#i was just messing around to see if they'd turn out good

[beetlethebug]

hello today my thoughts are consumed by Spite flirting with Emmrich and Lucanis to rile up Rook. Even better with a Rook without Spirit Sense, so they can only gauge what's going from the occasional lapse of Lucanis' control over Spite and the blushing, near-stuttering messes they become. Especially during meals with the whole Veil Guard. Spite learning some sense of subtlety through osmosis, so he starts with compliments. Granted, Spite's "subtle" compliments are typically ones without expletives, so they are still intense and heated and, if they catch Emmrich at the right time, enough to make his voice stutter.

He starts by stating the things Lucanis already likes about Emmrich. Things that they both hold in high on the list of things they appreciate about Emmrich. Flirting on Lucanis' behalf, if you would. "Lucanis loves your hands, professor," paired with just enough power exerted to force Lucanis' head to tilt in the direction of Emmrich's hands, baring his throat just enough that Emmrich can see it bob in a swallow as Emmrich finishes cutting himself a bite. "He would very much like to see those hands wrapped around something else. He made a new set of choking cords just for you. Did you know that? He made them in Mourn Watch colors."

Spite letting Lucanis retreat into his coffee, purring lowly as Emmrich's face starts to flush. Waiting until Lucanis is almost done with his drink to say, "He likes your boots better, though. He would very much like to be under them." Emmrich and Lucanis having to wave off concerns of the other Veil Guard members as they both choke, Rook glancing between the two curiously. They might not be able to hear what's going on, but they've seen the signs before. They settle more comfortably to watch the display like a sporting match.

And when Spite starts complimenting Lucanis, oh, the man nearly has to excuse himself to run his head under water, he's burning up so badly. "I like how I can feel every muscle working when we're in combat together. I like seeing your blood bead on the little cuts I make for you. I love the thudding of your heart, the feeling of your adrenaline. I like the way your brows scrunch and then get soft whenever you smell coffee for the first time. I like when you eat sweet things for me."

Spite having a little tally going, one on each thigh, for every time that he makes Lucanis and Emmrich stutter or pause during the initial flirting phase. Low little murmurs of, "That's another one," and "Oh, that one got Emmrich good." Emmrich realizes what the count is for soon enough and tries to focus more on paying attention to conversation at the dinner table, but if Spite hates anything, it's to be ignored (though he does appreciate the set of the professor's jaw, and the thudding pulse of Lucanis' heart, the heat in his blood).

If Emmrich is going to ignore him, then he'll simply up the ante. If Emmrich doesn't want to listen to all the things that he and Lucanis want him to do to them, then they'll talk about their collective favorite subject: Rook. "Look at their mouth--isn't it pretty? It'd look better full of our fingers. You should let me take over, Lucanis--I'd have them begging for it faster than you could blink. Do you think they'd lay in our lap again? I liked when we did that. Oh, maybe they'll sit in it. You liked that idea, I felt it. Emmrich, what do you think? What position do you like Rook best in? We like the sight of them on top of you. We want to see it again. Don't you want to see it again?"

Lucanis and Emmrich slamming their hands on the table, the same conclusion reached in equally frantic manners. Neve asking with a teasing smile if something is the matter, or did their conversation about Dalish alchemy really bore them to tears? Emmrich and Lucanis gritting out in the same breath, "It's Spite."

"Just tell him it's not his turn. Works for us." Taash comments, though they're grinning. They can smell how worked up these two are, and was placing bets with Davrin and Harding about which one would crack first.

"Spite," Rook scolds, but it's all grins. Their eyes are shinning, leg bouncing underneath the table. "You know you can always talk to me if you want something. No need to bully poor Emmrich and Lucanis."

"Do not encourage him," Lucanis begs, knuckles going pale from where they grip the table. Emmrich is truly struggling to regain his composure, trying to assemble anything resembling a calm front. But Spite takes the opportunity to take over, forcing Lucanis' body to relax. Digging his hands into his thighs instead, feeling Lucanis' body shudder with the ache. "I was simply telling Lucanis and Emmrich how much I appreciated them." Deceptively coy, but the sharpness in his grin gives it all away. "How much we appreciate you."

"Get a room already," Taash yells, sweeping the pile of coin she earned towards her plate.

"Well, Rook? Shall we get a room?"

[clarkeybabey]

❝ playing my heartstrings like a rock star ❞

# summary; you're messing with his feelings and he doesn't understand why

# playlist; hey arthur!, arthur hill, think i'm in love with you, chris stapleton, please notice, christian leave

# word count; 1.9k

# note; i needed a happy ending my first fic on here cant be angst<3 I did not proofread this so sorry

The three boys sat in their sitting room, a comfortable silence lingering as they scrolled through their phones. "Arthur wants to know if we're going to come to the pub with him," George finally spoke up, looking to his friends and mentally crossing his fingers they'd agree. They deserved it after the week they've had.

Arthur chews the inside of his lip waiting for Chris' reply, not wanting to be the one to reject the invitation, but he knows you'll be there after your earlier text about going for drinks.

Chris shrugs laying his phone down next to him, "I don't see why not," both he and George stand, heading in the direction of their bedrooms to grab sweaters and shoes, assuming everyone is down.

When they disappear from sight, Arthur finds himself groaning, pressing his palms so hard to his closed eyes that he sees stars dotting his vision when he eventually opens them. It's not that he doesn't want to see you, he knows that when he does he can't resist the later idea of going home with you and he hates himself for it.

"They can't know," you always say, referring to your shared group of friends, "it'll throw off the dynamic, you can just come to my flat for the night on the weekend." You're grown adults, who cares what you get into when you're alone? He doubts anyone would really care as much as you think, but every time he tries to express that someone ends up with their feelings hurt, and 99.9% of the time they're his.

He makes his way to his room, spending more time than he cares to admit trying to find the cologne he knows is your favorite. His closet's a mess, but he finds the jumper you love to steal kicking himself for trying so hard as he throws it on over his old t-shirt. He stands in his bathroom pulling a baseball cap on to cover how flat his hair had become from lying on the couch for the last two hours.

Chris is yelling something from the kitchen about how he's worse than a woman about his looks, he can't find it in himself to care enough to think of a witty reply, instead just shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

their bar of choice isn't far so they decide walking is the better and cheaper option, the walk is quick, and he stays a few paces behind his friends with music playing in his airpods as he gives himself a pep talk preparing to see you.

You sit at the bar with Becky and Arthur chatting about everything and nothing all at once, "You know, babe, I still need to get you on see it off, George and both Arthurs have nominated you now," she remarks, smirking as she brings her pint to her lips, you look to Arthur whos nodding along with her.

As the three of you chat, you're practically yelling over the people around you, "Let me know a date and we'll get it sorted," you smile, Arthur pipes up about needing the toilet and slips off his stool heading off in the direction of the restrooms.

As soon as he's out of sight, she scoots into the seat he once inhabited with her brows raised, "Anything new with you and Mr Hill?" You sigh, dreading having to answer that question, "There won't be anything new ever I don't think, I've made it clear how bad of an idea we are," your stomach turns at your own words, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea wash over you.

It wasn't like you didn't want anything other than to be with him, but everyone was so close and the what if's shadow how good the relationship could be.

What if something bad happens and you can't spend time together as a big group any longer? What if you couldn't film together? What if you had to listen to songs written about how bad of a girlfriend you were? She groans, her head falling onto her crossed arms, "You're so doubtful, darling. Give him a shot, he's such a sweet boy, especially to you." She sounded exactly like your mum when you told her the same thing after he came home with you one weekend. Sighing you continue, "I've never met someone like him-" You're cut off suddenly as rough hands slap over your eyes, "Guess who," George Clarke and his atrociously fake, heightened voice are quite unmistakable, you shove his hands away, giggling, and spin on your stool.

Your heart thumps against your chest, rattling your ribcage knowing there's no chance he and Chris showed up without the one person you've been waiting all week to see, sure enough there he is, though he's not even looking in your direction instead his eyes are glued to his phone screen with both headphones in, obviously not wanting to be here in the slightest.

You greet the boys not really paying any mind to anything being said, keeping your attention on Arthur the whole time. finally, once the four of your friends are distracted, you slip off your barstool and join him at the table he was sitting at alone, "You alright?" your question hangs in the air as you sink your teeth into the plush of your lower lip, "Fine, thanks," he replies dryly going out of his way to seem as uninterested as possible.

Scoffing, you snatch his phone from his hand, pausing whatever was playing on his Spotify, "Talk to me, please? I missed you." His eyes soften at your words as he fights with himself not to give in to you too easily, "missed you too," he mumbles as he picks at the skin on his fingers anxiously wanting to spew all the thoughts he's having about the two of you. Together.

Luckily for him, you beat him to it, "I wanna be with you," your words are lost to him at first as he sputters, not truly believing what he's just heard. He hates the way you can read his mind, "Like, seriously, I mean it, but we can't" he shakes his head bitterly, thinking this has to be some sort of sick joke you and Becky had strewn together.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that, y/n? I mean, seriously, tell it to someone else." He sounds so dismissive, and it hurts, but nothing hurts as bad as the sight of tears welling up in his pretty eyes. You just sit there, looking at him blankly with a lump forming in your throat, searching his eyes for something other than what he's said, but you can't seem to find it.

You scoff sliding his phone across the table back to him, "Right, sorry," you nod biting at the skin on the inside of your cheek, you turn on your heels and Arthur hates the look that you give him over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around yourself, like you see right through his attitude into the deeper side of things.

When you return George is wearing the glasses you mistakenly left in now-drunk Becky's purse, faking your accent in the worst way you've ever heard, "Those are prescription, you're gonna hurt your eyes," you sigh shaking your head, doing your best to smile. You pull them away from his face by the bridge, folding them to tuck into the v of your top, "Think 'm gonna get going," you mumble, avoiding everyone's eyes as the laughter dies down.

"So soonnnn?" Becky pouts jutting out her bottom lip for good measure, tucking your phone into your back pocket, murmuring something about how you have to film in the morning. Your friends say goodbye as you go around hugging everyone, when you get to Chris he pulls you in and whispers into your ear, "Take Arthur with you, please? He's bloody miserable." His breath is hot and riddled with the smell of beer as it fans across your face.

From across the room, Arthur feels his blood run hot as Chris whispers something to you and his hand lingers on your waist for longer than he deems friendly or comfortable, rolling his eyes he nibbles at the dry skin on his bottom lip until he begins to notice the familiar metallic taste of blood linger on his tongue. Nothing about this evening was going well and it just seems like lives trying to get back at him for something he doesn't even know he's done.

He was too busy in his own head to notice your presence just next to him, "C'mon, my uber's waiting," nearly falling off his stool as your words snapped him from the trance he was in, "Not up for it tonight," you scoff at his words, of course, he's thinking the opposite of what you had planned.

"Don't want you to fuck me, just wanna spend time with you," His brows raise involuntarily at your bluntness, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing you can't stay away just as much as he, boosts his confidence every damn time.

He doesn't find it in himself to reject you again, simply sliding off the still and interlocking your fingers, hoping to God every one of your friends is watching. As you make it outside your uber is in fact not there, he's about a mile out so you lean against the brick wall, Arthur's close proximity looming over you, "What was Chris on about?" Your drooping eyes shoot open, and the jealousy in his voice makes you smirk, seeing an opportunity to toy with him, just a bit,

"What's it to you," you shoot back, arms crossed over your chest he steps closer suddenly invading your space, his cologne which so happens to be your favorite begins to cloud your nose and mind as your chest rises and falls, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "You know exactly what it is to me, sweetheart."

His thumb and forefinger grip your chin forcing you to meet his eyes, the rings of his hands are cold against your heating face, "If 'm going home with you, I suggest you share." Your breath hitches at the dominance that's suddenly radiating off him, you fight the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head as his breath fans across your face, instead letting them fall closed once more.

You swallow, once more allowing eye contact, "He thought you were miserable and I should take you home with me." The smirk on your face makes Arthur regret ever telling Chris and George about how he'd wanted to spend more time with you. "I want to give this a shot," he scans your face waiting for you to remind him how you shouldn't but you don't say anything else.

"You mean it," his thumb rubs circles on the exposed skin of your hip, you nod, knowing words would betray you, "Need to hear you say it," he sounds breathless, looking at you with hopeful raised eyebrows.

"I wanna be your girlfriend-" his lips meet yours before you can even finish your thought, both hands cupping cupping your face. A wolf whistle comes from your immediate left and he pulls away but doesn't step back, shielding you from view, though you see over his shoulder as both George and Arthur hand Becky what look to be ten-pound notes.

[updownlately]

arsenal social media team...your move

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[sweetteainthesummerx]

⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *

nhl masterlist !

pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3

song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift

word count: 4.4 k

notes: I love lake quinn sm :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."

your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.

it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.

"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.

"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.

quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.

"look, quinny."

quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.

"oh." your father whispers.

"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.

"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."

your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine

"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."

"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"

"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."

"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.

the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.

you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.

and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...

he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.

it never occurred to her that he might be the one.

"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.

"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.

"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.

"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"

"birdie, it's just a joke!"

he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.

ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.

you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.

now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.

you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.

everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.

quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.

he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.

somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.

your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.

you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.

it lands on quinn.

your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.

this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.

quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.

he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.

"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.

you shook your head, "i want to."

he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.

his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.

as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.

you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.

you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me

the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.

when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.

"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.

the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.

it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,

"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.

"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.

"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.

"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.

"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.

you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.

it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.

he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.

he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.

that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.

so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.

and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.

it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.

he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.

so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.

so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.

"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.

he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.

you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.

your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.

you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.

tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"

"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.

his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.

the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.

quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.

and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.

his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.

"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.

"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."

the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.

he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?

you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.

he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.

you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.

"gas station run?" he asks.

you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."

"please? I really want chips."

you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.

the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.

you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."

"god, this is embarrassing-"

"quintin, i swear-"

"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.

there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.

the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.

"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.

"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"

"are you jealous?"

"what?"

"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"

"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.

you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.

"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"

you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.

he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see

"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.

there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.

you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.

he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.

your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.

you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.

he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.

you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.

or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.

and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.

his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.

the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.

"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.

you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.

you're mad.

you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.

you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.

you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"

it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.

he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.

you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.

that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.

quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.

you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.

"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.

you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"

quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.

the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.

he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.

"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."

suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.

you frown, realizing that you're in the air.

"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.

"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"

"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.

"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"

he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.

"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"

"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"

"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.

he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.

"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."

"quinn-"

"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.

now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.

but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.

"i love you!" you blurt out.

he turns slowly, "what?"

"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"

the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.

you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.

he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.

he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.

"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.

"say it again," he demands, just because he can.

"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.

"i love you too, chickie."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

oh, my, my, my

"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.

the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.

well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.

he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.

you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.

you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.

they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.

"i can't wait for their wedding."

"hold on, now!"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.

it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.

the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.

this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.

quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.

and more importantly, the two of you are always together.

"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"

you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.

he leads you there, like he always does.

"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.

"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.

but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.

"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.

one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.

the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.

quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.

"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.

"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.

"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.

it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.

it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.

"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.

when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.

you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.

and then he drops down on one knee.

you start crying, immediately.

that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.

he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.

you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.

you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.

you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.

your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.

jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.

Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.

jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too

the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.

this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.

your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.

he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.

you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.

your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.

sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.

quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.

he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.

quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.

you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.

but the last dance is saved for the two of you.

"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.

"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

you laugh, and so does he.

forever sounds real good to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[vivwritesfics]

Work For It

Daniel had turned their girlfriend into a pillow princess. Max needs him to fix it

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (male receiving), dom!daniel, dom!max, sub!reader, reader gets called a brat, reader gets called a good girl, spitroasting, p in v, cum swallowing

1.6K

Max x reader x daniel

Daniel had created a monster.

When their relationship had first started, their girl had been as willing to give as she was to take. She'd get on her knees for them, ride them until the sun rose. They'd do the same for her in return, happy to pay to make her as good as she made them feel.

But then Daniel began giving her everything she wanted. All she had to do was pout a little and wrap her arms around his neck. He'd kiss her pouty lips and carry her to their bedroom to bring her pleasure.

Max had to deal with the burden of it. Where Daniel was happy to do anything she asked, Max wasn't. If she wanted him to help her get off, she was going to have to return the favour.

But Daniel had turned her into a princess. A pillow princess. And Max had to do something about it. He couldn't go to her though, not when she knew she had Daniel wrapped round her finger. So, he went directly to the source.

He waited until she was napping (a regular occurrence, since she stayed up with Max most nights) to talk to Daniel.

"She hasn't sucked me off or ridden in weeks, Daniel," Max confessed, his tone hushed.

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "I'll suck you off," he said.

"Yeah, I know you will," Max snapped, but he quickly regained his composure. "But that's no the point," he said as he laid back against the couch cushions. "She doesn't do anything by lay there. You've turned her into a pillow princess and you need to fix it."

"Okay," Daniel agreed. "You, you're right. I miss seeing her on her knees for us."

Max leaned in and kissed him, an act that was quickly reciprocated. But before Daniel could push his fingers through Max's hair, messing it up, he pulled away. "Besides, if she doesn't go for it, we could always fuck each other, leave her high and dry."

So, it was decided. The next time she went to Daniel, wearing that tempting pout, he'd say no. He wouldn't give into her (but somehow Max doubted that would actually happen).

The next day, while Max was racing on the sim rig, she went to Daniel. As usual, she wore her prettiest pout as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Danny," she whined, pressing her body against his.

As her body moved against him, she felt just how hard he was in his shorts, just from her touch alone. She was going to get everything she wanted, she thought as she bit back her grin, trying to maintain her pout. "I need you," she whispered.

Daniel squeezed her arms around her, but then he gently pushed her away. "Baby, if you want Max and I to fuck you, you're gonna have to earn it."

Her pout only grew. "But Dannyyyy," she whined as she let her fingers trail down his chest, towards his trousers. This time she couldn't hide her grin as she touched his hardening length.

Again, he gently pushed her away. "Go and suck Max off if you want to get off," he said, pointing to the other room, where the rig was.

Her pout turned into a scowl as she turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine," Daniel called back as she went to stride out of the room. "You can go grumble about it and stay needy, or you can go and give Max a blow job," he said.

That stopped her in her tracks. She momentarily dropped the attitude, threw her head back, and groaned. "Fine," she muttered and took off, walking towards Max as he raced.

As she approached, she knocked on the wall. "Are you streaming?" She asked.

When Max shook his head, she approached and got down onto her knees beside him. She still wore that same scowl as got onto her knees beside him. "Schat, what're you doing?" He asked as she fished him out of his shorts.

"He won't touch me, Maxie, not until I suck you off."

Max smirked as she moved her hand up and down his shaft. He sat back, sat comfortably, went went back to racing. "Better get to work, then."

The scowl returned to her face as she moved closer, taking his cock into her mouth. It had been so long since she had last done this, it was only a matter of moments before her knees began hurting and her jaw started aching.

Plus, Max could tell she wasn't putting her all into it. But he said nothing, just shaking his head as Daniel walked into the room and sat, watching them. "She's got quite an attitude, doesn't she?"

Daniel scoffed, laughing. "She's being a little brat at the minute," he said. "Feel free to fuck her throat if you need to."

She pulled off of Max, releasing him with a pop! She sat back, trying to give her knees a rest. She wiped at her mouth, but she didn't have much time before anything else before Daniel was behind her, holding her head, pushing her back towards Max's cock. "I don't think he said you can stop."

Although he was pushing her, Daniel was still gentle. He eased her onto Max's cock, moving her back and forth. He didn't push her all the way around, didn't push her until she was gagging.

Drool ran down her chin when Daniel finally let go of her. He watched for her a moment as she worked through her aching jaw, hollowing her cheeks. Max moaned, his eyes shut as he bucked his hips towards her. He had long since crashed his virtual car, too distracted by the way she was sucking him.

"Good girl," said Daniel, hooking his fingers around the waistband of her little shorts. When he tugged them down and squeezed her ass, she moaned around Max (which felt like heaven to him).

He let her go just a little longer before touching her more. Her shorts were around her knees as Daniel touched her, felt through her folds. Her eyes were shut and she whined, taking just a moment to feel his fingers.

Max bucked up into her lips and she got to work once again. He patted her head as she moved his lips up and down his shaft. When Daniel touched her clit she jolted forward slightly, but she never released Max from her lips.

She pulled back, swirling her tongue around his tip.

"Do you think she's deserved it?" Asked Daniel as he felt just how wet she was.

"Fuck," Max hissed, steadily rocking his hips into her mouth. "Y-Yeah, she's earnt it," he replied, somewhat shakily. He never wanted it to end.

Daniel certainly agreed. He freed himself from the confines of his shorts and rubbed himself through his folds. He slowly pushed through as she let out a cry.

"You earnt this, baby," he whispered before he thrust into her.

She pulled her mouth away from Max's cock to cry out. "Fuck, Danny!" She cried as she threw her head back.

Daniel thrust into her a few times before stopping. If she wasn't going suck Max off, he wasn't going to fuck her. She let out a whine, grinding back against him. "C'mon, Danny," she said as she turned back to him and pouted.

The pout was really starting to piss him off now. "Get back to it," he said, swatting at her ass.

She returned her lips to Max, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking his entire length down her throat. She worked hard while Daniel fucked her, determined to make Max fuck.

"Oh fuck, fuck," Max cried, his fingers gripping her hair. "I'm close." He tried to pull her off, but she batted his hand away and kept working, until he was spilling his seed into her mouth.

She swallowed all he gave to her and released him from her mouth. Max grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him as Daniel fucked her. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, showing that she had swallowed it all. "Wow, princess," Max said, running her thumb over her lips.

Her eyes shut and small whines left her lips and Daniel pounded into her. "Fuck, you should feel her," he grunted as he looked towards Max.

The way she was clenching around him, it had Daniel so close. "Fucking hell." He swatted her ass again and she squeezed him tighter.

"Fuck, Danny, I'm..."

But that was as much warning as she could give him before she was finished, her body convulsing. It took a moment before she stilled, limp body held up by Max and Daniel.

Max ran his fingers through her hair, the feeling so comforting as she came down. Daniel kept going, but his pace as slowed, become sloppy. His grunts filled the apartment before he pulled out of her, spilling onto her back.

He kept a hold of her, keeping her up. Max stood, passing her to Daniel as he want to run a bath for her.

"You did so good, Baby," said Daniel as he wrapped her in his arms. "I'm so proud of you."

She curled into Daniel's hold, her head against his chest as she kissed his skin. "Thank you, Danny," she whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "But, do we have to do that again? I miss you taking care of me."

Daniel's laugh shook his entire body. "Nice try, princess," he said as he picked her up, carrying her to the bathroom.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 | 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐇𝐨 ♡

Day Fourteen - Cum play

【Synopsis】 : Your roommates decided to play a little game, and you were the prize.

『Word count』 : 3.03k

-> Genre: FWB. Smut. PWP

Pairing: Roommates!WooSanHo x Fem!Reader 

[Warnings] : Dirty talk. Bets. unprotected sex. Multi orgasms. Pet names. Lots of bodily fluids. Listen, this is a mess. Spit. Breats play. Cum everywhere. Cum eating. Possessive Jongho. Switch!Wooyoung. Soft Dom!San. Power Dom!Jongho. Making out. Hickies. Squirting. Face fucking. anal.

Note: Thank you to my corrupt anonnie for the idea. Hehe, i could have definitely made it messier, but i think this was still good. I hope you like it, my darling ♡♡

Also, this is not beta read. Hehe ♡♡

Network: @k-vanity @cromernet @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @illusionnet

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Tip Jar ♡

“No, I'd clearly win!” Wooyoung had long thrown his controller onto the couch, facing his attention to his friend. “I do a way better job than you.”

“That’s impossible. I’m the one that can get her to squirt. So I’m definitely the one that's better.” San yelled, shoving Wooyoung half-heartedly while smiling smugly. Wooyoung started to ramble about all the positions he could put you in and what he and you do when San isn't around, spilling on all the tips and tricks he had found with your body. What the two bickering idiots didn't notice was Jongho leaning against the door frame, watching both of them fighting over you. He had to roll his eyes at his friends before clicking his tongue against his teeth, and stepping out into the lounge room.

“You know there is only one way we can see who would win this stupid argument.” Jongho’s voice caught the attention of both of the men squabbling on the carpeted floor. 

“We?” Wooyoung said with a raised brow.

“Yeah, we,” Jongho smirked before turning on his heels to head down the hall. Wooyoung and San quickly followed closely, watching intensely as their friend opened the door to your bedroom. You were laying on your bed on your stomach, your ass in their line of sight and back facing them while you had headphones on, blaring music through your ears. You were completely entranced with whatever you were doing on your phone to notice the three men watching you. “So, Rules…” Jongho turns to the others with a serious expression. “The first person to make her squirt gets a point. The first person to get her to beg gets a point. The first person she chooses to fuck her gets a point…”

“And..” San asked curiously.

“She will choose who wins. No if, buts, or whines.” Jongho points to Wooyoung, “That means don’t bitch if she doesn’t choose you.” Woyoung put his hands up in defence with a quick alright, while San nodded his head agreeing to everything Jongho said. And thus the game began. 

You couldn't even guess what you were in store for when you felt someone's hand grabbing your ankle. Or what to do when they tugged you towards the edge of the bed. Your phone is long forgotten as you take your headphones off, slightly sitting on your elbow so you can turn to see who had disturbed you. "Hey there, Darling."

You gulped, seeing San holding your ankles firmly to the bed with a devious smirk painting his feline features. You scanned over to see Jongho and Wooyoung watching close by. Woo looked like he was about to combust right then and there, but Jongho. He looked intrigued, almost spilling over with a growing ego as if he had just won a prize. "Hi..." You drew the word out.

"We wanna play a game. You up for it?" You knew by Wooyoung's remark, that this was no ordinary game, but what enticed you more was the fact that Jongho was here. Normal if Wooyoung and San wanted to fuck you, they'd simply come whining for it. But Jongho...what was he doing here? He hates sharing. You nod nonetheless, watching the stars twinkle in Sans's eyes as his hands fly for your shorts, tugging them off your body in one swoop.

You couldn't even speak up as San quickly undressed you until you were only in your bra and panties while lying on your back, facing the three of them. They all shared the same expression, one of determination, and lust with a hint of competitiveness. They were here to win something, and you began to assume it was you.

"Come on, Dollface. Take it all off." Wooyoung pleaded, palming his erection through his tightening jeans. You couldn't help but smirk as you didn't break eye contact with him, slipping out of your panties and undoing your bra. You threw both garments out of sight before spreading your legs for all of them to see your glistening pussy. They all groaned at the sight. "Fuck you're perfect."

"Perfect in every way." San continued, grabbing your ankles, stepping in front of you. He brought them up into the air, holding them spread out for a moment before putting them on his shoulders. "I'm gonna have fun making you fall apart on my cock."

"Do your worst." You giggle, placing a hand on your abdomen slowly reaching down for your clit. If these three were going to play games, you were gonna play one of your own. You could hear a grunt from both men beside San, while San sighed, easing his cock out of its confinements. He was already leaking. All this talk had really riled him up. He strokes his dick while watching your pussy clench around nothing, basking in the sight. "Come on, Sannie, I'm waiting.."

San brought his fingers to your already dripping cunt, slipping two inside you with ease. He bent down, his free hand braced on the mattress beside your head while he folded you in half, thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a quickened speed. Your head fell back at the slight relief, clamping around his digits, taking in the pleasure San gifted you.

"Fuck she looks so pretty when being fucked." Wooyoung was always one to give out praise but this felt different, it felt intentional, like he wanted you to reply to him. You whined, feeling already close with the way San's fingers curled inside you, hitting the right spot, a sloshing noise becoming more and more prominent in the whisper-filled room, “Are you close, darling?”

You let out a deep sigh, your eyes fluttering closed. Your hands fell to the bed, fingers tangling in the sheets. Your hips buckled at San’s ruthless thrusts and for a moment you didn't notice the other two moving, nor did you realise Wooyoung getting on the bed on your right side, coming to pinch your perky nipple and cupping your tits. “I wanna see you cum all over Sannie's fingers."

Your watery eyes made contact with Wooyoung watching as he spat on your breasts, lubing them up so he could roll your buds under the pads of his thumbs. You feel yourself snap as you stare deep at him, begging San to keep going. San's smirk got bigger as his eyes quickly met both other men. Both men could see accomplishment in his gaze, having won one of the points for himself, getting you to beg.

Your cunt tightened as your high reached its peak, but you heard a click on Jongho's tongue before he took a seat on the free side of the bed with a deep chuckle, "She didn't squirt, pitty."

"That was just a warm-up." San barked at the younger while pulling his fingers out of your pussy, watching the string of cum keep him connected to you. He was slightly disappointed he didn't get another point but still satisfied with your little begs. You laid there for a moment, panting, as all the boys started to bicker amongst themselves before sitting up on your elbow.

"Is someone gonna fuck me now or are you all gonna argue?" You huffed, bending your knees up while planting your feet on the mattresses.

"We're sorry, darling." San, who was still kneeling in front of you, rubbed small circles on your plump thigh, soothing some of the ache in them, "Who do you want first?" San knew it was probably against the rules to ask you, and given Jongho's raised eyebrow, he was treading on thin ice.

"Hmmm." You pretended to think for a moment, but you had already known who you wanted first the moment all three of them walked in. So you sat up, twisting your body before shuffling towards him. "Jjongie...."

Jongho couldn't help but chuckle, gently caressing your face as he watched you nuzzle into his palm, "What is it, honey..." he cooed, helping you into his lap, both other men watching with flames in their eyes.

"I need you please, please..." You begged, grinding against his clothed cock. Point for Jongho.

"Anything for you, honey.” He tipped you backwards until you were lying on your back once again. He grabs your thighs and pushes them up near your chest. You wrap a hand around the back of your thighs, keeping yourself the way he wants you. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaves kisses on your cheeks. His hand found the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down just below his balls so his already hard cock could spring out. You lick your lips as you watch him come forward, completely mounting you. Jongho, sighed, fluttering his eyes closed for a moment at the feeling of your cunt fitting snugly around him, like you were made for him, “Fuck honey, you’re so tight.”

“Jjong…nagh.” You threw your head back, gripping the sheets as your body moved with Jongho’s shallow thrusts. You almost forgot about the other two men in the room, that was until you heard a high-pitched whine from Wooyoung.

“This is unfair, I wanted Doll to choose me.” Wooyoung squirmed beside you making Jongho snap his hips sharply with a deep grunt;

“What did I say about whining?” Jongho’s brow was coated in sweat already with every clench of your cunt was driving the man quicker to his climax than he’d like to admit. You had that effect on them. A way with words, touch, anything. You made all of them crazy.

“Yeah, yeah I remember…” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, pouting. But before he could continue his protest, an idea popped into his head, bringing his gaze to San. His smile grew, making San shake his head with a raised brow. He knew what his friend was thinking but it was the fact of if Jongho was willing to share. “You wouldn’t mind if I slide in over here, hmm?”

You watched with a smirk, watching Woo take his cock out right next to your face. Jongho growled, grabbing your chin before drilling deeper inside your pussy, making you scream out his name, “That’s right baby. Say my name. I’m the one inside you. I’m the one making you feel like this.” His free hand moved from your thigh to your clit, rubbing in small quick circles, “Come on honey, I wanna feel you come around my cock. Make a mess for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes sir.” You nodded your head over and over as you felt yourself tip over the edge. The two other men just stared in awe at the way Jongho played with your body. How he presses completely different buttons to them. 

“Fuck, that's hot.” San groaned, stroking his cock as he watched as Jongho’s hips stutter before coming to a complete stop, emptying his cum deep inside you. “You actually get her to call you sir. I thought you were joking.”

“You have no idea what I can get this sweet girl to do.” Jongho leaned down to seal his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as he slipped out of your soaked cunt. 

“I could think of a few things.” Wooyoung’s snarky remark gifted an eye roll from you as he sat up on your elbows. Jongho broke the kiss, taking a step back to see his cum leak out of your hole. But you didn’t let him gaze long enough as you turned around to steal a seat on Wooyoung’s lap. “Oh…Hi there Doll.”

“Hi, pretty boy.” Your lips found his own while you reached behind your body to guide his cock into your messy cunt. You sink onto him with ease and you can’t help but grin as you hear a whimper leave him. You push him backwards onto the bed with a hand on his chest and with the new angle, you rid him. His hips stutter upwards, his hands holding firmly on your waist. With this angel, San came up before you, straddling Wooyoung’s shaky legs. San’s lips found your neck sucking hard marks as he ruts his cock against your ass. Your head leant back against the man's shoulder, letting him have more access to your flesh. You feel your hips shake, the burn in your thighs causing you to tear up. Wooyoung seemed to notice, taking ahold of your hips to help you grind on him. “I...I’m close.”

“You need Woo to take over, darling?” San whispered in your ear making you nod your head. San immediately picked you up, manhandling you off the bed until you were lying over the edge and your legs were dangling over the edge. Wooyoung followed closely before slipping back inside you once you were comfortable. San took this moment to remove the rest of his clothes before kneeling in front of you, tapping the tip of his cock against your cheek, “Open up, baby.”

You obeyed willingly, feeling him slowly thrust into your throat. You whimper around him, gagging lightly with every small snap of his hips. Wooyoung crossed over his arms so he could jackhammer into you, watching Jongho’s and your cum smear up your ass crack and onto his pelvis, soaking you both completely. “Fuck, baby. You're soaking me…”

“She’s perfect isn’t she,” San replied to Wooyoung, placing his hand on the base of his back to steady his thrusts into your throat all while you just lay there, taking everything they gave you. “Fuck I’m close darling. I’m gonna cum all over this pretty face.”

Your body shook, as you felt yourself close to the edge as well. It wasn’t until Wooyoung’s finger found your clit, pinching the little bundle of nerves. You scream around San’s cock, feeling yourself clench around Wooyoung, squirting all over him. Your juices leaked everywhere like it was never-ending, landing on the floor, ruining the sheets and painting Wooyoung’s abdomen. “Point for me.”

Wooyoung grinned, feeling accomplished as he continued to fuck you. It wasn’t longer until Wooyoung’s hips faltered before he came, emptying his load all over your back. San was next to finish, stroking his cock hard with a battered pant before coming all over your face, some of his seed getting in your hair, also dripping down your chin onto the sheets below you. You stared up at San with a cheeky grin, running your hand along some of his seed on your cheeks, dragging some of it into your mouth before swallowing. San groaned as he watched with a groan, “Dirty girl.”

You opened your mouth, flatting your tongue to show him you had swallowed it all but before you could say anything to him, you felt a new pair of hands grab your middle, flipping you onto your back. It was Jongho, he ran his fingers along your abused cunt, collecting some of your slick, “Such a messy baby.”

You shivered feeling him dip a finger into your ass. He thrusts it slowly before whistling over San to enter your pussy while Jongho adds another finger into your tight hole. Wooyoung also came over but he simply just kneeled over your sweaty body while jerking off. It felt like your body was on fire, every sense on high alert. From San’s harsh snaps to Jongho’s now three fingers deep inside you. You were so close, your throat horse, no longer being able to scream as you came again. How many times, you’ve lost count. 

“Fuck, baby. Look at you.” San played with your clit as you squirted, wetting his pelvis, soaking the sheets even more than they already are. Wooyoung came again, his cum dripping all over your tummy. Your hand came up to run a finger along your skin, playing with the seed with a sly grin. You were completely covered in their cum head to toe and you loved it. Jongho finally stood up from his crouched position letting San pick you up within the next breath, never leaving your messy cunt for a second. Jongho’s chest pressed firmly against your sticky back, letting you feel his cock’s tip run along your ass cheeks. 

“Take a deep breath, honey.” You listened to Jongho as you felt him enter your ass in one quick motion. 

“Fuck!!” You cried, your nails digging into San’s shoulders threatening to draw blood. Your brain was entirely fired, your mouth drooling as you whimpered out random high-pitched noises. Your body was going to be sore the next day and you couldn’t care less. And when you felt Wooyoung start to play with your abused and overly sensitive clit you knew you were done for. “Fuck I’m coming. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

You sounded like a broken record but as you felt both San and Jongho cum deep inside you, your mind completely went black. Your limbs went lack and your body fell forward onto San with a heavy ‘oof’. All three men stood still for a moment, letting their own highs die down. But it was Wooyoung that caught the attention of everything when he gasped. “Did she just pass out?”

San moved your hair out of your face, seeing you were fast asleep. “Oh shit…We just fucked her until she passed out.”

Jongho slipped out of you, helping San place you on the bed for a moment. They all stood there a little unsure what to do, it was then that Jongho let out a sigh, “So much for seeing who would win the bet…..”

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[moondirti]

(first time doing a ask bare with me)

pretty please a continue of the house distribution thing. the fic where she does military housing to afford rent. just a continuation please 🙏���

feel free to skip if your mind is just blank with ideas for it x

simon riley / afab! reader • part one cw: dubcon, intoxication, spanking, wedgies, degradation, dacryphilia, very mild puppy play (mostly just pet names)

"Well, aren' you a sight."

Much like the lamplight, his voice is low. Mocking, almost. You'd think he were amused if it weren't for the dangerous way his eyes assess your sorry state, raking the lines of your bare legs to the way your dress wraps tight around your chest. It almost escapes you that he's maskless at first, so entranced by the glint of his pupils, the shadowed irises that pinch a deep, very primal nerve in you.

His lips curl into an uneven sneer, scar dissecting the bottom and running down to his chin. You wipe your nose with the heel of your hand, giving your best attempt at an apathetic shrug.

"I had fun."

"Did'ya now?" He laughs humourlessly. "Mus' have different ideas of fun, me and you. Can' see the fun in getting pissed out'f my mind, worryin' the people in your life by stayin' out s'late."

Spite flares, fear slinking back your throat to make room for the petulance that froths on your tongue like venom. It completely poisons his admission to the fact that he'd been worried, turns it into something pathetic and hypocritical. You storm closer. Wild. Angry.

"That's fucking rich coming from you. What is your idea of fun, then, Lieutenant? Tormenting women who open up their home to you? Walking in on them in the bathroom, pissing all over the fucking seat? Does it grant you satisfaction to make people so uncomfortable that they'd rather be anywhere but with you?"

His jaw tenses, a "careful, pet." grunted under his breath, but he makes no move to stop you. Just continues sitting on your couch, legs spread, simmering. Waiting for you to tire out.

"Shut the fuck up. Oh my god. Oh my god. I can hardly be at bloody peace in my own house anymore! You're- You're... A fucking nightmare, Riley! So excuse me if I went out and enjoyed myself when I haven't been able to do so in weeks!"

By the end of your little tirade, you're an even worse mess than you had been before. Flyaways stick to your sweaty temple, mascara rims your blown eyes. Your panting does nothing to calm the frantic race of your heart, which beats at your ribcage like doldrums to war. You can feel the effects of it everywhere; your pulse, hot and quick, at your eyebrow, your wrists, the arch of your foot.

Riley stands. Your lip trembles.

You're so close now that your gaze is level with his chest. Tall. You'd forgotten how tall he was. Or how wide. Or dangerous. His biceps – bare given his tight-fitted t-shirt, tree-trunk large and enough to crush watermelons – tense, and all-too-suddenly, you find your jaw clutched in a bruising grip. He jerks your head up so your eyes meet his.

"Simon." He mutters. "But you don't get to call me tha', or anything at all but Sir."

"Letmegomff–" You're rendered mute when his thumb and forefinger press your cheeks together, but that certainly doesn't stop you from whining.

"Y'wanna know my idea of a good time?" Purely rhetorical, of course. Aside from not being able to answer him, it doesn't matter what you want. There's a clear direction this seems to be heading towards – someplace where the hand pawing your ass continues lower, or where the length in his pants fits down your throat. Someplace not unwelcome by you, despite the way you thrash and cry in his arms. "It's putting foul things like you in their place."

He shucks your dress over your ass, the fabric bunching around your waist, and hooks a fist in the waistline of your soaked panties. Your mind is so foggy, influenced by shitty tequila and the subspace Simon bullies you into embracing, that you don't process the cause of your pain immediately. Don't correlate it to the way he pulls upward, your underwear bunching into a tight line that cleaves between your ass-cheeks and rubs abrasively against your poor clit. Don't– can't confront it until the force literally picks you up off the floor, toes barely touching the ground, held up by a wedgie and the grip around your jaw alone.

Tears spring to your lash line, tracing miserable treks down your cheeks. His thumb swipes what it can away, pushing the salty water into your mouth, and stays there while you lap at his calloused fingertips.

"There we go. Look at you, brainless mutt. Jus' need something on your cunt and something in your mouth to keep you quiet, hm? Happy to hang li'e this for hours, I bet."

Your muffled yell is met with another laugh, thumb pushing deeper into your mouth to shut you up.

"Shh, I know. Still need'ta be taught a lesson. I haven' forgotten." The stitches on your panties begin to tear, the rips loud and relieving, especially when you start to sag back down to the floor. Simon doesn't take it with any kind of urgency, though he cocks his head at the way you blink up at him, lashes fanning in rapid succession. An unspoken, desperate plea. "Was gonna hold out, get you sobered up for your punishment. But you're practically itchin' for it, aren' you?"

He puppets your head into an enthusiastic nod, which he meets with a faux huff.

"Course you are." The forbearing quality of his tone is promptly betrayed by the way you're manhandled over his lap. Pivoting one hand opposite to the other, he's able to sit on the couch and get you thrown over his thighs in a mere matter of seconds. "Normally I'd make y'count, but I figure you're too far gone for that. Jus' try to keep your wailing quiet."

Your underwear gives in with a final tug, ripping from the soaked gusset to become nothing but a flimsy piece of fabric around your hips. Simon swipes the tattered remains off your raised bottom, taking longer than necessary to smooth over the area. It's all the indication you need to what's coming – his rough palm teases the nerve endings below your softer skin, bringing them to frenzied life. Preparing them to hurt.

When he breaks away, you hold your breath.

The air behind you whistles as his hand comes down.

A sharp, resounding crack fractures the baited silence of the room. Your mouth flies open. Searing pain roars across your backside like wildfire, worsening every second it's exposed to open elements. Your scream is belated, thunder to the lightening, tearing from your throat only after the initial shock subsides.

A series of lighter blows land on alternating cheeks, two fingers returning to gag you through the onslaught. Unlike his thumb, these reach the very back of your tonsils, prompting wet gags as they fondle with your throat. Drool dribbles from the corners of your lips, slicking your chin with lipstick-tinted fluid.

"Fuckin' beautiful when you're not givin' an attitude, puppy. All stupid and submissive, cunt droolin' on my lap."

You groan, choke, then cry some more when his spanks grow incrementally harsher again. Gratefully, they're never in the same place twice. He beats the top of your thighs, your lower back, the sides of your hips. Your cheeks especially, which start to emit a steady kind of heat the longer he keeps it up.

Eventually, as a matter of coping, your brain starts to consider the cruel sting as pleasurable instead, sending little bolts of pleasure directly to your clit every time his hand comes down on your ass. It swells, fattening up with blood, pressing tighter against the steady mass of his thigh. Inadvertently, you start rutting against it to find more of the same relief, humping his leg like the dog he's making you out to be.

It doesn't escape his notice, of course.

His foot pushes one of your flailing ankles outward so that your legs are spread, pussy made vulnerable to his scrutiny. The next slap is thus aimed straight at your fluttering hole, slick doing nothing to affect his deadly precision. When it lands, it lands exactly where he meant for it to, and introduces you to a whole other degree of pain that has you seeing stars. You're openly bawling around his fingers now, vision so cloudy you can't tell light from dark.

"Didn' like tha', did you?"

"Nngh– nmmph!"

"There's more where it came from, pup. Best listen to everythin' I say from now on, then, 'less you wan' your little hole beat black 'n' blue."

Simon stresses his point by tracing the seam of your cunt, collecting the lubrication there to smear across the hotspot at the top. Presses into it. Grants you a little gratification, as if to say: and here's what you can have if you behave.

"You gonna be a good pet?"

This time, he withdraws his fingers from your maw. Expects a response, even though it takes you ages to recover from the lack of oxygen. You swallow the saliva pooling behind your teeth, inhaling ragged gasps that make your lungs ache.

He pinches your clit when you take too long. Lightly, but it's enough.

"Yes! Yes, s-sir. I'll be good."

[next]

[fluffylino]

mommy!hyunjin, i said what i said

(he can rail me)

-contains mature themes

"is mommy fucking you good?" hyunjin mumbled, groaning at how tight you were. you couldn't help it.

everything was so hot. he was so hot. his length pushing inside of you was even hotter.

you wanted him to stay there. to stay buried deep inside of you.

"fuck, s-stop clenching so much" he cursed out, gripping your thighs that had him plastered to you.

"m-mommy" you moaned out before he could press his lips against yours. his tongue swiping against your chapped bottom lip.

he was everywhere.

"mommy's here, baby" hyunjin reassured, thrusting into you at a pace that had you keening. you wanted to rile him up. make him see stars.

"what about y-your husband...?"

his eyes darkened, halting everything he was doing.

was it so wrong to bring up the messed up skz family skit into this?

hyunjin was still dressed up as jisung's beloved wife. a beautiful sight.

his white button up shirt falling off one of his shoulders, exposing his smooth skin. his pretty short pants discarded on the side somewhere.

his hair was tied back, a few extensions added to make his bun look fuller. two hooped gold earrings on his ears. he looked like a rich aunty.

a milf, to be exact. your milf.

.

it all started when the skz family skit has just got done. hardly an hour had passed. everyone seemed to fit their roles so well.

especially one person. hyunjin, that is.

his hair looked so pretty tied up, a few strands cradling his face. his face was so pretty but the way he sat gave it all away. his legs spread, arms crossed behind his head as he leaned back. watching them play with focused eyes. it suited him. the whole concept.

you just wanted to get on your knees and suck him off.

what did it for you was the fact that he smiled so proudly when his "kids" called him mommy.

something you had always wished to call him.

when you looked at him. it was never daddy. he didn't give off those vibes.

it was always mommy.

mommy hyunjin fucking you into oblivion.

mommy hyunjin making you gag on his cock.

mommy hyunjin having his way with you.

.

.

"mommy-"

you unconciously said when they had finished shooting. the rest of them were in the other rooms. joking around and laughing. you could hear minho scold seungmin. perhaps he needed help with getting the hanbok off.

hyunjin and you were the only ones left in the room. so when u said that. you froze. your inner thoughts had managed to get out.

"yeah?" hyunjin replied, not even looking at you. he was busily poking and prodding at his hair in the mirror. his eyes met yours through the mirror.

what the actual fuck-

did he really respond to that so cooly. he turned around, a suggestive expression on his face.

shit...he looked so..wow.

and thats how you ended up in this situation.

.

.

you waited for him to respond. his dick throbbing inside of you. everything still.

"my husband? why would i ever need that man" he played along. if it anyone were to hear, they'd actually believe it. his acting skills were impeccable when not scripted.

he leaned forward, his hands gripping the side of the table he had made you sit on.

you trembled when his lips brushed past your ear.

"you fuck me so much better than that unloyal bastard"

he whispered breathily. you whimpered. his hand immediately coming up to cover your mouth. muffling any sounds you could make.

"plus you're perfect for me. and i love everything about you"

he bucked his hips, hitting a spot that had you drooling into his palm. his eyes locked onto yours.

"shhh do you want him to hear us?"

"i bet you do...want them all to hear how mommy's dick makes you a dumb cockslut"

"m' not a slut"

you mumbled, or atleast tried to against his hand. he pulled out completely, his tip barely pressing against your folds.

"yeah you are. only for me though, right?"

there was a comforting tone in his voice. hyunjin knew how sometimes degrading names could trigger you. it was only until you confirmed that he continued.

"only i get the privilege to see you falling apart"

you nodded, a low moan leaving his lips, as he took his hand off your mouth. you knew you were a mess. even more so then before.

"hyunj-"

you gasped as his hand made contact with your cheek. you could feel yourself get wetter as the pain set in. he had slapped you. he clicked his tongue.

waiting.

"mommy..s-sorry aah-" you bit down on your lip as he pushed into you in one swift motion. never slowing down.

"you're so m-much better than my husband"

"take me so well...hng-ghn so tight" he gasped as you unconciously clenched around him. pulling him in. making him lose his mind.

"shit so warm and wet'nside..all for me"

"look d-down"

you mumbled, holding his hand that was on your hip and placing it against your lower stomach, just below your navel. he looked down, focusing on the imprint of his length inside of you.

disappearing and reappearing as he pushed in and pulled out repeatedly.

"so deep inside of you..bet i could fuck my babies into you"

both of you moaning when he pressed against the bulge. you were so close.

"i can f-feel you all around me" hyunjin mumbled. your eyes rolled back. an intense feeling bubbling inside of you, waiting to be released.

"i'm cumming" you gasped out, grabbing onto his neck, pulling him closer.

"cum for me"

white filled your vision. a whole wave of pleasure washing all over you.

going limp, you whined at the overstimulation. hyunjin was still chasing his orgasm. grunts and little high pitched moans leaving his swollen lips.

"i-in my m-mouth" you muttered, trying to get him to pull out. his eyebrows furrowed. maybe he didn't hear you.

"h-huh?"

he pulled out slowly with uncertainty, stroking his dick. his orgasm seconds away. a little longer and he'd end up losing it.

you got off the table. practically falling onto the carpetted floor. kneeling down infront of him. you kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. just enough. centimeters away from his dick.

"warn a man, goddamnit"

he cursed out. you couldn't help but smile. a long drawn out cry escaping him as he came. streaks of white coating your tongue.

"ahh-hha" he threw his head back, closing his eyes tightly.

perhaps the sight of you running your tongue from his base all the way up to his sensitive weeping tip was too much of a sight to handle.

.

.

"so you like calling me mommy?"

"HYUNJIN-"

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[mapis-putellas]

Three’s a crowd

Pairing: Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x reader

Words: 3389

Warnings: swearing

Summary: You accidentally tell Ona about your relationship with Ingrid and Mapi despite promising them you’d keep it to yourself. Their reaction is nothing like you expect.

Notes: I’m sorry I’m advance for the terrible Spanish. Also, this may not flow smoothly and I apologise for that. I tried my best!

"I mean, I'd make out with them but like -platonically, you know?"

"You can't make out with someone platonically, idiota."

"Of course you can! We've done it like, so many times before already. I mean, maybe it was platonic at first, anyway. But it's definitely not now." You wave your hand dismissively. It takes promptly three seconds before you freeze in the midst of shoving your belongings into your back at the words that had just escaped your mouth without meaning to. Eyes widening, you turn to face Ona who was staring at you with a look of pure shock on her face. Her mouth was agape, hands frozen mid air in the midst of pulling off her jersey.

"qué?" Her eyebrow raise.

You panic. "Uhh, nothing. I said nothing," you scramble to collect the rest of your things, hoisting your kitbag onto your shoulder before slowly backing away from her. "You're just hearing things, Ona. I didn't say anything."

You see, this...relationship, or whatever was going on between Mapi, Ingrid and yourself was new. So new, in fact, it didn't quite have a label. In the privacy of their home, you were like any typical throuple. You kissed. Cuddled. Held hands. They'd dote over you and you craved their attention and affection. In public, however, they tended to stay away from you. Not in a mean way. A least, you didn't think so anyway. Sure they'd speak to you. Pull you into he occasional side hug if you did particularly well in training. Soft, subtle smiles would be shared between the three of you.

But that was it, and that was okay. It was just easier that way anyway. Nobody questioned you; talked you into thinking that maybe joining their relationship wasn't the best idea. You were already going a good enough job of that yourself, after all, and the rumours and speculations that would surely appear if started being affectionate in public certainly wouldn’t help.

It wasn't like you didn't want to be with them, because you very much did. It was just...they were perfect together. Had been together for years before bringing you into the mix. What did you bring into this...relationship that they didn't already have?

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps that train of thought wasn't fair, you thought. It had only been a month, after all. A month was nothing. It was why you'd chosen to remain silent. That way, you wouldn't cause any issues.

"ey ey ey, no," her hand grabs your arm, preventing you from making your escape. "You are not going anywhere chica. Sentarse." She all but demands, pointing your cubby.

"No, Ona," you futility attempt to free your arm. Ingrid was going to kill you. Literally murder you before bringing you back to clean up the mess. Both she and Mapi had asked you to keep this to yourself, and you'd broken their trust before talking without thinking. You and your stupid big mouth.

"Really. I have to go. I said I would-"

Ona shakes her head, effectively cutting you off mid sentence. "Sentarse." She says again, sounding less amused than she had before. It has you shrinking in place, but yet, your stubbornness has you once again shaking your head.

"No. I'm not a dog." The door was just there. Your eyes desperately flicker around the room in hopes of finding something that would distract the defender so you make a break for it.

"Y/n, I swear-"

"What is going on?" A new voice fills the room, and both your heads turn at the sound. At the sight of Mapi standing before you, tanned, tattooed arms crossed against her chest, your eyes wide almost comically. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. You were dead. You were so dead.

Mapi's eyes flicker from Ona's face to her grasp around your arm, prompting the defender for sigh heavily before dropping it. She turns and sits, bending down to begin removing her boots. The knowing smirk on her face was hidden. She knew it.

"Qué está pasando?" Mapi asks again, dropping her arms and making her over to you. You instinctively take a small step closer to her, staring at Ona with pleading eyes when she looks up and makes eye contact. She stares right back at you for a few moments before sighing lightly and shaking her head, rising to her feet and tugging off her jersey.

"Nada," she finally speaks, and you let out a subconscious breath of relief as feel your heart beginning to settle in your chest. Crises averted. For now, anyway.

Mapi eyes Ona for a second before nodding and turning to face you. You don't seem to realise the look of concern still etched on your face, but the Spaniard decides that for now, she'd drop the subject in an effort to prevent furthering your impending panic.

"Are you ready to go?" She asks instead, and you nod, allowing her to place a steady hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the locker room. You glance back at Ona who just so happened to be staring right back at you. She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head slightly to the side in question, and you nod, the defender mimicking it before focusing her attention back to her kitbag.

"Ingrid is in the car already." Mapi tells you in her heavily accented English as you make your way outside, her hand absentmindedly trailing up and down your back in a subconscious action of comfort.

You hum does little to comfort her.

"What happened, amor?" She gently pulls you to a stop, her hand on your hip gently coaxing you to face her. You comply, albeit a little hesitantly, eyes focusing on the tattoo on her neck. Looks can be deceiving. They could be indeed. A small part of you admittedly wants to tell her, but you figure doing so and spilling your guts and in the middle of a car park with all your teammates surrounding you wouldn't be the best idea.

"Later?" You plead instead, and though the Spaniard hesitates, she nods her head and once again starts guiding you back to her car with her hand on the small of your back. The remainder of the walk was completed in silence, Mapi opening the trunk of her car allowing you to dump your kitbag in the there along with Ingrid's and her own before opening the back passenger door.

You slip inside with a tight smile and without your usual kiss to her cheek in thanks, and the defender finds herself frowning as she closes the door and makes her way round to the drivers side, completely missing your less than enthusiastic greeting to Ingrid. You settle in the back with your headphones in, perhaps a not so mature response, but one you deemed necessary to get your thoughts together before the inevitable conversation ahead.

"Is she okay?" The Norwegian questions, glancing back a you in concern. She doesn't normally like talking about you with you in such close proximity, but she figures due to the loud music currently emanating from your headphones that you wouldn't be able to hear them. Besides, she was only doing so out of concern.

Mapi shrugs, "no sé. Ona said something, I think. Said something she did not mean to, maybe?" Her eyes follow Ingrid's for a second before she starts the car, pulling out of her parking space with relative ease. The plan had been for you to stay with them tonight, so she purposely misses the turn to your apartment and continues straight to theirs.

"Ona said something to her?" Ingrid frowns.

"Sí. She look like, how you say..." Mapi tightens her hands around the steering wheel, "como un ciervo atrapado en los faros?"

"A dear caught in headlights?" Ingrid responds, and Mapi nods.

"Sí." The Spaniard confirms.

Ingrid reaches out and places a steady hand on the defenders thigh, giving the bare, tanned skin a soft squeeze. "Did you ask?"

Mapi nods as she eases the car to a stop at a red light. "Talk later, she said. So obstinada." She grumbles.

Ingrid couldn't help but smile, "Like you, you mean?" She teases, earning herself a playful punch to the arm.

"She is worse." The Spaniard grumbles, and Ingrid laughs softly.

With a quiet sigh, you place your AirPod back into your ear. You were stubborn, she was right. But it wasn't like you weren't willing to talk about it. You just didn't want to do so where there was a risk somebody would hear.

The looming conversation ahead seemed way more daunting now.

*

"Go shower, bebé," Mapi finally breaks the silence as Ingrid closes the front door and locks it behind her, and you nod mutely as you kick of your shoes and make your way down the hall to their bathroom. Their bathroom. Ingrid and Mapi's. Not yours. That thought alone makes your eyes burn with tears.

Pathetic.

You miss the look of concern shared between both women share as you close the bathroom door behind you.

"I need to text Ona." Mapi murmurs as she pulls out her phone, a gentle hand resting atop of her own stopping her in her tracks.

"Qué?"

Ingrid shakes her head, "I know it's hard, but you need to let her come to us. It's obvious that she doesn't want us to know what happened with her and Ona, and we need to respect that. Forcing her to talk will only end badly."

Mapi sighs, knowing her girlfriend was right. Still, she couldn't help but push.

"But, what if-”

"No, kjære," Ingrid takes both Mapi's hand in her own and squeezes. "Let her come to us."

"Sí, mi amor."

Both knew the topic of conversation between you and Ona had evidently been about them. If not, you would have come to them. Just like you had when Lucy had said something to upset you. It wasn't like you to push them away. Mapi knew that. She also knew Ingrid was right about letting you come to them, despite her reluctance to do everything possible to figure out what was going on.

"Okay. Go find us a movie to watch. I'll make a start on diner." Ingrid places a soft kiss against the Spaniards cheek before disappearing through to the kitchen. Mapi watches her go before letting out a quiet sigh and curling up on the corner of the couch, picking up the remote to turn on the tv.

You finish with your shower long before Ingrid finishes with dinner, and you appear in the threshold of the living room clad in both their clothes. Ingrid's sweater, and Mapi's sweatpants, your hair wet and hanging down by your face.

Mapi gestures you over with one of those smiles that makes you melt, "Let me do your hair, amor. Sit." She opens her legs and pats the spot in between them. Your reluctance was evident as you comply, placing your hands on either of the Spaniards thighs as you settle and allow her to start combing through your hair.

"Dinner smells good." You finally find it within you to talk as you feel Mapi's fingers beginning to part your hair with the intention of braiding it. You didn't like leaving your hair down to sleep, and you found it endearing that Mapi had somehow remembered that fact despite it being weeks since you’d told her.

"Mhh," Mapi hums, "huele deliciosa." She agrees.

After tying off your hair with a hair tie, Mapi's tattooed arms loop around your waist, her hands clasped together against your stomach. You expect her to talk. To push you into opening up about what had happened earlier. But she surprisingly does neither. She simply rests her chin against your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek before once again picking up the remote.

"You pick." She mumbles into your ear, and you nod, eyes skimming over the screen.

Ingrid makes her way into the room just as you'd decided on the lion king, carrying a plate in either hand. She hands one off to both you and Mapi before once again disappearing and returning with her own.

It was pasta. Your favourite.

"Gracias." Mapi grins, settling back against the couch with you still between her legs and shoving a large forkful of food into her mouth.

Ingrid stares at you with a smile, one you couldn't help but mimic as you both watch the Spaniard stuff her face. Knowing you were in the way, you shift yourself over Mapi's leg and settle on the couch between them instead.

You ignore Mapi's playful pout at the action.

"Thank you." You whisper, and Ingrid smiles again as she gives your thigh a squeeze.

"You're welcome, elskling."

It didn't take long before dinner was quickly demolished, three empty plates sat on the coffee table as the three of you lay comfortably on the couch. You were in between Ingrid's legs now, your back to her chest with one of her arms wrapped securely around your waist. Mapi was curled up next you both, her head on Ingrid's shoulder as the Norwegian combs her fingers through her hair.

The defenders arm was thrown lazily over your stomach, tattooed hand resting on the gentle curve of your waist. Your own hand settles on top of her arm, the pad of your thumb trailing over warm skin. 

The silence between you was comfortable. You were comfortable. So much so you almost want to bring up the elephant in the room. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

You sit up suddenly, yanking yourself out of both woman's grip. Mapi whines unhappily, but Ingrid nudges her softly as she shakes her head and sits up too.

Understanding, Mapi sighs lightly and forces herself to sit in front of you, her rear end perched on the edge of the coffee table. She tries to take your hands, but frowns when you gently push them away.

"I told Ona." You blurt out.

Ingrid's eyes widen, but you didn't need to see it to know she was disappointed. You could tell by the way an alarmed Mapi meets her gaze over your shoulder. You desperately try and fix your mistake.

"Well, I didn't tell her. We were talking, and it just slipped out. I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It was just a joke. I mean, it wasn't a joke. I was just trying to tell her a joke. That's when it happened. Please don't be mad. Or well, you can be mad. I betrayed your trust. But please don't be mad. It was an accident, I swear." You weren't aware that you had started crying until you feel Mapi's hands cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears.

Her hands were warm, and you relish in the feeling as you force yourself to take a few breaths. Ingrid's arms, you now notice, were tight around you too, her hands beneath your shirt resting on the bare skin of your stomach. You inhale and exhale, feeling her hands move with you.

"It is okay," Mapi was the first to speak, scooting a little closer and moving her hands to rest on either of your thighs. You desperately cling to to them with your own. "I am not mad. And Ingrid is not too, right?"

"Right." The Norwegian murmurs in your ear, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Her hair tickles your cheek.

"But I told..." You whisper, your voice breaking slightly, leaning back into Ingrid as much as your body would allow.

"Sí. You did," Mapi agrees. "But it was an accident, no? You did not mean to."

"Mapi's right, elskling."

"I always am." Mapi smirks, and you couldn't help but laugh when Ingrid playfully kicks her with her foot.

"She is right,” Ingrid repeats. “We are not mad at you. Being mad at you for something you didn't mean to do would be stupid. And besides, it's about time we start letting people know, mhhh?"

You blink, craning your head to the side so you were more or less looking Ingrid in the eye. She stares down at you, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your nose. It scrunches up at the action, and both she and Mapi share a look when you flush and bashfully stare down at your lap. When Mapi reaches out to take your hands again, this time you let her.

"You want to tell people? About us?" You murmur.

This was not how you thought this conversation would go.

"Mhh," Ingrid nods. "Sí." Mapi agrees.

"But, what if..." you trail off.

"What if what, amor? Talk to us, por favor." Mapi coaxes, squeezing your hands again. You look up at her, and she smiles oh so gently at you it has your mouth opening before you could give it permission to do so.

"People will talk. About us. And that won't bother me, not really. But I don't want you guys to change your mind. You were perfect before, and I don't exactly bring anything to the table." You admit.

"Baby, no. Do not think like that. This is new, yes, but that does not mean we have any doubts," Ingrid starts, her frown identical to Mapi's whose eyes have grown shiny at your words. "I can almost guarantee people will talk. That's just what they do when they see something that they're not used to. But that doesn't mean their opinions matter."

You nod, feeling something inside you slotting into place.

"My opinion, yours, Ingrid's are what matter amor. If we are happy, then that is all that matters, sí?"

"Sí." You nod.

"You are happy?" Mapi pushes, and you nod with a genuine smile. "Bueno. Now stand, por favor." She holds her hands out for you to take, and you place your own into them allowing her to easily pull you to your feet. With a kiss to your forehead, she takes your place in between Ingrid's legs and tugs on the material of your sweater to pull you closer.

You yet again comply, ending up sat on her lap with your legs either side of her hips atop of Ingrid's thighs. Mapi's arms loop tightly around your waist, holding you tightly to them both, and you melt in their embrace as you rest your head against her shoulder.

Ingrid's face was just millimetres away from your own, and you smile when you feel her lips press softly against the top of your head.

"Something to the table. What does that mean?" Mapi settles back into Ingrid when she feels the Norwegian secure her arms around both herself and you.

Your eyes rip open. Damn. You hoped they wouldn't bring this part up. When Ingrid remains silent, it becomes clear she expects you to answer Mapi's question. So with a sigh, you do.

"It's an idiom. It means to do something that will benefit others." You mumble, less than happy.

Mapi's eyebrows furrow.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She places her hands on each of your sides and gently tugs your upper body away from her. You let her, but not without a pout and refusing to meet her eyes.

"Bebé, look at me por favor."

You shake your head.

"Elskling." Ingrid's warning voice echos around the room along with her fingers tapping gently under your chin, and you sigh heavily as you comply with the Spaniards words. Mapi's eyes immediately meet your own, but they didn't hold the stern look Ingrid's did.

"You do not think you benefit us?" She asks again, and you hesitate to shake your head.

"Por qué?"

"I don't know. I just...your relationship was perfect before me." You fumble with the chain hanging from Mapi's neck.

"No relationship is perfect, my love." Ingrid cuts in, Mapi nodding in agreement. "We love each other, yes. But all couples have their issues. Including us."

"If anything, being with you only makes us stronger. Because now there's three of us, instead of two. Meaning there is lots more love and time to go around." Ingrid hand grips your thigh and squeezes. You rest your own on top of it, gripping her fingers and squeezing hard.

Mapi nuzzles her nose with your own for a second before dropping her head back onto Ingrid's shoulder. "You make us better, sí?" She reaches up and cups your cheek, her thumb grazing gently over the still damp skin.

Your lips quirk up into a hesitant smile.

"There's that smile." Ingrid coos, and you flush slightly as you fall forward into their arms, hiding your face into the Spaniards neck. Mapi grins as she cups the back of your head, and Ingrid mimics is as she presses a kiss to her cheek.

"Our girl."

**

@ktgoodmorning @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @alexias-putellas @mapis-russo @wileys-russo

[otomestatus]

Can you do a Matsuno Chifuyu request about the the reader aka his girlfriend being called by his last name? Like the other Toman boys love to call Chifuyu’s girlfriend by his last name to mess with them and their reactions changing over time etc (hope this made enough sense…)

a/n: i think this kinda isn't great, but i had fun taking my time writing it. :3c

excuse me, that's not my name !

"oi, matsuno!"

you turn around instinctively to the sound of your boyfriend's last name being called, but he was nowhere in sight when you did. raising a brow, your head tilted slightly to the left as you made eye contact with two of his toman friends. mitsuya and mikey were grinning from ear to ear from their table at a cafe.

"told you she'd respond to it!" mikey snickered. this only left you further confused. hesitantly, you stepped towards their table and rested a hand on your hip, head lulled to the side as you shot them a befuddled stare.

"well yeah. i thought chifuyu was around." you frowned while mikey leaned back in his chair with that smirk you knew too well. it spelled mischief. something nagged you to turn and walk away, but against your better judgement you stayed put.

"nah, his wifey is though." mitsuya laughed-- lighthearted and teasing-- when the realization hit you. his arm rested on the back of his chair as his own smirk spread across his face. your cheeks burned hot with an embarrassment you hadn't felt since your friends caught onto your crush.

you sigh, "you're both unbelievable... don't stay that in front of him, got it?"

that would save you quite a bit of embarrassment, but as soon as the words rolled off your tongue you knew you more than likely ended up instigating further teasing.

you were gonna kill them plain and simple. at least that's what you told yourself as you stood there, mortified and speechless. it wasn't just mitsuya and mikey anymore as the rest of the captains had gotten in on their little joke as well. the moment you arrived for the toman meeting as requested by chifuyu, smiley did not hesitate to call out to you with his signature grin.

"good to see ya, matsuno!" he waved to you from across the flood of toman members scattered about in front of their typical meeting spot. you whipped your head around in response, but this time it wasn't because you thought he was speaking to chifuyu. no, you had grown vigilant of their little joke, fearful they'd use it in front of other people just as smiley had.

emma, who stood beside you, also glanced towards the fourth division captain with a lukewarm glare, "they're children! i tried to stop mikey, but he never listens..."

you hadn't bothered to even wave back and chose to turn your attention back on emma, "they're getting ballsy. i don't know what i'm gonna do if they start doing it in front of him."

"doing what in front of me?" a voice spoke out behind you, causing you to jump and whip around to meet your boyfriends curious gaze. his head was cocked slightly to as side and he had his hands shoved into his pockets.

"oh, uh-" you stuttered, but you didn't even get a chance to finish your response. draken walked up to your trio with a smirk plastered on his stupid face. his incredibly stupid and idiotic face that definitely deserved to get punched especially because of what he said as soon as he stopped in front of you three.

"sup matsuno." he sent a quick salute your way.

"oh hey." chifuyu greeted him back, clueless.

"not you, i'm talkin' to your girl." the vice commander corrected. chifuyu stared at him for a moment as if not registering what he said at first.

"...but her last name isn't-" he began, then quickly shut his mouth. a reddish hue slowly crept onto his cheeks as he held draken's stare and realization sunk in slowly. the intent was hard to miss. especially as draken's smirk widened in mischief. he let out a laugh and pat chifuyu on the back before walking away to meet up with mikey.

"man, you two are too easy!"

this little "joke" of theirs had continued on for another week. honestly, it seemed as if there was no end to it. the only toman member who didn't participate in it was takemichi which were you very grateful towards him for that. he could laugh whenever he heard it, yes, but he stuck to calling you by your name. well, if it embarrasses you why would i say it? and when he said that it made you think. was it really something to be so embarrassed about?

you rest your cheek against the palm of your hand that was being supported by your elbow. chifuyu sat across from you staring menacingly at his study notes. you studied the way his blonde hair fell over his forehead and the length of his lashes as his eyes focused on the notebook in front of him. the memories of that day were painted so vibrantly in your mind while you could hardly remember just what you had done yesterday.

in a secluded spot behind the school with a white envelope in your trembling fingers, you could only focus on your shoes blow you. your face, red and burning, and chifuyu standing in front of you. you never gave yourself the opportunity to look him directly in his face as the anxiety had rose to overwhelming levels. how fast could you make it to the girls bathroom on the first floor? your lunch threatened to reveal itself. and his response after an agonizing silence caught you off guard the most.

yes, you remember it very well, very vividly. since that day you both had been inseparable. your love for him only continued to blossom. so should it really be embarrassing to be referred to by his last name? if fate would be so kind perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to imagine a forever with him.

"huh? you okay?" chifuyu's voice snapped you back to reality. your cheeks flushed with a gentle pink as you dropped your pencil on your notebook.

"y-yeah. just thinking." you murmur in response.

chifuyu smiles, "yeah, me too! hey, so what did you get for number three?"

it had become very natural to come with your boyfriend to his meetings even if you didn't go very often. it wasn't unusual by any means either. many other toman girlfriends also would show up and chat among each other. you were no different, but the hierarchy was clear even if it wasn't spoken. this meant your relationship with the vice-captain of the first division had some perks and drawbacks. boyfriends encouraged their girlfriends to mingle in an effort to build a reputation and possibly move through the ranks.

that's where you found yourself. not being surrounded really, but definitely being regarded quite frequently and this meeting was no different. toman members gathered in front of the musashi shrine and the girls flocked together to chat and catch up. you were deep in a conversation with emma when you heard someone call out to you.

"hey, takemitchy wants to get something to eat after the meeting. wanna come?" chifuyu strolled up, throwing his thumb back over his shoulder to point at takemichi who was engaged in conversation with draken.

"oh, sure." you lean slightly to the right to get a look at them before shooting a smile at your boyfriend.

"if it ain't the matsunos." hakkai calls out as he approaches the both of you.

"hakkai-!" chifuyu begins, but you cut him off with an unexpected response.

"oh, hey." you turn to face the taller boy fully.

hakkai appears dumbfounded for a second as this was clearly not the response he intended for. chifuyu was just as shocked. any irritation he felt had quickly melted away, but his cheeks remained pink.

chifuyu makes a face, "wha-?"

you turn your head slightly to meet his eyes, a wide smile spreading across your face, "what? you look confused!"

"yeah, well, you just- i mean- i thought you didn't like it when they called you that." he mumbled, his shoulders falling lax.

"mmm..." you put a finger to your chin in thought, "i guess i just don't see anything wrong with it anymore!"

chifuyu opens his mouth then shuts it. he's unable to conjure any words in response, but a grin breaks out on his face soon after. he chuckles, "oh, cool then."

you laugh at his response. hakkai stands there not sure what else to do but figure another roundabout way to tease you both. of course, you were far more focused on the elated expression your boyfriend wore after your interaction with him set in. yeah, it honestly wasn't so bad.

[0luv9]

sugar rose || theodore nott

Summary: Fool in love, bright like silver, shinning for everyone to see. Life has never been this good for Theo and he'll go out of his way to keep it that way. Or Theodore being utterly and unapologetically in love with you.

Beware: fluff, a bit of smut (which I can't write to save my life), nicknames used (pretty, love), written in second person, no pronouns used, it's just sweet.

I hope this will warm your hearts up a bit, it's a cold winter this year.

Words: 2.1k

Everyone sees it, Theodore being absolutely smitten by you, it's obvious, he has made sure everyone knows that you are his for the taking. Nott was known to be level headed one in the group, like Blaise, never getting into fights but not doing much to stop them either. Unlike Enzo, who was on the other end of the spectrum from Matheo and Draco, always keeping the group out of conflict because he didn't want to lose the house cup, that is. Everyone knew not to mess with the Slytherins, their pride was always at stake.

You were his girlfriend, everyone knows, no-one knows the consequences of thinking otherwise. They'd rather not, it's quite evident that people loved their peace more than to spit some game over a taken girl. That's how it should be, that's how it'll be.

...

You were sitting in Theo's lap, he was reading you the study material for history of magic, you were quite literally bored but your boyfriend was insistent on studying, he was also insistent on doing it with you, he wouldn't let go of you. The common room was empty, it was lunch time and you didn't feel like eating lunch, since you didn't your boyfriend didn't either, so this is how you were spending your time. He was your yes-man, whatever you ask of him, he'll do it in a heartbeat. Infact, he also does things you just think of, as well as the things you expect him to do, he knows you too well, always compliant to your wishes.

You turn around facing him, he puts down the book the very second you smile at him, all his attention on you. The way you look at him, sitting in his lap, with such love, he can feel his heart race, no matter how long it has been with you, the sugar rush never leaves. Theo can spend an eternity looking at you and still not run out of love, he knows it too well, he's far gone, turned too soft but he doesn't seem to mind because it's you. He doesn't care if his jaw hurts, he'll stay smiling when you are around. He starts his day with you in his mind, ends his day the same, dreams of you through the night and is with you throughout the day. He's content like this, there's nothing else he could ask for, he has everything he wants right in front of his eyes.

He doesn't have control over himself when it comes to you, it's all sweet and honey smooth when you are with him, his eyes always drift to you. He isn't hesitant to show his love for you, in fact he's quite shameless with it. You are shy infront of others though, so he enjoys moments like this, when you are alone with him, not afraid to be openly affectionate. Theo likes it when you say his name, "Theo," you breath out, smiling at him as you fiddle with his uniform's collar, unable to look into his eyes for long letting your gaze falter, he nods at you, encouraging you to continue, holding your nape with his hand making you look at him, thumb holding your chin up. You shake your head, smiling again and let your head bump against his chest, blushing, "I'm just happy, Teddy" your face is hidden in his chest, he holds you close, why is it that you are the shy one but it's his heart doing somersaults? "Me too mi amor, me too."

...

Theodore is not a religious man but when he has you infront of him, he'd gladly sink to his knees, thanking the heavens above for their blessings. He's with you in his dorm room, sitting on the loveseat, you in his lap, trailing kisses down his neck. You pull away, sliding off his lap down to your knees looking up at him with such devotion, he feels like a king, you unbuckle his belt with such eager hands he feels his soul escape, as though it has found it's paradise, ready to leave the land of mere mortals.

You love to tease him, knew how to him rile up and you took advantage of it. You pucker your lips around the tip of his length, not giving in easily, your eyes are full of mischief when you look up at him, "Don't tease," he groaned, hand reaching to fist your hair, you giggle as you pull away making him hiss. "Be kind Bella," his jaw was clenched hard with tension, you decide that it's enough, you always think you can hold back from him, tease him a bit more than the last time but your heart just wants to please him. You take his dick in whole, the warmth of your mouth making his jaw fall slack, the tension lifting from his shoulders as you swirl your tongue around the base, dragging it up slowly. Kissing the tip, then pulling away- letting your hand do the work while you give him a coy look. It was fucking sinful, hellish even, the way you were looking up at him. Theo was not a good man he knew that but there has to be a special place in hell for him after this because fuck, the way he loves you on some days is pure filth, there's nothing pure in his mind, there's only his weak submission to carnal desires.

You work your mouth up and down his length, the tip hitting the back of your throat in a pleasurably painful way. "Merlin-" his eyes were blown off to pitch blacks, it was struggle to take him in fully but the fucked out look in his eyes only motivated you. Gagging and choking on his dick, on your knees for him, it was a sight only he could see, only he could take the pleasure of admiring, he relished in knowing that fact that you were only his. Your beauty was for everyone to see, therefore it was something special in seeing you, pretty like this, lips wrapped around him and tear stained cheeks. He loved you more each second, it was worrisome how much he loved you, it even scared him sometimes, he'd go to any lengths for you, it doesn't matter if the world hates him by the end of it, he'll be happy if it means you'll love him a bit more.

Few minutes later he warns you that he's going to reach his limit, you don't let go, hands, lips, tongue, all pushing him over the edge, soon he's coming undone under your touch, you swallow up his release, pulling away your mouth with a pop. You are looking up at him with cum stained lips, zipping him up then straddling him. "That was pure fucking filth, love," he smiles as he looks at your lips, smearing the spit and cum more with his thumb, then pushing his thumb against your lips making you roll your tongue around him, licking away the remains of him, "the only filth I love."

...

Nott wasn't a fan of herbology but when he learnt that you adored certain flowers, he went out of his way to have them potted in your room, asked the professor ways of keeping the plants evergreen, perfected the charm to keep them blooming 24/7, going against nature just to see you smile.

Sometimes you'd make rings out of them, one for him, one for you, he'd wear them till the stems gave out, even then he'd preserve the flowers between the pages of his diary. Some days you'd make pretty crowns for yourself and others, he loved seeing you smile, the way you'd happily run to Pansy and Daphne during your break placing the crowns on their heads. Even they couldn't resist your charm, matching with you throughout the day, smiling brightly at eachother, it was a different kind of pretty, you being happy with your friends. He liked knowing that you had others loving you yet you came back to him, that you loved him more than you loved anyone else, he took pride knowing that his feelings were reciprocated with the same intensity.

"Everyone," you said out of nowhere, standing in front of him with your hands behind your back but talking to his friends instead, the group only sniggered at Theo's reaction, he was trying to get you to look at him, "I have something to confess," you smirked at them, you were wearing one of your flower crowns today and bright clothes as well, quite opposite to the image of the house you belonged to, standing out, everyone played along humming and urging you to continue, "there's this guy I like, a year above mine," you scrunched your nose up, as your friends gasped, "How scandalous, please continue ," Draco smirked, looking at how you were ignoring Theo who just looked confused, "I thought of asking him out on a date, you know with some poppies and roses, how does that sound?" You ask them shyly, still not looking at Theo who was on his feet now, while the others were sitting on the ground, splayed in different positions, all comfortable and happy. "That sounds awfully romantic, he'll surely appreciate it," Pansy quipped, cooing at your blushing face, the others simply nodding and grinning at her words.

Theo called out your name, finally making you look at him, "What Theo?" You ask him, your voice full of innocence, "what are you talking about?" He looks at his friends who just shrug and laugh while he's standing there all clueless. "You know, just confessing to the love of my life, he really is the best" you brightly smile up at him, "it's me, right? Theo?" He laughed lightly,"Ofcourse not silly," now he was confused, what were you on about and why were his friends hollering on the ground.

His face just scrunched up in confusion, you move closer to him, your shoes against his, smiling up at him, eyes full of love. "It's the guy named, Theodore Nott, do you happen to know him?" You were acting up, while his eyes widened, realising that he was being toyed with, not receiving a response, you pull your hands infront, placing the poppy and rose crown you made on his brown curls, "Happy Valentine's Day to guy I love the mostest" it was corny, cheesy and what not but it was sweetest thing at the same time, you were often shy when it came to public display but here you were, telling the world that he was the guy you loved the most- no, the mostest.

Theo was still awestruck, unable to move, only a smitten look on his, you reached up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. All you guys' friends were cooing and cheering when he bent down to kiss you after recovering from the initial shock, poppies and roses on both of your heads, you smiled against his lips as you pulled him closer. You both had drowned the noises everyone was making in the background, which went from cheering to fake gagging when they realised that the kiss wasn't going to end anytime soon. Theo couldn't care less what Valentine's was, for all it meant that he got another reason to celebrate his love for you, "I love you, the mostest." He repeated your words, meaning each and every word, his forehead resting against yours, there was no place better than this, to have you in his arms for everyone to see, for him to see your pretty smile directed at him, full of love and all things sweet and mushy, his face equally as bright. Kissing you again because he could never get enough of you, his heart beating as though he had just ran miles, warmth taking over his body, he doesn't ever remember asking for a life this happy but he's glad his happiness found him because there's nothing better than exchanging stones for roses or maybe it's just you, the rose petals over his gravel, he doesn't care only if it means that he can have you like this, sweet against his lips for the rest of his life. Finding himself closing his eyes, making a promise to himself, of cherishing and protecting this happiness of his, the one he never wished for, being his only wish now.

...

[junkissed]

like a chair

member — jeonghan x f reader genre — smut word count — 1.4k synopsis — when jeonghan tells you to sit, you sit. smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, face sitting, oral (reader receiving), hair pulling (jh receiving), overstimulation (both receiving), pet names (princess, baby), jeonghan is a dirty little masochist and he cums in his pants notes — jeonghan pussy eater agenda everyone say amen. tagging @duhnova because they'd be mad at me if i didn't

there’s a muffled noise between your legs and you lift your hips up, wincing at the sudden feeling of cold air.

“why’d you move?” jeonghan asks below you, clearly out of breath but pretending not to be. he’s wearing nothing except for his sweatpants, his bare arms wrapped securely around your thighs as he lays against the bed.

you look down at him, unconsciously squeezing your legs around his head when you see the mess around his mouth. his cheeks are a deep shade of pink and his lips are swollen and sticky, glistening with spit and slick. “you were trying to say something?”

“just talking to myself about how good you taste.” he smirks and tugs at your thighs to pull you back down onto his mouth, flicking his tongue upwards through your folds when you try to resist.

you frown and cross your arms, ignoring the tingling in your stomach as you watch his nails dig into your skin, his fingers turning pale at the tightness of his grip. “well, don’t do that. it makes me think i’m suffocating you.”

“princess, i appreciate your concern, but when i say sit on my face, i mean sit. like a chair. don’t think about me.”

“hannie—”

but before you can say anything he yanks you down hard, catching you off guard as you fall against his waiting mouth. you whimper as his lips immediately wrap around your clit, one hand shooting out to grip the headboard to stabilize yourself.

you look down between your legs where you can just barely see the top half of jeonghan’s face, his tangled hair sprawled across the pillow. his eyes are the only part of him that’s visible, hungrily staring straight up at you, as if he’s daring you to sit up again and see what happens.

you throw your head back with a breathy groan. the sloppy sounds coming from beneath you go straight to your core, the knot in your stomach tightening too fast for you to keep up with.

you try your hardest to resist the urge to grind against his mouth, but he knows you too well and knows you’re holding back, which is not what he wants, despite how you worry about him. his hands slide behind your ass and you look down again, finding an almost disappointed look in his eyes as he starts to rock your hips back and forth.

your other hand falls to his hair, weaving your fingers through it and tugging as you give in, dragging your pussy across his tongue with a whine. you can feel him smile against you when you grip his hair tighter, pushing your hips into his eager mouth. 

if there’s one thing jeonghan loves more than anything in the world, it’s when you use him for your pleasure. he usually has to coax you into it at first, not wanting to hurt him, but once your orgasm starts to close in something changes and suddenly you’re more frantic with your movements, more desperate to get off, the only thought occupying your mind is how good the feeling of his mouth, or his fingers or his cock or whatever’s inside you, is.

he lets your hand in his hair guide him, pushing and pulling his head around exactly where you want him. he can tell you’ve stopped thinking, focused only on the feeling of your walls throbbing around his tongue and his nose pressed against your clit. 

he can feel his cock straining against his pants, aching from not being touched, but the wait is well worth it when he finally gets to feel you cum on his mouth. he groans at the thought and you pull his hair harder, moaning out his name as you grind down on his mouth. his grip on your ass tightens, and he can feel his own spit mixed with your wetness dripping down his chin.

“fuck, hannie, right— right there! please,” you gasp out, your thighs squeezing the sides of his head so hard it makes him dizzy.

if his mouth wasn’t currently occupied he would make you beg him for permission before you cum, but he’s feeling generous tonight, as he usually does when you let him eat you out like this.

he purses his lips around your clit, sucking as hard as he can, and he can feel your legs tense up as you finally break, a flood of wetness seeping onto his tongue. your fingers clench and unclench in his hair, almost in rhythm with the way your cunt clenches above his mouth. 

he never lets up, continuing to drag your hips as you ride his face through your orgasm. you try to lift yourself up a little, flinching away from him, but his grip on you is firm. he holds you down against his mouth as he laps at your pussy, determined to clean up every last drop that spills out of you despite your whines and pleas.

he keeps going even when you call his name, the words stuck in your throat as you struggle to breathe through the overstimulation. you tug on his hair one more time to get his attention, but instead it just pushes him over the edge before he can even see it coming.

he nearly blacks out for a second, eyes squeezed shut as he releases a guttural moan into your pussy. his fingers loosen and you finally manage to break away from him, pushing your hips away from his face and falling to the side as your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

without your cunt smothering his face jeonghan finally gasps for air, his mouth hanging open and his chest heaving with shallow, hurried inhales. the dark stain on his sweatpants continues to grow as he lets out soft groans, his cock jerking as warmth floods his abdomen. 

you roll onto your back and look over at him, still panting as you start to catch your breath. watching the distant look in his eyes makes you grin, and you lean over to kiss a dry spot on his cheek. his hand falls to your shoulder as he pulls you closer to kiss you properly, and you whimper at the wetness on his warm lips.

the kiss doesn’t last very long, though, and he pulls back with a long sigh, still trying to even out his breathing. you rest your head on his chest and look up at him, captivated with how fucked out he looks as you wait for him to return to you.

after a moment he looks down at you, meeting your eyes with a mischievous smile. “see? didn’t suffocate,” he says, almost proudly.

you roll your eyes in response, swiping your thumb across his nose to wipe away some of the wetness, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. he sighs again and relaxes into the bed, but you move your fingers to his neck and he tenses up again, grinning when he sees you’re not quite done for the night.

your hand slides down his bare chest, drifting over his defined abs and pausing at the waistband of his sweats before resting on top of the wet spot, adding just a little bit of pressure. he moans and pushes his hips into your hand, shivering as his own overstimulation begins to set in at your touch.

“baby—mmh, too much,” he whimpers, his smile instantly falling. his hand moves on top of yours but his grip is light, his body telling a different story than his words.

you lean over his face and drag your tongue across his chin, keeping your eyes locked with his as you clean up the mess you’d left behind. “can’t believe you came untouched, just from letting me ride your face,” you whisper with a mischievous smile of your own. “you like it, don’t you? it gets you off, when you make me cum all over your tongue.”

“fuck,” he curses, arching his hips off the bed as he pushes his ruined sweats off onto the floor. “i can go again, just wait, please.”

you press another kiss to his puffy lips, deciding to be generous to him, too. “eat me out until you’re hard again and then i’ll suck you off, okay?”

suddenly with newfound energy he flips you onto your back, grinning as he shimmies down the bed and pries your shaky legs apart. “deal.”

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[kelstey]

Deja Vu

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings : smut

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

your back slammed against the wall, mattheo's body pressed up to the front of you as the two of you eagerly made out. you weren't meant to be in this position, but the two of you couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

his hand clung to your waist tightly, his lips hungrily kissing down your jaw then down your neck. he was bound to leave marks that everyone would see for the next few days.

"mattheo," you moaned out.

"yes?" he looked up at you as he pressed kisses down the valley between your breasts.

"we shouldn't be doing this," you said, it was a lie. you most definitely should be doing this. you needed him so bad. the two of you had broken up a few months prior - it was toxic.

there were too many arguments over the smallest and petty things. the two of you eventually had enough of each other and ended things, but the feelings were very much still there - unbeknownst to your friends that you would sneak out most nights to meet mattheo.

they'd be so disappointed if they knew that you were busy getting your brains fucked out every night and not just 'going on a walk to clear your head'.

"if you don't want this, then why are you so soaked for me, hmm?" mattheo's fingers teased you through your skirt.

"shut up," a smile broke onto your face as he smirked at your reaction.

he knew you couldn't get enough of him - no matter how many times you said you hated him. you both knew you both loved each other, and likely always would.

it only made the breakup harder to get over whenever you were having sex with another guy. turns out moaning out your exes name during sex was not the best idea.

you didn't mean to, it simply slipped out. how else were you meant to finish with the thought of somebody else? even fucking others boys wasn't that good. they never filled you or stretched you the way mattheo did.

they didn't know your body the way mattheo did. your sweet spots, the way you love your hair getting pulled, the mix of degradation and praise.

the way that you loved the feeling of getting choked - especially in missionary which mattheo always loved as he always thought it was more intimate.

that and the way he could watch each singular expression on your face as he cause you multiple orgasms within minutes of each other. you would be physically unable to walk for hours - even sometimes days afterwards.

"i need you so bad," mattheo lifted your body and placed you down onto his bed. the only other bed you ever felt safe in.

mattheo took your bra off with one hand, something he had perfected with you. without a second to spare his mouth enclosed itself around one of your nipples, and a hand toying around with the other just the way you like it.

you threw your head back onto the pillow, the way he could satisfy you without always penetrating you was endearing.

"stop teasing," you moaned.

"i thought you loved it when i did that?" mattheo peppered kisses down your stomach, stopping just above your skirt.

"i do but i need your dick in me right fucking now," mattheo obliged happily - whatever you asked, you received.

within seconds he slid himself into, despite the million times you've had sex with him - you could never fully get used to his large size. he was always slow at first as he slid in and out of you, making sure to tease you and have you begging for more.

then he'd work up his pace, his mouth reattaching back onto your nipple, the other hand around your neck as you turned into a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.

the sounds of you alone made him cum. he would often get himself off to the beautiful sound of you screaming his name when he was alone. the thought of simply your face could get him off too.

"gonna be a good girl for me and cum around my cock?" mattheo panted as he felt himself draw closer to finishing. "look at you, covered in my hickies. only i can give you them, no one else. i want everyone to know you're mine."

-

"no fucking way," pansy's jaw nearly dropped, you looked up at her as you were eating.

"what?" you asked.

"mattheo and cho? what an unusual pairing," you felt your heart break into pieces, mattheo? the same one who was saying he loved you a couple days ago?

"what do you mean?" you looked around the hall and your eyes fell upon the pair. he was sat a couple rows down at your table, cho sat on his lap. you watched as he played with her hair, a hand on her thigh as he spoke to his friends. the same way he used to do with you.

"do you want to leave? i think the breakfast i just ate is away to come back up," pansy lightly laughed, unsure of how to react to you. she wasn't sure wether you were about to explode with laughter, heartbreak or anger.

"yeah let's," you quickly got up from the table and left with pansy by your side.

mattheo's eyes fell onto you as you left the hall, had you seen him? he was desperate to get your attention despite having a whole other girl on his lap.

you had his still fresh hickies on your body - but he was already with another girl. was he playing some sort of sick joke? who does that?

-

you sat on draco's lap, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he spoke away to blaise. "hey baby," you smiled at him.

"hey babe," he smiled back at you, you couldn't help but internally cringe as you pretended to be coupled up with draco.

he was there when you spotted mattheo with cho on his lap, he quickly ran after you and made a deal. he had been wanting some other slytherin girl's attention, and thought it would be an amazing idea if you two pretended to date.

you could make mattheo mad, and draco could then possibly try get with his girl. you were more than happy - belated at the proposal. except for the fact you had to be all lovey dovey with draco.

he was hot to say the least, but 'dating' someone you always thought of as a friend was slightly weird. but it wasn't unexpected as the two of you had your moments where you flirted - only innocently, of course.

draco's hand was on your thigh as you joined in the conversation between him and blaise, some random stuff as usual. you heard someone walk into the room - not even bothering to look as you could already smell the scent of vanilla, cigarettes and a slight woody smell.

mattheo riddle.

he cleared his throat, coughing. this caught the attention of the three of you, all turning around in unison to look at the boy. his fists were clenched at his side, eyes burning into both you and draco.

"didnt know you and malfoy were a thing now," mattheo's words seemed harsh - wether he meant them to be or not.

"nothing official," you flashed mattheo a fake smile.

"yeah, right," he said before sitting down on the sofa opposite the two of you. his eyes didn't leave you once, well, mainly draco's pale hand that was placed extremely highly on your thigh.

"something wrong, riddle?" you tilted your head to the side as you noticed his eyes focused on draco's hand.

"fine," he spat out.

"well, my dorm?" draco asked you and you nodded, wanting to escape the high-tension situation. you got up and fixed your skirt as draco also got up.

draco placed his hand on your lower back, walking you out of the common room. you looked back to see mattheo's eyes burning holes into the back of you. you turned back around, smirking at yourself.

"you think it's working?" you asked draco.

"is that even a question? he looked like he was away to cave my head in," draco sat on the edge of his bed, his arms supporting him. was it bad to say he looked incredibly hot? his school shirt was rolled up just above his elbows, revealing his veins.

"you know what i think would piss him off even more?" you walked over to draco, standing between his legs.

"what's that?" he smirked.

"if we fucked," you placed your fingers underneath his chin, making him look up at you. his hands travelled up the side of your thighs, then stopping at your hips.

"you don't need to tell me twice."

-

draco malfoy was a better shag than you originally thought. he pleased you in all sorts of ways - switching between being submissive and letting you ride him to dominate where he pounded any remaining dignity you had left, out of you.

you told him not to be shy on leaving hickies and any sort of marks. he didn't take that lightly either.

"draco are you fucking joking me?! i cant even cover half of these!" you scolded him, your fingers went over the sensitive purple on your neck.

"you told me to not be shy," he shrugged as he slipped back into his uniform.

you rolled your eyes, "draco where are my tights?" you panicked. you nearly flipped his whole room upside down trying to find any sign of the thin black material. you pulled your skirt up from the back of your thighs, spotting the dark red hand marks draco left.

"i didn't even realise you had that in you," you turned around to draco, referring to the large hand marks.

"you wanted to make him jealous," he said.

"jealous, yes, not to murder me or you! he's gonna go apeshit when he sees these!" you said.

"isn't that part of the plan?" draco looked at you confused.

"i suppose. come on now, there's gonna be hardly any food left for dinner," you said and the two of you made your way down to the great hall.

all eyes on you was an understatement. the hall quickly went quiet when you and draco walked in. the two of you still both slightly flushed in the face, the love bites very much visible on your neck.

theodore whistled, "didn't know you had that in you malfoy."

"y/n said the same exact thing," draco smirked and you lightly smacked his arm. "what? i'm not lying."

"shut your gob, i've already had enough of everyone staring," you said before digging into your food. you looked up across the large table, mattheo.

his eyes were on you. did he really just spend his whole time staring at you whenever possible? you put your head back down, awkwardly rubbing your neck.

"round 2 later?" draco smirked.

"don't even think about it, malfoy," a voice said and you looked up. mattheo?? again??

"you're not the boss of me," you snapped back. E

you could see the rage in mattheo's eyes. "we need to talk."

you looked at draco for approval, he nodded and you got up. you and mattheo walked out of the hall, he walked in front of you, well more so sped walked.

"slow down!" you tried to catch up to him.

"what are you doing to me?" he turned around and stopped in his tracks.

"i'm not doing anything," you said.

"yes you are! you're killing me y/n! do you know how it feels to see the girl i'm in love with walk in half an hour late to dinner, clearly having have just shagged the one and only malfoy?!" he took a step closer to you.

you gulped, unsure what to say. his closeness was also killing you. "i didn't think you'd care."

"why wouldn't i?" mattheos eyes softened as he spoke.

"why would you?! you were the one with cho's tongue half way down your throat just two days after we fucked! i know we're broken up but do you really think i don't still have feelings for you? i know you're smarter than that, riddle."

"i was only doing it for a reaction from you! clearly i got one but never did i think you would go and shag malfoy!"

"are you joking me? are we in primary or something? why would you even do that?!"

"i don't know! i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to move on from you - i couldn't just keep hooking up with you and pretend i'm not absolutely in love with you!"

"you're a fucking idiot, mattheo. i know you're a bit stupid but really!" you rubbed your temple.

"i'm sorry, okay? i just wanted you to show you cared but now that i look back i realise it was childish. i really do love you, y/n. i always will," mattheo's face was a mere few inches away from yours.

"i'll never understand you, you know that?" you let out a small giggle.

"oh i know. you're the only one who can put up with me anyways. i missed you, cho was a shit kissed," mattheo said.

"i don't really wanna hear about you kissing another girl right now," you said.

"well i also really don't want to see you with another guys hickies all over your necks but here we are," you rolled your eyes.

"i hate you," you held back a smile.

"i love you too. now let me show you how it truly feels to be fucked."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

[yazmarina]

not just a figure of speech (you got me down on my knees)

paul aron (f2) x gender neutral!reader

flirting with your teammate seemed a good enough idea, until a not-so-good qualifying tears down every ounce of restraint from your body.

warnings/notes: smut, friends to ???, oral sex, semi-public sex, lots of flirting

a/n: anj stop using lyrics as titles challenge failed. a short and sweet one in honor of our barcelona pole sitter! enjoy <3

"You're here early."

You look up from the monitor in front of you to see Paul walking into the Hitech tent, an easy smile on his lips. He takes the seat in front of you, gently nudging your foot under the table.

"Only because I wanted to see you as soon as I could," you respond. A grin makes its way to your face at the way Paul's cheeks immediately redden.

"Good one," Paul commends, nodding as he avoids your eyes.

"What? You're not happy to see me?" You ask, leaning over the table, peering closer at Paul.

Paul meets your gaze and you can see that the red tinge has reached down to his neck. You giggle, your own stomach bursting into butterflies as his eyes scan over your face.

"I'm always happy to see you, ________," Paul says, reaching over to pinch your cheek.

You lean into his touch, laying the entire side of your face against his hand. He briefly runs his thumb over your cheek, retracting his arm just as quick. You straighten in your seat, clearing your throat.

The engineers and strategists around you don't even bat an eye at the exchange, or even if they had noticed, they've grown too accustomed to your and Paul's teasing, a habit both of you picked up towards the start of the season as a way to get around the awkward tension you two had as new teammates.

You'd tell him he looked handsome as he entered the room and he'd blush and return the compliment. You'd always follow it up with a hearty laugh, brushing it off as friendly banter whenever someone asked.

It's always been this way. And every time you thought it would go somewhere, when the pause and smile between cheeky compliments gets too long, or when hands wander during hugs, Paul would always turn away, distancing himself from you until you inevitably gravitate back toward each other.

You feel like it's something, something that you should probably talk about with Paul, or at least address. But what would you say? What is this?

"Track walk in ten, guys."

You jolt out of your thoughts, everyone around you already packing up to head to the track. You catch Paul's eyes again and he grins, rising from his seat before holding out a hand to you.

You take it without much thought, eventually snaking your arm around his, grip firm on his bicep. If people didn't know better, they'd think the two of you were stepping out for a date.

"I'm excited," you admit, peering up at Paul as the two of you exit the tent. "The track's great. Aren't you excited?"

Paul nods. "I am. Might be in for a win, finally."

You beam, squeezing his arm. "That's my guy."

You miss the way Paul's eyes practically shimmer as he gazes down at you.

-

"P fucking five," Paul curses under his breath, dropping his helmet with a loud clatter to the floor.

You listen and pause just outside his driver's room, the thin, opaque flap of plastic separating him from the rest of the team tent. You know better than to interrupt a driver in the throes of a bad qualifying result but as a teammate and his friend, you know that Paul would never dare lash out at you even if he was upset.

So you call out to him.

"Paul?"

You flinch back when he pulls back the cover of his room. His hair is disheveled, his eyes somber. Paul's frown softens when he sees you and he immediately widens the opening to his room.

You step in, fidgeting with the sleeves of your fireproof as Paul zips the canvas flap shut.

"I...," you begin, not really sure what to say. Paul avoids your eyes, messing around with some stuff on his massage table but you know he wasn't really doing anything of note.

Maybe it was a mistake to come in at all.

"Can you just...," Paul begins, straightening up, still unable to look directly at you.

You wait patiently for him to formulate his words, your own fingers twisting into the fabric of your race suit.

"I should leave, I'm sorr–"

"...stay here."

You blink, Paul's words registering in your brain half a second late. He finally looks at you, eyebrows creased.

"Don't leave," Paul says. "I said you could stay."

You exhale, finally letting yourself relax. Paul seems to mirror your demeanor because he finally slumps against the massage table, head hanging low as he stares at the floor.

You shuffle uncertainly forward, coming into Paul's line of sight. He's looking at you with this hurt look in his eyes, one you've never seen before. It's jarring, slightly unnerving, the way your teammate is being so vulnerable in front of you right now.

"A lot can be done from P5," you assure Paul. "I'm down in 11th."

"I'll reward you if you get a podium," you continue with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood, not really meaning whatever it is you're saying.

Paul raises his eyebrows, a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

"Reward me with what?" he asks, sliding backward to sit on the massage table.

You feel a violent blush settle on your cheeks as your brain finally catches up with your mouth.

"With dinner, Paul. I'll treat you to dinner," you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

Paul chuckles, leaning back on his hands, gaze unwavering as he continues to stare at you.

Your hand flies up to your neck, a nervous habit as you realize just how hard Paul is staring. Clearing your throat, you seem to snap Paul out of his trance, eyes blinking as he refocuses on your face.

"What do you want me to do, then?" You ask, trying to steer the awkwardness away.

Paul gives you a look and squares his jaw, a teasing glint in his eyes.

He jerks his chin inward, prompting you to realize that he's saying, 'Come here'. You swallow, stepping closer, breath hitching as you watch Paul part his legs. Your mouth falls open when it dawns on you just how close he wants you.

His hand reaches out tentatively, fingertips brushing gently against your arm. You let him tug you closer, closer, and closer still, until you're situated between his legs. With him sitting, you're nearly the same height. You can feel his breath on your face. He's within kissing distance.

"I can think of a few things," Paul finally says, his hand dropping from your arm down to your waist.

"Hey," you blurt out. Paul flinches and jerks his hand back, the amusement in his face replaced with genuine worry.

"Only if you want to, of course, I mean I wasn't suggesting anything that's–"

"Paul."

He pauses, eyes wide, as if scared he'd offended you somehow.

You realize that this is it. This is what it all boils down to. All that teasing and tentative touches have come to this.

"The reward only comes after the podium," you remind him.

Paul lets out a relieved laugh, both his hands now snaking around your waist. He holds you firmly in place, tilting his head to the side as if studying every inch of your face.

"A good luck charm, then?"

Your face breaks out into a grin, your own palms creeping up Paul's firm thighs. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as he watches you tug his race suit further down.

"I was thinking a kiss, but if you wanna do that, I'm not gonna stop you," Paul comments, nudging you teasingly.

"Would you prefer a kiss over me blowing you?" You ask, knuckles brushing against Paul's bulge.

Paul shakes his head.

He lifts his hips up for a second, allowing you to pull his suit all the way off, along with his bottom fireproofs and underwear.

You gasp softly as you're met with Paul's length.

"Surprised?" Paul questions, guiding your hand to it. You wrap your fingers around and give an experimental squeeze.

Paul groans, throwing his head back. He stiffens even more in your hold.

"Not at all," you answer, dropping to your knees in one graceful swoop.

"You're just as I imagined," you admit.

You lick a long stripe from the base of Paul's cock to the tip, swirling once over his head before spitting on it. Paul shivers above you, mouth hanging open.

"Fuck," he mutters softly. "You've thought about this?"

"Mhm," you confirm, wrapping your lips around him fully.

You feel a harsh tug at your scalp and you whine as Paul threads and twists his fingers in your hair. You retaliate by sinking lower around him, stopping only when you feel his tip against the back of your throat.

"Holy shit," he whispers, pulling your head back so he could peer into your eyes.

"Make it quick," Paul warns, tightening his hold on your hair even more. "Debrief is starting soon."

You don't have to be told twice as you pull back all the way before sinking forward again. You set up a rhythm, swirling your tongue over the tip every once and again, teeth lightly grazing his length as you come back down.

Paul clamps a hand over his mouth, not trusting himself to keep quiet, not with the way you're kneeling in front of him right now, his dick down your throat. He has a vice grip on your hair, sending your own arousal down between your legs.

You speed up when you hear voices just outside Paul's driver room, aware that a thin piece of plastic is the only thing separating the rest of the team and the image of their two drivers in the middle of a scandalous act.

As if reading your thoughts, Paul snickers, raising his eyebrows as you look up at him.

"They'd freak if they saw you like this," Paul taunts. "The second in the championship blowing the championship lead?"

You pinch Paul's thigh and he curses, laughing breathlessly right after.

"Okay, okay, sorry baby," Paul croons, loosening his grip on your hair.

You pull off him, panting, your hair in a sorry state.

"You've annoyed me now," you warn with a smirk. "You can use your own hand to finish the job."

Paul pouts. "Hey, now. I said I'm sorry."

"I know," you say. "If you can cum in the next two minutes, I'll let you do it inside my mouth."

"Fuck," Paul mutters, his hand already starting to pump along his length.

You snicker, laying your head on Paul's thigh while your palm strokes the other.

"Come on, Paul," you coax sweetly. "I'll give you more later if you can get that podium."

Paul grunts, speeding up even more. He eyes you darkly and you simply smile, digging your nails into the flesh of his thigh.

"Open," is all he says and you obey immediately, straightening up, your tongue sticking out as you anticipate Paul's release.

You yelp as you feel Paul nudge your head forward, his cock sliding into your mouth as it twitches, spurting hot cum straight down your throat. You swallow immediately, gagging slightly when you feel even more landing on your tongue.

You gasp as you pull away, some of the leftover dribbling down your chin. You swipe it off with your thumb, licking it clean, laughing as Paul slumps backward.

"Shit," Paul concludes, chest still heaving from the effort.

You pull yourself up, legs trembling slightly from the strain of kneeling for so long. Paul eyes you as you smooth your hair down, wiping at your face with the back of your hand in case you missed any trace of him.

"No podium, no sex," you remind him, leaning down to leave a kiss on his cheek.

You move to pull away but Paul tugs you back down, your feet stumbling over each other. You start to protest but all words die on your tongue when you feel Paul seal his lips firmly over yours.

"You should have just said that at the beginning of this weekend," Paul jokes, laughing when he feels you smack him on the arm.

-

"Well, would you look at that?"

You chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling as Paul approaches you, his 1st place trophy tucked under his arm. He glances at it momentarily before looking back at you.

"That's a podium," Paul points out, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, but the smile finally breaks loose on your face.

"Room 807. Come by before you go out and celebrate."

Paul snickers, leaning in briefly to kiss your cheek this time.

"Are you kidding? You're coming to celebrate with me," Paul declares over his shoulder, sauntering off.

"Double celebration, baby!"