis hamitlon#lewis hamilton f1
663 notes
·
View notes
Text
bad blood (lando's version) | lando norris social media au
pairing: lando norris x fem carlos ex!reader
band aid's don't fix bullet holes but his best friend might
based on this request:so reader is a famous model who’s also carlos ex (dated YEARS) and after the breakup he jumped straight to rebeca (we just need a tiny bit of bad blood). soo she and lando always got along, ever since carlos was in mclaren. the point is they get together and come hand in hand to a gp out of nowhere so drama and more bad blood surface - you can lead this to whatever you want hehe, thanks!!! - @lorenakaspersen
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
vogue
liked by hunterschafer, landonorris and 1,209,433 others
tagged: yourusername
vogue: y/n y/ln takes the cover for this month, where she talks re-discovering herself and giving yourself time to move on. copies in stores everywhere this friday.
view all comments
user1: i am once again asking how the fuck that man fumbled a bad bitch like her
user2: do not bring that man up here, he actually boils my blood
user3: honestly thank god they wear helmets in f1 cause if i saw his smug little face i may have smashed by tv
yourusername: thank you for having me hehehehhe xx
vogue: you dropped this queen 👑
user4: not vogue supporting her more than carlos ever did 🤨
user5: at least lando still supports her
user6: i'm glad the friends she made... i.e lando, charles, max, daniel, etc did also abandon her when carlos just dropped her
hunterschafer: you're the person i see in your dreams
yourusername: are you sure i'm not just your sleep paralysis demon?
hunterschafer: you're welcome to stalk mine dreams anytime
user7: how am i meant to care about f1 without y/n?
user8: she's the reason i learnt about the sport but at leats now i have an excuse to support someone else LOL
landonorris: tinkerbell looks a little bit different here
yourusername: i thought you were too old to watch peter pan?
landonorris: i just said that so you would think i'm a big macho man :(
yourusername: that is tragic
landonorris: can i interest you in a movie night some time soon then
yourusername: you might
user9: WHAT IS GOING ON HERE ^^
user10: idk but i am excited
f1wagupdates
liked by user11, user12 and 4,032 others
f1wagsupdates: carlos sainz debuts his new girlfriend rebecca donaldson at the bahrain grand prix, just one month after breaking up with model y/n y/ln. sainz and y/ln were together for three years, and sainz was seen with donaldson for the first time just a week after the breakup.
view all comments
user13: lol the wag accounts are done with his ass
f1wagsupdates: i am a y/n y/ln stan first and foremost
user14: anyone see the absolute stink eye charles and lando gave carlos LOL
user15: that's the thing when you're together for so long, the friends get attached as well
user16: i mean if certified homie hopper charles leclerc is calling your bluff then you know you've fucked up
user17: i will never understand how he jumped into a relationship with her after three years ?? LIKE IT WAS NOTHING
user18: things like that make me glad i'm single
user19: the thing that is bothering me that no one has said yet is the fact that he's been with her what a month? and he's already brought her to a race when he made y/n wait months to go to a race?
user20: screams insecurity - like "look i have moved on, i'm an alpha male who can get whoever i want"
user21: i never understood why he didn't let her come to races for months when they first got together, like not even his home race?
user22: i've always got the vibe that he thought that he was better than her and that she was using him?
user23: the way if he ever posted her (which was not very often) he never tagged her
user24: which is ironic because she's one of the most celebrated models in recent history, she has millions more followers than him and has a bigger network than him, so really if anyone was using anyone it was carlos using her
user25: anyone else pulling for her to get with lando?
user26: i always thought they got on more in the videos of them all together but honestly i just want her to be happy
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 2,018,552 others
yourusername: not much going on recently
view all comments
user27: SHE'S SO HOT
user28: i need her to give me one chance please
charles_leclerc: are we still down for the road trip to lourdes?
yourusername: needed now more than ever
charles_leclerc: trust and believe
user29: charles and y/n friendship you mean so much to me
user30: need her to sit in charles' side of the garage
user31: mother went to the university of servington where she got a degree is cuntology with a minor in slaying the haus down
danielricciardo: miss ma'am, leave some for the rest of us
yourusername: why thank you good sir
danielricciardo: where do i procure a veil as such?
yourusername: i may source one for you if you promise not to shave that moustache
heidiberger: preach
user32: i bet carlos just thought everyone would just forget about y/n when he dropped her, but he forgot that she's probably more liked on the grid than he is LOL
landonorris: why are you staring into my soul like that
yourusername: why are you lurking in my comment section
landonorris: i thought we were friends :(
yourusername: always and forever
user33: but he wants it to be more
liked by landonorris, danielricciardo
user33: I SAW THAT LANDO X Y/N COMING SOON?
landonorris
liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 803,774 others
landonorris: hostess with the most-ess?
view all comments
user34: is that a ... WOMAN?
user35: he's saying he's a host ... maybe he's hosting a friend who is a girl, it's not illegal
user36: i get your sentiment, but that photo is straight out of the soft launch girlfriend pinterest boards
user37: well now i'm picturing lando scrolling through pinterest and asking ??? to recreate the pics 😭
carlossainz55: missing my golf partner, round this weekend? ⛳️
landonorris: let me check my schedule buddy 👍
user38: okay... well someone else tell me that they can feel the vibe shift
user39: it's their first online interaction after the breakup, i think we can guess who's side lando is on
oscarpiastri: someone needs to debrief me asap
landonorris: someone forgot that he owns a phone
oscarpiastri: needed the added pressure of the public call out to make you actually do it
landonorris: fine, but you get three questions and that's it
user40: if the call out was public can't we get the public answers
yourusername: are you coming for my job?
landonorris: you saying i could model 😊
yourusername: i'm definitely saying you should let me give my agent your number
landonorris: you already have my number babe
yourusername: okay pretty boy
user41: i need this type of nepotism in my life
user42: i need the nepotism and the sexual tension cause PHEW it is through the roof
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2,760,521 others
yourusername: enjoy the picture of me fucking up a pretzel
view all comments
user46: okay where are the detective freaks from f1twt?
user47: reporting for duty 🫡
user46: what car is that?
user47: it looks strikingly similar to a jolly, but i don't know if that's just my brain pushing me to make it lando. but there is a florist in monaco that wraps their flowers just like that as well ....
user46: thank you for your service
danielricciardo: this is very ballerina core 🩰
yourusername: has the old man been spending time on the internet?
danielricciardo: yes he has 😃
yourusername: omg proud
danielricciardo: no but seriously how did you do it? it looks sick
yourusername: very fiddly, needed an extra pair of hands
danielricciardo: an extra pair of hands [wiggles eyebrows]
yourusername: did you just comment your own stage directions?
danielricciardo: funny 😄
user48: okay i am glad we're not being deprived of the y/n and daniel friendship.
landonorris: i am enjoying this picture of you fucking up a pretzel
yourusername: i am a whore for carbs
landonorris: i am a whore for you
this comment was deleted
landonorris: i am also a whore for carbs (don't tell jon)
maxverstappen1: 📸📸📸 saw that mister !!
landonorris: you didn't see NOTHING
user49: we saw everything. i am so disappointed in lando, he's carlos' bestfriend and he's doing this?
liked by carlossainz55
user50: oh i know this man aint speaking
f1teaandgossip
liked by user51, user52 and 10,945 others
ftteaandgossip: carlos sainz was caught liking this tweet about his ex girlfriend y/n y/ln and his (former?) best friend lando norris. what do you think?
view all comments
user53: the audacity of men never fails to astound me
user54: you know what, i feel like a guilty man only acts this bold. so i'm saying it. i think there was overlap between his relationship with y/n and his relationship with rebecca
user55: you're right and you should say it
user56: carlos got with rebecca within a WEEK of the end of a three year relationship but is angry that she's finally moving on after months ?
user57: for real the first sight of lando and y/n was after at least two months
user58: i know people will say she's in the wrong because it is lando but honestly carlos has no leg to stand on with him parading rebecca around the paddock
user59: i really couldn't give a fuck if lando is his best buddy you act like a fool expect to get treated like a fool
user60: also the whole "whoring around the grid" is so dumb. you mean her FRIENDS? you know the friends she had to make when you would just leave her in the paddock or ignore her at parties ?
user61: babe really thought he was more loved in the paddock and expected everyone to go along with his messiness
user62: men don't talk about women this way challenge
user63: imagine talking about a girl you were with for THREE tears like this
user64: i wish lando and y/n all the best and i hope they're together for a long time, she deserves a good man after all of this
user65: i have faith 🤞
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 3,109,413 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: sloppy seconds you say? i never come second with him. pun intended x
view all comments
user66: SERVE
user67: user67 found dead in her home, cause of death: this post
landonorris: what can i say i'm a giver 🤷♂️
yourusername: i'll say 😮💨
oscarpiastri: ENOUGH
landonorris: i thought you were happy for us oscar :(
oscarpiastri: i am !! i even took the second picture. but i think you forget that i am staying with you in monaco :/
yourusername: whoops my bad
landonorris: i swear my hospitality is usually better
yourusername: i can attest to his hospitality
oscarpiastri: STOP PLEASE STOP
user68: poor oscar being traumatised by y/n and lando 😭
carlossainz55: real mature
yourusername: how about instead of liking shady tweets and commenting on my instagram posts, you come confront me like a real fucking person.
carlossainz55: you'd love that wouldn't you
yourusername: i really would because if i said everything you needed to hear i'd be banned from this app
carlossainz55: you really are the gold digging slut my parents warned me about
landonorris: you will absolutely not talk to her that way. if you do so again we'll have a very real problem
carlossainz55: you have no sense of loyalty lando
landonorris: the call is coming from inside the house
user69: the girls are FIGHTING
comments on this post have been limited.
landonorris
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,866,398 others
tagged: yourusername
landonorris: nothing better than a podium at home and time with family
view all comments
user72: the sky camera shady as fuck for cutting straight to y/n in the mclaren garage when carlos crashed LOL
user73: her and lando's dad trying not to laugh had me creasing
yourusername: beyond proud of you baby
landonorris: your support means everything pretty girl
yourusername: and your family are the loveliest, tell mama i said thank you for having me (and my sandwiches for the plane)
landonorris: she say's thank you and come back soon (i also want you to come home asap)
user74: he already refers to his house at their home
user75: and y/n has been accepted by the family - the sainzs could take notes
oscarpiastri: oscar piastri erasure
yourusername: sorry osc, you're our favourite pookie on the grid
landonorris: also mama made you sandwiches too
oscarpiastri: i know they were very yummy 😋
danielricciardo: HOLD ON, oscar is your favourite pookie, where am i ???
maxverstappen1: i think you'll find i am their favourite full stop
charles_leclerc: nuh uh it's clearly me
yourusername: i'll just say lando is my favourite
landonorris: and i'll say y/n is my favourite
yourusername: and that's that
danielricciardo: boooooooo.
maxverstappen1: cop out :(
charles_leclerc: 🍅🍅🍅
user76: i am so confused right now
yourusername
liked by bellahadid, landonorris and 3,109,766 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername: you are in love, true love.
view all comments
user77: omg the letters? i swear there were letters in her first post after carlos took rebecca to the first race of the season
user78: wait so do you think they were from lando the whole time?
yourusername: yes they are from lando ! after the carlos stuff had somewhat died down he had them all delivered to me and it definitely swayed me for a first date
user79: but i thought some of those letters looked pretty old
landonorris: i won't deny that i liked y/n for a long time but i obviously couldn't express that so i put them in letters. an idiot was an idiot and i'll never not take my chance
user80: okay that makes this whole thing so much cuter
user81: y/n is the definition of never letting your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband
landonorris: you're my best friend and i love you so much
yourusername: i'd go through all this mess and all this heartbreak again if it meant i still end up with you
landonorris: but i'm by your side forever now you can't get rid of me
yourusername: i wouldn't dream of it
user82: lord i have seen it all, please bless me with a relationship like this
danielricciardo: god you people are ridiculously cute
oscarpiastri: just think yourself lucky that you no longer share a garage with them
landonorris: we're not THAT bad
oscarpiastri: i have working ears
yourusername: sorry not sorry osc x
fin.
note: hope you all enjoyed. i am dying trying to do 75 soft but i also signed up for burlesque class !!
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#lando norris x reader#lando norris insta au#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando norris#f1 social media au
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Legend:
🔥Smut - MDNI (Explicit Sexual Content)
⚠️Angst - MDNI (Emotionally Strong or Violent Content)
☁️Fluff - Sweet and Sugary Content
♾️Fluff, Angst and Smut - A bit of everything [The most dominant theme will be next to the infinity]
✮ Back To Main Masterlist ✮
☁️Remedies - OT8 x Reader
🔥Spicy Accident - BFF!SKZ
🔥Naughty or Nice -Boyfriend!SKZ
🔥Wet Dreams - Boyfriend!SKZ
🔥Can I make you a daddy? - Boyfriend!SKZ
🔥"You got me pregnant" - FWB!SKZ x Afab!Reader
🔥Sneaky Link with Brothers bff - FWB!SKZ x Afab!Reader
🔥Asking for "help" - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥Who's Bigger? - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥"Your nails are too long" - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥Compliments Gone Wild - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥Who's Gonna Marry Me? - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥Santa's Little Helpers - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥Waxing Racha's New Hair - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
🔥New Years Party - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
☁️"Who asked me out first?" - Poly!SKZ Group Chat
☁️🔥Valentines Day - BF and BFF!SKZ
☁️Who told you? - BFF!SKZ
☁️Christmas - Dad!SKZ
☁️Solar Eclipse - BFF!SKZ
♾️Secret Boyfriends Texts - Bang Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N
781 notes
·
View notes
Text
✨Saving What Was Lost Part 7: Your Hand In Mine✨
Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader
Series Masterlist
A/N: Get ready to meet soft, angsty Joel in this chapter. I would like to give him a big hug 🥺
Chapter Summary: Your first day of therapy is a little scary, but Joel helps you through it.
Rating: 18+ only MDNI
Word Count: 4.7k
Chapter Tags: Soft! Joel, so much angst, yearning, reader goes to therapy, dual POV, age gap (reader late 20’s, Joel late 40’s), mentions of violence and kidnapping, grief
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
“You nervous?” Joel asks from the driver’s seat, hands locked around the leather steering wheel.
You nod while your hands fidget with your leggings. “Mmm, a little.” But a little’s a lie. You’re downright terrified. You’ve never been to therapy, never talked about yourself before like that. Well, Joel was the closest. You’ve talked to him, and you’re oddly comfortable with that now. But other than that? You haven’t done this.
He must see the lie on your worried face and the terror ringing through your wide eyes. Giving you a gentle smile, he turns his focus back to the road ahead that’s shrouded in mist from the December rain. “Don’t be. Tess is great. You’re going to be great, sweetheart. I know it’s scary, but just know you’re taking that first step into the unknown. That first step of healing, and you’re going to do so well. I jus’ know it.”
He’s always so supportive, so gentle, so easy with you. It makes your heart clench, makes it beat a little more just for him.
You take a good look at him. Watch as he cards a hand back through his tousled curls, watch as his green flannel clings to his flexed biceps, watch as that easy smile melts across his plush mouth. He’s just so nice to watch, so easy to keep your eyes trained on.
Darting your tongue across your bottom lip, you tilt your head toward him and give him an easy smile. “You’re always so sure about me.”
“Yeah, guess I am.” He turns his head toward you and gives you a heart-stopping smile. “I guess I see all the potential in those pretty eyes of yours.”
Your mouth parts, cheeks redden as you repeat that sentence over in your mind. He thinks you have pretty eyes. He’s always so sure of you.
Turning back toward the fogged-up passenger window, you lean against the door and smile. A smile that’s bigger than you’ve ever smiled before. You’re completely smitten by the handsome Texas man with big brown eyes. And he’s just continuing to show you how much life is worth living. Telling you how far he thinks you’ll go. But you don’t want to go far in distance. No. You just want to stay right here beside him. You think you’d follow him anywhere.
When he stops at a red light, you brave another stare at him and smile like your whole heart is right there in his eyes. “Thanks for seeing the potential in me.”
One side of his mouth curls up into a crooked smile, and his cinnamon-brown eyes sparkle against the windshield. “You’re so welcome, sweetheart.”
When you catch your breath from melting, you ask, “Sarah said you see Tess, too?”
He nods as the truck’s engine revs to life again. “She’s right. See her every couple of weeks or so. She’s patient and understanding and she really helps, I think. Helps when the nights get a little too dark for me.”
The way he says the last sentence, his low voice sounds a little weary like maybe he fights the nights as much as you do. And you don’t miss the flinch in his right eye or the way his hand tightens on the steering wheel. He must get them too. The nightmares that haunt your dreams every few nights. You wish you could just scoop them up, replace them with dreams of ocean tides or snowy mountains filled with deep green trees. You wish you could take away his pain, whatever’s hurting him so deeply. He hides it well—the pain. But sometimes it creeps up on him, and it spills in different shades across his shadows that slip in his brown eyes. That’s something you don’t miss.
Steady rain pelts against the windows, making the few trees in the distance look like monsters with tangled vines draping low to the ground. You flick your gaze back to Joel in the driver’s seat and another slow smile brushes against your lips. “Thanks again for driving me.”
“It ain’t no trouble, sweetheart. I’ll drive you till you don’t need me to.”
Another skipped heartbeat, another butterfly flitting through your stomach. The man is so sweet.
Biting your lower lip, you brave a question, mildly testing the waters. “What if I always need you to?” It comes out quiet, but not so quiet that he doesn’t hear you.
He slows to a halt at a stop sign and turns to face you, eyes sparkling with promises. “Then I’ll be there every single time you need me.”
“Promise?”
Another smile. “Cross my heart.” He folds a hand over his chest, promising once again.
You giggle under your breath, your eyes never leaving his. “Well, looks like I can trust you then.”
“You can always trust me, sweetheart.” And he means it. You can always trust him, and you know that. God, you know that.
When the tires start spinning again on the damp pavement and the low sounds of an old Western song plays through the speakers, he clears his throat and speaks. “It’s gonna be a late night for me.”
You flip your eyes back to him and give him a worried stare. “Do you have to go somewhere?” You already know what that means. He’s got an important job to do. One where he might be gone all night, maybe till morning.
He nods subtly. “Got an important run I gotta do with Tommy. So I might not be home till mornin’…” His voice cuts off. He knows you hate it when he’s away so long.
“Gone the whole night?” Your voice is a meek whisper because you’re afraid what his answer will be.
He’s silent a beat. “Afraid so, but hopefully that ain’t the case. But still, even if I am back earlier, it’ll be well after two o’clock in the mornin’.”
Your stomach churns just thinking about it. When he’s not across the hall when you’re sleeping, when he’s not just mere feet apart from you, it’s like something’s missing. There’s a void in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t seem to unravel that feeling till he’s in your space again. “I hate when you’re gone all night…” Your words falter, they break like your voice shakes.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His right hand drops to the center console, just inches from yours. He seems conflicted, seems like he wants to reach out and graze his calloused skin against yours, but he doesn’t. But he’s trying. He’s still hesitant to touch you because you’re still so unsure of touch. He doesn’t want to scare you, and you know that. He’s just being careful. And maybe you’re still scared of physical touch, but his touch? That warm, gentle, soft graze he sometimes gives you. Well, it feels like sunlight skimming over you.
Carefully, you move your fingers in his direction. Just enough where you can feel the heat of his skin. You don’t touch him, not quite. But this is enough. This is your middle ground. “I umm… I worry about you at night when you’re not home. I’m always scared that… that...” You can’t even speak it out loud. You’re scared he won’t come back one night. And you can’t bear the thought of that.
His brown eyes soften. “I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’ll come back. I can promise you that.” You give him a small smile and nod, keeping your fingers right by his just so you can feel the heat cover your own skin.
Physical contact is still something you’re struggling with, but you think Joel understands that. And he does. Always so careful around you. Never one to put you in an uncomfortable situation because he does understand your situation. He knows exactly what you’ve been through, and he wouldn’t dare make the wrong move because he doesn’t want to scare you. And you appreciate that. You appreciate him. So this is enough. Right now in this truck—hands centimeters apart, heat gliding over your fingers, a whispered promise that he’s going to take care of you.
Yes. This is enough.
After a few more minutes, Joel’s pulling into a little parking lot, right in front of a tiny building with a lit-up white sign that says "Essence of Healing.” Your heart starts beating faster, your breath tightening in your chest as your eyes scan the brightly-lit sign. “Well, here we are. You ready?” He turns off the ignition and pulls the key out, his brown eyes flitting over to you.
You swallow once and nod, an array of emotions spinning in your head. “Yeah, I think so,” you breathe out as calmly as you can.
He gives you an encouraging smile and pushes the door open. “C’mon, then.” You open the passenger door slowly and close it with a bang, your knees shaky, legs wobbly with every step you take toward the door.
This is it. You’re actually going to talk to a therapist for the first time in your life. What if you’re not ready, what if you choke, what if you burst out into tears and can’t sputter words from your choked-up throat? These are all valid questions, ones you never really considered, but you’re here. You have to do this. You have to do it for yourself. You owe that much to yourself. You are worth it.
When Joel goes up to the front desk with you, the one covered in green succulents and a calming, trickling desk fountain running the corner, you collect all the paperwork you need to fill out and in exchange give her your photo ID. Joel was kind enough to go with you to get a new one since your old one was lost somewhere in Washington. As for health insurance, Joel was paying out of pocket for you to be seen. But he promised he was working to get you on your own health insurance plan. You still don’t know why he’s being so nice to you, but without him, you’d probably be dead by now…
After a few minutes of fighting with the paperwork and scribbling out wrong information, you’re about to break out in tears. They’re swelling in the backs of your eyes, making your lips quiver and the words blur on the page.
“Hey. You’re alright,” Joel coos, taking the pen from your shaky hand. “Let me help.” And you do let him. He fills out the questions you couldn’t answer yourself—his home address, your phone number you still haven’t memorized, emergency contact information, insurance details, even going as far as helping you fill out medical questions you’re having trouble with.
As you look up at him all focused and intent on getting your paperwork done, a little spark sizzles in your chest. You study him—eyes glued to the page, jaw flexed as his rapt attention is on each question, tousled curls a little disheveled as he cards his fingers attentively while he thumbs through the pages. You’re a little mesmerized, a little surprised he didn’t just leave you to shovel through the numerous papers. Instead, he chose to stay right by your side, saving you from breaking down from the weight of so many unknowns.
You’re scared, a little overwhelmed, a little more nervous than you’d like to be. But with Joel, it seems like you can get through anything.
When the paperwork is all completed and he’s back at your side, waiting patiently for them to call you back, you feel a little better—like you can do anything if he’s there next to you. Call him your knight in shining armor, but he truly is. He keeps saving you, and you hope he’ll never stop.
The nervous jitters start up again when you glance up at the clock. Five till noon, right when your appointment is supposed to be. Your knee is bouncing up and down in tandem with your flexed fingers against your leggings. Fear trickles down your spine, slides into the deepest parts of your veins. And suddenly, you’re downright terrified.
You’re about to get up, run out the door, but Joel senses your worry. He slides the back of his hand against yours, brushing your skin gently, a way to say ‘Hey, I’m right here.’ And when you look up and see those big brown eyes gazing softly down at you, you instantly quiet down inside. Your knee stops bouncing, and you’re left with this overwhelming peace that seems to radiate through every part of your body. Like a quiet forest that soothes your soul, that’s what Joel does to you. He makes everything else around you so still, so quiet.
When you’re about to say something to break the trance you’re in, you faintly hear your name being called from the open office door.
You sit up straight and look toward the door, up at the woman that just called your name. “That’s me,” you call out with a shaky voice.
“Ahh. There you are.” She strides up to you and holds her hand out. You slowly take it. She has long light brown hair, strong cheekbones, welcoming hazel eyes, and a smile that instantly soothes you. “I’m Tess, by the way. It’s so good to meet you. This one’s told me a lot about you.” She flicks her eyes to Joel.
When you take her hand, it’s warm. “It’s nice to meet you, Tess. And of course he has.”
Joel shakes his head and lets a low chuckle leave his lips. “Guilty as charged.”
“You got lucky with this one. He’s one of the good ones,” Tess nods as your hands disconnect.
“He is…” you repeat back, getting lost just for a second in his syrupy brown eyes. He seems to get lost in yours too.
“You ready?” Tess asks.
“Oh, uhh. Yeah.” You take a second to push yourself up off the cushioned leather chair, let your legs stop wobbling beneath you.
When you’re just about to follow her back, Joel’s low voice serenades your ears. “I’ll be right here waitin’. You’re gonna do great, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Joel.” You give him a lasting smile, until Tess beckons you back to her office.
“Come on. This way.”
With one last glance his way, you watch the front office door shut and what awaits you is a long hallway with mint-green wallpaper. Pictures of oceans, fields of wildflowers, and open spaces fill the painted walls. A small white table sits in the middle of the hall with multi-colored flowers hanging over the table that are tucked inside a cream-colored pot.
When you make it to the fourth door on the left, Tess nods inside and lets you go first. “Welcome to my office. Hope it’s cozy enough for you.”
Gasping, you take in her array of rocks and seashells on her back wall. Dozens of colorful shapes and sizes fill the expanse of it. But what really catches your attention is all the little sand dollars spread out by her computer monitor. Her walls are almost the color of sunlight, and she’s got a massive portrait of a west coast beach framed with love behind her desk chair. A white leather couch sits right across from her mahogany desk, and the scent of soothing lavender fills the air.
“It’s perfect,” you whisper, amazed by all the decorative details of her office. It’s so inviting and welcoming. It instantly calms you down.
“Glad you like it,” she smiles. “Well, have a seat. Get comfortable.” You comply as she gets situated in her chair and pulls up your paperwork. Sifting through it for a minute, she looks up at you with a bright smile lit across her face. “So. This is your first session, is that correct?”
“Yeah. I… I’ve never done this before,” you answer honestly, a little scared of what she might say, but she only gives you another encouraging smile.
“Well, you came to the right place then. We’re just going to take this slow, take it one session at a time. Healing is a journey. There’s no one single path to it. We’ll do what works for you, what you’re comfortable with. That sound okay to you?”
“Mhm,” you nod with your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You’re so fucking nervous, but this is normal, right? Everyone is scared of something they’ve never done before. But this? It seems like all your secrets will surely be unmasked, and that terrifies you. Sharing your past—what happened to you—isn’t going to be easy. Not one bit.
“I can see you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. This is a safe space. You can talk to me about anything. It’s all confidential. Nothing you say goes out that door.”
Your eyes flit to the closed oak door, and you nod in acknowledgment. “Right… Okay.”
She scoots back and crosses one leg over her knee, leaving the open papers splayed on her desk. All attention is on you now. “How about we start from the beginning. Before… before you were taken. Maybe start with your childhood?”
“Oh… I… Well, that’s a lot to tell,” you gulp out nervously. Your childhood trauma is a whole other monster you still haven’t tackled.
She smiles. “We’ve got an entire hour today. And if you come back, we’ll have many more sessions to unravel your past.”
You bite your bottom lip and nod, your nerves getting the best of you, but you push through. “Okay…” You take a deep breath and dive in head first. “Here goes nothing.”
Four o’clock flashes like an alarm on the oven clock, telling him he’s been gone for hours, but really, it feels like it’s been days. He reaches for the open whiskey bottle and pours the amber liquid over the square ice cubes in the glass. Every drop looks like the trickles of fresh blood that’s stained his flannel permanently. He should’ve fucking known tonight was not the night to wear nice flannels.
He scuffs his leather boots against the hardwood floor, dragging his tired legs from the kitchen to the living room, till he’s collapsed in a heap on the leather couch—one hand curled around the cold glass, the other raking down his face excruciatingly slow.
He failed. He was too late. Just minutes from being on time. Maybe he could’ve saved her. Saved that innocent little girl from her executioners. But he couldn’t…
As he closes his eyes, he sees the flash of red covering the dark walls, serenading the lace of her pink dress. Eleven-years-old, just shy of turning twelve, a daughter that’ll never be able to return home to a worried mother and father.
He curses under his breath, feels the tears pour like droplets of water down his cheek. She didn’t deserve to die, didn’t deserve to be scared and all alone. He was supposed to save her, was supposed to get her out. That was his mission, and he fucking failed.
Three minutes. He was just three fucking minutes shy of saving her life, but he was too late. He misjudged the distance, didn’t realize the captors were early to their destination. He got there right after they smothered her—silencing her terrified screams forever. He can still hear them like shrill sirens blasting through the base of that rundown building. This isn’t the first time he’s been too late, but God. This one hurts like hell because it reminds him of someone he lost along the way. Someone he loved just as much as Sarah.
And so, he did what he did best. He took them out—all the men that had hurt her. Thankfully, he took backup, including Tommy. He smothered their screams, pushed daggers into their throats, shot them dead in a frenzy of rage while his teeth were clenched and eyes were fogged with held-in tears. When he looked at that poor, lost girl—it nearly took him to his knees. Those eyes. Those same lifeless hazel eyes that still haunt his dreams to this day. They were the same shade as hers… The little girl that forever changed his life. The one that he wishes was still here…
Ellie… That little girl tonight looked just like his lost daughter—the one he saved all those years ago. But he never fully saved her. Not after… not when he let her go…
A wave of emotions floods through his chest as he takes another stiff drink of alcohol, letting the whiskey burn through him while visions of hazel eyes and crimson fill his foggy mind.
He was too late. He fucked up. He misjudged the minute hand from the second hand. Time slipped away from him. And before he knew it, everything he planned for was lost to the eerie night. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and turmoil. He hates it. Hates when things have to get extremely violet, but what choice did he have? He had to take them out because they stole an innocent life—a life he was supposed to keep safe.
He’s so lost in the crimson-stained memories in his mind that he almost misses that small, meek voice of yours. “Joel?”
When he opens his eyes, a part of his soul shatters. There you are, a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, heartbreaking eyes shining over to him from the staircase. You take in his half-drank glass of whiskey and the dried tears that stain his cheeks. But also, you see the faint crimson that tarnishes his flannel shirt.
Blood. There was so much blood… like a liquid pool of death.
He adjusts his back against the leather cushion and sits up a little straighter, just so he looks less worn down and broken than he already is. You see right through him though. You always do. “Sweetheart, it’s late. Why don’t you…”
“Are you… okay?” Your voice whispers across the room, silences the crackling embers in the fireplace. Your voice… it sounds broken too.
“I, uhh. Jus’ please, go back to sleep.” He tries to push you away, tries to get you to return to your room so he can sulk in peace. He doesn’t want you to see him like this. Doesn’t want you to see just how physically and mentally defeated he actually is. He’s not as strong as you think he is. He’s fragile, grainy sand that gets blown away by the wind. He’s not rock-solid; he’s quicksand.
You slide into the seat next to him, close enough where your knee could brush against his. “I’m not leaving you.” There’s finality in your tone, still soft but firm on your decision. And there’s those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that could silence all the built-up pain he has piled on his heart.
You’re so fucking beautiful.
“Are you hurt?” You ghost your hand across the leather, reaching out just enough where he feels the heat of your skin. It soothes him over just a tad, but nothing can quite wipe away the excruciating weight of agony he’s carrying now.
“No. I’m jus’… I’m so tired.” He pinches his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, his hand clutching the cool glass of whiskey like it’s his lifeline. “This job weighs on me like solid concrete. Some nights are so fuckin’ hard. Some nights jus’…” He pauses, takes a deep breath in and blows another out. He can’t finish. He’s too tired, too strained from the past few hours, months, years.
He’s so fucking tired; he just needs some rest, some peace, some symbolism that he knows he’ll get to the finish line. But he’s been so struck down ever since he met that certain hazel-eyed little girl. Ellie. His little girl…
“What happened tonight?” Your voice comes off as a whisper. Maybe you’re just as scared to hear what he has to say.
He taps the edge of his thumb against the solid glass and takes a deep breath. “We uhh… I lost her. Her name… her name was Abigail. Just a little eleven-year-old, and I was supposed to save her, to get her back to her parents. But I… I was too late. I was too fuckin’ late.” There it is. The pen drops, another tear splashes down his stained flannel, and he’s lost to grief again.
You pause a beat, but you gasp loud enough for him to hear the horror in your voice. He’s a failure. You must think he’s such a failure. “Joel… I’m so… God. I’m so sorry.” There’s only sorrow in your lilty voice, no anger or resentment that he failed yet another soul. You’re just as sad as him, he thinks.
“I failed her… I failed everyone…” He shakes his head, sets his mind a little straighter just so he can grit the words out. “Sometimes I feel like none of this is worth it, like I don’t make a difference. Because when this happens, it makes me feel like I’m already six feet underground.”
“Oh, Joel. No.” He feels it—the couch creak beneath him, the weight of your body sliding over, your hand inching closer to his. “You save so many lives. You make every bit of difference. You change lives.” There’s so much assurance in your voice; you’re trying to soothe him over.
He snaps his eyes shut and shakes his head, anything to stop the burning sensation in his watery eyes. Maybe if he doesn’t blink then he won’t feel the pain of this gut-wrenching moment. “But I… I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t save…”
Ellie…
With his eyes still shut tight, he feels warmth wrap around his hand, feels the soft caress of your skin. And when he opens his eyes wide, he sees the most beautiful shades of softness gleaming from your pretty eyes.
“You saved me. And that… that means everything to me. You saved me. You saved your daughter. You saved so many lives. You are a hero, and don’t you dare think otherwise. Not for one second.” There’s tears licking your lash line, the most sincere look over your pretty face. A desperate plea to get through to him. And in that moment, he believes you for a second. Believes that he is a hero, even when he doesn’t believe it himself.
His bottom lip trembles as tears gather in his watery eyes. Something hits him deep in the gut. Longing, the fear of losing you, and an all-consuming wave of tender emotions. He sees you. He really sees you. Such a beautiful soul. Such a lovely, amazing woman. To think he almost didn’t go to that auction, almost wasn’t able to save you. What would he do if he never found you? It stings to even think about. Because you… Well, you’re everything all at once. And he’s so fucking soft for you.
Carefully, softly, he laces his fingers through yours, holds on for dear life, praying you never let go.
Don’t let go. Never let go.
Your hand is a perfect fit for his. Every line, edge, dip carved specially for his hand to fit in. The weave of your fingers against his, the light brush of your skin, the heat that spirals into complete warmness when your skin slips against his—you were fucking made for him, just as he was for you, he thinks. Because when your bright eyes and soft smile are in his presence, he sees pure sunlight, sees the pure angelic essence you’re bathed in.
He was made to find you. This much he knows. And whether you choose to stay or go—he’ll have this moment to hold on to. Because he got you once. Your hand in his. This right here is everything he’s ever needed. It may just be your hand brushing against his, your fingers intertwined together, but it feels like home. You feel like home.
So, he lets the soft rain pelt outside against the living room windows, lets the dying fire crackle and pop in the fireplace, and savors the feel of your honey-like soft skin sliding against his. And he stays there for several minutes, maybe an hour, and there’s only silence shrouding the room. But your touch? It screams volumes, makes him feel human again.
For a breath of a moment, you’re his.
Texas rain was a rare phenomenon. Misty showers only a once in a while type thing. But you? You made it pour, made the flood waters wash clear through Austin. He didn’t see it coming, didn’t expect anything like you. But it sure as hell knocked him clear off his feet when you bathed him in your electric thunderstorms.
Tag List: @clawdee @jellybeanxc @lotusbxtch @thebeldroramscal @laurrrra
@whxtedreams @sawymredfox @sanarsi @mountainsandmayhem @bitchytimetravelqueen
@southernbe @katinasweeney @pixelspunk @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings
@christinamadsen @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @littlevenicebitch69 @alltheirdamn
@inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @fandomdaydreamer @elliaze
@callmecath1 @kulekehe @yorkshirewench @untamedheart81
@tateypots @stylesispunk @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @mellymbee @pascalsbae
@locaparapedrito @ladyofmidlo72 @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @axshadows
@here-briefly @cozylittlepigeon @pastawench @keylimebeag @joelsoftie
@romanarose @captainredspade @megangovier @bishtrouille @almodovarispunk
@papipascaaaal @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @bambisweethearts @puddles221b
@valkyreally @northennlights
#Joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller tlou#joel miller angst#hurt/comfort#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x f!reader
227 notes
·
View notes