#hes like that one cool older friend you have growing up

[venomnyx]

FAVOURS - Josh Washington x F!Reader AO3 // Playlist

WORD COUNT - 5.2k SUMMARY - The Washingtons invite you to stay with them in their lodge over the summer while you heal from a rough breakup with who you thought was the love of your life. One warm evening, when Josh teaches you to smoke for the first time, he offers you a mutually beneficial proposition that you find impossible to resist. TAGS/WARNINGS - female pronouns and anatomy, best friends older brother, recreational drug use (weed smoking), shitty ex-boyfriend, candid conversations, sexual proposition, friends with benefits (with feelings?), sneaking around, oral (fem receiving), outdoor sex, dialogue-heavy, not beta read NOTES - i need this man carnally.

prequel to the fool card, can be read as a standalone fic

The lodge runs cold this time of night, even in the summer.

You tip-toe down the hallway, sneaking past the twin’s bedroom, arms wrapped around your middle as goose pimples drift on your arms. A soft slip of pink light drifts through the underbelly of their door, and, warmed by nostalgia, you fondly remember that Hannah never liked sleeping in the dark.

The stairs creak as you make your way to the kitchen. The varnished wood of the bannister feels glossy and cool beneath your tentative fingertips, steadying your gentle footsteps so as not to disturb anybody.

The expansive windows stretch the further you walk into the main living area, overlooking the mountains. It’s a daunting sensation to realise you’re so small and insignificant, sucked in by the misty rocks and endless snow, ribboned with twilight shades of silver and blue. You quietly wonder what mysteries lay beyond, stretching out in haunting invitation.

His voice comes out of nowhere. “You lost?”

“Jesus, Josh. Scared the shit out of me.” Your voice is a sharp whisper, but the narrowed-eye look you shoot him only makes him laugh— a warm rumbly thing that makes your chest flutter.

“Sorry,” he says, but his mischievous tone is anything but. He glances you up and down. “Cute PJ’s. What’re you doin’ up?”

You suddenly feel exposed in your pyjamas, a little slip of black silk shorts and a matching vest.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest after fiddling with the thin strap on your shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep. I just needed some water.”

You pause, hesitating as if waiting for him to say something.

His smile grows almost imperceptibly, time dragging like slow honey drips as he drinks in your bashful fidgeting and challenges your fast-slipping eye contact.

Eventually, he nods directionally without his gaze leaving you. “Kitchens that way,” he says, and the tension bubble pops between you.

You roll your eyes. “I know, asshole. I practically live here.”

He grins. “That so?” He calls after you as you walk away, mock surprise in his tone. “Guess I never noticed you before.”

You stick your finger up over your shoulder, but there suddenly isn’t a trace of cold in your body.

“Hey, you wanna join me outside for a bit?” Josh asks, peeking his head through the door as you sip your water. “Place gets kinda lonely at night.”

His voice remains low, unconvinced— like he’s not sure you’ll agree. You’re not entirely sure you should. You and Josh aren’t exactly close— friends, sure, but only through his sisters, but his invitation feels warm, not awkward.

Moments later, after brief deliberation and realising you have nothing to lose, you follow him through the side door, the midnight summer air a balm to your skin.

He’s leaning over the balcony railing, eyes cast over the mountain treetops. A thin line of pungent smoke curls up from between his fingers and disappears.

He turns to you with a raised brow when he notices you watching. “Busted,” he says, smirking softly as he lifts the joint to his mouth. “You gonna rat me out to my parents?”

You roll your eyes. “Who’d believe me?”

He laughs, gesturing toward you and offering the joint without preamble. You freeze, hoping to not look like a total loser, but Josh catches your hesitation with perceptive eyes.

“What, never done this before?”

“Honestly? No,” you answer, trying to fight the warmth on your face.

“Really?” He grins, eyes sparkling. “Wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“Go ahead, laugh it up,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “I never cared to get around to it.”

His grin softens, holding it out to you, cherry-tipped and releasing smoke in gentle waves. “First time for everything?”

You take it off of him, deciding why not. You try mirroring his movements before, drawing in a shallow breath, figuring it works just like smoking a cigarette. The smoke, sharp and unfamiliar, stabs as it reaches your throat. You cough reflexively, flushing as you sputter.

“Oh, God— that sucks.”

He laughs fondly, somehow making you feel a little less embarrassed, and gently takes it from your fingers, leading you over to the plush outdoor bench. A hand on your shoulder as you both sit.

“First times always rough. You gotta do it slower— just- just relax, alright? It’s not a big deal. I’ll show you.”

You swallow, watching as he demonstrates, pulling in a slow drag and letting it fill his lungs before releasing it. There’s something almost hypnotic in the way he does it, so comfortable and at ease, like he did this all the time alone and you had no idea. He hands it over to you, guiding your hand around it carefully, his fingers brushing yours, lingering just a beat longer than they have to.

“Start small— just enough to get the feel.”

Warm under his watchful stare, you try to follow his instructions. You find it’s easier this way, only a slight burn as it passes your throat, gentle when you exhale, if a little irritating. His smile grows.

“There you go,” he praises, clapping your shoulder once before releasing you. “Doesn’t suck so bad, does it?”

“Sure, whatever,” you say, handing it back to him. He only half-chuckles at your dismissal, not put off in the slightest.

The silence settles comfortably, interrupted only by the soft hiss and flicker of the joint as he inhales. He tilts his head, watching the smoke disappear into the night air, expression distant. Thoughtful, like something crosses his mind.

“You and your boyfriend broke up?” He asks with a squint.

You peer over at him, holding onto your shins as you tuck your knees into your chest. “You know about that?”

“Sure. My sisters gossip,” he says, and you swear his eyes give you a once-over when he hands you the joint. “You were together for a long stretch, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

You take a hit, letting the smoke sit whilst you take a moment to hesitate. Josh isn’t exactly your confidant, but there’s something about the late-night, the quiet vulnerability of your interactions, that tempts you to lower your guard.

With an exhale, “It’s… not worth your time.”

He remains steady, sincere. “Try me.”

You sigh through your nose, staring at the sky above as if gathering strength.

“Well, I loved him, but he went to college, hooked up with another girl in the first week. A… mutual friend.”

“Oof.” He releases a low whistle. “Bummer.”

You frown sourly, gaze cast downwards. “Same old story.”

“You don’t have to say that… you seem upset about it,” he observes.

“I’m over it,” you say quickly, defensively. Tense shoulders when you speak. “I mean, I’m over him. He’s… whatever.”

He lounges back, sensing there’s more to the story. “But…”

“I think I’m just more angry with myself because I already felt like I was doing charity work,” you admit after a beat of consideration. “You give the ugly-funny guy a chance and he suddenly thinks he’s some…” you trail off, laughing bitterly. “He was so insecure, you know? Hated that I hung out with guys like you and Matt and— ugh. He was my first love, my first— …he’s not even worth the breath. Wasn’t even a good fuck.”

His eyebrows flash up. “Oh?”

Instantly mortified, you place your hands over your warm face, head swimming behind your closed eyes. “Oh my god, just forget I said that—”

“No, no—” he struggles to speak between bursts of laughter. A quick cough into his fist to compose himself. “Nothing wrong with being… open. Honesty is good.”

You groan, but the weed dulls the blade edge of your humiliation, making it manageable. It doesn’t quite cut your fingers when you hold it. A giggle escapes you from the ridiculousness of it— a light thing that seems to shake some of the weight off your shoulders, like blowing dust off an old book.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you mutter, eyes teary from laughing despite yourself. “It’s probably just the weed talking. Don’t laugh, Josh.”

“I’m not laughing!” He insists, but the teeth-flashing grin says he’s full of amusement.

You shoot him a glare and he laugh-yells when you swing for him with a bench pillow.

“Hey! I feel sorry for you, if anything. Never had him show you a good time.”

“We had good… times,” you say, but your tone fails.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, unconvinced. “Sounds like ugly-funny guy wasn’t all that.”

You drag your hands down your face. “Okay, fine. Honestly, no— he wasn’t. He barely paid attention. Like I was just… there.”

There’s something cathartic about it, opening up to the person you never thought you’d be having this kind of conversation with. It’s hard, with the twins— Beth isn’t exactly romantic, and Hannah’s all rose-tinted glasses. Josh’s perspective is… different. Refreshing. Exciting?

“That blows,” he shrugs. “Guess you got unlucky. Firsts shouldn’t have to suck that bad.”

You hum, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of your high, and his company. “I’m probably oversharing.”

“Nah, I get it,” he says. You peek at him and he’s all soft-smirks and understanding eyes, regarding you with low lashes. “We all got… we all got needs. Like cracking your neck, right? Doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You nod in shy agreement.

“Just sounds like you need someone who, y’know… understands the art a little better.”

Your heart stutters behind your ribs, wondering if you really picked up on a subtle proposition or if you’re just imagining things. You’re higher than you need to be, but you still inhale another drag with shaking fingers as if the act itself will soothe you.

“Oh, is that right?”

The corner of his mouth ticks with mirth, eyes flickering something dangerous when he glances over your figure, tongue darting out as if drinking you in.

“Yeah, you know. Some better options.”

Your neurons are like butter in a pan: melting, sliding from one thought to another. You very suddenly can’t stop imagining what it would be like to have sex with Josh Washington— and not in the intrusive thought, “ew that’s my best-friends-brother” way, but in a way, that’s far, far more tempting.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep it casual despite the sudden warmth growing in your shorts. “Got any recommendations?”

“Could be me,” he murmurs, voice low and playful. Half-serious, half-joking, a droplet suggestion in a gentle current. “Just as a… temporary thing, you know? We’d be doing each other... favours.”

Your pulse skyrockets, throbbing in your throat and between your thighs. A thrill, driven by your sudden insatiable curiosity. But still, a stab of reluctance pokes through the mist of your weed haze.

“Hey. You can forget I asked,” he says gently, meaningfully. “Just a… thought.”

You can feel yourself getting embarrassingly wetter by the second, desperate to ease the tension with an excuse, any excuse. No, no, God no, you shouldn’t indulge in the forbidden fruit of your best friend’s older brother, of your friend, even if the thought of getting your desperately high sexual frustration quenched is insatiably desirable.

“Josh. We’re both high.”

“…But you’re down?”

You throw him a look, soft, puppyish. Please don’t make you say no because you’re not sure you can.

“Sure, we’re high. Not stupid. Not drunk.” He senses your trepidation. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re friends, right? Besides, we’ve got the whole summer together, so…”

“…Might as well make the most of it.”

He pauses, bottom lip caught between his teeth in thought, and then a nod. “Exactly.”

“Jesus,” you murmur, head swimming after your final smoke.

His eyes don’t leave yours when he has his turn. A quick puff between his teeth, smoke misting around him in the low lighting. A rushed inhale, the cherry glowing, a hiss when he exhales. There’s something deliberate about the way he’s looking at you.

Without breaking eye contact, he flicks the roach over the railing, the dying ember tumbling into the dark. His hands quickly find the back of your neck decisively, thumbing along your jaw, pulling you towards him in a fluid motion, angling his head to meet you— and then he’s on you. His lips capturing yours with a reverent ferocity, an urgency that catches you off guard.

He tastes like acrid weed smoke and something subtle, sweeter, like hard candy lingering on his tongue.

A moment of sobriety snatches you from the moment when you consider what his sisters — your best friends — might think if they found out you were planning on screwing their brother on the family holiday they invited you to.

You pull away, just enough that your noses brush. “Josh…”

“Shh,” he coos, sweeping you up with his attention again. You don’t object, too paralysed by the moment to deny yourself of this. You high-pitch moan against his mouth as his tongue strokes yours, turning gelatinous and pliant when his hand slips down from your shoulder to your breast, to your waist. Gripping, staking claim, just a slip of silk between his fingers and your skin, warm where he holds you.

The kiss intensifies, his mouth moving over yours in a way that’s both gentle and demanding; he’s greedy, savouring every second and every tremble of your hand as you try to steady yourself with fingers bunched into his hoodie. He thumbs along the pulse in your throat and you feel him smile into the kiss, relishing, and you realise he’s loving this— loving kissing you with a slow, aching patience that leaves you needy and breathless.

A hand slides down your body to your thigh, smooth against bare skin. His thumb pressing just enough to make an indent in the soft flesh, fingertips edging to the hem of your pyjamas and your heart jumps.

“This alright?” He asks, as his fingers form a gap between the waistband of your shorts and your skin.

“Mhm.” It pitches high. 

“You’re really hot when you’re excited.”

A hand on his neck. “Let’s hope you back up that talk then, huh?”

His fingers feel cool when they slide against your middle, hot and wet. A shuddery breath escapes you as he rubs slow, once, twice, slickening up.

“You normally this wet?”

“God, d-don’t,” you pant, clutching his shoulders. “It’s been a while.”

He laughs once in a breath, working his wrist slowly. “Don’t worry. Me too.”

Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your clit, heat liquidising and pooling into his touch.

And when he lifts from the couch, fingers retracting from your heat, you suddenly become very shy and very aware that you’re outside. He starts tugging your shorts down, and he shoots a grin in response to your reflexive tense.

“What, lost your nerve?” He murmurs, lowering to his knees. “It’s just us.”

You flash with knowing and suddenly freeze. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? Isn’t this the best part?”

“Um…” you chew on your lip.

Recognition flickers on his face. “Damn. Your ex really was an asshole.” But when he looks up at you again, it’s fond. Sweet.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you.”

You squirm as he pulls your shorts down, silk over flesh, no underwear beneath, eyes hungry. Too embarrassed to watch him as he parts your knees and presses kisses to your inner thigh, traces the blade of his tongue across a stretch mark, too horny to resist. A flash of eye contact— the last chance to back out, but you’re so swept up in the moment you’re not sure you could form the words.

His lips are quick against your warm middle, tongue parting you deliciously slow, a hum of delight and pressure when he pushes deeper. A bated breath escapes you in a shuddering pant, fingers knitting into his hair, all challenging words and witty remarks dissolving on your tongue.

Yeah, you’ll never look at Josh Washington the same after this.

“Fuck.”

He moans contentedly, pleased with your vocalisation, and the vibrations ricochet up your spine.

Can’t remember the last time someone went down on you. Your ex never made a big fuss about it, not that he ever got you there often. You bubble with over-sensitivity, twitching when he licks you, a gentle push on his forehead.

“Slow down,” you stutter.

He kisses your thigh. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Shut up.”

But he listens— pace gentler, more controlled. Flat-tongued strokes that made you shudder, liquid heat pooling against his mouth. So sweet when he suckles on your clit, laps at your core, arms caged around your thighs without possessiveness. Every sweep is like a countdown, weeks of grief and heartbreak a distant memory with his face in your pussy.

Tension coils and everything narrows down. You’re not outside, not getting eaten out by your best friend’s older brother, not doing anything you’ll regret.

You cum quick— quicker than you have with any previous partners. It’s tingly, a rise and fall that leaves you breathless, knees locking, heart pounding. He releases his from you with a soft, wet pop, rising to his feet and white-knuckling a fist into the backrest of the bench. A quick body scan, a tick of his head to see if you’re alright.

When you nod, his free hand reaches to sink two fingers knuckle-deep, parting your slick velvet with ease as you still pulse rhythmically in the aftershocks.

Oh God it’s vulgar, the sounds you make. Honeydew-wet, drip-dropping onto his palm as he curls upwards, a high-strung moan that you bite into the back of your hand. Scrunched eyes flickering up to meet him as he stares down at you, lips shining arousal-wet.

Need flashes through you, the incessant little voice in your head reminding you that this is your friend Josh vanishing with each jolt as he finger-fucks you. Not quite satiated as you squeeze tight around his fingers. You kiss him, lavishing the taste of his mouth, grabbing his wrist to urge him deeper, closer, ball of his palm atom-close to your still throbbing clit.

You break the kiss only to ask, “Do you have a condom?”

His fingers leave you, slick-wet on your thigh as he grips you. “In my pocket.”

“Did you plan this?”

He grabs the foil from his jeans. “Always gotta be prepared.”

There’s no space to take pause and consider the consequences when he tugs you onto his lap, jeans pooled around his ankles, cock sheathed in the condom and hard in his fist— not that you could formulate a cohesive thoughtwhen you’re this high and this horny.

Nails curl around his shoulders for support, desperate to tongue the firm planes you feel beneath his shirt, suck on the pulse that throbs in his neck, but the barrier of friendship draws an invisible line. He steadies you with a hand on your hip when you lower yourself, unhurried at first, just enough to stretch you out.

Shivery eye contact urges you on, and you slowly slide down, inch by eye-rolling inch, and then in one final swift drop, you’re pelvis-deep, wincing against the pleasure burn of the intrusion in your middle. A gasp escapes you, and his eyes find yours.

“Shit,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, breaking into a half-laugh. “You okay?”

You nod, but you’re trembling as you adjust to the size of him. “Yeah… yeah.”

Misty with sweat from the connection, your forehead settles against his, lips parted. You take a moment, adjust to the feeling, the weight of him inside of you. He’s as big as you thought he’d be— not that you’d tell him, as if his ego needs inflating anymore.

“It’s just… a lot.”

“I know,” he says, softer.

The world narrows down to the sensations: the midnight air cool against your skin, intimate heat pooling where you and Josh join, the feel of your heartbeat thrumming so hard your fingers shake against his shoulders. His touch slides down your back, under the small slip of your vest, brushing your sides with the same care he’d use to handle something delicate.

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice low, strained. His stroking hands land on your thighs, thumbs pressing soothing circles into the bones of your hip. Grounding, despite the haze of arousal clouding your judgement.

You nod, swallowing hard, gripping his shoulders as you slowly lift yourself. Lungs tighten with caught breath at the way his cock shifts inside of you, the drag overwhelming and delicious— a punch of liquid-heat pleasure that makes your legs tremble when you lower yourself again, a slow descent that has both of you groaning softly. A gentle rhythm, a burn in the thighs.

“Feels good,” you stutter.

A short laugh, drifting into a tight sigh. “Too good.”

Trickling slow-building pressure settles low in your belly and has your hips shifting, testing. Tentative at first but growing bolder with each, slick pass. His grip tightens when you move, jaw clenching, throat bobbing when he swallows hard.

“I— fuck,” Josh breathes, fingers digging, the corner of his mouth ticking into a smirk despite his strung-tight tension. Abs flexed to gather control, breath hitching when you take him a little deeper. “That’s it, just like that.”

The praise shoots through you like a spark. Your body reacts instinctively— grinding against him, chasing the friction that licks pleasure in your belly like curling smoke. Slow, decadent, spreading, spreading…

“Jesus. You’re unreal.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, movements quickening, testing the waters of his endurance. Lips close to his jaw. “You like it?”

His response is immediate— a low, throaty groan as his hips tilt up to meet yours. “God, yeah,” he rasps, head tipping back, exposing the curve of his throat, the chords bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Fuck. Look at you.”

A smile teases the corner of your lips as you work him with your hips, spurred on by the thrill of his wearing tether.

“Did you really never notice me before?” You ask sweetly.

His head rolls back further, laughter torn through a sharp inhale. “Course I did. I just said that because…”

You tilt your head innocently, rhythm never faltering. “Because what?”

“It’s hard to focus when you keep— fuck— clenching like that,” he breathes after a squeezed blink, voice strained. “I said it because… shit, because you looked so good. Never— never let myself think about you like this before.”

Giddy from the affirmation, you bite on your lower lip. “So you think I’m hot, huh?”

“Don’t start.” His groan carries a weak laugh, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. “You’re the one who came downstairs looking like that.”

You laugh breathlessly, a mix of indignation and amusement. “Hey, you invited me out here! I was just getting water.”

“And yet, here you are,” he shoots back, eyes dazed as he struggles to focus, but his smirk still bites mischievous.

“Josh!” You gasp, half-laughing. “You’re taking advantage of me, you know. I’m emotionally vulnerable.”

His smirk softens, shifting into something more genuine. “Yeah? You look real vulnerable right now.” His hands slide to your ass, squeezing with a force that makes you stutter a gasp. “The way you’re moving? Pretty sure you’re the one taking advantage of me.”

Your lips part with a retort sharp on your tongue, but his voice drops to a low murmur that sends heat pooling in your stomach.

“God, keep going. Feels so fucking good.”

Whatever witty comeback you mustered dies on your tongue, replaced by a shy moan as his hands guide you, hips sliding up to meet yours. Hands all over his chest to steady yourself, tingly to the bone when coiling tension blooms at the base of your spine. Pressure builds with each rolling thrust you muster, sharp with a pleasure ache when he nudges deeper.

“Josh,” you whimper, hands smoothing up to grip his tense shoulders. Your motions grow desperate, needy. Bursts of pleasure each time you snap together. Your breath comes faster, body trembling.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, voice strained but tender, teasing. “You close?”

You can’t form words, too lost in the pleasure building inside of you, so you frantically nod.

“C’mon,” he mutters, tone syrupy low and coaxing. His thumb slips between your bodies, finding your clit and applying pressure and circles in time with his thrusts. It’s like a strike of lightning, head tipping back as you arch into him. “That’s it. Let me feel you. I got you, I got you—”

His words shoot arousal straight to your core and your body seizes, locked-tight until the dam breaks, white-hot and all-consuming. Shuddering as you pulse, white-knuckle bunching his hoodie in your fists. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, walls clenching in rhythm around his unrelenting thrusts.

His hips stutter against your clenching, faltering when you fall apart in his arms. He slows— riding out your aftershocks, thumb still pressed against where you flutter and pulse.

“Shit,” he mutters, leaning back, drinking you in. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.”

You flush warm. “Don’t say that,” you stammer.

“Can’t help myself,” he replies gently, thumb circling you.

Shivering, you place a hand on his forearm, breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Josh— wait. Sensitive.”

He slows immediately, hands leaving you to cradle your back. “Sorry,” he says, softer. “Got carried away.”

You whimper when he spreads your thighs, an impossible stretch, and drives faster. Too much, too much, too—

“I know, I know,” he breathes. “Just a little longer. I— shit. I’m so close.”

His palms glide under your ass, fingers gripping, lifting and lowering you in a rhythm that’s all his, each rut drawing broken noises from both of you. When he finally lets go, with a collision that notches him deep, it’s with a groan that’s half your name half a sound that you’ll never forget. His breath is shaky, face wincing, as he pulses strongly inside of you, spilling into the condom.

For a long, stretched moment, the only sound is your mingled breathing, bodies still trembling in the aftershocks of strong-beating hearts, cock still twitching within you. The mountain air, cooler now against your sweat, grounds you. Eyes slipping closed as you collapse against his chest, his fingers up and down delicate over your spine.

“Jesus,” he says after a while, ragged when he catches his breath. There’s a subtle laugh to it, more out of disbelief than humour.

You mirror him, shaky and breathless when you laugh. “Yeah.”

The silence spreads thin again, palpable with a not-quite awkwardness, but heavy with something you can’t quite name. Slowly, you ease yourself upright, head lifting to meet his gaze. His eyes are softer now, reverent but searching as if looking for some reassurance.

“You okay?” He asks, voice careful, full of trepidation, a little earnest and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

You nod, smiling tiredly. “Yeah. I’m okay. You?”

“Better than okay,” he admits, grinning sheepishly but all dopamine-warm, sugary sweet in the afterglow. “Kinda feel like I should say thanks or something.”

“Please don’t.” You snort, rolling your eyes as you carefully pull away from him, hollow where he slips out of you soft and wet. Legs gelatinous when you stand, the high buzzing anxiously in your chest now you’ve settled.

He laughs with more strength now, lighter, more familiar. Some tension eases when you pull your shorts up, hyperaware of how exposed you are. You glance at him as he buttons his jeans, knotting and disposing of the condom discreetly.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He leans back on the railing, staring out at the mountains. You follow his gaze, letting the breeze fill the space between you.

“So,” he says after a beat. “We’re… good, right?”

When you glance at him, his expression is carefully neutral. Guarded, like he’s trying not to give too much away.

“We’re good,” you echo, lazy-lidded but mostly sober now.

“Good… good,” he trails off, hand knocking against the railing. “Don’t wanna make things weird, you know?”

“Bit late for that,” you tease, but then you lean next to him affectionately, platonically. “It’s not weird, Josh. It doesn’t have to be. Right?”

He turns to face you, his grin turning playful again. “Right.”

“Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No, no— I don’t regret it, or anything,” he says, a flicker of uncertainty in his tone. “Just gotta make sure where we stand, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, not entirely convinced. “You just didn’t think I had it in me.”

He laughs, gaze dropping as colour rises on his face. “Shut… shut up.”

The quiet settles over you like the weight of the mist hanging over the mountains, heavy and expectant. Josh leans against the railing, his arms crossed as if he’s bracing himself, his gaze drifting to the lodge and then back to you. The air is cool now, biting against your sweat-slick skin, but his eyes— soft, searching— feel warmer than the sun.

A deep breath. You smell pine and mountain dew and a distinct linger of his cologne somewhere on your skin. When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you.

“You going back in, or… staying out here for a while?”

You glance over your shoulder where warm, inside light floods from the sliding doors. He looks on, expectantly. You have to practice some self-control when you speak, a near-melted puddle of organs and bliss from how he looks at you.

“I should probably head back in,” you reply.

His expression doesn’t falter, but the sweetness in his eyes dips a little.

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

You hesitate, caught in the lingering gravity between you. Thoughts bob like waves in your head, incessant badgering like: you’re high, it’s hormones, he’s just your friend’s brother.

But it’s not “just” anymore.

“Guess I’ll, uh… see you in the morning?” He says, uncertain as if unsure how to part ways.

You nod, trying to play it cool, but your heart flutters. “See you in the morning.”

He smiles faintly, the mischievous edge creeping back into his expression. “Sweet dreams.”

You roll your eyes as you leave, softened by his teasing demeanour, and you’re unable to bite back your smile.

You feel like you’re floating in your bed, light and airy when you stare up at the ceiling. Mind anything but clear, higher now that you’re alone in the dark.

You try to steady your thoughts, but they keep drifting back to Josh: the curve of his throat, the way he looked at you like he wanted to know more. Cells, pulled apart, pressed onto a slide, microscopically observed.

The heat of his touch lingers on your skin, the ghost of his fingers and lips making your heart ache with something tangled and intangible. Anticipation? Guilt? Excitement?

The summer had barely started— and it already felt like it was spinning out of control. You’re swept up, dictated by the gravity of his shit-eating smile and the feel of him inside of you.

With a sigh, you close your eyes, the sound of the breeze outside lulling you into a restless sleep. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder what tomorrow will bring— and whether Josh will be waiting for you with that same knowing smirk, with more favours to offer you.

divider credits: @saradika-graphics mdni credits: me tag list (let me know if you want to be removed!): @imiqz, @fromjas, @luhvbot, @spinback-kiva, @nx2grace, @strwbrrynd, @fashominnie, @meeganmerkman222333, @arachine, @xxreginaxx, @xprloki, @screaming-potato, @onmyknees4kai,

[esmereldapearl]

PJO Future AU head-cannon stuff (some ARE taken from other peoples head-cannons bc they’re awesome):

- Will Solace would not be a medic/be in the medical field— I feel like just because he’s good at it doesn’t mean he likes it. Maybe he’d be a teacher because of his leadership skills.

- I feel like from working in the infirmary and having people close to him pass, Nico would choose a medical field job. I feel like he’d be an RN (registered nurse) or doctor and work at like an urgent care (er is too crazy for him— or maybe it wouldn’t and he’d like the chaos)

- I also feel like there’d be a not so great injury and Nico would be like “Oh let me see” then see it and be like “oh that’s really cool” not much would phase him— or it would but he’d find it fascinating

- I feel like the fact that they didn’t have these new kinds of tech when Nico was growing up also adds to his fascination. Like what do you mean x-Ray machines exist?

- I feel like Percy would do well with water jobs— like maybe he’d be a marine biologist and he’d find it fun to just communicate with the ocean life.

- Frank and Hazel would take a lot of dual credit classes or graduate early from highschool so they could focus on the camp— like they’d take online stuff so they could spend more time focusing on camp. (hope that makes sense) I’m not sure what I think their careers would be.

- Leo would own his own mechanic shop after going to trade school (saw on tiktok)

- Jason (revived) would be a professor of history— probably mythology.

- As a Valgrace shipper (dont judge pls) I think that they’d get together shortly after Jason is revived (not too short— six months after?) because they’ve been through a lot already and don’t want to risk anything again.

Now, onto kids because I don’t see these often but I find it fun to imagine:

- Frank would be a girl dad. He’s got two daughters and is just so happy with them and Hazel.

- Percy and Annabeth would have three kids, two girls and a son, in that order. I feel like Percy and Annabeth would work hard to have good relationships with their kids and finally relax. I feel like they’d be sorta protective but also be very relaxed with them- educate them about being mature and making good choices.

- I feel like Annabeth would realize how important names were and try to name her kids after popular figures in history who had good stories

- Will and Nico would probably have two kids, both adopted, but one would be one of Will’s half-siblings/half-nephews. The kid was really little, like four or five, when he got to camp and Will just kinda adopted him so he didn’t have to be full-time at camp. They also have a daughter but not until the son is like 12. She’s also adopted and is also a half-blood but I feel like they wouldn’t know who her godly parent is until she’s 12 and then be shocked because she’s like a child of Zeus.

- Leo and Jason would wait a while and focus on their relationship and careers. Then they’d adopt two daughters (not at the same time) and raise them where they don’t know about half-bloods until they’re older. They’d probably be half-bloods so that way they could raise them the way they wished they were raised. Leo and Jason don’t want them to have to see and experience the stuff they had to at such a young age.

- I don’t think any of them would name their kids after any of their late friends. I saw someone, a while ago, bring up that it could result in bad memories or just not be an okay time yet to do so. So— I don’t think that Annabeth would name her kid Silena and I don’t think Nico would name his kid Bianca.

- However, I do feel like Annabeth and Percy would name their eldest Sally after Percy’s mom (it would work well with the headcannon that Annabeth would name her kids after people with good stories) and have her middle name be a positive powerful historical figure.

(I realize I left Piper out— I’ve been forgetting a lot about characters recently and need to go back and reread HOO in order to grasp what I think she’d do in the future)

[king-magppi]

🚨Some more That's Not My Neighbor because I have way too much fun drawing these character designs!🏡

[tonycries]

Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does. 

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”  

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you. 

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.  

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any. 

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears. 

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day. 

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh. 

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting. 

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter. 

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?” 

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question. 

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?” 

Shit. 

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!” 

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane. 

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is. 

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. 

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click! 

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact. 

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad. 

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah. 

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.” 

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart. 

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful. 

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod. 

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years. 

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years. 

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way. 

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’. 

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet. 

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him. 

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night. 

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him. 

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit. 

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you. 

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy. 

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted. 

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole. 

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch. 

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth. 

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now. 

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard. 

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high. 

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway. 

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss. 

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor. 

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this?  He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls. 

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him. 

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him. 

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass. 

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good. 

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now. 

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours. 

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl. 

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base. 

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below. 

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips. 

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now. 

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years. 

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with. 

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken. 

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go. 

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still 

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else? 

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER 

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

[lowkeyremi]

JJK MEN AS DADS

How they are with their kiddos/babies ! ft. gojo, geto, choso, toji, and nanami

content: no curse!au fluff, established relationship (marriage), children, families.

Gojo Satoru

"Look at my little boy, he looks just like me, what a heart stopper you'll be when you get older!" He praises his two year old, Kenji Gojo.

"'Toru stop trying to manifest our son into a hoe." Satoru turns to you with a loud gasp, eyes wide, and it causes your little boy to giggle.

"How could you say such words, in front of him? Don't listen to Mommy. Daddy was never a player. Never ever!" Kenji has no clue what's happening he just laughs at his father's dramatics.

"Oh brother, I hope he doesn't turn into a drama queen like you. And yes you were a player before I got with you. Remember when you kissed my friend then like ten minutes later tried to kiss me?" Satoru was a menace in college. Every time you bring up that specific college memory he always says-

"Ugh, blame Suguru! He was the one who made me take shots when I didn't like to drink." There it is. That was excuse for two-timing you and your best friend back then.

"Save it for someone who believes you. Kenji, don't be like Daddy when you grow up, okay?" Your husband knows you're joking but he can't help but whine and feel like you're being against him.

"Otay Mommy! Daddy is hoeeee. Hoe hoe hoe. Merry Christmas!" Your poor little boy thinks he's saying the noise Santa makes instead of a derogatory term and it's hilarious.

Of course you encourage him, "Daddy's a what?"

"Hoe!" Kenji screams out with a smile on his face. Satoru frowns loosing his playfulness.

"I-i guess my family just hates me... no one loves me." He sighs loudly to sell it to you guys but you don't buy it. He sits in the corner pretending to cry. "Boo hoo..." Kenji waddles his way over to his father patting his head.

"No cry Daddy, you not a hoe. You Daddy." Satoru fakes a loud gasp when he hears his son comfort him, thinking Satoru is actually crying.

"Really?!" He asks the little boy standing next to him.

"Yeah, Daddy is cool!!" Satoru chuckles, picks up is little boy and tosses him into the air. The small white haired child screams in delight as his father catches him, and you can't deny that all the trouble you and Satoru had in your relationship was worth seeing this.

Geto Suguru

"And then, the monster ate the twin girls who didn't go to sleep at their bed time-"

"Ooooookay. I think that's enough bed time stories from Papa." You say ushering your girls to bed, Hana looks scared out of her mind but Kana's eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

"Awww, Mommy, it was just getting good!" Kana whines, you know she wants to hear whatever else Suguru makes up on spot but he scared Hana who looks like she wants to cry.

"I know sweetie, but I don't think Hana really liked that story." The girls are six and full of energy at any given time.

"Come on baby, let me tell Kana the rest." Suguru matches his daughter's tone, knowing you'll give in.

"Alright, fine, but you need to apologize to Hana, look at her." Your husband looks at his younger twin daughter and he does feel kind of bad for scaring her like that. Suguru likes telling scary stories and myths to his girls just like his father had done to him. He always thought they were super cool.

"Oh, Hana, sweet girl. Papa's sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that. How about I tell you and your sister a different story?" Hana looks a little doubtful as do you, but Suguru grants you a smile. He knows you trust him so you give him a stern look before kissing his forehead.

"Don't take too long, I need my cuddles." He smirks, kissing your hand, "Of course my dear."

The twins coo in unison at their parents romantic gestures, they think it's the coolest thing ever. "You girls have your stuffed animals?" He asks them and they nod together waiting for his story.

He tells the two about a princess who needed saving. Her long lost sister came to save her from a scary dragon and they lived happily together.

"That sounds like me and Hana!! I fought the scary dragon and Hana was the princess!!!" Kana says with excitement. Sometimes Suguru sees two little girls he used to foster in his own girls. He wonders how they're doing these days. They're probably grown up by now or at least in their late teens.

"I really wish Mommy had let me name you guys Nanako and Mimiko." He whispers with a soft smile. Kana looks at him in confusion rubbing her tired eyes, Hana's already asleep.

"Huh?" Kana asks.

"Nothing my dear, good night, little one." He tucks her into bed and gives her a tend kiss on the forehead.

"Night night, Papa." She says with a yawn and Suguru makes his way downstairs to join you.

Kamo Choso

Choso bites his lip looking down at his son, the boy looks a lot like you he thinks. Ryuji is his name, you let him name him. "I didn't mean to break it." He whines to his father. Choso has a soft spot for his boy. He reminds him a lot of his little brother Yuji.

"I know bud, but what will we tell Mom when she gets home?" Ryuji had accidentally broken your favorite ceramic mug. Choso was not sure what he signed up for when he got you pregnant but it sure wasn't this.

He and his son were always getting scolded by you. Every time Ryuji gets into some kind of trouble it also happens to be Choso's fault for not watching him closely as you always say. The truth is, Ryuji seems to get into trouble even with his father watching him closely.

"Um... we can tell her it was at the edge of the counter and i walked past it and it fell down. Then it will be her fault for leaving it by the edge." Choso smiles at his devious ten year old. He knows lying is bad but if you heard what really happened you'd scold both of them.

What actually happened as that Ryuji was playing in the kitchen, even though you've warned him against it many times and he knocked your mug down onto the ground.

"Good idea, kid. I don't want to hear Mom yelling again. I might get couch treatment again." Choso shivers at the idea of sleeping on the cramped couch rather than in his warm bed with you.

"You remind me a lot of your Uncle Yuji." Choso says ruffling his son's hair. "You and Mom keep saying that and I don't know if that's good or bad."

"It depends. Yuji can be both." Choso chuckles. His son gives him a crushing hug.

"I love you dad, you're doing great." And Choso didn't know how much he needed to hear those words but they were getting to him.

Fushiguro Toji

"Quit kicking your Ma, ya little brat." He threatens your swelling belly. He gives you a questioning look when you glare at him. Those emerald eyes challenge yours in a staring contest.

"What is with you and threatening our unborn children?" Your question is followed by a giggle.

"Gotta let the brats know who's in charge." He blows out a breath and puffs his chest, you find the whole ordeal ridiculous. The man is a girl dad for crying out loud. Even his oldest, your step-son thinks his father is a clown. And before Tsumiki died there were three daughters in his life.

He thinks your third one is bound to be a boy, but you're secretly hoping for a girl just to further sink Toji's idea of having a little boy to boss around. Megumi comes around maybe twice a month to see his little half-sisters, which means Toji is surrounded by girls all the time.

You like to joke around with him and say, "What do you know? Girls seem to follow you wherever you go." He always grumbles about it being stupid and unfair.

"As I was saying-"

"DAD!!!!! MY HAIR OH NOOOOOOO." Toji's up off the couch in seconds answering at his daughter's beck and call.

He walks into her room to see her braid was messed up. "What happened, Doll?" He asks her, undoing the braid so he can redo it.

"Yui undid my braid!! She took my hair tie and ran to her room!!!" She squeals, in horror at her little sister's thieving.

"Oh did she now? I'll go have a talk with her once I braid this back up." He's gentle with his tender-headed daughter. He quickly braids her hair back up, the pattern memorized. 100% self indulgent bc im tender headed.

"I have this green hair tie, is that okay, sweet girl?" She sighs quietly. "Where are the blue ones?" Toji clicks his tongue. "I can go get one real quick if you hold the end of this braid." He tells her and she's quick to do it. Her favorite color is blue after all.

She cheers when her father returns with a blue hair tie. He ties it up quickly, "Okay let me go talk to Yui." Nami nods brushing out her baby doll's hair.

Toji makes an appearance in front of his four year old's door, she's making her dolls scream at each other. "What was da reason?!!!!" She screams pretending to be one of the dolls, "I had a reason." She makes the other say.

Toji rolls his eyes, his daughter has been watching too much TV with you. "Excuse me miss Cardi B, why did you steal your sister's hair tie?" His hands are on his hips and his eyes are squinted to add to his authority.

"Whattttt, Dad, you know dat?" She asks as if her dad lives under a rock.

"Tch I'm not old, I know what memes are. Now answer the question." She rolls her eyes. You tell Toji she gets her attitude from him.

"If you haf to know I needed it, so I could give Sprinkles a ponytail." Sprinkles is the dog Toji said he was NOT going to get for his girls but caved in and got anyway.

"Ya coulda asked me or your Ma for one rather than stealing it right from your sister's hair." She shakes her head in disagreement. Toji wonders what's going on in her head right now.

"Dad you don't get it! It had to be that one!"

"Why that specific hair tie?" She goes silent turning away from her father and mumbling something Toji can barely hear.

"Speak up, princess." She scoffs and sighs and folds her arms. Wow the sass is unreal.

"Sprinkle thinks Nami is super cool so she wants what Nami has." Toji isn't stupid he knows his daughter is using the dog as a place holder for how she admires her older sister. Yui doesn't like to admit it though.

"Are you sure it's Sprinkle who thinks Nami is super cool?" He gives her the chance to be open with him and she sighs taking the bait.

"I guess. I think Nami is super cool." She murmurs and Toji smirks.

"It's alright to think your sis is cool, Dad didn't get to grow up with any cool siblings. Just annoying cousins."

"Mai and Maki are cooler than you, Dad, not annoying!" The man in question raises his brow his smirk never leaving, "Okay since I'm not cool. I guess I won't take you out for treats anymore when Ma says no."

Little Yui gasps, bursting upward like a rocket and running toward her dad. She hugs his leg, her little head looking up at him, "I was kidding Dad. You're super cool. Please don't stop taking me for treats!!"

Toji smiles, picks up his little girl and tickles her. She screams out for him to stop, "Huh? I can't hear what you're saying."

"Nami help!!!!"

In seconds Nami's attacking her father in a playful manner, "Let go of my sister!!"

"Okay then." Toji holds his daughter upside down by her feet, as she screams some more. "MA!!! HELPPP!!!!"

"Toji put her down." You say in a half-hearted manner.

"She is down. Upside down."

Nanami Kento

"See, you're getting the hang of it, Hiro." Kento softly encourages his son who's struggling with his math homework. You had tried to help him but he screamed that what you were saying didn't make sense. So of course you yelled back, letting your emotions get the better of you.

Kento had stepped in to keep you two from ripping each other's heads off. Plus all that screaming had woken up the baby. You could hear her crying.

That was about an hour ago. You quietly walked into the dining room with your seven month old baby girl cuddled up to your chest as you held her tight.

The sight of your husband helping your son warmed your heart, but you also felt guilt hot in your stomach for yelling at him, he's only twelve.

"Hey, Hiro. Can I talk to you, hon?" You ask softly. Both your son and Kento turn their heads upon hearing your voice. He nods at you and you inhale deeply, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, bud, I didn't mean it."

His eyes soften as do Kento's.

"I'm sorry too, Mom. I started it. You were just trying to help me." Kento's smile encourages you to walk closer to the table which you do.

"We should have had Dad come help in the first place, huh? I'm not good at explaining." Hiro shares a laugh with you, and Kento cups your cheek.

"Explanations might not be your strong suit but you're still a good mother, baby." Hiro gags at his father calling you "baby" he hate when you two get sappy.

You move your head a little so you can kiss his palm. As expected Hiro covers his eyes and making more throwing up noises.

"Oh hush, one day you'll find someone for you, and you'll be just like me and your mother." Kento says rolling his eyes and you giggle. Even though you guys have your differences you guys always forgive each other at the end of the day.

Your little girl coos quietly and Kento holds out his arms gesturing for his little girl.

"She's just had dinner, so she might fall asleep on you." Your warning doesn't bother him at all, if anything, you'll probably have more pictures to add to your baby gallery on your phone if she falls asleep in his arms.

She's already a dad's girl and she's only seven months old. You thought maybe Hiro would be a mama's boy but he's definitely his daddy's son.

You don't mind though, well, sometimes you're a little jealous that you have to share your man with your kids. Kento's a very lovable man though, so you can't blame them.

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 16TH CLUELESS ━━ megumi fushiguro + step-cest !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. megumi fushiguro + step-cest. are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you? (7.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, enemies to lovers (?), step-cest, photos, videos, fingering, choking, praise kink, panty sniffing, body worship, riding stuffed animals, daddy kink, soft sex, unprotected sex, bimbo-ish + fem!reader, step-brother!megumi fushiguro.

୨୧ — director’s note. lets gooo another kinktober installment! i actually haven't written for megumi in ages and this is kinda long so...i hope this is okay? sorry this is late btw, please enjoy! <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

let’s get one thing straight. 

not all daddy’s girls are dumb.

on the contrary, you’re actually highly intelligent and thoroughly educated — graduating at the top of every single one of your classes in high school, despite negotiating a fair portion of your grades with your teachers. after school, however, you couldn’t quite figure out what you wanted to do and everyone else you knew spent their time growing up around you. daddy wanted you to go to college, get your degree so you could find your footing in the world…he would even pay for it too.

but like every other twenty-something year old girl your age, you were completely and utterly clueless about the direction you wanted to take.

perhaps that was the reason as to why your step-brother, megumi, annoyed you so much. indoctrinated into your family unit of two (yourself and your father, of course) — megumi had joined you to play happily-family when his mother married your father. their fast-paced union didn’t last long, however, for your parents were quickly divorced by the new year…and apparently, you can only divorce people. not children. meaning that your older step sibling had decided he would much rather stick around for the long haul.

it could even be said that megumi fushiguro was an even bigger daddy’s boy (or kiss ass) than you were a daddy’s girl. he went to college on daddy’s money, ate on daddy’s money and got jobs using daddy’s money and power. now, he’s some big time hot shot at an environmental law firm and it irks you just how much your father is pushing for you to be just like megumi. in everybody’s eyes, your step brother was the picture perfect child, an example to follow, a fine gem.

and since your father liked that so much; likes how responsible and diligent megumi is — it would explain why your older step-brother could get away with sneaking up on you in your own house (favourite child privileges). “what are you all dressed up for?” the husky lilt to his deep voice sends shockwaves through your system and a shiver down your spine, making you jump away from the fridge you’re rummaging through.

“a party.” you say frigidly. the dark haired male makes a face and you roll your eyes at him in a disapproving manner. as if megumi was in any position to judge you for your plans and late night endeavours. he was a boring old college student clinging to his younger step sister whilst you were doing society a favour and helping your friend get together with the guy she liked. 

it’s what you do! helping the less fortunate instead of studying for some boring piece of paper and graduate degree. 

you were such a good person. 

turning away from the cool air and dull hum of the fridge freezer, you tuck a few juices to be used as mixers for the party into your bag — ignoring the heaviness of your step brother’s admiral blue gaze as it slips over the curve of your waist, the expanse of your thighs and the bounce of your chest peeking out from your skimpy little get up. it’s funny, how you’ve never liked the way boys have looked at you in the past — but something about the way he drinks you in as if you’re the last glass of water on the plant makes your legs shaky and your breath turn short and…

“can i come?” 

with his lips pressed into a thin line and his emotions hidden behind the perfect mask of his perfect face — megumi slams the fridge door shut, to make you squeak again. his brows raising expectantly while he waits for your answer. “a-as if fushiguro.” you huff in annoyance, jabbing the older step-sibling in his shoulder as he towers over you. “aren’t you too old for house parties? i wouldn’t want you to cramp my style.” 

“i’m not that much older than you.” he laughs, it’s melodious sound sending a warmth through your body.

rolling your eyes, you snap back. “you’re old enough.” 

you make yourself small as you pass by him, attempting to escape his suffocating presence. he makes you feel weird, and you don’t exactly hate it — sure megumi is annoying, snarky and a little mean but he’s… attractive, like next level attractive. he’s got those dreamy sea-storm eyes that make you feel as though you’ll die and go to heaven, a sexy smirk that gets you hot and bothered even if it’s not directed at you. all of your friends have had crushes on your step brother at some point, ones that cause jealousy to brim just under the surface of your skin, pricking you like a thousand tiny needles. your jealousy totally doesn’t have anything to do with you trying to hook your friend up tonight by the way (lying to yourself makes you feel better).

however, feeling this way about megumi is wrong, nowhere near normal. anybody could have told you that — it’s just that your family relationships make things complicated and you don’t want to make this weird between you both. you’d never admit it, but you do enjoy the back and forth sibling-like banter the two of you have. would ruining that be worth it? even if your step-brother was like…everything you’d ever wanted in a guy; not like those snot-nosed, unhygienic, monkey-brained losers you used to go to school with. 

instead, megumi was smart, established and with his future practically set in stone. maybe that’s why you picked on him, why you acted like a spoiled brat whenever he was around, why you pretended to despise his every existence and wish he’d never become a part of your family. because megumi  constantly reminds you of your failures or what your future could be if you put your mind to it and actually tried. 

“maybe, college guys like me wouldn’t seem like such losers if you actually gave furthering your education a shot,” your step brother cuts through your thoughts, stalking behind you with his hands in his pockets as you leave the kitchen and head towards the foyer — getting ready to head out for the party. “just do what your daddy wants, angel. go to college, get your degree so he can get off my back and you can be smart like me. yeah?” 

“and why would i listen to you?” there’s nothing you can do to shake him — your older step brother tailing you as if he’s your own personal guardian. he stops walking when you stop walking, bumping into your back, while a shocked whimper lays flat on the seam on your lips. 

megumi passes you a jacket (which you slide on by yourself) whilst he chuckles again, the sound rumbling in his chest and through your body pressed hotly against his. “‘cause i’m your big brother.” his voice is almost scolding, playfully so, holding a darker tone that you almost recognise as lust whole his larger-than yours hands force their way down to the fat at your waist. “now c’mere, let me fix your outfit. can’t have you goin’ out like this…” megumi squeezes your hips, using his grip on them to spin you around so that you can face him. 

you expect him to tell you to cover up more — that your pretty white dress is too short and that you’re too promiscuous. what you don’t  expect is for the dark haired male to sink to his knees before you, soft and attentive fingers sliding up your inner leg to fix your thigh-highs as that have slipped down. you barely manage to choke back a needy moan. 

he doesn’t let up on the eye contact either; only serving to fog up your pretty little head. “s-step brother,” you manage to remind him gently, finding your voice. 

fushiguro rolls his eyes, poking his tongue into his cheek. “that was your take away, pretty girl?” he doesn’t stop touching you, going as far to peek his head up your skirt — pretending to finish fixing your socks despite the subtle press of his nose against your panties and pinging them against your backside once done fondling you. “there we go, better.” 

he even goes as far to pat your bum in accomplishment too. 

you feel pathetic for letting your step brother touch you in such a taboo way, failing to push megumi off. but he’s never been so bold and you’ve never wanted him more — craving megumi through an insatiable burning in your chest. there’s always been a sexual tension brewing between you both, fuelled by your banter, your rage and mischievousness but how could you act on it? 

megumi was practically family. your family. it would be weird. you couldn’t be anything more without crossing the line of what’s deemed acceptable and what isn’t for step siblings. you have to remember who he is to you, an older brother, a menace to your friends who crush on him and someone who had called you selfish once upon a time. 

finally snapping back to reality, you force yourself away from the tendrils of your step-brother’s grip — swiping your purse from the entryway table and storming towards the door. “you’re buggin’ gumi!” you squeak from the porch. “stop being weird a-and stay out of my room!”  

the door slams harshly as you vacate the property in favour of the party, practically running down the steps with a rapid shake of your head. doing anything you can to rid yourself of all thoughts concerning the enigma that is your older step brother.

the party doesn’t help, and instead ends up a total disaster.

your plan to set your friends up completely falls apart when your ex-best guy friend decides to make a move on you on the way home and drops you off in the middle of nowhere after rejecting him. to top it off, some asshole robs you for your fendi purse at a gas station and makes you lie down on the ground in your matching designer dress! 

the whole ordeal nearly reduces you to tears and forces you to call the one person you’d been trying to forget about all night. megumi. 

he picks you up without a word of protest, but you swear that you can feel his disappointment radiating off of him in thick, asphyxiating waves. “please don’t tell daddy,” you had sniffed, eyes big and teary. and megumi can’t bring himself to blame you or to be mad at you because you’re so sweet and sensitive and a little too good for this world. that and you have no idea how much seeing you cry fucks with his head. 

“you’re a smart girl, baby.” he’d replied softly — though his eyes were hard and his grip on the steering wheel even harder, indicated by the white of his knuckles. “you shouldn’t be messing around in places like this. it’s exactly why you should be in college.” 

like the good big (step) brother he is, fushiguro sneaks you back into the house without a word to your watchful father. instead, he spends the rest of the night comforting you with silly cartoons to heal your inner child. deep down, it means a lot — usually the two of you would argue over control of the remote, and he would always win. this time, megumi lets you be. 

“i don’t think i’m cut out for college,” you sigh after a moment’s silence, ren and stimpy providing the backing track to your vocalised thoughts. “‘m not much aside from my pretty face.” 

fushiguro rolls over so that you lay side by side, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “what would you do instead?” 

“i dunno,” growing bashful, you tuck your face into your shoulder — afraid that he might laugh. “start a fashion business, give people make overs? i think i’m good at that.” 

“you’re good at a lot of things, angel. and making people feel god about themselves is one of them,” rather than belittling your dreams, tearing them down like you’d expect — megumi encourages you, flashing you a small yet supportive smile. “you take care of people.” 

flustered by his praise, you lean into megumi’s side — playing footsie with him at the end of your bed shyly. “you’re better at taking care of me, though.” you whisper, nearly missing the way his eyes drop to your lip-gloss smudged lips. 

“yeah? s’what big brothers are for, right?” he whispers back, a breath’s width away from your lips, nose inches away from nudging yours as if he’s going to kiss you. he wouldn’t be your step-brother if he wasn’t so full of annoying surprises, instead of pulling you into a lip lock — megumi grasps at the remote on your other side in an attempt to change the channel to something more boring and scholarly. 

you protest in the form of a sibling play fight causing you both to roll around in the sheets — fighting for the remote or perhaps dominance over the sexual tension that thickens the air. heat rises throughout the room and your wrestling turns to megumi pinning you to your babyish pink sheets, straddling your waist. he grips your wrists, clasping them together between his large, veiny hands and forces them above your head.

everything happens so quickly, yet so slowly and all at once. one moment you’re fighting like siblings do and the next — megumi fushiguro is finally kissing you, tongue lapping at the crack between your parted lips from where you’ve gasped in shock. tasting every ounce and every essence of the remainder of your gloss, breathing weightily into your mouth as if it’s a relief to have it pressed against his own. you swallow everything he gives you and drink up his saliva as it pools into your mouth to the point where your head spins and you feel like he’s spiked you with arousal. 

this is wrong, on so many levels. as if you would ever make out with your step brother. but this isn’t some kind of twisted dream, it’s a reality you find yourself basking in. you pull megumi onto you by the roots of his dark hair, mewling each time your lips slot together perfectly and whining when his hips start to jut down to meet the softness of your tummy. or when his large hands push and pull at sensitive parts of your body. 

“you’re nothin’ like those college girls.” he tells you once you break apart for air. megumi’s nose nudges your cheek and his kisses dive lower into the crook of your neck while he waits for you to catch your breath. “you’re softer, prettier, you’re—“

he lets go of your wrists.

tilting your head back into your plush pillows, your shaky fingers tangle in the dark, unruly curls of your step brother’s baby hairs. “i’m what?” you tease through a series of pretty little moans, like music to megumi’s ears. you feel him twitch against your inner thigh and the temperature of his body spikes to a sweltering degree. 

“perfect.” his rough tongue swipes over your prominent collarbones and over the fabric of your dress, slipping under the crevice where your breasts meets your rib cage. using his teeth, fushiguro pulls down your dress until it inches off of your shoulders, revealing more of your skin marked with scars, beauty and stretch marks. it comes off easily, exposing you to a pair of hungry, murky blue eyes. the dress remains bunched at your middle.

you must be tripping out — you’ve never seen this look in your step brother’s eyes before. he stares up at you, lips swollen and breath ragged, as if you’re the last meal on earth he’ll ever get to taste. the sexual tension was never obvious to you, and while you’ve always found megumi weird — it didn’t mean you disliked his company. 

“quit staring,” you whine, arching your back into megumi’s touch as it drags across your searing flesh. “it’s weird…you’re making it seem like it’s a bad thing…” 

he yanks down the front of your dress, smooths down the valley between your breasts and over your tummy as they rise and fall with each of your baited breaths. “you don’t like it when i look at you, pretty baby?” then suddenly, his thumb slips back over your naked nipple, curling your sensitive areola before applying a gentle pressure that makes you jolt up the bed. “there’s nothin’ bad about you.” 

fushiguro’s grip runs down to your sides like an easy stream of water, grasping at any flesh he can while simultaneously pulling your hips up to meet his — slotting perfectly against your body to make sure you can feel how hard he is for you. “i’m not like those college girls you’re usually into…” comes your shaky whisper. “‘m too dumb.”

it’s weird, megumi’s never made you nervous until now. 

“no. you’re smart, you’re perfect… you deserve more than the guys that you’re into. you shouldn’t waste your time.” 

his steady hands slide over the curve of your ass, dip beneath the hem of your dress to play with your doughy thighs and every note of his praise is sung over your quivering body.

“so what?” you go on, stepping into the dark to explore whatever the fuck this is with your step brother. “i should waste it on college boys like you?” 

the tail end of your words are lost in a gasped breath as megumi nudges a knuckle against the crotch of your underwear — chuckling softly at the wetness that pools in the seat of them. “you would be if you came with me.” a sort of sick and twisted expression, morphs on his handsome face. one that’s usually so stoic and unreactive to your whines and mewls. but this version of megumi seems to like watching you squirm, revels in the way your hips buck up on instinct the further he presses his fingers between your sticky, viscous folds. “god, sweetheart. your princess parts are already so wet for me.” 

heat flashes across your face, accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you for megumi you feel buzzing beneath your skin and swirling with the blood in your veins. the way he coos down at you, eyes hooded and tone condescending — it only serves to cloud your judgement and your mind. you shouldn’t be doing this. but you want to. so badly. 

“shut up.” you huff and look away, eyes threatening to roll back into your skull as megumi flicks at your clit from over your skimpy panties. the more he plays with you, rubs at his little sister’s cute pussy, the more your thighs twitch apart — revealing the treasure between them to his dirty-minded gaze. 

the groan that follows vibrates around in the cavity of megumi’s chest before shooting down to your glistening core as it convulses under his fingertips. “you’ll miss me when i go back, don’t deny it.” he tells you like he knows you, voice horse with growing desire. “you should really come with.” 

you scrunch your nose up at his request — of course he would choose now of all times to be annoying and tease you about college. “as if, megumi.” you warn, though it’s hard to stay mad at him when he presses two fingers against your spasming entrance, azure eyes darkening at a stream of your arousal dampens your panties — defining the shape of your puffy folds even more. 

“yeah, yeah. i know, baby. not the time, huh?” megumi hums in amusement, gaze flickering up to your face to watch it twist with euphoria as he continues to pinch and rub at your cunt until your chest is heaving. “you want it that bad. wanna be touched so bad. pretty girls like you can’t do anything without their big brothers...” while he rambles over the drool replacing logical words on his tongue, your step brother pulls his hand away from your sex briefly to push past the lace scalloping on your underwear and access your wetness. “all this, ‘cause of me?” 

“all ‘cause of you.” you breathe the words out like they’re air and nod shyly at your own admission despite the high pitched, babyish tone. to let your stupid older step brother know how much he affects you is embarrassing, borderline humiliating, but you can’t help but fall into him. megumi rewards you with two fingers stroking their way past the tight ring of your entrance, curling instantly to explore your gummy, oozing walls and locate the exact spots that make you tick.

he presses a chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek, body hunched over your shaky one as if to shield the scandalous sight from the world. his little sister split open on his fingers, drenching him in her scent and her slick as fushiguro scissors them and fucks you silly. “mhm, that’s my girl. so nice for me and my fingers. i like you better this way,” he slurs, long and dark lashes (ones that you’d die for) fluttering against your skin as his digits move faster and faster within your selfish, ribbed walls. “when all you can do is cry and make those pretty noises, instead of being a little brat to me all the time.” 

fushiguro pauses his ministrations, forcing you to wriggle and writhe and chase your pleasure for only a moment. “m-megumi!” your hips jut upwards in an attempt to coax some friction out of him, anything on your pulsing clit or against your pleasure spots dotted along your insides. ��p-please. fuck, gumi— i need it.” 

he only smiles, his thumb finding your clit and his fingers pick up the pace — bearing down on your g-spot with every thrust into your tight heat. “that’s what i like to hear, none of that back talk. just your pretty voice, beggin’ for me.” he sweet talks you over the dirty, lewd and squishy sounds from your thoroughly fucked cunt as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form a chorus with your hiccups and pathetic bleats for more — and if your body is a choir, megumi fushiguro is the conductor. he guides you to the gates of heaven, feeds you pieces of pleasure from the grapevine of sun and you let him. 

because he’s your big (step) brother, and you trust him after all. 

“fuck, you’re so pretty. could watch you make a mess of me all night.” 

the bricks bliss build up in your lower tummy, cemented together by megumi’s relentless fingers pumping in and out of your slick sex. you’re the perfect vision, a sight to behold — darling gem eyes shiny with tears, tongue tied to the roof of your mouth by strings of saliva and your body doused with a glimmer of perspiration. your step brother can’t help but create a copy of you grinding against his hand on his mind. filing it away for later. 

pulling his fingers from your selfish heat, megumi brings his hand down against it in a harsh slap — his entire body shuddering at the surprised wail you let out, and the stream of juices that fly up his arm as a result. “ooh, baby. what a pretty noise you just made.” he laments with a rough voice, soothing over the spank with soft flicks to your swollen clit. “can you do that again for me?” 

he doesn’t give you the chance to answer, spanking your pussy again, and again and again until his head is heavy with the sounds of your broken moans and your panties are soaked all the way through — darkened by the running two of your sweet honey nectar that allow his slender fingers to slip back inside you with ease. 

they tease at your stimulated walls and push and pull your tight little hole — and you swear you can practically see the stars that line the night sky with every new sensation. fushiguro is in no better state, cock painstakingly hard and straining against the insides of his sweats while his cool midnight eyes drink in the way your hips stutter and struggle to keep up with the pace of his digits inside of you. 

“‘gumi… i think i—“ your words escape you, drowned out by your own pussy as it squelches around megumi’s fingers. 

he kisses your forehead, contrasting my soft compared to the way he stretches you open and preps you for his cock. “i bet that feets good, huh? you feel like you’re gonna cum.” his tone turns into a mocking one, deep enough to send shivers down your spine and threaten to knock down the wall of mounting pleasure in your lower gut.

tears teeter over the edge of your waterline, streaking a hot path down the apples of your angelic cheeks as your hips lift off the bed — chasing the high only your big brother could give to you. “feels so good, p-please let me cum, ‘gumi.” 

you look to him for reassurance and permission, hiccuping as megumi pulls his fingers out of you to trace from your clit and down the length of your juicy slit. pride swirls in his blazing chest when your body jerks at the sensation, hips running after the source of pleasure. you’re such a good little thing, so pliant and naive — following after your step brother no matter what he does to you. maybe you’re right, maybe you’re a little too dumb for college. but it doesn’t matter right now, not with the way your creamy entrance clenched down on fushiguro lovingly, pleading with him to let you cum.

you’re so close and he knows it, he’d have given into you if he weren’t trying to make this last. 

“actually, i want you to do something for me.” he stops right before you’re about to burst, dragging his fingers out of your pulsating pussy to smear your wetness across your tummy and thighs. 

a babyish blubber bubbles up on the swell of your pouty lips, coated in a layer of salt from your free-flowing tears. “w-what? m-megumi! i was so close!” you say in a petulant manner, squishing your thigh together and trapping his hand between them as if to coax him back into making you cum.

“so spoilt, more like.” your step brother bites back, almost punishing you by removing his body from yours so that he can rid himself off all of his clothes. he tosses them off the bed, but not before pulling his phone from his sweatpants and setting it to the side.

you swallow thickly when his cock springs free and slaps against his washboard abs. megumi is lengthier than he has girth, his balls heavy with an incredulous amount of seed saved up just for you. his tip is pink, almost bright red but coated in a layer of pre that’s no doubtedly smeared along the inside of his sweats but it’s a delicious sight to see nonetheless. 

now you really must be bugging. you’re most certainly clueless to have never thought of megumi this way before today. 

your throat bobs when he grabs hold of his rock hard shaft, hissing at the first few lazy pumps he gives himself.  “i want you to do something for me. then i’ll make you cum.” fushiguro proposes gruffly, locking eyes with you carnally. “put on a show for me princess, ride one of your cute little stuffed animals over there so i can make a memory for when i go back to college.” 

his ask doesn’t register in your pretty little head, and megumi figures he might have left you dazed from withholding your orgasm. or maybe you’re distracted by the way in which he fists his cock, spreading webs of milky white up and down his shaft and over his mushroomed tip with each movement. you hardly notice the fact that he’s reached for his phone, setting it to record using his free hand. 

“you hear me, pretty… fuck…girl?” he curses in a low moan, squeezing himself. 

this time, your attention shoots to his face while your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “y-you want me to… fuck my stuffie?” 

you ask megumi so innocently, head tilted to the side like a sweet little puppy dog and he swears he might bust to you right then and there. 

“fuck…yes.” 

“and you won’t touch me?” 

“not until i’m satisfied, princess.” 

and like the bratty little sister you are, dress pushed down to your middle and makeup askew, you huff at your step-brother — all while grabbing your favourite and biggest stuffed bear to tuck against the ruined treasure between your thighs. 

“you’re so fuckin’ mean, ‘gumi,” you try to keep your cool, but you’re too sensitive — lowering your twitching sex onto the soft toy slowly. “o-oh…”

he angles the camera perfectly to record you, zooming in on your cute little cunt as it slips and slides over the bear with ease.

even beyond the camera, you’re a sight for megumi fushiguro’s sore eyes, each of your curves and dips illuminated by the glistening beads of sweat that roll over the expanse of your skin – catching the low, warm yellow light from up above. he always knew that his little step sister was pretty, practically an angel, but up until now he’d relied soley on his dirty imagination to picture the way you’d look fucking yourself for him. the stuffed toy easily disappears between the meat of your pudgy thighs as you rock back and forth over it, nudging your clit against the nose of the fluffy brown bear.

“feels good, right?” he mumbles lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. megumi can’t help but be engrossed in your every move, the soft jut of your hips and the bite down on your plump and shiny lips, the way in which your fingers dare to dance up the salacious softness to your curves and skin. “my pretty little thing. i can see why your daddy loves you so much. you’re such a good girl, listening to everything i say.”

megumi’s words waft over your mind like a thick fog of lust, darkening every pure thought you’ve ever had. your whole body twitches at their patronising air, dopamine crackling about in your skull and shooting down to the heartbeat swirling around your fluttering hole. it gushes and gushes, like an endless stream of erotica and glazes over the apex of your thighs like the shin of a sugary treat.

one that makes your step brother’s mouth water with anticipation.

each of your sweet mewls and whistle-tone bleats run through his ears like thick honey, rotting him from the inside out. perhaps that’s what makes megumi so perverted and what makes him crush on his perfect and prim little sister, you’re a fool to have not noticed it before. how he looked at you then and how megumi looks at you now, midnight blue and stormy orbs drowning with lust. your gaze flutters down to his cock, standing tall and flushed against his creamy white skin, neglected as it leaks all over his stomach.

“oh you like that, huh? you shake so much when i talk to you like that.” fushiguro starts to fist his cock faster, matching the speed at which you shakily circle your hips over the poor stuffed animal — panting as it’s fabric darkens with your wetness. “a daddy’s girl through ‘n through.” he teases while you throw it back for his phone.

sure enough, the camera picks up his warm chocolate voice as it coos its praises to you. such a good girl. ride it out princess. all of it fills you to the brim with wanton and desire, makes you crumble before the glaring lense of fushiguro’s phone.

“s-shut up.” 

“uh-uh. and you were doing so well,” your step brother sounds almost cruel, reminding you of the reasons you didn’t get along before today. acting like a school boy picking on his crush, being mean to her because deep down he knows that she likes it. that you like it. “don’t be rude baby. put on a show for ‘gumi.” 

he takes to palming himself more, precum slinging across his knuckles and down his thighs the more turned on he gets. it clings to every vein on his shaft, spreads to the weight of his balls and no doubt can be heard through the camera since slick and lewd noises of the both of you touching yourselves echo throughout your bedroom. megumi does his best to keep the camera steady, but he can’t help himself — following your movements and thrusting up into his closed fist to mock your pussy while you ride your stuffie for dear life.

you’re still so sensitive, but your big brother can tell you’re trying so hard to keep up for him — fighting off your next orgasm as it builds up strong in your lower belly. you want to please megumi, at the end of the day. a smart girl like you knows  “that’s it, keep it movin’ for me…god, you make me wanna cum.” 

you pout at the praise, rutting over the face of your stuffed animal as you breath heavy. it feels way too good, you’re overwhelmed by too many senses and megumi watching you spill your juices about the place doesn’t seem to help. dragging a hand up to your bare chest, you tweak your nipples and tug them until  a needy squeal dancing on your wobbly bottom lip — doing your very best to please the dark haired college student.

you want him to cum, want him to memorise the way your eyes roll back and your moans and quivers — you feel so beautiful beneath his heavy, desire burdened stare. “m-megumi,” you say for the millionth time that night, squirming before his very eyes while you dream on the nose of your precious toy. “i-i’m close!” your hips burn holding back you release, exhaustion and just intertwining in your veins — combusting in your lungs. 

clueless. you were absolutely clueless as to how it would feel falling apart under the caring gaze of someone who loves you so much. 

“yeah, pretty girl?” fushiguro hums gently, giving his cock one last squeeze at the base — cutting off the stream of ore that he dribbles from the source. “c’mere, i gotcha.” he shuffles over to you on the bed, catching you before you fall with his lips pressed to your wet babyish cheeks. “i’ll let you cum, but only on my cock. you’ve got to stay good for me, okay?” 

nodding timidly, you accept a few more kisses from megumi — the ones that he peppers across your face, before he manoeuvres you onto your side and nestles in right behind you. “say you want me,” the words coast along the back of your neck and your body erupts in goosebumps. his voice will always be like a dragon breathing life into a fire. sure to be careful, megumi lifts one of your thighs and hooks it over his slender waist so that he can better access your sluice sex.

he tugs your underwear to the side with one hand and positions his cock at your entrance, sliding the length of his shaft through the strings of your arousal glueing your pussy lips together. both of you hiss in harmony when his bright red tip grinds messily against your pulsing pleasure bud. your unused hole clenches around nothing, pushing out juices as if to claim megumi. 

your head rolls back to rest on megumi’s broad shoulder and you reach a hand behind you to tangle in the dark mass of his sweaty locks — keeping him close. “i need you, ‘gumi. please.” you rasp weakly as his shaft breaches your silken walls, coating him in everything your body has to offer. you spoil megumi, giving him a moment to remember before he leaves for college again.

there’s a delicious residual burn from the way his girth stretches you out causing your cunt so selfishly squeezes down on every inch of your step brother’s milky cock. with a stuttered breath, fushiguro bottoms out until his balls are pressed hotly against your ass and his seedy mushroomed tip is just grazing your womb. 

“just what i wanted to hear,” he purrs into the shell of your ear — nipping it tenderly. you blubber softly into the satin pillows, prepped with a fresh set of tears as you push back onto megumi to meet the push and pull of his dick into your tight, creamy sex. “you’ve always needed me, pretty thing. my precious baby sister, relyin’ on me for everything. even this.”

your entire body burns bright with desire for megumi, you’re surprised you’ve gone this long without him before today. maybe you’ve always needed to feel his sticky tip grind against your juicy walls or his hot breath fanning against your shoulders and neck. you’ve always needed your step brother to guide you in the right direction. you’ve always needed megumi.

“f-fuck, g-gumi!” 

fushiguro fucks you slow and softly, pouring all of his affections into you — letting it buzz in the sex scented air between your salt slicked bodies. his fingertips leave their paw prints along your tiger striped thighs and soft tummy, he’ll kiss them better later, but for now he just wants you to know how much he’s always needed you.  “oh i know pretty girl, i know.” comes megumi’s low, bristling simper — adding to the stacks of pleasure cementing together in your lower tummy. “you’re so good, taking me just right. i’ve always known you’d be good for me.” 

your back arches away from the molten centre of your step brother’s chest but he refuses to let you run from him — wrapping a strong arm around your middle to anchor you and your pussy down on his throbbing cock. “i never wanted to ruin you.” he drawls hungrily, but that doesn’t stop the salacious buck of his hips upwards and the way his hands traverse over each of your perfect imperfections. “but you’re such a sweet thing… you always have been. god, baby, you drive me crazy.” 

fumbling around on the bed, megumi gasps at the phone and hits record once more — propping the device up on the nightstand opposite you so that he can remain hands free. “this body, this princess cunt… the way you grip my hair—“ as if on cue, your fingers tighten at his dark roots and tug him down for a sloppy, spit swapping kiss. “everything about you, s’perfect.” 

the room spins with ecstasy and your pathetic screams die in your throat at the feeling of megumi’s abs contacting against your back, his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you over and over again. you drip sweet nectar onto the sheets, his pelvis and his thighs — tainting him with your precious sin. everything burns with exertion and exhaustion, so you’re forced to slump against your big brother and rely on him to carry you to the high heavens of pleasure.

he doesn’t disappoint, cupping your swaying breasts as you jolt up the bed from the force of his pounding thrusts, flicking at your nipples while keeping himself tucked in your squishy insides. you’re pleasured from every possible angle and it’s all caught on grainy film for megumi to take to college when he leaves without you. 

“‘m so fucking happy… t-that our parents got divorced. s-so that i can…have you like this.” fushiguro tongues at the pulse point under your ear, giving you one hard thrust to emphasise the point, it makes you jump, pushing you that little bit closer to the edge. your step brother never stops pumping himself in and out of you, hardly giving you a second to breathe between sucking on your tongue and slapping a hand down on your slit. 

“aren’t you happy?” he goes on to ask, carving the shape of his dick into your raw sex. “take a deep breath for me, gorgeous.” 

megumi wraps a hand around your throat from behind, squeezing ever so slightly and your glistening doe eyes tear away from the camera to focus on him. you witness the stars align in his azure orbs, the adoration they hold for you and a cry-baby wail slips from between your cherry bitten lips in response. 

“look so pretty with my hand around your throat ‘n my cock in your pussy… look at that. it’s like your body was made for me.” he chimes up again, watching the drool deep from the corner of your mouth as it hangs open with dry moans, like a a cute puppy panting. “how lucky are we?”

“o-oh! gumi!” you sniff blearily, not caring that there isn’t enough air in your brain to think straight. you’re swallowing down his cock and he’s leaking fat droplets of precum against the ridges of your walls — only adding to your wetness. megumi can’t expect a single logical thought to escape you this way. “‘m s-so glad. s-so lucky! so happy! i-i love you.”

the stuttered admission brings out the worst in megumi, causing him to lose his shit. your panties are rubbing his shaft raw, your pussy’s so good that he feels like he’s fucking high, not to mention you sound so pretty he could die here and be the happiest man alive. a feral desire takes over your step brother, his snapping his hips into you so hard that your headboard repeatedly smashes against the wall.

your panties are completely soaked through at this point, equally as ruined as your cunt… but megumi doesn’t care. “love you too. my good girl, my good fucking girl.” he coos, his thrusts growing animalistic and erratic — your bodies dancing to the tune of desire as you chase release. “can you cum for me, pretty? wanna see it, bet you’re so gorgeous when you’re cumming for me little sis.” 

despite being fucked brainless, you still manage to do what you’re told — your hips back onto his from their own accord, puffy pussy locking down on megumi’s base to keep him inside. “i’m close… r-right there gumi!” you choke out.

“right here, baby?” is all he manages to respond with, moaning pornographically into your sweaty shoulder while he shifts the angle of his thrusts. “wanna feel you gush all fucking over me.” 

that’s all you need to hear before your toe curling orgasm comes crashing down on you like a large tidal wave. the knot in your tummy finally unravels and you break beneath the pressure of it all, waves of your juices splashing out onto the sheets and megumi’s pelvis — rewarding him for fucking you this good. you cum so hard that it’s enough to force megumi from your twitching hole, expelling a musky scent into the air.

“f-fucking shit, fuuuck me…” fushiguro stumbles off the edge not long after, using the seam of your panties to finish himself off while you twitch through the aftershocks of your high. he just barely makes it, fucking your underwear and nudging his sensitive cockhead against your abused mound until he’s filling the seat of your panties with fat globs of white hot seed. “jesus…’hmygod, baby. you’re such an angel...d-did so fucking well for me.” 

he peppers you with smooches until you’re calmed down enough to be rolled onto your back. megumi is careful to pull away from you, staying close while you sniffle and come back down to earth. he babies you throughout, lifting the rest of your dress over your head and waiting until you say he can move before grabbing you a spare shirt from your dresser.

“let me see you.” megumi whispers lovingly when he crawls back onto the bed to join you. he grabs his phone from the nightstand and ends its recording, pushing your thighs apart to snap pictures of your cum soaked undies and the thick white that clings to your fat pussy lips and clit. “perfect, you’re so perfect. 

“i am?” you whinge — camera shy. but you don’t tell him to stop, letting your older step brother rub his sensitive and overworked cock over your crotch, smearing the last evidence of your orgasms against you for a quick video. another one that’ll be added to his spank bank for later. “‘gumi…” you warn once you start to feel overstimulated.

he chuckles at how whiny you are, tugging your clean shirt over your head before he pulls you into his arms. “i got it, i’m sorry.” rocking you both back and forth, fushiguro kisses the crown of your head. “yanno… if you’re so serious about not joining me at college. i’ll try and convince your dad to let you stay in town. as long as you keep up your promise and try to start a business.” 

your heart skips a beat, and you cast a glance upwards at your step brother. “really?” 

“really. if it means that much to you.” 

sleep settles heavy in megumi’s bones and on his pretty face — one you didn’t realise you loved so much. “it does! thank you, ‘gumi,” you say quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “m-maybe you college boys aren’t so bad.” 

“oh come on now, didn’t me fucking you stupid literally just prove that?” 

“maybe.” 

“so you’ll come visit me at college then. since you like me so much.” fushiguro quips cheekily, narrowly missing your swat to his chest. 

you roll your eyes and try to unravel yourself from your step brother’s affectionate grip, but don’t hide your smile. “ugh! as if, don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

but teasing megumi further only gets you dragged back into the sheets — two sets of laughter echoing throughout the room in what appears to be another sibling fight. 

except this time, you’re not as clueless. 

you know that something like this, and with megumi, means something much, much more.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

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“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 brothers best friend - request, club vibes, fluff

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content: JK is yn´s older brothers bestie, clubbing, mini sexual banter, teasing, make out, humping, chest play, confessions , childhood friends 2 lovers, biker JK, movie night, pining mutally, hopeless romantic reader, FLUFF

note from cherry: cloud anonie, this is a lot more cutesy than u requested, but i hope that's okay!!! Mwa!!

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Fleeting, a look of tension is sent your way, a familiar pair of eyes being the messanger

Jungwon is a good older brother; caring, supportive, kind. Even introduced you to his friends, let his two year younger, kind of loser sister hang out too

Talk for hours about video game interests and never really understanding the jokes until she got old enough, still, always sharing a laugh.

His best friend, Jeon Jungkook, is the complete opposite. Someone you have grown up with and always hated the guts of.

A huge ego, sexual jokes, a player who shamelessly stared at every pair of tits he saw, yours included. A guy who, honestly, didn't fit into the working class, grateful life you and Jungwon live.

Somehow, you found a way to enjoy his company, grown acustom to his banter and flirting, adapting to his sense of humor and finding yourself get a little bit excited whenever he announced he would be coming over

Nonetheless, he had always been around. For every birthday after jungwon turned 7, Jungkook was always there. Every holiday, every special dinner, countless weekends, sleepovers, parties, homework.. you name it.

Through the transformation of childhood to embarrasing teenage phases and crushes, now adulthood, young adulthood

22 isn't that grown up yet, Jungkook is closer with 24, however his mind hasn't aged since age 14, not to your understanding

The point is, he has always been there. In your life, your home, your heart.

You still remember when both of you were teens, sitting alone at your dining table and listening to him explain algebra to you,

You didn't understand a word though, distracted by the big brown doe eyes his face came with.

To be completely honest, Jungkook had been your crush from childhood.

Sure, you hated the way he did absolutely everything but you adored it at the same time. Jealous when he talked about his hook ups and that one serious girlfriend he had,

Hurt when he complimented your looks but would call you annoying afterwards

Your brothers cool, older best friend who came over almost every day.

From finding him pretty as a little girl to humping your pillow thinking about his shirtless body as a teen, the way in which Jungkook showed up in your brain always changed with maturity,

It had been clear however, that your attraction to him is more serious than purely physical, given that it had been years

It took a few exes to take your mind off for sure but at the end of the day, you would always come back to wishing the lips on yours would belong to someone else

The someone that's currently in your kitchen, drinking a glass of water and scanning over the miniskirt on your body

"Where are you going?" he asks, leaning his fully tattoed arm against the large kitchen island,

"You sound like Jungwon" you say, gathering up the coat you would wear to shield yourself of this breezy night.

He cocks his head, "i watched you grow up, i think i have every right to sound like that"

"hmm, sure. Going to a bar" you reply, putting on the black high heels next to the front door

Truth be told, you were going to a bar to attempt at meeting someone to leave with.

After years of pining and useless hope in his flirtatious nothingness, enough is enough

Enough of falling over Jungkook.

"A bar? Alone?" his muscular arms cross over his chest, grey tshirt bulging along his flexed bicep,

Was he working out more?

You nod, replying "yep" with a popping p,

He humms,

"Can i join?" his smile is infuriating, innocent and almost making you question if that was a sincere thing to ask, you giggle,

"Seriously? No?"

"A shame. You look sexy, be careful out there" he nods his chin upwards, disappearing into the depths of your brothers bedroom once again.

"He called you sexy, stop kidding me" she exclaims, rolling her eyes and throwing back yet another shot

Going out alone didn't work when you panic dialed your best friend,

The bar bustling with pretty girls and handsome guys entertaining them,

Searching for a manly snack to take home, you double take with every sleeve tatto having guy,

Looking for a piece of Jungkook in each one of them

"It's nothing nayeon really, he's always like this"

She widens her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest,

No bullshit with nayeon, if someone was gonna feed into your thoughts or pull you straight from delusion, it would be her

"No. No its not, he never called you sexy so casually. He didn't make fun of you this time. He said YOU LOOK SEXY" she empathizes the last sentence by tapping her hand on the table, Scoffing with her words

"Okay yeah, but come on?" doubtful about the possibility that he would return your multiple year long feelings, this conversation is seemingly going no where

"What?" She asks, rasing an eyebrow

You take a sip of your untouched mojito,

"If he liked me back, he would have said something. He's jungkook after all yeonie"

the sigh escaping your lips compliments an array of people leaving the club with little whispers and kisses,

Slow, quiet hushes of passion trailing out with them, leaving behind a yearning wish to feel what they must have felt in this moment

Having found love and lust in one place, taking it home, possibly cherishing it

Turning your head back to your best friend in front of you, her face glimmers in the dim light of the bar,

"I think he's been trying to show you for a long time" she says, pausing for a brief second before her face lights up

"Isn't it Jungwon's birthday next week?"

You hum, then tell her that he's planing to go to the club,

"Do you want to join too? He wouldn't mind" you ask, knowing that Jungwon always likes as many people around as possible

She nods happily, giving you her bright smile once again,

"I'd love to. Maybe you should try to get closer to him. Just try, it's gonna be okay"

Advice is often easier to give than to recieve and follow through with, especially when a good friend is on the line

Saving her from the immediate worry of absolutely embarrassing yourself when you attempt to grow closer to kook, you just smile,

"I guess it won't hurt?"

"Yeah," she replies, "maybe it will feel good"

You leave the bar without a man to fulfill a spot that wasn't molded in his shape to begin with

Slowly, the front door closes with minimal noise, only the tv playing from the living room can be heard,

Illuminating the hallway with bright, colorful flashes ever so often, you walk in without your heels and in your closed coat,

Gazing torward the large grey couch, it's occupied by your brother peacefully sleeping on one end, snoring away like it's the best sleep he's ever had

His best friend sitting a bit further, awake and attentive to the movie playing on the screen,

A rom-com you've seen dozens of times

He glances at you with a small smile, patting the space next to him,

"How was the bar?" he asks once you're planted down next to him, a strand tucked behind your ear while you let your eyes dance on the delicate features of his face

"Good, met up with nayeon" your reply only makes him nod in return, silently mustering your body up and down,

You can't tell what's behind this look,

"Movie night?" your question falls naturally to make up for the tense silence between the two of you, having long forgotten about your sibling a mere two meteres apart

Until he mentions him again

"Yeah, but hyung feel asleep as always"

With a small giggle both of you look at him,

"Typical" you say, rolling your eyes

"Wanna join me? It's pretty lonely down here"

There's a moment where his eyes stay lingering on your lips, bottom one tucked under your teeth

"Sure, i'm gonna go change first" he nods again, granting himself premission to gaze at your legs when you walk up the stairs, the silver ring in the corner of his lip now wet from being toyed with,

When you're back down in a comfortable lounge outfit and without your make up, Jungkooks breath stalls,

"Ah! Scared me" he teases, a playful smirk planted on his plump lips,

"Ha ha jeon" the face you make is enough to make him giggle, nose scrunching up and tongue sticking out

"I'm kidding i'm kidding- ouch!" exclaming dramatically while clutching his chest, he makes a fake sobbing noise before breaking out into the same laugh you're captured in,

"I was really joking, you look beautiful" he says, still focused on your bare face,

Without a second thought just hum mockingly, signaling you took it as a joke as much as you are offended

"Sorry, sorry princess" the tone he uses for your nickname is sultry, low and sounds like something you'd always imagined him to say, maybe even to whisper in your ear and make your spine tingle

Every bone in your body goes limp when you feel a muscular arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his firm chest,

His head is tuned to the tv, silently, without a word to utter at last you watch the movie,

Getting comfortable with the position, you're breath is still a little ragged from the sudden move, his hands now playing with strands of your hair, gently moving them around

"What's with the heavy breathing?" he says, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and pinching your cheek,

His eyes stay on the tv, knowing he wouldn't contain himself at the sight

You're looking up at him, glancing over the tv's reflection in his big, brown eyes,

"No idea what you're talking about" your reply is close to a whisper, still adimiring the man that's holding you near,

He chuckles, patting your head

"So the staring is probably nothing too right? Come on, you're missing the movie princess" his note comes with a little smirk,

You laugh softly, mumbling out your words

"I've seen this movie a million times"

It wasn't the first time you two cuddled either, while watching a movie he used to pull you closer. However, it had been a while since then,

You must have been 18 the last time it had happened, your reaction then no different to the one now

Rosy cheeks and a racing mind, going places far from the reality of simply laying in his arms

Remembering how you told yourself that this is enough, this is all you would want and need,

It didn't stay that way, desire of things to experince with him only growing with each passing moment of proximity

The two characters of the movie kiss and naturally you smile, entraced with the love they share

Entraced with the desire the guy feels, a spark igniting within your heart to feel this type of kiss,

Lost in thought, you don't seem to notice how Jungkook's head has turned so he could look down to your precious smile,

Contemplating wheather or not to just risk it all and pull your chin up for a kiss, upon seeing the way you melt for the love shown on screen, he wanted nothing more but to make you familair with the feeling

Get you used to what he had been wanting to give you for years

His heartbeat increases, thumping with the thought of feeling your little smile against his lips,

You do notice however, how much quicker his heart is beating, pressing your head closer to his chest,

It must be because of the loving scene, after all, once you did look at him, his head had been turned back to the tv

He decided not to risk it all,

if only he had contemplated a little while longer.

Proud, confidently gesturing to the girl he's engaged in a conversation with

He adjusts his leather jacket, leaning on the counter with his back and casually putting his hand in his pocket,

The pretty girl in front of him smiles, tracing her fingers on his arm

You're left dumbfoundedly looking at nayeon,

"See?" you say, a sad smile dripping from your lips

You can barely make out nayeon's reply though the blaring Club music, people pushing torward the bar left and right

She tells you not to worry and come dance,

You agree, turning your head to look at Jungkook one last time, wishing to see him alone or talking to Jungwon

Instead, he's still busy making another woman laugh

Today was supposed to be your last chance at growing closer to him, your time to laugh and dance with him

You were supposed to go home with him, kissing him wildly at your doorstep and hiding from your disapproving brother

Now, you're swaying your hips with a random guy you haven't seen the face of, searching for your older brother in the crowd

Nayeon is dancing with her boyfriend, giggling, holding his hand that are placed on her hips,

You wanted that to be you tonight,

Jungwon sees you and smiles, assuming you finally let someone near you after being alone for a while,

He does judge the guy, letting you know that he's keeping an eye out for you, before he turns back to conversing with his friends

The music grows louder and so does the feeling of sadness that's being chased away by alcohol and strangers around you

Meanwhile,

"Oh there she is" he smiles, nodding towards you, he could only make out your hair from the back, long and silky as it sways with the music

"Ahh, wow she's pretty" the girl says, giving Jungkook a thumbs up

"Who is?" Another girl chimes in, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend that had been talking to Jungkook the past ten minutes,

An old friend he met coincidentally while she's clubbing with her partner

"His crush, the girl over there" she signals, pointing her finger to your figure, dancing with the guy you haven't met

With his replacement, his never fulfilling replacement

"Oh wow she is but, who's that guy?"

Jungkook's eyes fall, smile turning into a clenching jaw, moving his body up immediately to get a better view

A view he didn't like seeing,

You looked absolutely gorgeous, a short, soft pink dress draping down your body, stopping mid thigh

The curve of your waist perfectly on display, light pink blush on your cheeks only adding to the glow you extent,

But your face doesn't match, he doesn't find the same glow radiating from it as he does from your body

"I gotta go, have fun minnie, you too!" He shouts while looking back, already pushing his way through the mass of people just to get to you,

You spot him too, alone, smiling with a worried expression when you make eye contact,

He snatches you away from the guy while pulling your hands in torward him, sneaking his arms around your waist

"You okay?" he asks, gently swaying the two of you around,

Your heart lights up, already sewing itself together with what you believe to be false hope

Still, your hands press on his shoulders, moving your hips to the music

The alcohol in your system not nearly enough to have gotten you tipsy

"Yeah. Why?" you reply, smiling at the way his eyes seem so focused on your face,

He glows beneath the colorful lights,

"You look sad dancing with that dude" he explains, pulling you in a little closer

A smile hits your face again, you love that he noticed, you love that he watched you

"I was sad you were busy"

The boldness of your claim takes him by surpirse, chuckling at the unusual comment

He didn't know if you were serious, but he wanted to keep playing your game

"I was talking to my friend, waiting for you actually" he winks, spining you around once before you stumble against his chest,

"Oh yeah?" You laugh, focused on his little foot movements, the dance is becoming second nature, much like your back and forth

everyone disappears when he smiles down to you,

"Yeah, she and her girlfriend said you look pretty. We all agreed on that, maybe we do have a lot in common"

Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones have been lifted from your heart,

A fresh breeze blooms within it, filling you with what you can only call confidence and hope,

Although it feels more secure than hope, almost evidently factual,

Both of you realized it in that very glimpse

"Wanna get out of here?" he whispers into your ear, having wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest

You nod, biting back a grin you have waited to unleash

He returns it, taking your hand and rushing outside the club

From the corner of your eye you see jungwon shaking his head,

"Took them long enough" he tells nayeon

She smiles, sighing

"I know right"

Once the night has quieted down from outside of the busy club, only small street lights and some pedestrians are around

Even the music is almost completely deaf to your ears, a faint melody playing in what you wouldn't need to remember

He takes you by the hips, pulling you closer to his body,

"You know what this means i hope" he says, running his tongue over his lips,

you did, you knew the moment both of you smiled at each other after the relief of the truth,

You had waited your time, it was now finally your turn to collide

"What do you mean ?"

He snarks, tilting your chin up to him with a sincere look

Knowing you just needed him to say it,

"I love you. I've liked you for years, but i think today we were meant to connect"

The soft kiss he places on your longing lips seals his sincerity, moving slowly against you in a rhythm you've dreamed of

He feels like home, he feels like years spent were worth this one kiss

You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer,

"I love you too" you mumble, losing the words to a kiss that had spoken for you before you did,

"I know" he says, resting his forhead on yours with an unsteady breath, you can't help but scoff at his cocky tone

He just laughs in return, capturing your lips in another kiss of the same kind

"Wanna ride home with me?" he asks, clasping his hand in with yours and already walking along the rocky road

"On your bike?" you're snapping to look at him, glimmering with excitment

It has been one of your teenage dreams to ride on his bike with him, wrapping your arms around his waist and just feeling the freedom of the trust you have in him

His heartthrob allure only growing after he had gotten his license at 17

He says yes, stopping in front of the black, sleek looking bike,

"But it's late kook"

Without missing a beat,

"Stay the night. I've slept over a million times. I can sleep on the guest bed if you want me to"

Your cheeks fill with heat, turning your head sideways to hide your excitement

Still, he catches it, cupping your face to turn you back towards his loving eyes,

"So?"

You grin, "hell yes"

"Okay, you need to hold on tight" his head is covered by the large helmet, leather jacket zipped up all the way to the top,

Like a scene from a movie, your hair flows with the wind, hands tightening around his waist when he begins driving, not to slow, not too fast

"Feels so nice!" You shout, closing you eyes to indulge in this new found satisfaction,

He chuckles, shouting back

"Right? I'll drive you anywhere baby!" the sweetness of his voice doesn't feel forgein or like he's jumping ahead

It all falls together perfectly, like it had always been this way

Arrving at his front door a couple minutes later, he takes off the helmet and assists your leave from the bike

Unlocking the door and getting rid of the thick jacket, he stares at your revealing dress, this time, all of his sense fully able to concentrate on you

"Are you cold? You look stunning, by the way, in case you couldn't tell from how i can't stop looking" he takes his hands to run down your sides again, placing a small kiss on your nose,

"Thank you, i know i don't have to tell you, but you look really good too" you say, caressing his face with your hands,

He notes you didn't answer his question but he doesn't push, leading you to his couch to wrap you up comfortably either way

"I do know, but it's different when my girl says it" he mutters against your lips while he places you down on the couch, climbing to hover over you

Your lips move on their very own, focused on chasing after the love in his kisses, softly humming while playing with his hair

He sneaks his tongue into your mouth, wrapping it around yours and causing for a deeper kiss,

You take it, moaning softly into it and then you play with his bottom lip, swiping your tongue across the small metal ring,

"You're my girl, you know that, right princess?"

his hands wander to your arms, caressing them while his lips move to kiss down your neck, leaving traces of wet spots and little bruises on your soft skin

Moaning in pleasure and happiness, this feeling is what you've been longing for,

It's him, he is what you were missing

It's you, it's you he needed all along

"Yours, wanted it for so long" you mumble out, getting lost in the feeling of his warmth all over you,

You can feel him smile against your neck, his head lifts to look you directly into the eyes

He's a little blushed out, lips swollen and glazed and his pretty hair is slightly messed up

One of his hands makes its way to your face, grazing his thumb over your cheek and bottom lip

"Me too, i first realized when i was 17. You were so pretty and just so.. you. It only got worse by the day" he says, although he's slightly breathy in his voice, the statement is firm

Your heart jumps, you are you

And that was enough for him

When he shifts in the couch to be more comfortable, his hips press into yours

The barrier of your thin dress not nearly enough to stop feeling his bulge inside the jeans he's wearing,

You let out a small whimper just as he groans, quickly you hide under your hands

"Oh god i-i-m sorry" you stutter out but he makes it known he didn't mind, prying your hands away immediately

"It's okay pretty, you sound cute. Are you okay with this? If we're moving too fast-"

"Please?" your whine is soft; a plea to feel him more,

He smiles, kissing you with grace and lust,

"Anything for you"

Slowly, the bulge in his pants presses into you again, his hips roll into your heat carefully, the friction immediately eliciting small groans and whimpers from your mouths,

You kiss him again, moving your hands under his shirt to touch his abs while you continue cherishing his closeness, growing wetter by the second

He takes every little moan, starting to groan himself and growing more eager, more rapid with his movements,

"So pretty, can i touch your chest baby?" he whispers against your lips, opening his eyes to watch your tits move with every roll to your core, breath fanning over your lips as ragged as yours

"Mhh, yes, please kook"

His hands occupy themselves immediately, pulling down the straps of your dress and releasing them from the cups of your bra,

He takes a second to stare, listening to your little pleas while your face is glazed with pleasure and your exposed chest moves with you,

"You're a dream" he keeps pressing small kisses to your lips, hands now working against your chest.

Squeezing the flesh, rolling his fingers over your nipples

The moans from your mouth are now rapid, your clit overwhelmingly pleased with friction and the knot in your lower abdomen close to snapping,

"Feels so good kook, gonna cum" you whisper, pulling him into a deeper kiss by the neck,

"Cum for me pretty, doing so good" he says in that airy low voice and it only takes two more pushes to make you release into your soaked panties

He stops his hips slowly, listening to your little whimpers and collecting his breath

"Felt.. so good.." he mutters into your hair, pressing little kisses to your scalp

"Mhm.. you didn't cum did you?" your question seems almost absurd to him

He chuckles, looking at your pretty face under him,

"I did. I came like a teen in my boxers, i mean god look at you"

You laugh sweetly, kissing his cheek, he returns it shortly after

"Reminds me of when i once stole your shirt from jungwons room to masturbate with"

Shamelessly admitting to one of your most down- bad moments, knowing you wouldn't be judged

He gasps, sitting you up with him,

"Oh my god, i stole your panties once!" he laughs, your eyes widen in shock as you begin laughing with him

"The stuff we did as teens man" you say with a sigh, wrapping yourself in one of the blankets around

He furrows his eyebrows,

"Teens? I did that last year"

Another gasp, this time from you

He pinches your nose, shutting your words of disbelief up with a kiss,

"Shhh shh no more. Let's sleep, I'll give you my shirt, no need to steal them anymore"

You nod, yawning and falling into his arms,

He takes your body right up with him, picking you up to his room, where you'd be sleeping in his clothes, in his arms

Just where you belonged all this time.

[solardrop]

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead. 

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you. 

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you. 

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display. 

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall. 

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’  names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile. 

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!” 

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero. 

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip. 

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting. 

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there. 

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits. 

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored. 

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him. 

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck. 

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words. 

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise. 

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile,  “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing. 

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ Chauffeur .

❥ old!manlogan x fem!reader

summary: mean old logan can’t help but to push the best thing away in his life. and you can’t help but to let go of your worst.

❥ tags: stubbornness, age gap (readers in her late 20s), reader is a mutant, old man logan having a wet dream, car sex, riding, creampies, possibly pregnancy, reader is very rich and established, brat taming, reader’s boyfriend is an ASSHOLE, logan is an asshole but that’s nothing new, etc…

note: we all wanna ride, old man logan. also, stepping away from jjk for a bit. wc: 4.9k

Everyday was the same when you got into the car. There was a smile on your face and you greeted him, even if you didn’t get a response most of the time—you still treated him with kindness. He was your driver after all and you were trusting him with your life.

“45th and Madison, please.” You placed your purse into your lap and buckled up as he pulled off from your house, keeping his eyes on the road.

“How was your night Logan? Get any rest?” You stared at the side of his face, taking in his rugged features. “Good.” Was all he grunted, hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the busy streets of New York. You didn’t bother to question him anymore, not wanting to piss him off on this beautiful morning.

The car ride was silent on the way to your company, the only thing that couldn’t be heard was the soft hum of the car and the sound of the air conditioner blowing its cool air. And when he pulled up to your job, you opened your mouth to speak, “thanks, and here—.” you leaned over and handled him an envelope full of money, the scent of cigars and cologne invading your nostrils; making you swoon.

He muttered a thanks and you quickly got out of the car, “I’ll text you what time to pick me up! Later Logan~” You waved and smiled, watching the old man pull off into the nearby traffic—before you entered the double doors to your million dollar company.

You were one of the top businesswomen in the world, employing the most mutants and paying them fairly. You started this company when you were just a teen, not seeing any jobs for mutants when you were growing up—so you decided to make that change. You wanted a safe place for mutants to be able to work in, something like your mentor; Charles Xavier wanted.

You had to do it for your people, especially when the whole world was against you all.

Even though you were a multimillionaire and you owned a license, you didn’t have time to drive yourself around. You hired Logan after a friend recommended him. They praised him for everything that he did for them, he was more than a driver, and when got the chance to meet him in person—you were sold.

You grew very fond of the older man as time passed. He plagued your mind as you worked, his face clouding your thoughts while you were in important meetings—driving you insane. It was clear as day that you had a crush on him, however despite how you felt; you knew he would never think of you like the way you thought of him.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Wear that red dress that makes you look like a fucking supermodel?” The voice of your business partner and boyfriend broke you out of your daze, while the two of you ate lunch in the high-end lounge your company acquired.

Eric, was a guy you met at a press conference that supported you when you wanted to have more mutants employed and treated as normal in the world, when the public was against your kind. He was intelligent and an all around amazing person, and when he asked you out one day—the two of you immediately hit it off. You were happy to have him…..but there was something you didn’t like. He would put himself first before you.

He did this a couple of times, putting him and his buddies before you; and you called him out on it—but he always apologized and told you it wouldn’t happen again. Liar.

“Will it just be us this time? Last time it was me and your frat brothers. And I hate that night, you left me all alone.” You pouted and he chuckled before leaning over to kiss your lips. “It’ll just be us this time, I promi—hold that thought,” his phone started to ring and he quickly pulled it out; talking to whoever was on the other end. You sighed and continued munching on your food, before you headed back to your office; alone.

Logan was already outside of your office when you finally exited your company’s building. You hopped into the truck and he pulled off once you buckled up, heading into the direction of your house. “How was your day Logan?” You looked at him through the mirror, studying those hazel eyes of his, which connected onto yours as he answered you.

“Good.” You smiled and relaxed into your seat, enjoying the ride back home. “Oh, Eric’s and I are going out to eat. You can come inside while I get ready, it shouldn’t take long.” You beamed and he tensed up in his seat. You couldn’t see it, but Logan rolled his eyes and gripped the steering wheel at the mention of your boyfriend. He wasn’t fond of him, thought the guy was an asshole from the moment he met him. He felt like you deserved better, he knew you did.

But, who was he to judge? He was no saint himself.

After he pulled up to your house and the two of you entered, you were immediately greeted by your calico—Persia. She purred and rubbed against your leg before she spotted the tall man a few steps behind you. The cat inched over to him and sniffed his pants leg, before she rubbed herself against him; purring once more. Logan grunted and you smiled, reaching down to rub the soft furred animal, “she’s never don’t that before, she usually hisses at strangers. she must really like you.”

As you stepped deeper into your house, putting down your things and slowly stripping out of your work clothes, before turning to the grumpy old man standing at your front door, “He wants me to meet him there. I’m going to get ready, in the meantime are you hungry? Food’s in the fridge.”

“I’m good.” His voice was gruff and his face was blank, when he connected eyes with you, moving away from your cat. You unbuttoned the last black button to your matching button up, leaving you in your deep green matching underwear set—causing him to look away. “I have a huge liquor cabinet, help yourself.”

He watched as you ascended up the stairs before shaking his head and entering your kitchen. He admired your boldness, comfortable enough to undress in front of him, but he felt like he didn’t deserve to see you like that. No one did. Especially that fucked face motherfucka, Eric.

Logan took a look at your cabinet, impressed with your collection of wines, cognacs and other strong liquids; but he was more impressed to see this thirty year aged whiskey you had. Hibiki Whiskey, his favorite. He smiled to himself and grabbed it along with a glass, pouring a nice bit into it; before downing it—the smoothness flowing down his throat beautifully.

He sat on your couch, sipping on the dark liquor, while taking a look around your house. He found comfort in the decor, your home felt….safe. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. It was so safe that he couldn’t help but drift off into sleep, something he hardly did lately.

He must’ve been sleeping for a while, deep into his dream; this one a little different from the one’s he usually had about you.. You had frequented his dream world on occasion when he did sleep. Your warm smile was something he saw on a daily basis; when you were cooking for him or sometimes the two of you appeared in a field of flowers—your smile overshadowed the sun. But, this one was a lot different. You were on top, riding him.

Everything felt and looked so realistic. The same emerald green set you wore was glued to your body. The panties were pulled to the side, your essence sticking to them and his cock; while you bounced. Your body looked so beautiful and he knew he shouldn’t be dreaming about you like this, but he couldn’t help himself—especially when you turned around; face contorted in sheer arousal. And then he lost it, when you opened up your mouth and moaned his name.

“Logan~” fuck, he could feel you clench down on him, as you brought your ass down on him again—moaning his name once more. But this time you were louder, repeating his name over and over again; his tired hazel eyes shooting open, staring at your own. You were standing in front of him, wearing a beautiful ruby red dress; which clung to your body and accentuated your curves, smiling at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But, I need your help zipping up my dress—please~.” He nodded, shifting in his spot to hide the boner that was poking through his black corduroy pants—reaching over to help zip you up. His rough fingers melted into your soft skin, as he held his hand on your upper back for support; his mind going right back to his dream. Fuck, he was going to hell for dreaming about you like that.

You looked beautiful, standing a little taller than usual—thanks to your gold heels that matched your jewelry. You decided to curl your natural hair, which framed your soft made-up face. He could stare at you all day.

“Thanks. I’m ready to go!” And there you go with that smile, that slowly melted his cold heart.

You waited outside of the restaurant in the car, waiting for Eric to show up. It had been ten minutes since you arrived and he still wasn’t there, wasn’t answering his phone either. Your gut told you to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to it—you were hoping he would show up. So, to get your mind off of him, you sparked a conversation up with Logan.

“Hey Logan, tell me about yourself. What do you do besides driving?” He clenched his teeth and kept a grip on the car’s steering wheel.

“Nothing.”

“Really? I heard you were a bodyguard and a hitman. What was that—“ He turned around and glared at you, cutting you off as he spoke. “Listen. I’m not one of your fucking girlfriends you sit and gossip with. Got it?” His voice was deep and scary, while his eyes told a different story. However, you nodded and looked away, blinking back the tears that wanted to leave your own.

Then, your phone rang and you immediately answered. On the other end of the line was Eric, apologizing about not showing up and begging for the two of you to reschedule. You swallowed the lump in your throat and told him that it was alright, saying you were tired anyways; before hanging up and slumping into your seat. “Take me home.” Was all that you could muster up to say, before a stream of tears cascaded down your face—ruining your makeup.

The car ride was silent, besides the sounds of your sobs—which slowly broke the old man. He kept glancing at you through the mirror, feeling like a dick because he played a part in your sadness too. But, an apart of him felt angry, he wanted to kick Eric’s ass for standing you up. How could he not see what was right in front of him?

As the car halted in front of your house, you immediately got out, slamming the door behind you before you sped walked to the front door—not looking back—too embarrassed to speak to him. And one he saw that you were safely inside, he drove off and headed into the direction of the nearby bar—ready to drink the night away.

This was one of the worst nights ever and neither of you would forget it.

The following days were like a blur for you. You hadn’t been to work for a week, taking some time off to try and understand your mental.

That day played in your mind over and over, you were hurt twice that night. But, the look on Logan’s face haunted you. You could tell there was more behind those eyes, besides all that anger, something else laid behind them—and you wanted to know more. No matter how much he tried to push you away.

Currently, you were sitting on your couch with Persia by your side, eating ice cream and watching whatever was on tv—ignoring the spam calls from Eric; when you were startled by a loud pound on your front door. You looked at the door then at Persia, fists clenched as your powers started to surge; before you started to creep towards the door. You swung it open, ready to pummel whoever was on the other side, until you saw who was standing on your porch.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, looking at the older man who was covered in blood and holding onto his arm. “Logan! What the hell happened?” You asked, helping him into your home and shutting the door afterwards—to hide him from any nosey neighbors; before you ushered him into your downstairs bathroom. He sat down on the toilet with a clang, before he started to remove his clothes; with your help.

“Whose blood is this?” You asked, putting his bloody beater into the hammer behind you before inspecting his scarred face. “Most of it was someone else’s. Don’t worry, I’ll heal.” He moved away from your touch, but you immediately pulled him back; your eyes piercing him.

“I know, but until your healing factor kicks in, im gonna help. And i'm not asking.” He chuckled and nodded his head, before you used your powers on him—stopping the blood from leaking out until his own power’s kicked in. One of his thick eyebrows raised in confusion, before you answered him.

“Blood manipulation. Now let’s put that shoulder back in place. Here, bite down on this.” You handed him a washcloth, but he declined.

“Just do it, princess. I can take it.” He reassured and you stared at him for a moment, before whispering an ‘okay’. Without warning, you gripped his arm and pushed it back into his socket, making him yell out in pain—his claws unsheathing in the process.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You apologized, making him shake his head in response. His claws retracted and he pulled you in by your waist—his body heat warming you as you stood next to him. His hazel eyes searched all over your face, lingering on your plump lips before backing up to your soft irises, “need a drink, right now.”

The two of you sat in your kitchen, sharing a bottle of ten year old cognac, while Logan shared stories about what he did—answering your question from last week. “I also take care of Charles….Charles Xavier.” You swallowed the smooth liquor, before responding.

“Oh, I knew that already.” He raised an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing. “He accidentally called on your phone, thinking I was Taco Bell, until I spoke with him. He’s a funny guy, I’ve always imagined he was……I was a big fan of his when I was younger.” There was some silence, as he thought about the Professor and his current state.

You got up from your spot and put your glass in the sink, done drinking for night, before going into the fridge for a snack—until his deep voice made you stop moving. “Look, princess….about the other night—“

“It’s fine. No need to apologize.”

“No, but I need to. I was a jerk and you just wanted to get to know me. So, I'm sorry.” He was now standing in front of you, towering over you, still shirtless from earlier. Your eyes trailed over his hairy, toned abs, before you looked up at his beautiful rugged face—pressing your thighs together as you felt that familiar pulsing between your legs. You nodded and turned on your heels to leave, but his rough hands pulled you back; making you stumble, before he caught you.

“What happened to you and what’s his face?” He spoke and you snorted, rolling your eyes at the thought of Eric. “He’s an asshole, who likes to waste my time.“

Logan clenched his teeth, feeling himself get upset at the mere thought of him mistreating you. “Dick can’t see what the hell he has right in front of him?” You blushed, and bit your bottom lip, your smaller hands reaching up to toy with his platinum dog tags. “Neither can you.”

He froze and you stopped moving, eyes slowly looking up at his, until he leaned down and pulled you in a wet, sloppy kiss. His hands immediately went down to your ass, squeezing the soft fat through your tiny black shorts; something he thought doing for a while now. You squealed when he picked you up and placed you onto the countertop behind you, never breaking his lips from yours. Despite being an old man, he still had the same strength he did when he was younger.

He kissed down from your lips to your chest that was hidden behind your hot pink beater, nipples standing at attention. He circled the imprint of them with his tongue, making you moan out, before he made his way down to your clothed cunt; your arousal plaguing his nose.

“Knew you wanted this since earlier, could smell her calling out for me~” He swiped his tongue over your clothed slit, slick already staining the dark fabric. He pulled the shorts down with ease, hazel eyes growing darker as he was met face to face with your bare cunt; your essence making your puffy lips glisten.

“Shit.” He cursed, loving the sight of your pretty pussy dripping just for him, he couldn’t help but to dive in and enjoy the meal you had set right in front of him. The sensation of his beard and his tongue rubbing against you, made you moan out; back arching off of the counter and your hands tugging on his salt n pepper colored hair—grinding against his face.

He worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, forcing more and more of your sweet translucent arousal from your aching hole; building up your orgasm. Logan spat against your soaked cunt, using his fingers to rub it all over soft lips; before pushing a thick finger into your hole—making you yell out a series of curse words.

“Gonna cum—f-fuck! Just like that Logan!” He continued to lap up your juice and pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them—making them punch your spot over and over; making you gush all over him. The grip you had on his hair was tight as you came, but he ignored it and continued to draw out your orgasm; before pulling away and pressing his wet lips against yours.

The kiss was sloppy, filled with nothing but hunger as you licked every inch of his wet face, tasting yourself; a low hum leaving his lips. And as your hand reached down to feel the bulge in his pants, he pulled away—making you whimper. But, when he backed further away and wouldn’t look at you, you noticed something was wrong.

“Logan?” You started, slipping off the counter, legs wobbling as you stood and walked over to him; only for him to back away once more.

“Gotta go. This was a mistake.” And before you could protest, he made a beeline to your front door, opening it and shutting it behind him; not bothering to grab his shirt or turning to look at you.

What the actual fuck?

You returned back to work the following day. Logan dropped you off of course, but he barely acknowledged you—evident he didn’t want to talk about what happened yesterday. But, you needed to talk about it, wondering what made him stop. Surely he didn’t think you would just be alright with him eating your pussy and making you cum, and not feel something about him?

However, you would deal with the grumpy old man later. Today, you had to face the asshole of the year, Eric. You left the car with a simple ‘bye’ to Logan, before taking the elevator ride up to your office’s floor, trying to push yesterday’s events out of your mind.

Your baby blue heels clicked on the wooden floor as you sashayed down the walk way, making heads turn and people cheer; excited for your return. However as you approached your office, you were stopped by your assistant, who had a look of worry on their face.

“What’s the matter?” You questioned, looking at your office before going back to your assistant. They gulped and prepared themselves to tell you what lies in your office.

“Mr. Eric’s in there...and he’s not alone. He’s with another—“ you cut them off and storm past them, opening the wooden door, eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of you. Your boyfriend was balls deep into your new intern, having her bent over your crisp white desk.

The sound of the door slamming shut startled them and the girl screamed, scrambling to pull her skirt down, while apologizing to you frantically. You held up your finger and shushed her, motioning to the door so she could leave. And once she did, you immediately sauntered over to the guilty male—body temperature increasing by the second.

“How long?” You questioned, your tone flat and emotionless. He stuttered, but then he looked down and looked back up—a devious smirk on his face.

“A good couple of months now. Why’d you think i pushed for you to hire her? What, did you think I’d actually love someone like you?” He chuckled, circling around you, while you raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean? Someone like me?”

“Your kind! A fucking mutant! I’ve been using you from the beginning, I just wanted to get my hands on this company—have you mutants under my control. Starting with you—“ You set him flying back with a punch to his cheek, making him fly through the door; knocking it down.

All you saw was red as you marched over to him, your employees shocked at what was going down, but none of them dared to step in. “This….this is what I expected from you people! Pure chaos and violence.” He smirked, blood pooling from his mouth as he spewed his hate.

Using your powers, you were able to make more blood flow out of him; making a wound in his lung—which caused him to cough up some more blood. And as you raised your fist to punch him once more, your wrist was caught—stopping your movements. You turned to see Logan, his hazel eyes begging for you to stop.

He smelled danger when he was on his way up to your office, since you had forgotten your phone in the car he wanted to bring it to you. Only to be met with you about to kill a man.

“He’s had enough. Let him go.” You knew better than to protest, so you used your powers to close the internal wound on Eric; calming yourself down as Logan pulled you back into his arms. “Get him out of here, he’s fired!”

You were fuming in the car. Angry was an understatement, you were pissed. You were humiliated. You were hurt. Logan couldn’t stop checking on you through the rear view mirror, until he decided to pull over to the side of the road—putting the car in park. He hopped out of the car and opened up your side door, nodding for you to get out.

“Logan—what are you—“

“Let it out. It helps to let everything out.” You squinted and chuckled. How ironic of him to try and help you not keep things bottled inside.

“You can’t be fucking serious! You of all people, trying to give advice on their feelings? You’re the fucking king of keeping things in!” You stepped closer to him, but he didn’t budge, letting you get it all out of your system.

“You pushed me away from the beginning! Then you come in my fucking house like a wounded dog and then on top of it all—you made me have the best orgasm of my life and let me fall in love with you! Who does that!” Hot tears rolled down your pretty face, while you poked into his broad chest with each word.

You were right. He did push you away. He couldn’t open his heart, his stubbornness would allow him. But, he couldn’t let his past haunt his future, not anymore. So, he decided right then and there to finally open up and let you in.

Logan pulled you in close, the smell of his cologne and the cigar he smoked earlier was soothing; it warmed you—which made it easier for you to accept his kiss. All of that anger washed over you while your tongues danced with one another. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck; while gripping your hips and picking you up—making his way over to the car and placing you in the seats, laying you on your back.

He wasted no time and tugged off your clothes, your grey dress falling to the floor; along with your panties and bra. He stepped back, taking a moment to bask in your glory. You were beautiful and he was going to cherish this moment forever.

His slacks dropped to his ankles and you watched with lidded eyes as he pulled his cock out, making them widen. “Knew you were huge~” you said, your slick pooled and dribbled down your crack, making the black leather seats glisten underneath you.

Logan grabbed his girth, rubbing against your swollen clit; eliciting moans from your sweet lips—coating himself in your fluids. Angling himself at your entrance, he pushed himself in; stretching you as he eased himself in.

“Good—…..girl. That’s it, princess—take all of it” He grunted, praising you as you were able to take all of him in one go. You winced, his tip pressing into your cervix, making you inch away from him—only to be pulled back in. He wanted you to sit there and take it. He was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Some dick.

He held your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he began to move inside of you—his strokes were deep and powerful; making your eyes roll back and your lids flutter. The more he moved, the more you grew aroused—making you a moaning mess while he fucked the shit out of you.

You clung to him with each stroke, making the older male grunt. Your tits bounced and clashed against each other as the two of you moved, hypnotizing Logan. He leaned down and plopped one of them into his mouth, sucking on your nipples like it was a peppermint. You moaned out, hands clawing at the back of the seat right next to you—pleasure too intense for you.

He was fucking you so good, splitting your pussy open with each movement; orgasm rising inside of you. “Please! Logan, I'm gonna cum! Wait—slow down—fuck!” He ignored your pleas, his pace increasing by the second. Who knew that this old man could have that much stamina?

Continuing to make a mess out of your pussy, he continued to rub against your g-spot—making your orgasm course through you. You clung to him and clenched around him sporadically, creaming all over him. He growled, feeling his own orgasm creeping up on him—but you pulled out, causing him to groan.

“Sit. Wanna ride you.”

His hands clung to your waist, helping you bounce on his dick—filling you up completely. You gripped his shoulder for support, as the car rocked with your movements. The sound of your pussy and the clapping of your ass against him, made him feral and he couldn’t help but to grip your ass—hard, pushing you further down on him.

“Fuck, princess. Where do you want it?”

“Inside! Deep inside of me.” You didn’t care what would come afterwards. You just didn’t want him to stop fucking you. Logan pressed another kiss to your lips, rough hands smacking your ass as you moved wildly—walls getting ready to milk him dry. And with a few more hard bounces, he spurted deep inside of you, inner walls being painted a nice shade of white.

Rocking your hips against him, another orgasm made your body shake; cheeks jiggling against him as you came—moaning his name repeatedly.

The two of you stayed like that, his cock softening inside of you, while he continued to bottom out—before he pulled out, tip hitting your ass. You kissed him once more, content with how the night ended; finally with the man you deserved to be with.

“I love you….promise to not push me away?”

He smiled, the first time you saw it on his face, and nodded.

“I love you too.”

[greengoblinswifey]

More than Friends- Brother’s Bsf!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you’ve always had a secret crush on Nicholas, your brother’s best friend and your childhood friend. when he invites you to his show’s premiere, long-buried feelings finally surface, and you face what’s been growing between you all these years.

warnings— friends to lovers, loss of virginity, jealous!nicholas, oral, unprotected sex(don’t let a 🥷🏿 fuck you without one) , fingering, praise kink, fluff, aftercare.

a/n— requests are open <3

You had known Nicholas Chavez for as long as you could remember. He’d been your brother’s best friend since the early days, which naturally made him a big part of your life, too. He was only three years older, but there’d always been a distinct gap, he was your older brother's cool best friend, the one you looked up to, even if you’d never admit it out loud. There was something about him, though, that always lingered in the back of your mind, a pull you couldn't quite name but always felt.

Growing up, you and Nicholas shared a special bond, separate from his friendship with your brother. You’d go out together, always managing to find matching clothes or even wearing identical rings. “Twins,” he’d joke, holding up his hand to show the ring you had given him on his birthday. It was simple and unassuming, but every time you glanced at it, there was an unspoken tension that lay just beneath the surface, neither of you daring to bring it up.

But as the years went by, things changed. Nicholas landed a role on Monsters and Grotesquerie, the TV shows that catapulted him to fame, and it wasn’t long before his life was full of red carpets and late-night shoots. He was often away, and you’d find yourself scrolling through TikTok edits of him when he was too busy to FaceTime. Everyone on social media couldn’t stop talking about how attractive he was, how lucky any girl would be to date him. A knot would twist in your stomach every time you saw those comments, jealousy mixing with a feeling you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Whenever he did have a moment to breathe, he’d reach out, sometimes posting photos of the two of you together on his stories. His fans would flock to your profile, leaving jealous comments or speculating if you were more than just childhood friends. One time, you’d posted a shot of your hand with his, each of you wearing those same rings from years ago. Fans had gone wild, and your brother hadn’t missed it, either, throwing you a suspicious glance when he’d noticed.

One day, he called you out of the blue with a proposition: he wanted you to be his plus-one for the premiere of Monsters. You’d agreed, trying to keep your excitement in check, though a part of you hoped this might finally be the moment when something would shift between you.

The night of the premiere, you could hardly believe it was happening. The cameras flashed as Nicholas introduced you to his co-stars and other industry people, and people couldn’t stop asking if the two of you were together. Each time, though, he’d shake his head with a soft laugh, throwing an arm around your shoulders and saying, “Nah, she’s like my little sister. We grew up together. It’s nothing like that.”

The words cut deeper than you’d expected. It wasn’t until that moment, standing beside him under the bright lights, that you realized you were in love with him. Maybe you had been for a long time.

It hurt, watching him play it off as though your bond meant nothing more than childhood nostalgia, knowing he would never see you the way you wanted him to.

He turned to you at one point, noticing your silence. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet tonight.”

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just, taking it all in, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking like he didn’t quite believe you, but he let it go, just pulling you closer for a photo.

At the after-party, you decided to let loose a bit. Nicholas was busy mingling, so when Cooper Koch found you, you didn’t hold back. With a mischievous grin, you allowed yourself to dance, feeling free as you moved with Cooper, who, to your surprise, didn’t seem to mind the attention either. You leaned in, laughing as the music pulsed around you, and let your body fall into rhythm with his.

Suddenly, a firm hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back, breaking the spell. “What the hell was that?” Nicholas’s voice was low, his eyes narrowed as he stared at you. He looked annoyed, even... jealous?

“I was just having fun, Nick. It’s a party,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly, though your heart was racing.

He clenched his jaw, looking away from you, and after a tense silence, muttered, “Whatever.” Then he ignored you for the rest of the night.

In response, you doubled down, laughing a little too loudly with Cooper and reaching for his hand as you leaned against him. You could feel Nicholas’s eyes on you now and then, but he kept his distance.

When the party finally ended, you were a bit tipsy, and walking in heels felt like a challenge. Nicholas was by your side in an instant, his arm slipping under your shoulders. "Come on," he muttered, guiding you out. The car ride back was quiet, filled with tension you could almost taste.

Once you reached his place, he carried you to the guest room, careful but intense, his gaze meeting yours with each step. He laid you down gently on the bed, eyes dark as they flicked from your face to your lips. For a moment, he lingered, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and kissed him.

The kiss was electric, and he leaned into it, his hands moving instinctively, pulling you closer. But just as quickly, he pulled away, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. Not with you. I can’t do that to your brother.”

You looked at him, a mix of hurt and defiance swirling in your eyes. Before he could say more, you slipped out of your dress, revealing the delicate lace you wore underneath. His breath hitched, and his eyes traveled over you, unable to tear away. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair before lowering himself back down, his lips meeting yours again, more desperate this time.

“Forget everything I said,” he whispered against your skin.

Nicholas's fingers slipped down, finding your pussy wet and eager, his touch precise as he stroked and teased you. He rubbed your clit slowly, staring into your eyes, the moment was intimate and everything you ever dreamed of. His thumb rubbed your clit as he slipped his finger inside you and you felt like the world around you ceased to exist. The pleasure built until you couldn't hold back, your body arching as he pushed you over the edge. You lay there, breathing heavily, and as he leaned back, your words broke through the haze between you.

"Nicholas, I'm a virgin," you confessed softly, your cheeks flushing as his eyes widened.

Nicholas looked down at you, visibly stunned, his voice a little rough. "Wait, you're a virgin? But, what about your exes? I thought—"

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, two boyfriends, but my brother scared them off from anything serious. And, honestly, they just weren’t, the right one." You met his gaze, your hand reaching for his. "But you are, Nicholas. I want this. I want it to be you."

He hesitated, taking in your words, the sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek, still searching for reassurance.

You nodded, your answer clear in the warmth of your expression.

He leaned down, pressing gentle kisses along your body, his touch reverent and careful. As he moved lower, he whispered, “I want to make this good for you.” His mouth pressed against your sensitive clit, eyes never leaving yours as he tasted you slowly, purposefully, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from you until you finally came, breathless.

You reached out to his clothed cock to help him, but he shook his head, a smile curving his lips. “Tonight’s about you pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. “This is your first time, and I want to make sure it’s perfect. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

The room was quiet, the kind of stillness that carried a weight of its own. The two of you sat close, the low lighting casting soft shadows across his face. Nicholas had been your friend for years, practically family, and yet, right now, that familiar face held a depth you hadn’t seen before.

He brushed his thumb along your cheek, a touch he'd offered countless times in comfort or friendship, but this time, he lingered, his thumb tracing the delicate line of your cheekbone. Your breath caught, the air thickening between you. The words tumbled from his lips, barely above a whisper, as if he feared breaking the fragile tension. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding, and took his hand, intertwining your fingers as if grounding yourself in the moment. “I’ve waited so long, Nick.” He swallowed, his gaze steady, the quiet weight of everything unspoken passing between you.

With a hint of humor to ease your nerves, you took in the sight of him, and your eyes widened. “That’s gonna go inside me?” you said, slightly stunned. He chuckled softly, with a smirk that was all confidence and warmth. “It’ll fit. I’ll make it fit.”

He placed your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Just say the word if it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

Every step was deliberate, every touch gentle as he moved slowly, his focus entirely on you. He watched your face, the slightest changes in your expression, waiting for any sign of discomfort. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as your grip tightened around his fingers. Each small movement was slow, careful, his whispered reassurances grounding you.

You gasped, and he immediately stilled, eyes scanning your face. “Everything okay?” His tone was soft, a mixture of concern and patience. A shaky breath left your lips, and you nodded, steadying yourself as his gentle encouragement filled the space between you.

“I’ve always loved you, you know that, right?” you whispered, almost afraid to say the words out loud. He hovered just inches from your face, his lips brushing against yours as he replied with a smile that held years of unspoken emotions. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice soft and warm. “I think I always have too, I was just too scared to admit it.”

Nicholas stayed close, his hand finding yours as he moved slowly, stretching you and practically reaching your cervix before whispering, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes Nicholas, please, don't stop.”

He chuckled softly, eyes full of adoration as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “You're taking me so well,” he murmured, his voice warm and encouraging. “I knew you would.” His words and steady movements built you up again until you came all over his thick cock, your body clenching around him as he held you close, grounding you with gentle praise.

“That's it, beautiful, let go for me,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder and neck. When your breathing slowed, he gently flipped you onto your stomach, his touch delicate as he continued, tracing kisses along your shoulders and down your back. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you felt the tension building again, his whispered words filling you with warmth and reassurance.

With one final thrust, he groaned, spilling onto your back, then smiled, tracing his fingers along your spine. “You’ve always had the most perfect ass,” he teased, making you laugh as you both caught your breath.

Afterward, he was attentive and gentle, cleaning you up carefully, checking in with soft words and brushing stray hair out of your face. “Are you okay baby? Did I hurt you at all?”

You shook your head, a peaceful smile spreading across your face. “No. You were perfect, Nick.”

He climbed into bed beside you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close, pressing gentle kisses along your face, your nose, your eyelids, and murmuring, “You’ve always been mine. I just, didn’t know how to tell you.” His fingers traced patterns along your back as he held you, letting the night settle around you both.

In his embrace, with his whispered reassurances, you felt safe, warm, and exactly where you’d always belonged. He was finally yours.

[folkwhoredoll]

tiny rivalries - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: when a young boy's innocent crush sparks rafe's jealousy, a sunny park day turns into a humorous showdown

word count: 0.6k

warnings/tags: fluff with sweet boyfriend!rafe

a/n: hi everyone! this fic is another fluffy boyfriend!rafe fic inspired by this tiktok video that i saw earlier (i knew it was perfect for rafe lmao) i hope you'll like this one! happy reading!

masterlist

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

You and Rafe were enjoying a sunny afternoon at the local park, lounging on a blanket spread out on the grass. The warm sun and gentle breeze made it the perfect day for a picnic. You had just finished your sandwiches when a small, curious voice interrupted your conversation.

"Excuse me," a little boy, no older than six, stood in front of you, his wide eyes fixed on you with admiration. "Are you his girlfriend?"

Rafe, who had been lying with his head in your lap, lifted his sunglasses to get a better look at the kid. You smiled down at the boy and nodded. "Yes, I am."

The child's face lit up with a mix of excitement and shyness. "Wow, you're really pretty! Are you a princess?"

Rafe's eyebrows shot up, and you could feel him tense up slightly. "She's my girlfriend," he repeated, a little more firmly this time.

The boy ignored him, his attention solely on you. "What's your name?"

You giggled, finding the whole situation adorable. "I'm Y/n. What's your name?"

"I'm Tommy," the boy said proudly, puffing out his chest. "Do you like superheroes, Y/n? I have a lot of superhero toys at home. Maybe you can come play with me sometime!"

Rafe sat up, his protective instincts kicking in. "Hey, kid, she's busy with me."

Tommy finally seemed to notice Rafe's growing irritation and glanced at him before turning back to you. "Do you think I'm cool, Y/n? I can run really fast! Wanna see?"

Before you could answer, Tommy took off running in a circle around you, his little legs pumping as fast as they could. You laughed, clapping your hands in encouragement. "Wow, Tommy, you're so fast!"

Rafe crossed his arms, glaring at the small competitor. "Yeah, real impressive, kid."

Tommy skidded to a stop, slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear. "Did you see that, Y/n? I bet I could protect you from bad guys too!"

Rafe let out a low growl, and you gently placed a hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. "Rafe, he's just a kid. It's cute."

"Cute?" Rafe huffed. "He's hitting on my girlfriend."

You chuckled and leaned in to give Rafe a quick peck on the lips. "Relax, big guy. I'm all yours."

Tommy watched the exchange with wide eyes, his childish crush evident. "You're lucky, Rafe. Y/n is the prettiest girl ever!"

Rafe softened slightly at the boy's innocent compliment but still kept a protective arm around you. "Yeah, I know. But she's mine, okay, Tommy?"

Tommy nodded, finally understanding. "Okay, Rafe. But if you ever need a superhero sidekick, you know where to find me!"

You laughed and ruffled Tommy's hair. "Thanks, Tommy. You're the best."

As Tommy ran off to rejoin his friends, Rafe pulled you closer, his jealousy melting into amusement. "You attract all kinds, don't you?"

You leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him. "Only the best."

Rafe chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "Just remember, I'm your number one fan."

"Always," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "Always."

[ham1lton]

HE SAYS TO BE COOL (I DON’T KNOW HOW YET)

pairings: jenson button x maneater!reader.

warnings: large age gap - around twenty years. a lot of judgement and criticism as there is scrutiny of your relationship.

summary: after a party at a mutual friend’s, you and jenson are photographed leaving together. the large age gap causes concern especially after your admission that you had a crush on him as a young driver.

author’s note: so this is NOT a part of the main maneater storyline. this is just a what if scenario. just something indulgent for the maneaters out there who go for dilfs! last time i checked the friendship group poll, it was practically 50/50 so until that’s decided, there is a big group of all them. also as per usual, there is a poll at the end so please vote <3

— a part of the maneater series ꕤ

liked by messybitch1, landonorris and 1,728,838 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: after the release of lewis hamilton’s newest almave drink, formula one driver y/n l/n, better known as maneater, was seen outside of the event looking quite cozy with former formula one driver and forty-four year old jenson button. how are we feeling about this new power couple, ham1ltons?

view all comments

user1: poor lewis. his drink release has been completely overshadowed by this news 😭

user3: age gap couples never last long lol. good luck but he’ll move on to the next twenty something as soon as she shows one sign of aging.

user34: SHUT UP HES SO FINE 😭 i’d do the same as you y/n girl.

-> user51: LIKE 😭😭😭 bffr. most of the ppl here would fold for their older celeb crush.

user7: idk who’s benefiting more from this relationship? but it’s definitely not love.

user9: Y/N!!!! I’LL SAVE YOU!!!

user2: not jenson going through his mid-life crisis post-divorce. girl u can do better.

user8: maneater… pls say this is a publicity stunt.

-> user73: no cause this genuinely might be her ticking off her childhood crush list. which is real but idk if it’s good for her?

user6: is she fucking all the aging drivers? or is jenson the only one stupid enough to say yes?

user25: i support it. i met my husband when i was 21 and he was 37 and we have been together almost twenty years this may. not all age gap relationships are inherently bad.

-> user4: you’re a victim 😕

user12: y’all are gross. any of us would jump at a chance to date our celeb crush. jenson is hot and y/n is a consenting adult. she’s not a child anymore. she didn’t even know him as a child. bffr.

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liked by bestie2, georgerussell63 and 3,828,782 others.

yourusername: what do you do when you haven’t seen your besties for ages? do a photoshoot in the middle of the street. how did you spend your weekend?

view all comments

bestie1: we look so good!!! it was soo good to catch up babe. we missed u!!!

-> bestie2: we’ve all been so busy it’s insane how we’ve not been able to see each other more. i was going insane without my girls!!!

user1: is she not even gonna address it?!

-> user6: big ass elephant in the room.

user4: we knew how you spent your weekend ms l/n.

landonorris: am i not your bestie? why wasn’t i included?

-> georgerussell63: or me?!

-> alex_albon: or me? 🤨

-> logansargeant: or me?? 😕

-> oscarpiastri: i get why i wasn’t included tbf.

user10: u think posting pretty girls will make us forget ur weekend escapades? … maybe. keep posting.

user2: can you guys not make everything about a man? who cares if she’s dating jenson? what does that have to do with her ability to do her job or advocate for causes?! i feel sorry for her because you guys clearly dislike her for stupid reasons and are twisting this into a way to jump her ‘ethically’ which doesn’t even make sense. the only problematic thing she’s done is date a man older than her. grow up, my god.

*liked by landonorris, bestie1, bestie2, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, logansargeant and 45,728 others. *

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liked by charles_leclerc, bestie1 and 1,092,728 others.

yourusername: italy, i love you ♥︎

view all comments

user3: get you a man that flies u out whenever ur sad.

-> user7: why are we not assuming she flew HIM out?

-> bestie2: he definitely flew her out. lmao.

user89: feels like a disaster waiting to happen lol.

-> logansargeant: not every relationship is like your parents. get therapy instead of projecting onto strangers.

user6: still a whore. i can’t stand this bitch.

-> oscarpiastri: stay mad! she’s young, successful and has many people who love and support her while you’re cursed to just scroll through her posts and seethe in your head. this one sided beef is crazy 🤣🤣!

user9: they’re cute!! idk how i’m the only one who thinks this.

user67: she’s still ugly.

-> alex_albon: looked at your pictures mate and cheers, my nan just vomited.

user12: when he leaves her >>>>

-> georgerussell63: 6.220.183.12

-> user3: NOT THE IP ADDRESS HELP?2&/&

user8: jenson. call me when you need a real woman.

-> bestie1: where is the real woman you speak of? she’s definitely NOT you.

user21: honestly? i just can’t get on board with this ship.

-> landonorris: you can’t even afford a ticket 🤣 delete this.

user10: i’m not saying shit cause why the y/n defense squad dragging people in the comments 😭

liked by oscar.priv, alex.priv and 21 others.

maneater.priv: NEED HIM CARNALLY <3

view all comments

bestie1priv: thank god he doesn’t know about ur priv account. i think he’d combust.

-> maneater.priv: nah he giggles. he thinks its funny.

oscar.priv: everyone on a campaign to save you from jenson when they should be saving jenson from YOU!

bestie2priv: LOVE U BOTH <333 cutest couple!

lando.priv: dare you to post this on ur main 😏🤣😁😝

-> george.priv: 43.0.109.12

-> lando.priv: MAN COME ON 😭

don’t want to miss out on my next post? join my taglist! if you enjoyed this, check out my masterlist or buy me a coffee! no pressure ! <3

[imaginaryf1shots]

You’re Mine | Charles Leclerc

WC: 6K

Possessive!Charles x Innocent!reader

Summery: You’re Arthur’s childhood BFF, you’ve been around the Leclerc for years before you had to move away. But now you’re back for a few months, not knowing that you’re here to stay.

Warning: Manipulation, jealousy, toxic relationships, more things to come.

AN: Honestly I have no idea what I feel a bout this, I’m not 100% satisfied. I may delete it later. my fist attempt at a dark fic.

Also, this was requested a very long time ago, I lost the request, though.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Growing up in Monaco, you went to the same school as Arthur Leclerc. Arthur, with his messy brown hair and infectious laughter, was your closest friend. Your friendship began in a playground and quickly formed an unbreakable bond. You’d always race your bikes down narrow lanes, building sandcastles on Larvotto beach, or exploring the markets with insatiable curiosity. You two were inseparable.

Your families met because of your bond, and they formed their own friendships. It was due to the closeness that your families formed that you got to meet his brothers.

You saw Charles and Arthur karting, and you;d go with them from time to time, but while they were competitive and wanted to do it for life, you just wanted to join them and have fun. One of the reasons you and Arthur got so close is because you got into what the other liked and had fun while doing it.

Yet, in the background of your friendship with Arthur was your crush on his older brother, Charles. Charles is older by a few years and carried an air of confidence that captivated your young heart. He always seemed so cool, had that unattainable air around him, his striking looks and natural charm didn’t help. He was the epitome of everything you admired, but to him you were just his little brother’s friend, a mere child.

Charles has always been so sweet with you, and no matter how much time passed the blush that always graced your cheeks around him always stayed, it was permanent whenever he was in the same room as you.

You remember vividly the simmer afternoons spent at the Leclerc household. Arthur would always drag you along to play video games or just spend time together, while Charles, often busy with his racing aspirations, would give you a smile. Those moments, however brief and meaningless in the scheme of things, fouled your childish infatuation. You watched him from a distance, never expecting to actually catch his attention one day.

You thought you were discreet with your crush, but once you’re out of earshot, the adults would always joke about it, your mums dreaming of being one family one day and planning the wedding. It amused them to see how much you hung on every world Charles said and looked at him as if he was an angel, and how oblivious Charles was.

You remember the day your world turned upside down very well, it’s etched in your memory. Your father announced out of the blue, “We’re relocating to New York.” He said, excitement in his voice. The news felt like a punch to the gut. You were only twelve, but the thought of leaving Arthur and your familiar world behind was devastating.

“We’ll stay in touch, promise?” Arthur, who was equally crushed by news said his voice was shaky but he was determined. You both exchanged trinkets as tokens of your friendship. A bracelet from you and a racing car from him.

“Always.” You replied, tears brimming your eyes.

The move was a whirlwind, and soon you found yourself in the concrete jungle of New York City, a stark contrast to the serene beauty of Monaco. Despite the distance, you and Arthur remained in touch. Long phone calls, video chats, and countless messages kept your friendship alive. You shared your experiences, your struggles, and your triumphs, growing up together despite the miles between you.

Years passed, and your infatuation with Charles dimmed to a fond memory as you immerse yourself in your new life. But as you matured, you often wondered how different things might have been if you had stayed in Monaco. The thought lingered in the back of your mind, a faint but persistent echo of your childhood dreams.

Now, at twenty-one, you stood at a crossroads, ready to reconnect with the past. The opportunity to return to Europe for a summer was too enticing to pass up. Once Arthur heard about it he was ecstatic at the prospect of you two meeting again, and plans were quickly made for your grand reunion. The anticipation of seeing him again, of revisiting the places that shaped your childhood, filled you with excitement and a touch of nostalgia.

Little did you know, this trip would be more than just a walk down memory lane. It would be a journey that would intertwine your fate with Charles once more, in ways you could never have imagined.

The plane descended towards the Côte d'Azur Airport, and as you gazed out the window, your heart raced with anticipation. The Mediterranean's blue expanse sparkled below, the coastline of Monaco coming into view. It had been a decade since you'd seen these familiar sights, but they felt like a distant yet vivid memory.

After clearing customs, you wheeled your suitcase through the bustling terminal. Your excitement was palpable, mingled with the nervousness of reuniting with a childhood friend after so long. Would Arthur have changed much? Would your bond still be as strong? It has been the same online but, being face to face could be different.

Stepping out into the arrivals area, you scanned the crowd. And there he was, Arthur Leclerc, standing tall with that same mischievous grin you remembered. His hair was a bit shorter, his features more mature, but the spark in his eyes was unmistakable. A spark that video class couldn’t carry.

“Y/N!” Arthur called out, his voice filled with joy. You waved back, and in moments, you were enveloped in a tight hug.

"Arthur! It's so good to see you." You said, pulling back to take in his appearance. “You’re so tall now.”

"It’s good to see you! You look amazing." He replied, his eyes shining with genuine warmth. "I can't believe it's been ten years, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You say tearing up, Arthur’s eyes get glossy as well, and you’re hugging once again, this time you stay in each other’s arms for a bit longer.

“Come on, let's get you out of here and catch up." Arthur says after you pull back, he takes your bags and heads to his car.

The drive from the airport to Monaco was filled with laughter and stories, both of you eager to fill in the gaps of the years apart, things that haven’t been said on calls. Arthur had grown into a confident young man, his passion for racing more intense than ever. You shared your adventures in New York, the highs and lows, and the dreamlike quality of returning to Europe.

As you arrived in Monaco, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. The narrow streets, the bustling harbour, the luxurious buildings. It was all like you remembered, yet with a sense of newness. Arthur drove you to his family's home, where you'd be staying.

Stepping inside, you were hit with memories of your childhood. The familiar scent of the house, the photos on the walls, it was like stepping back in time. Arthur took your bags to a room in a house, before you followed him.

“Y/N!” A delighted voice came from the kitchen as you walked in. Pascale Leclerc, Arthur’s mother, emerged with a warm smile. She looked hardly changed, still radiating the same kindness and elegance you remembered.

“Mama Pascale!” you exclaimed, rushing to hug her.

“It’s been too long, mon ange” She said, hugging you tightly. “Look at you! All grown up and even more beautiful.”

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. It feels like coming home.”

“We’ve missed you around here. Arthur has talked non-stop about your visit.” Pascale’s eyes twinkled.

Arthur rolled his eyes playfully. “Well, she’s finally here. And I’ve got big plans to show her around.”

“I’m sure you do. But first, let’s get you settled in.” Pascale laughed. Arthur led you to your room.

“You’ll be staying in Charles’s old room.” He said, opening the door. “He moved out a while ago, but we’ve kept it nice for guests.”

The room was spacious and neatly arranged, with a large window offering a stunning view of the city below. It felt both strange and intimate to be staying in Charles’s old room, surrounded by remnants of his past, trophies, posters, and photos of his racing career.

“Wow.” You said, looking around. “This is amazing.”

Arthur grinned. “Glad you like it. Make yourself at home. We’ve got dinner in a bit, and then I’ll show you around the house.”

After freshening up, you joined the Leclerc family for dinner, minus Charles and Enzo who were out of Monaco for a race. The meal was filled with laughter and stories, and you felt a warmth that you’d missed in New York. Pascale’s cooking was as delicious as you remembered, and the conversation flowed easily, with Arthur and his mother making you feel like you’d never left.

Later, Arthur gave you a tour of the house. As you walked through the house, memories flooded back, each room telling a story of your shared past. You spent the first week catching up, going to your favourite sports when you were young, going into Nice, meeting his friends and having the time of your lives.

"Guess what?" Arthur said with a twinkle in his eye as you joined him in the living room, one afternoon. "I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" You echoed, curious.

“Charles got us tickets for the Spain race next weekend.”

“Race?” Your heart skipped a beat. “That sounds incredible, thank you Arthur.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Charles when we see him.” Arthur shrugged off your gratitude.

”I will.” You say softly, a hint of nervousness hits you.

That evening, you and Arthur walked along the promenade, reminiscing about old times. The city was alive with activity, the sound of laughter and music filling the air. You couldn't help but feel a deep sense of belonging, a feeling you'd missed more than you realised, making you want to move back here and not return to New York after the summer.

You flew to Spain with Arthur, it was like going on a trip with your best friend after speaking about it for years, the trip made it out of the chat. You made it for qualifying day, you dressed casually, but delicately. Your style is very feminine, yet stylish, and you weren’t afraid to show some skin here and there.

You followed Arthur through the vibrant energy of the race circuit. The roar of engines, the cheers of the crowd, it was electrifying. Arthur was in his element, greeting fellow racers and team members with ease.

As you walked through the paddock, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Turning, you met the gaze of the one and only Charles Leclerc. He was standing with his team, his attention focused entirely on you. Time seemed to freeze. The boy you once had a crush on was now a strikingly handsome man, exuding charisma and confidence.

Charles hadn’t looked you up on social media so he had no idea how you looked after 10 years. Yet, he had no doubt in his mind that the female Arthur was walking with is you. His eyes ran over your cream sundress with small flowers on it, the straps were thin and there was a slit up your thigh. With every step Charles could see your leg peaking through.

Charles approached, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Arthur, who's this?” He asked, though his gaze suggested he already knew.

”Y/n, you remember her from school, she moved to New York.” Arthur grinned.

"Of course, Y/N. You've...changed a lot." He said, his voice heavy, thick.

“Well, I’m not eleven anymore.” You say with a sweet smile.

”Clearly.” Charles says under his breath, you’re more beautiful up close. “Welcome back.”

”Thanks, Charlie, it’s good to be back.” Your heart fluttered, the old nickname slipping so easily from your lips. Charles had to swallow and force a smile, it’s been seconds since he saw you again, and you already have some type of effect on him.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of excitement. You watched the quali with Arthur, cheering loudly as cars zoomed by, the drivers skillfully navigating the track. It was exhilarating, a stark reminder of the world you'd once been so close to. Charles qualified P2. You weren’t able to see him for the rest of the day, due to briefing, and strategy meetings.

The next day during a break, Arthur introduced you to some of his friends, including a few drivers. You chatted amiably, feeling the warmth of their welcome. But all the while, you were acutely aware of Charles' presence. His gaze followed you, filled with something more intense.

At one point, you found yourself alone with him in the team’s hospitality area. Charles leaned against the table, his eyes locked onto yours.

"So, what do you think of everything so far?" He asked, his voice smooth.

"It's amazing." You replied, trying to steady your nerves. "I've missed this energy."

"I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s good to see you again, Y/N. You’ve grown up." He smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that sent a shiver down your spine. The way he said it, made your heart race. There was a hint of something possessive in his tone, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it is.

"Thank you, Charles. You’ve...changed too."

”Here give me your phone, so I can put my number in.” Charles held out his hand and you gave him your phone. Charles quickly punched in his phone number and saved it. You were distracted by some shouting some people were doing and didn’t see what he was doing, giving Charles the perfect opportunity to send himself your live location and delete it from your chat. “Here you go.”

”Great.” Before you could delve deeper into the conversation, Arthur returned.

"Ready to head back?" He asked, looking between you and Charles with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, let's go." You said, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment.

Back in Monaco the days flew by in a whirlwind of races, dinners, and nostalgic explorations with Arthur. Yet, no matter where you went, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Charles’ eyes on you. Always watching you.

Charles would appear at the cafe where you and Arthur were having lunch, or join you for a spontaneous outing. His attention felt flattering, a validation of the childhood crush you’d once harboured.

One afternoon, you were walking around Monaco, before you had to meet Arthur after his appointment. While you were walking Charles found you and took the liberty to stay with you. Charles suggested a walk along the harbour, and you agreed, enjoying the idea of catching up with him.

As you strolled along the waterfront, Charles’ hand brushed against yours. The first time you deemed it an accident, but as it kept happening, that childish blush you used to have in his presence reappeared.

“You know.” He began, his voice low and serious. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you since you came back.”

”Really?” You looked up at him, surprised by his tone.

”Yes.” He said, his eyes darkening slightly, but he gave you a slight smile to cover up his inner thoughts from showing. “I can’t help but feel protective of you, you’ve grown up so much, and… well, I don’t like the idea of you being here alone, so just whenever Arthur is busy just call me, yeah?”

”Yeah, I will.” You continued walking with Charles, when a store caught your eyes. "Charlie, can we go into that store?"

“Of course.” You and Charles head into the boutique. Charles places his hand on your back as he guides you in the shop. Your cheeks flushed, you thought he'd remove his hand once you're inside the shop but his hands stayed there. Charles followed you around the shop as you looked at all the trinkets, a vintage jewellery box gaining your attention.

“Charlie, look, isn't it cute?” You pick up the box and open it, turning to show the man behind you, Charles's hand stays on you, but it moves from your back to your waist.

“It's very cute.” You look up only to see him looking at you, you bite your bottom lip to stop the smile from forming on your face, Charles' eyes fall onto your lips before they go back to your eyes. You turn back around and look through the shelves, smiling to yourself now that he couldn't see your face. Or so you thought, Charles caught your smile in one of the mirrors on the shelf. He was happy that he made you smile, your smile is so sweet he wants it all to himself. After a bit of browsing you end up with a couple things that you liked. The guy at the till smiles at you, Charles' jaw clenches. Charles' hands drop from your back to his pocket he takes out his card and hands it

to the guy.

“Charliee, I can pay.” You whine and try to give the guy your card, but Charles takes your hand in his and drops it.

“You're never paying when I'm with you, amour.” You pout but put your card back in your small bag you carried with you, trying not to over think the pet name he called you. Charles takes the bag from the cashier and you both head out, this time Charles' arm is around your shoulder. You're walking closer to each other now. Closer than before for sure.

“Thank you.” You tell him after a moment of silence, you look up at him and his face is much closer to yours now with his arm around your shoulder. “F-for buying me this, and-and for keeping me company with Arthur being busy.”

“Any time, whenever Arthur is busy just call me I'll always keep you company.” Charles says with a charming smile, reiterating what he said earlier. “Even if you want to take a break from him just tell me."

“I will.” You say with a giggle.

It was another race week and you're invited, Arthur was with his friends in F2, and so you decided to stick with Charles for most of the day. He introduced you to Rebecca and so you sat with her for lunch before KiKa also joined you and soon also Lily came. The girls were super polite they didn't ask you what your relationship with Charles, they all went through fazes of wanting to keep their relationship private, and

not confirming anything. Charles knew what he was doing, he was walking through the paddock to go from one place to the other when he saw the female gathering, he walked up behind you placing his hand on your shoulder. You look up startled before smiling when you see Charles, he greets the ladies. He leans to whisper in your ear.

“Do you need anything?”

“No thank you, don't worry about me.”

“Hard not to.: He says before he gives everyone one last smile and he leaves. The girls all share knowing looks, but keep their thoughts to themselves. It's been a while since Charles has been in a relationship, but they can see the signs.

When Charles finished his duties and heads back to where you are, he stops dead in his tracks. You're talking with Lando, smiling at what he's saying.

"Come on, mate, it's just Lando." Carlos who was walking with his teammate said seeing the look on Charles' face. He's not happy, at all. Why is Lando talking to you? Didn't he know you're with him? What could he be saying that's so funny? Lando isn't that funny. Charles walks up to you and places his hand around your shoulder, Leaving Carlos to go talk to his own girlfriend.

"Hey, I see you met y/n." Charles says with a cold smile.

"Yeah, I was telling her about Quadrent." Lando said, he picked up on Charles' demeanour and it left him confused, Charles is always kind, and easy going. He's never cold or standoffish.

"Why?" Charles asks and you look up at him confused.

"Charlie." You mumble softly, he glances down at you before his eyes settle back on Lando, who looked very uncomfortable at the moment like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "I asked him what he does when he's not racing."

"Hmm, okay, we have to go." Charles says and doesn't leave room for argument before he steers you away from the conversation and Lando.

"That was a bit rude." You mumble to Charles, he sighs and looks at you for a moment.

"I was just trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"Look, stay away from Lando, he was only talking to you because he wants to be with you." Charles tells you with so much assurance, like what he's saying is a fact.

"What? I don't think so." You frown, going over the conversation you just had with the British man, nothing standing out to you.

"Amour, I know Lando, believe me when I say he had anterior motives." You weren't 100% convinced, Charles stopped and turned you to face him, his hands on your shoulders. "Who knows Lando better?" He asked you.

"You do."

"Who knows his history with women?"

"You do.”

"Then believe me, when I say him talking with you wasn't innocent." You nod, believing him. I mean why would he lie to you? There's no reason for him to do that. You trust Charles.

The sun dipped low over Monaco, casting a warm golden glow across the city. You were sitting with Arthur at a cosy café near the harbour, sipping on an iced coffee and catching up on the latest gossip. Arthur was recounting a particularly amusing story from the paddock when you felt a familiar presence approaching.

Charles strolled up to your table, his smile bright and confident. "Hey, Arthur. Y/N," he greeted, his eyes lingering on you. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, pull up a chair." Arthur waved him over.

As Charles sat down, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze seemed to drink you in. It was intense but not entirely uncomfortable. You smiled shyly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

"So, Y/N." Charles began, leaning forward slightly, "I've been thinking. You've been back in Monaco for a while now, and I haven't really had the chance to take you out properly."

"Oh?" Your heart skipped a beat, is this really happening?

Arthur grinned, sensing what was coming. "Sounds like someone has an idea."

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me this weekend.” Charles nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Just the two of us. I want to show you around, maybe take you to a nice dinner. What do you say?"

You felt your cheeks flush with excitement. The boy you had once idolized was now a man, standing before you and asking you out on a date. The crush you thought you'd outgrown resurfaced, stronger than ever. You bit your lip, trying to contain your giddiness.

"I'd love to." You replied, your voice almost a whisper.

Charles' smile widened, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Seven it is." You agreed, your heart fluttering.

Arthur chuckled, giving you a playful nudge. "Looks like you have a date."

”Shut up.” You say under your breath fighting the blush that was a permanent fixture on your face. Arthur laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of conversation and laughter, but you couldn't shake the excitement bubbling inside you. Charles' invitation had lit a spark in you, one that had been dormant for years. You felt a renewed sense of anticipation, eager to see where this evening would lead.

When the weekend arrived, you found yourself nervously preparing for the date. You chose a dress that was elegant yet understated, wanting to strike the perfect balance. As you applied the finishing touches to your makeup, you couldn't help but smile at your reflection. This was it, the night you had been waiting for.

Right on time, Charles arrived at the Leclerc home, looking effortlessly handsome in a tailored suit. He greeted you with a warm smile, his eyes filled with admiration.

"You look stunning." He said, offering his arm.

"Thank you." You replied, feeling the blush return to your cheeks.

As you walked to his Ferrari, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The car roared to life, and soon you were speeding through the streets of Monaco, the city's lights twinkling around you. Charles drove with ease, occasionally glancing over at you with a smile.

He took you to a luxurious restaurant perched on a hill, offering breathtaking views of the city below. The maître d' greeted Charles warmly, leading you to a private table by the window. The ambiance was perfect, soft music, candlelight, and a stunning vista.

Throughout dinner, Charles was the perfect gentleman. He asked about your life in New York, genuinely interested in your stories. You talked about your friends, and the adventures you'd had. In turn, he shared his experiences on the racing tracks, the highs and lows of his career. The conversation flowed effortlessly, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

After dinner, Charles suggested a walk along the harbour. The cool night air was refreshing, and the city seemed to glow under the moonlight. As you strolled side by side, you felt a sense of contentment, like everything was falling into place.

Charles stopped by the edge of the water, turning to face you. "I've really enjoyed tonight," he said softly. "It's been wonderful getting to know you again, Y/N."

"I've enjoyed it too." You replied, your heart racing.

"I hope we can do this again. Soon." He took your hand, his touch gentle but firm.

“I'd like that, Charles." You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness.

As he walked you back to his car, you felt a sense of warmth and belonging. Charles opened the door for you, and as you slid into the seat, you couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of something special.

The drive back to the Leclerc home was quiet, filled with comfortable silence. When you arrived, Charles walked you to the door, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He said, his voice filled with promise.

"Goodnight, Charles." You replied, your heart full.

As you watched him drive away, you felt a sense of joy and anticipation. The night had been perfect, a dream come true. And as you lay in bed, replaying every moment, you couldn't help but smile.

Waking up the next day you open your phone and find your social media accounts which are private and full of follow requests and DM requests. You’re so confused, before you open Twitter and see pictures of you and Charles last night on a the date everywhere. You groan and lean down in bed closing your eyes.

Charles is happy with himself, those paparazzi he leaked his date info to, did a good job, taking pictures in angles that made it look like you two were kissing at one point, and much closer than you were. Now everyone will know that you’re his. His plan is working, now what he has to do is get you to come stay at his house.

One evening you found yourself at a glamorous cocktail party, filled with drivers and Monaco's high society. You wore a stunning dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, leaving very little for the imagination. Many eyes looked your way when you passed. And of course, Charles was by your side, his arm firmly around your waist.

As you chatted with one of the drivers from F2, you felt Charles' grip tightening. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened. The driver complimented your dress, and you laughed lightly, thanking him, a slight blush covering your face. A blush that has always been meant for Charles only. Before you could continue, Charles interrupted.

"y/n, can I speak with you for a moment?" He said, his voice strained but polite. You excused yourself, following Charles to a quitter corner.

"What's wrong?" You asked, noticing the tension in his posture. Charles takes a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours, in an interlock that had you shivering.

"I don't like the way he was looking at you."

"He was just being friendly, Charlie, it's a party." You say looking up at him through your lashes, Charles just wants to pull you closer and crash his lips on you in a heated kiss.

His expression darkened further. "Friendly or not, I don’t want anyone looking at you like that."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a chill down your spine. "Charles, you’re overreacting. We’re just talking."

"I don’t care. You’re mine, Y/N.” He leaned in, his face inches from yours. “And I won’t have anyone thinking otherwise."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the intensity in his eyes silenced you. It wasn’t just about protectiveness. There was a dark edge to his possessiveness, something you hadn’t seen before.

“Okay.” YOu agree meekly, Charles kisses your cheek right next to your lips, and smiles oh so sweetly at you, lacing your hands together.

“Come stay with me.” You look up at him, surprised with your eyes wide.

”What?”

“Come stay with me, I want to spend as much time with you as I can before I have to get back to Marnello.” He looks at you pleading. “Pretty please.”

”Alright, might give Arthur free time to hang out with his other friends.” You say convincing yourself that it’s a good idea, you look at your best friend and see him talking with a woman by the bar. “Or someone else.” You say with a giggle, Charles sees Arthur and smile. Good, if Arthur finds and lady friend then that would give him more time to spend with you, this sis going better than he expected.

You moved in with Charles, you had the spare room. Charles tired to convince you to stay with him, but you wanted things to go slow. But more often than not, you fell asleep on the sofa while watching something together and Charles would put you in bed with him.

Most nights will end with you sipping on a drink he makes for you, always insisting that he just wants to spoil you, after a while you’d start feeling exhausted, and fall asleep.

The next mornings, you’d usually wake up in his bed, with him laying next to you, the times you woke up after him, you’d see him awake and watching you with a deep in thought look on his face, the moment he notice you’re awake he’d smile and press a kiss to your forehead.

"Good morning.” He said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Morning." You replied groggily, a strange sense of comfort washing over you.

You were browsing through a quaint boutique downtown. Charles had suggested you update your wardrobe, and you were eager to please him. As you moved between the racks of clothing, you found yourself drawn to a beautiful blue sundress. It was light, airy, it’s something you’d usually buy without a second thought.

You held the dress up to yourself, admiring it in the mirror. It was perfect for the warm weather and would look great with the sandals Charles had bought you last week. But as you stood there, a familiar uncertainty crept in. Would Charles like it? Would he think it was appropriate?

You pulled out your phone and took a quick photo of yourself holding the dress. Your fingers hovered over the send button as you debated whether to ask him. The decision felt simple enough, yet you couldn't shake the need for his approval.

Finally, you texted him: "What do you think of this dress? Should I get it?"

You waited anxiously, your heart pounding. Within a few moments, your phone buzzed with his response: "It's pretty, but I think the neckline is a bit too low. How about looking for something else?"

You sighed, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. Charles always knew what was best, you reminded yourself. You put the dress back on the rack and continued browsing, looking for something that fit his description of appropriate.

As you moved through the store, you picked up a simple white blouse and a pair of high-waisted jeans. They were nice, but they didn't make your heart sing like the sundress had. Still, you knew Charles would approve, and that was what mattered most.

Later that evening, you returned home with your purchases. Charles was waiting for you in the living room, his eyes lighting up as you walked in.

"Hey, how did the shopping go?" He asked, standing to greet you.

"It went well." You replied, holding up the blouse and jeans. "I found these. What do you think?"

He inspected the clothes, nodding with approval. "Good choices. They'll look great on you."

His praise filled you with warmth, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

"Thanks. I'm glad you like them."

He pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead. "I always want you to look your best. You know that, right?"

“I know. Thank you for helping me." You nodded, resting your head against his chest.

As you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you realised just how much you had come to rely on his guidance. Even for something as simple as picking out a dress, his opinion was the deciding factor. It was comforting, in a way, to know that he was always there to help you make the right choices.

Gradually, your independence faded. Charles' influence seeped into every aspect of your life. You stopped wearing the dresses you loved, opting for the ones he chose. You stopped going out with friends, preferring to stay home with him. Your world narrowed to the confines of his desires, and you didn't even realise it was happening.

Before making any decision, you looked to Charles, waiting for his approval. If he nodded, you felt reassured; if he frowned, you felt anxious. Your happiness hinged on his reactions, your self-worth tied to his validation.

Charles marked you in other ways, too. He began leaving hickeys on your neck, a visible sign of his possession. "I want everyone to know you're mine." He would whisper, his voice both tender and possessive.

You accepted it, feeling a strange sense of pride in his attention. The marks he left were a symbol of his love, and you wore them like badges of honour. When people asked, you smiled and brushed it off.

But it wasn't just protection. Charles' control over you deepened, his possessiveness consuming him. You found yourself agreeing to everything he asked, trusting his judgement over your own. He convinced you that he knew what was best for you, and you believed him.

Charles made sure you stayed close. He monitored your phone, controlled your social interactions, and kept you under his watchful eye. You didn't see it as manipulation; you saw it as love. He was protecting you, caring for you, making sure you were safe.

As the months passed, you lost sight of who you were outside of Charles. Your dreams, your desires, your sense of self, all became secondary to his needs and wishes. You became a shadow of your former self, a puppet dancing to his tune.

But you didn't see it. You were blind to the darkness that had enveloped your life, the possessiveness that had taken root in Charles' heart. You were happy, in a way, content in the illusion of love and security he had created.

Charles had what he wanted: you, completely and utterly his. And you, in your innocence and naivety, believed it was exactly where you were meant to be.

Taglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house .

[jello-chennie]

✧ tough guy iwaizumi hajime who ends up falling for his best friend’s cute little sister

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)

✧ word count 857

all three of you grow up together, with you being two years younger than tooru. oikawa is always doting on you, treating you like a doll. despite the very little age gap, no matter how old you get, he’s always referring to you as his baby sister. oikawa spoils you rotten. one look from those big brown eyes you both share, but look a lot cuter on you for some reason, and oikawa can’t help but to give you whatever you ask for.

in the beginning, iwaizumi is almost like your other, more responsible big brother when things go wrong. you’re always trying to tag along with your older brother and his friend, which is a recipe for disaster sometimes.

when you inevitably take a spill, and bump your knees, tooru is rolling on the ground, shouting out against the heavens for forsaking you. how could the higher powers let you just fall to the ground like that?? but iwaizumi is is silently wiping off the pebbles from your knee with his little hands, blowing cool air to help assuage your pain. without a word, he carries you back home.

eventually you learn to stop tagging along so much. you can only handle so much pain and embarrassment. other than those moments, iwaizumi and you never really spend that much time together. for the rest of your childhood, you’re more acquaintances than anything else.

but at some point, after oikawa desperately begs you to join the boys volleyball team as it’s manager (“its the only time we’ll be together in high school, you wouldn’t ruthlessly deny your precious and loving and dashing and charming big brother this chance, would you???”), iwaizumi begins to notice you again. but this time, you’re a lot more grown up than you were before. seems like good looks run in the family.

but he’s not the only one that notices. in the same sense that oikawa seems to have the student body under his spell, it seems you do as well, and without even trying.

you’ve had a sheltered childhood that you mostly spent in doors, so you’re shyer than most people. and your brother enables you with his doting behaviour.

iwaizumi finds himself frequently getting jealous at the basket of love letters and confectionery that you have to empty out of your locker and lug home every night. iwaizumi finds that his hands begin to ache after a while bc he clenches them so hard whenever he sees another person confessing to you. and he waits with baited breath to see their disappointed faces as they walk away—an indication that you turned them down again in the way that you always shyly do; an indication that he might still have a chance, yet.

in an effort to put the moves on you, iwaizumi is constantly performing little acts of service for you. he goes out with you to the fountains to refill the water bottles so that you have some company, and so that you won’t have to carry anything heavy—that should be his job, after all. in the most cliche move ever, when an errant ball goes flying right in your direction, iwaizumi coolly catches it with one hand before it can bounce off of your head, making sure to ask you if you’re okay after. he stays behind to help you sweep the floors after practice, striking up a conversation with you. when oikawa stays behind to practice his spikes, iwaizumi walks alone with you home, making sure to keep you away from the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. iwa also makes sure to put your back against the wall of the train while standing in front of you, keeping you safe from any wandering hands.

eventually, he even starts buying your favourite milk drink from the vending machine, and brings it to you while he visits your classroom, the place where you normally eat your lunch. he sits, and eats with you (to which oikawa complains vehemently bc “why would you just sit in a different spot than we normally do without telling me?? you left me all alone!!")

iwaizumi’s actions don’t go unnoticed. you start to fall for it.

when you two eventually start to date, oikawa is whining and complaining that you two are both stealing each other away from him (there’s also relentless teasing on oikawa’s end bc “iwa-chan, isn’t funny that you fell in love with someone that looks just like me?? are you secretly gay and actually just in love with me :3 ??”)

but what’s really the kick in the back for oikawa is the moment he runs up to his precious little sister’s room to check and see what she wants for dinner. but upon opening the door, he finds both his best friend (who, of which, he didn’t even know was over their place at the moment) on top of his “adorable baby sister who can do absolutely no wrong”; the two of them are naked from the waist down, in the throes of passion.

he falls to his knees, asking god to strike him dead, right then and there.

[jinxthequeergirl]

The ol Switcharoo (pt1.)

Stan x reader/ Ford x reader

Summary: you liked to assume you knew Stanford Pines better then most, but when you return to him after am extended trip you aren't sure you really do

Warning: NONE, she's looking as all hell and I apologize, it's mess I know but it's a start ok

Chat feel free to tell me is this is a dumb idea

~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

You where a weird kid growing up.

A fact you wouldn't deny. Even as a child you knew you where diffrent and what intrested you was odd. You embraced it. You loved all things creepy and crawly. While most kids your age had posters of there favorite superheros or cartoon characters while your room was plastered with that of monsters and ghouls.

Things from Dracula all the way to the Mysterious Mothman decorated your room, they were the movies you had on repeat books you stuffed your nose in. You loved it all. As you got older, you loved them more, thrusting yourself into science to prove they could existed in the natural world that they DID!

The supernatural world was out there and you where going to explore it. Even as a kid you would be caught monster hunting always running headfirst into adventure no fears.

Your mother was supportive of your every decision regardless of if she believed it lead anywhere or not. She was more happy you where just passionate about something at all and was eager to send you to college.

That's what led you straight to Stanford Pines. The man you would proudly proclaim as your best friend. You'd met during one of your shared classes in college, quickly finding out you had almost similar interests and ideals, everything he had to say fascinated you. And he was more then happy to have someone so eager to find the supernatural with him.

Soon enough you where inseparable. (Y/n) and Standford there was no stopping the pair of you two through all of college whatever you two went through you went through together ups and downs everything was shared. Adding fiddleford to the mix and your trio was complete.

You where of course the first person he had asked to move into his house in gravity falls to further your research together.

"This place is incredible Fordsie I mean think of how much is actually out there!" You exclaimed gesturing to the untamed woods of Oregon from the roof of the house. Ford chuckled adding the finishing touches to a page in his second edition journal before offering it too you for your stamp of approval.

You gladly accepted the book. "And just think about everything else there is to come once we get the machine up and running!" You took a pen of your own and scribbled something in, nodding in agreement to his statment before sitting down beside him.

You took in a breath of fresh air and exhaled a sigh of relief. Ford copying your action. "To think I almost would have never made it this far." He said staring up at the darkening sky.

"Well let's not think like that fordsie, everything that almost stopped you from coming here got you here didn't it?" You said as if you where asking the stars that began to speckle the sky.

He looked over at you. "Everything happens for a reason sixer. Plus you got me out of it didn't you?" You joked nudging him with your elbow.

"That It did." He mused while watching you stare up at the sky with content. He gave a soft smile. Of all the great mysteries in the world, you became his favorite. It didn't matter how well he though he knew you you still surprised him every day.

That was in the spring.

Everything about your life with Ford felt new, exciting, and perfect. You felt like your bond was stronger then ever, over the summer and fall. The perfect balance of cool and calculates and a fearless risktaker. You filled in for eachother where the other lacked completing eachother perfectly. Making your adventures flow smoothly.

Ford found himself thinking like this about you more often, stealing long looks at you when he thought you weren't looking. Standing closer to you, the trash in his room became filled with crumpled ink work of your likeness.

You had enjoyed the sudden burst of closeness you two had shared over the months you'd been in Oregon together it certainly didn't go as unnoticed as he had hopped it did.

He was a smart man, that was the one fundamental truth about himself no one could deny. But he was utterly clueless when it came to his own feelings

"Oooohwe you got it baaAAD don't you Stanford?" His face flushed at fiddlefords sudden outburst of excitement. "What are you talking about!?" He asked in a sharp hushed tone quickly averting his gaze from you only a few feet away.

"Standford I have known you almost ad long as you and y/n have been friends and I'm no expert but I do think I recognize how you look at them has changed."

"I pfft.. I wouldn't...that's my bestfriend-" He fumbled for his words face flushed a deeper red then before as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Mcgucket! Fordsie! I'm head up to bed for the night! Don't stay up too late." You chimmed in with a yawn.

"Hahah! Yes very good y/n! Very good get good rest for not let the gnomes bite! Ahaha" Ford blurted. You laughed as you continued up the steps.

Fiddleford laughed once where had va ished from sight. "I'm just making an observation...I'm not saying you lay awake at night thinking about her. But your secretis safe with me." Ford let out a sigh of relief at fiddlefors reasuring words they wherent up much longer before both retiring to their rooms. Stanford proceeded to lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling.

"Oh no."

When the winter rolled around things began to change. All the good memories you had together seemed to suddenly get lost and where instead replaced with something bad.

You remember sitting next to fiddleford staring at your bestfriend fall asleep in the middle of the floor waiting for something to happen. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

You where the first tobask the question both of you had been thinking. "If this thing can offer Ford everything we need to know about starting up this portal...then I say the risk is worth it...right?"

You chewed on your inner cheek staring intently at the man on the floor.

Since the winter rolled around and Ford had met this mysterious "muse" You felt a sense of unease fall over the house, Ford had suddenly become distant always away with the being. "Are you jealous?" Fiddleford pipped up turning away from Ford.

"Jelous?" You chucked. "Of what? There's nothing to be jealous of! Or even a reason to be jealous! If Ford wants to abandon his friends for some interdemensinal being that he wont share much about or even introduce us then fine by me!" You huff out the words folding your arms over your chest.

Everything went downhill pretty fast or at least that's what your memory served, by the time you where ready for the first test of the portal all the way to fiddlefords accident with the machine your new exciting life unraveled before your eyes.

He wasn't functioning the way he used

"Fordsie...I think we need to take a break."

He was pacing infront of you rappedly tapping a pen against his temple. "We can't stop now! We are to close."

You frowned, he was different now no doubt this wasn't the same Ford you had be friened only a few years ago, this wasn't the same Ford you had grown to love. He was far more distant now, all the little things he thought went unnoticed by you completely stopped. He kept his distance now. He was losing sleep because of this now, if it wherent for you he wouldn't even be eating.

"Ford I'm serious! Fiddleford got hurt...I don't think it's a good idea to continue we need time to stop and clear our heads!"

"My head is clear y/n! With bill by my side I know we can-"

"STANFORD PINES."

Stan stopped in his tracks. It had been a while since you had referred to him like that. He turned to you watching you pinch the bridge of your nose. Since when did you look so tired? And where you...angry with him?

"Stanford our friend was hurt because of this , it's time to take a step back and to reevaluate before someone else gets hurt...we need to get out of this house...maybe out of gravity falls for a while."

Ford stared at you for a while and you stared back for some reason in only a few months it felt like the both of you where looking at strangers. You watched as the gears turned in Fords head before he spoke up.

"Your right."

You perked up at his words taken aback by them.

"I think it would be in our best intrest if we both went to see our families for some time."

Again you where surprised by the words that left his mouth. He'd never spoken to you about his family you had always assumed they wherent close. At the same time part of you hoped he'd want to vacation with you somewhere warm away from the snow. So place that would bring back the real Ford.

"OK, we can do that." You said offering a warm smile.

That night Ford helped you pack so you could catch the first bus out of gravity falls that morning, he promised he'd be leaving the next day.

It was quiet while he helped. He wasn't joking with you or excitedly retelling one of your adventures from the summer.

Your mind still kept wondering back to how this could be the same person. Maybe this was who Ford was all along and you where blinded by the thrill of adventure.

"Promise to write?" You asked

"I promise."

"I'll see you in a few weeks."

Still you knew things would be better when you both returned from a long over do break. You watched a bundled up Ford wave you goodbye from the snow as your bus pulled away and you sighed.

Ford frowned as he watched your bus drive into the distance. This was for the better right? He could see the worry and pain he had seemed to be causing you which was never his intention. He didn't want to lie to you just to get you away to take care of yourself but if that's what it took to do just that.

You eneded up returning when the snow had melted in gravity falls. You hadn't meant to be gone that long, your family had begged you to stay and your mother needed the help around the house, you had wrote Ford like you promised but it seemed like the mail was eating up your letters. Either way you had been well rested and eager to return to your friend and to work. You took a hopeful deep breath once your feet hit the gravity falls soil.

"StanFord!? Are you home yet!?" You shouted, pushing open the door to the house. You were met with silence.

"Fordsie!?" You stepped further in carefully. You noticed all of the science equipment and creatures you had collected over the past year or so had been moved and almost put on display. You heard a floorboard creek, and you stayed silent, pressing up again the wall by the door, ready to either surprise your friend or scare an enime.

The door swung open and a familiar face appeared yelling welding a baseball bat.

You screamed, falling back onto yours, butt. "FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME ITS Y/N!!!" You shouted, holding your hands up to shield yourself. He stopped yelling and lowered the bat. "Y/n?...."

"Yes, it's me. Please put the bat down!"

"What are you doing here?" He asked, placing the bat down and staring at you. "I live here with you, remember?"

The man seemed to stare at you like he was trying to figure out why he knew you. "Y/n! That's right!" He helped you up.

"I wasn't away for that long, was I fordsie?" You chuckled.

"Oh uh no no it's not that...uh come inside. we have some uh catching up to do.." You raised your eyebrow at him now, getting a better look at him. Something was off.

But you followed him to the kitchen, hoping your doubt and worry would wear off soon.

"Hey by the way...would you mind calling me stan from now on?"