#i'm at least grateful to not have spent hours

[munsonsmixtapes]

I'm Still Your Boy

Ex=boyfriend!Eddie x fem!reader

After your boyfriend cheats on you at your birthday party, your ex Eddie reminds you that he'll always be your shoulder to cry on.

cw: hurt/comfort, mention of cheating

You don’t know what you did to deserve this. Maybe it’s because of something you did in a past life. Some sort of karma, perhaps? Whatever the reason, you don’t think you actually deserve to be cheated on by your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who told you that he wanted to save himself for you and you alone, which seemed to be a fucking lie just to get in your pants considering you caught him with the very girl he told you not to worry about. 

They were fucking and to make it even more sad, they were fucking in your bed at your birthday party. Well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top of the shit sundae? And they were so caught up in each other that they didn’t even hear you slam the door. 

Before anyone could see you cry, you hurry to the bathroom, thankful that you’re upstairs and that no one else was around. What’s supposed to be a fun celebration has turned into something you’ll remember forever for all the wrong reasons. 

As soon as you’re alone, you sit on the toilet and begin to cry. Maybe you feel a bit pathetic but you can’t help it. Sure, it’s not like you actually loved the man, but it still hurts like hell. Especially when Josh told you time and time again that Chelsea would never be a problem. 

And now you find yourself wondering how long they’ve been doing it behind your back. And why you feel so hurt. It’s not like you even liked him that much. And now this is the excuse to break up with him that you’ve been looking for. 

You’re full on sobbing now and it’s not like you’re surprised, you were expecting it to happen with the way they’re always looking at each other, but you’d think your boyfriend would at least have some decency to not cheat on you at your birthday party. But apparently that was too much to ask. 

You grab some toilet paper from the roll next to you and blow your nose, absolutely positive that you look terrible with mascara tears streaming down your cheeks, but you can’t get yourself to look. That would just make you feel even worse. You spent hours on your makeup and now you let some stupid boy ruin it in a matter of minutes. 

Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s doing at this party. He wants to be here, but he’s not even sure why he was invited. The two of you broke up years ago and even though it was mutual and there was no bad blood, you just drifted apart. 

He feels so weird being here in this house. There are so many memories that the two of you have created here, a time capsule of your relationship. He wants to be there to celebrate you, but being there with all of the little moments the two of you shared throughout your relationship is far too painful to relive. He misses you so much more than he’d ever care to admit. 

He wants to be your friend again, but seeing the way your new boyfriend was glaring daggers at him when everyone was singing “Happy Birthday”, he’s not so sure that’s a good idea. He’s only known he guy a couple of hours and he’s already convinced with a few drinks in his system, he’d knock him the fuck out. 

His name is Josh for starters. Fucking Josh. That should be a red flag on its own. He also somehow got you the wrong cake which was clearly mostly for him since he seemed so excited about it. That seemed to be a common theme considering the same went for your gift. He got you a video game for a system that you don’t even have and it was the second one in a series. 

And Eddie swore he wasn’t going to leave the party alive when you opened your gift from him. It was a special edition of your favorite book as a child and if looks could have killed, he would have been dead. You seemed so grateful for the gift, even going as far as hugging Eddie, nothing but happy tears pricking your eyes. 

He didn’t realize just how much he missed holding you until you were in his arms again. You just fit so perfectly. Before he could reminisce too much, you pulled away, moving back to sit in Josh’s lap, but he was nowhere to be found. 

Out of all of your friends who were there, Eddie seemed to be the only one who could tell just how little fun you were having. How was it that you seemed to be invisible at your own birthday party? Why was he the only one who seemed to care? The two of you weren’t even friends anymore. Maybe after tonight, that’ll change.He really wants to reconnect. Maybe he can invite you out for coffee and the two of you can catch up. 

It’s almost midnight. Most of the guests have already left or they’re so drunk that they’ve passed out on the various pieces of furniture around the first level of the house. You’ve disappeared and that’s all Eddie cares about. He wants to find you so he can say goodnight and get the fuck out of there before he does something he’ll regret. 

He heads up the stairs on the hunt for you, but he realizes that he needs to go to the bathroom first. He knows he should anyway before he hits the road. He sees the bathroom door is cracked and heads for it, opening it expecting to see it empty, but he finds you sitting on the toilet sobbing your eyes out. 

“Eddie, hey,” you grin at him, trying your best to look normal even though your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear stained. 

“Hey.” He waves awkwardly in a way that you’ve always found so adorable. “Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I’ll give you some privacy. He turns to leave, but you grab hold of his wrist before he can get too far. 

“Will you stay with me?” You ask with a sniff. He would stay with you even if you weren’t crying, but he especially will because you are. 

He shuts the door all the way then sits on his knees in front of you, forcing himself to look at you even though seeing you cry always broke his heart. He doesn’t know why you’re crying but he has a guess. He doesn’t ask even though he really wants to. He wants to wait for you to speak, not wanting to pry, but just keep you company as you go through a hard time. 

He takes the toilet paper from you and wipes away your tears, gently dabbing to preserve what little makeup is left. He knows how important that kind of thing is to you. Well, he’s actually not so sure you feel that way still. He forgets that he doesn’t actually know you anymore. 

“I look terrible, don’t I?” You look up at him, lips trembling and he really doesn't think he can take seeing you cry anymore. It’ll just make his heart break even more than it already has.

“You look beautiful as always.” It’s his go-to response but it always worked like a charm. He wonders if his flirting still has the same effect on you. He used to love seeing the way you’d get all giggly when he would compliment you. 

“But you have to say that, you’re my-” you cut yourself off, remember that Eddie isn’t your boyfriend anymore. Your boyfriend is the reason why you’re crying. “Sorry, habit.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head. “You do look beautiful, though. That dress is great, but I wouldn’t expect anything less. You always did have good style, y/n.” 

“Is this all just your clever way of getting into my pants?” The words are dripping with venom and Eddie wonders what he said that made everything shift. He was just paying a compliment, nothing more, nothing less. 

His eyes widen and he stammers, trying his best to save himself quickly as he’s drowning fast. Your eyes widen as well so clearly you’re just as surprised by your sudden outburst. You have no idea where it came from especially since Eddie has never been that kind of guy and he especially wouldn’t be now knowing that you have a boyfriend.

“No,” he finally says as he’s able to find the words. “I was just paying you a compliment and you know that.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” You’re shaking your head, hating how you’ve spoken to him, accusing him  of something that he clearly wasn’t even doing. “I just caught Josh cheating on me and I guess I’m taking it out on you.” 

“He what?” Oh now he’s livid. He’s got to kiss this guy’s ass now that he finally has an excuse. 

“It’s my fault,” you shake your head again. “I wasn’t giving him enough attention-” your words are cut off by Eddie taking your face in his hands, staring you down. 

“It’s not your fault. Stop making excuses for him y/n. That guy is a fucking loser and he doesn’t deserve you. He deserves to end up broke and alone.” You know he’s right but just want to pass the blame onto yourself because then there would actually be a reason for Josh’s cheating other than the fact that he just doesn’t seem to care about you. 

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He does in your eyes. ever since the two of you started hanging out, he had a knack for telling you exactly what you needed to hear even if it was a little too blunt for your liking. You appreciated that he never failed to tell you the truth no matter how much it may have hurt.

“I try.” It seems like all of your feelings for each other that have been bottled up are pouring out, now almost palpable because of how strong they are.

“I miss you.” 

“I miss you too,” Eddie replies, moving his thumbs back and forth across your cheeks just like he used to do. “I’ll be kicking myself for letting you slip through my fingers for the rest of my life.”

“What if we gave it another try? The friendship part?” Your face lights up at his suggestion and you decide that this is the best birthday present you’ve ever received. 

“I’d really like that. Hey, I think Benny’s is still open. Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“I’d love nothing more.” Eddie helps you up from the toilet and leads you out the front door where you head to his van to head to the diner. 

The two of you find yourselves in your favorite booth, eating and laughing like no time has passed. You stay there into the early morning as the sun comes up, finishing off your meal with a milkshake that the two of you share for old time’s sake and right then and there, Eddie realizes that he’s still is very much your boy, still wrapped around your goddamn finger just the way he likes and there’s no other place he’d rather be.

[vickytaa]

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓬𝓽

𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓍 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒶����𝓉

The first week at the new school wasn't easy, but it wasn't hard either. Bella was struggling to adjust to the change, the loss of her old friends weighing heavily on her. Thankfully, for now, her only concern was keeping up with her studies. Or so it seemed.

Solitude was a familiar companion. Visits to her parents' homes often meant hours spent alone because neither of them had much time for her. The absence of siblings and a lack of social skills made it difficult to connect with others. Her parents had cultivated an image of her that left her feeling insecure and fearful of judgment. As a result, she never had many friends, let alone a boyfriend or anything like that.

And that brings us to this moment. Bella was sitting alone on the grass, in the corner outside the school.

She craved peace and quiet, and there was no one to share it with. Unfortunately, this was becoming a daily routine.

The sound of approaching footsteps shattered her tranquility. With each step, her heart raced. What if they were looking for her? What if they had found her? What if-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the small figures in front of her. Thea, the cheerleading captain, stood before her, along with her friends. Bella's heart sank as she raised her head to meet a pair of very fake faces, 'Faking it more than my mom when she swears I'm not the problem,' Bella thought bitterly.

"What are you doing here?" Thea asked, attempting a soft tone that failed miserably. It was common knowledge why she was the most popular girl in school. Her short, silky blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, highlighting the green of her eyes. She was truly a beauty; nothing compared to Bella, whose dark brown hair was long and wavy, and her eyes matched her hair. Thea was confident, or at least she pretended to be, while Bella simply hid in the shadows.

"Uh- I was eating lunch..." Bella replied, her words tripping over each other, and her voice trembling. 'Great, now everyone knows I'm scared of them,' she thought. Bella heard one of the girls behind Thea laugh at her.

"Oh... poor thing... are you alone? We can keep you company." Thea offered, and for a moment, Bella thought maybe she wasn't as bad as people said. She and her minions began to sit beside her, all with a small, evil smile that Bella tried to ignore but made her incredibly uncomfortable.

There was an awkward silence, but Bella was too scared to say anything stupid, so she decided it was best to remain quiet. Some of the girls began to giggle softly, knowing what was coming, while Bella looked at them confused.

A few started to grab her food, "Let's see what you have here..." one said as she took her apple, "But it was..." Bella began to speak, trying to grab her food back, "Friends share, right?" Thea said. She tried to resist, but she clearly couldn't fight ten girls grabbing her lunch.

Suddenly, one of the girls threw some tomato sauce on her white shirt, "Hey!" Bella said, "Oh, don't get mad, it was an accident," the girl said, laughing in her face.

It was obvious they weren't trying to be friends, they were making fun of her. "Why are you-" "Ash! You talk too much, Bella!" Thea complained with a smile, obviously enjoying her power over her. The other girls began to "accidentally" spill things on Bella, laughing in her face. Her eyes began to fill with tears, but she fought hard not to let them fall.

Before Thea could continue her torment, a voice, or rather, two voices, interrupted her. "Leave her alone, Thea." The deep voice came from somewhere nearby, but Bella couldn't see because the girls were blocking her view, aside from her blurry, tear-filled eyes.

"Back off," another voice, similar to the first, commanded. Bella was terrified, but at the same time, grateful that someone was stopping them. "Oh, come on guys, seriously? You're going to defend this loser?" Thea said, standing up. The tears were getting harder to control. The memories flooded back after hearing that nickname.

"Leave her alone," the voice repeated firmly. This time, the girls started to get up and move away from Bella. Thea looked back at her with contempt, "This isn't over," she said. A shiver ran down Bella's spine, clearly scared of what might happen next.

"Yes, it is," one of the boys said. After the group of bullies left, the brothers sat down next to her, "Are you okay?" Matt asked, but Bella didn't answer. She didn't trust them very much because they were popular too.

"You can trust us, Bella," Chris said, his voice softer this time. Matt pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her, "Here, don't cry anymore," he said gently. Bella tried to trust them a little and began to wipe her tears with the tissue.

Both boys had a small smile on their faces, happy to be able to comfort her and mesmerized by her beauty. Her nose and cheeks were a bit red from crying, her eyes matched her long hair, and her clothes were as delicate as she was.

"Seriously, you're going to defend the freak?" A boy interrupted their little moment. Chris and Matt turned to see who it was, and Bella took the opportunity to run to the bathroom. She didn't need anyone else seeing her cry.

"Shit" they both muttered, angry that their friend had ruined the encounter.

𝐕 -

[cvbullshit]

Yall lost your art viewing privileges /j

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[drunk-person]

Leather gloves, jealous and dragons

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After the moons pass and Aemond and Lady Y/n's marriage becomes increasingly stronger, there is only one creature capable of keeping the prince away from his wife for more than a few hours, Vhagar. Sometimes Y/n cares, sometimes she doesn't, but if there's one thing she never cares about, it's the thick black gloves that her husband wears when he goes flying.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, gloves being used inappropriately (a lot of things have been used inappropriately on this blog lately, I'm talking about you training yard), fingering, clothed sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.900 k

Author's note: Okay, I was just casually scrolling through Aemond's tag when this idea came up, and yes I was writing the bottom half of the fourth chapter of The Gossip, but I HAD to write this story! @peachysunrize I hope you like it, I added some inventions from my head in the middle of it 💕💕. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

Y/n Arryn was a respectable and well-regarded lady, throughout Westeros there were men fighting for her hand as soon as she was old enough to marry. Proposals came from the North, the Rech and even Dorne, but the one that was of most interest to Lord Arryn was the one that came in a black envelope with red edges sealed with the Targaryen family crest.

The hand of the king had proposed marriage between Y/n and his grandson Prince Aemond Targaryen. The young woman felt her heart come to her mouth as soon as her father told her what he had decided, she would marry Prince Aemond in two moons.

The first time Y/n set foot on Kings Landing she was terrified, the idea of marrying a man she barely knew making her thoughts cloudier than water. And when she met Prince Aemond, this terror increased even more, something she didn't think was possible.

He was as scary and taciturn as they had told her, he barely gave her a look and only said two words of courtesy, other than muttering every now and then while looking down on everyone as if he were from a race superior to mere mortals.

Y/n's fear became even more overwhelming after she met Aegon, Aemond's older brother. Her heart ached as she listened to the gossip around the fortress about how he cheated on his wife, how he was always drunk, and how he spent more time in the brothels than in the fortress. Sadness took over her, and she imagined how terrible life itself would be from now on.

How wrong she was.

Things began to change on the night of the wedding when the prince vehemently denied a bed ceremony. Y/n was so nervous, the fear of the nuptials was already consuming her, combined with the fact that other people would be watching it made her tremble, until Aemond denied the ceremony and ripped that fear out of her.

The remaining fear was quickly extinguished when Aemond gently laid her on the bed and made her cry with pleasure in a way she never thought possible. Her hands tangled in his silver strands of hair as he touched her in places that made her blush with embarrassment as she remembered the other day.

From then on, little by little, she got to know her husband and every day she became more grateful for that. He still had that stoic and arrogant air, but now Y/n could see behind it, she saw the small acts of importance he gave her daily.

How he made a point of having at least one meal a day with her, how he asked how her day had been, how every now and then she would wake up after a passionate night and find an arrangement of beautiful flowers on the table in her room. And each of these things from the smallest to the largest warmed her heart until it was completely melted by her husband, to the point where she couldn't wait to be with him.

Little by little Aemond spent more and more time with her, and when they weren't tangled in the sheets so close together that you didn't know where one began and the other ended, they were sitting in the gardens talking, or reading together in some quiet place, or even just quietly enjoying each other's company. At a certain point, the only one who could receive more attention from Aemond than Y/n was Vhagar since he almost always went on long flights with the dragon.

That afternoon in particular Aemond was taking much longer than usual and Y/n was waiting for him impatiently as she walked around the room. He had promised to arrive before sunset so they would have time to walk around the garden, but now the sun had already set and the maids had even lit the candles.

The loud noise of the door suddenly invaded the room and Y/n promptly got up to wait for her husband, as soon as he entered her field of vision Y/n arched her eyebrows ironically.

-Did you decide to show up, husband? - Moons ago Y/n wouldn't have spoken to him in such a way in her wildest dreams, but now she was so familiar with him that she often didn't have as much politeness when speaking.

-I'm sorry, wife. - He said, removing the belt with the dagger and sword and throwing it on the couch. -Vhagar was a little sensitive this afternoon, she tends to want to fly longer distances when she is like this.

Y/n just made a humming sound with her mouth instead of responding, a habit she had picked up from Aemond without even realizing it. However, Y/n couldn't help biting her lower lip lightly when she saw him still wearing his riding clothes, she had never said anything to him, but seeing him returning from the flight always affected her mood and it was almost automatic so that she got excited.

-Wife… - Aemond murmured, approaching Y/n from behind and holding her firmly by the waist. -Are you by any chance jealous of Vhagar… a dragon?

His voice was incredulous and Y/n burned with embarrassment. Before she could respond Aemond laughed, something that rarely happened, which made her blush even more as she tried tried to free herself from his arms.

-You don't need to be embarrassed, I find it very flattering that you feel such appreciation for me to the point of feeling jealous. - He arched his eyebrow, still smiling. - No matter how unreasonable it may be.

-Husband.. - Y/n complained grumpily looking at her feet.

At that point she was no longer red only from the small misbehavior, but also from the thin, rough texture of her husband's riding gloves against her sensitive, soft skin. That was always a problem, she couldn't help but sigh every time she saw Aemond arrive wearing those damn gloves. And when he ripped them off and threw them haphazardly on the table? She felt a pressure between her legs that made her want to jump on him.

-What is it? Why are you all bristling, wife? - Aemond rubbed his hands against her arms and Y/n shivered even more making him arch his eyebrows again.

-They're your gloves, husband. - She said looking at the floor. – They are rough.

-I can take it off if you want. - He spoke, still gently stroking her arms, but after speaking he noticed that his wife lowered her eyes and didn't respond and then, approaching her lips to her ear, he spoke in a low voice, almost making her sigh. - You don't want me to take it off, do you?

-Do you like rougher things, dear wife? - And with the question he ran his hands down Y/n's body and slowly pulled the fabric of the dress up and accumulated them on her hips, making Y/n gasp as she felt the rough gloves passing over her thighs and squeezing them. slowly. Aemond couldn't help but smile when he noticed his wife's reactions to the roughest touch.

-Come here my dear, I'll show you how much I missed you. - He said, pulling her more and more towards him, sitting in one of the armchairs in the room while he placed her on his lap facing the large mirror and guided his hands to his wife's knees, slowly separating her legs, now being able to see the moisture that had formed in her intimacy.

-I haven't even touched you yet, dear wife, and you're already so wet for me. - His delicious voice sounded in her ear as he slowly moved his hands up her thighs, making her desperate for him to get to where she needed him most. The sight of his gloved fingers running up her legs made her roll her eyes with desire.

Aemond smiled mischievously and Y/n held her breath, not knowing where to look. His smile intensified as he brought his fingers to her cunt and at this point Y/n was barely breathing with desire.

Slowly he guided two fingers to her entrance and rubbed gently, pulling some of the moisture concentrated there and taking it to the pearl, which he began to rub languidly, eliciting sighs and moans from Y/n.

-You look so beautiful when you open your legs for me. - He murmured, brushing his lips gently against the shell of her ear, making her let out a louder moan. - So beautiful making these perfect sounds when I've barely touched you yet.

He then moved his fingers down and with a smooth movement that made Y/n roll her eyes, he penetrated just one gloved finger into her cunt. The sight of his finger disappearing inside her as he admired her with that look of pure adoration made her want to cry with desire.

-Very good beautiful girl. - He sighed as he slowly moved his finger teasing her, knowing very well that she needed more. - You always welcome me so well. How about another one?

He had barely asked and Y/n was already nodding her head practically begging for him.

-Such a needy lady my wife is. - He murmured as he inserted another finger inside her, making her moan his name with praise. - I can't leave our bed for a few hours because it becomes a meaningless mess.

Aemond guided his free hand to the front laces of Y/n's dress and pulled them tightly, loosening her wife's neckline more and more until her breasts were exposed to his pure delight, who guided his gloved hand to her erect nipple. of her gently pinching him as he admired her reflection in the mirror.

Meanwhile he moved his fingers slowly inside her and the feeling of the rough fabric of her husband's gloves against her own soft and wet insides made Y/n see stars and sigh in contentment with the double stimulation. As Aemond fucked her with his fingers he found that spongy spot that took her body out of orbit, and when she moaned uncontrollably he smiled even more mischievously against her neck, leaving kisses and bites there, pinching her nipples even more.

-So good husband. - Y/n sighed, leaning on his shoulder.

-You don't know how much I want to fuck you right now. -He murmured, biting her ear and sucking it while he nuzzled his nose in her hair.

Aemond penetrated her third finger making her whimper, but unlike before where he caressed her gently, he now started to get into a rougher rhythm, still slow but with force. And Y/n in turn just clung to his arms as she threw herself back, leaning against her husband's clothed chest, and moving her hips in search of more friction.

-So desperate my wife, throwing herself against my fingers like a beautiful filthy whore. -He brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face when he said that, so that Y/n could see herself better in the mirror, and the sight of her made her moan even louder.

His gloved fingers moving in and out of her cunt, his palm firmly massaging her mound, the fabric of the gloves slightly moistened and a white ring forming at the base of the fingers contrasting strongly with the dark color they possessed. The contractions of pleasure of her cunt crushing Aemond's skilled fingers as he smiled and bit her neck working even harder to coax pleasure out of her, he loved the feeling of her silky walls squeezing around him.

The way he curled his fingers and then moved them in and out made every nerve ending in Y/n burn. The roughness of the fabric was driving her crazy and she wanted so much more, she wanted to be set on fire.

-Husband. - She moaned, arching her back and pressing herself even more against him while turning her neck slightly to face him, taking one of her hands to his hair and removing the eye patch in the process. - I'm so close… so close. Please.

-I like it as much as you implore my dear. - He guided his other hand to her chin and squeezed it tightly, forcing her to keep her eyes exclusively on the mirror's reflection, the rough fabric of the glove making her gasp, while the sight of Aemond's now uncovered sapphire eye made her moan. - But I want you to keep your hungry little eyes on your pussy.

-See how wet she is for me, how well she takes my fingers, you are dripping my dear wife. - The movements became faster and stronger and Y/n felt some tears run down her cheeks as she moaned uncontrollably at the sight of Aemond's gloved fingers buried so deeply in her soaked cunt.

And when he accelerated the movements of both his fingers inside Y/n and his palm against her sensitive pearl, Y/n cried and screamed as she came against his hand, shuddering with pleasure.

Aemond was lost at that scene. He couldn't take his eyes off his wife's cunt writhing against his fingers as her juices oozed out between his fingers. Her face full of pleasure as she screamed and begged for his name was another thing that could easily kill him in that instant, he would certainly die happy with that scene.

-Look at the mess you make, my dear. - He said after removing his fingers from her trembling cunt. - Clean up for me like the good wife I know you are.

Aemond guided his hand to Y/n's lips and she lazily sucked on his gloved fingers. The taste of the fabric mixed with her own taste further numbing her mind, still clouded by the orgasm.

And Aemond could no longer contain himself when he saw that expression of contentment on her face as she sucked on his gloved fingers. And he quickly took her off his lap and bent her over the carpet, still facing the mirror, making her gasp from the abrupt movement.

Y/n had barely balanced herself and Aemond had already undid the laces of his own pants and guided his cock to her sensitive pussy. They both moaned senselessly as soon as he penetrated her completely. And he quickly brought his hands to the top of her dress, dragging it down and leaving her breasts completely free for him to massage and squeeze as he pleased.

He fucked her so well, and Y/n lost her breath with each firm thrust from Aemond and panted with pleasure as she whimpered for more with tears in her eyes.

She raised her head, looking towards the mirror again, and the sight of his hand massaging her hips and squeezing her nipples as he fucked her while still wearing those damned riding gloves made her eyes roll with pleasure, and she begged for him with Even more willing looking into his eyes and sighing when finding that blue glow that she had learned to love so much.

-I love that look you have when I'm inside you. - He groaned, rolling his eye with pleasure as he fucked her, and Y/n lowered her face once again. Aemond then guided his hand to her chin, forcing her to look at the mirror again, he wouldn't miss a second of that passionate look that his wife directed just at him and that made Aemond's heart race.

-No my dear, you keep those shining eyes on me while I fuck you like you deserve. - And removing his hand from her chin, Aemond went up to her hair and pulled it back, holding her firmly and keeping her gaze fixed on the mirror.

-Aemond, please. - She whimpered, enchanting him with those eyes that made him lose his head, and once again he guided the tips of his gloved fingers to the top of her thighs and caressed her forcefully, making his wife gasp and moan as she collapsed in front of him, who held her. by her hips as he fucked her with abandon looking for his own climax, which didn't take long to come when he came deep inside her.

The two remained motionless, their bodies pressed together and their breaths labored. Y/n brought her own bare hand to her husband's gloved hand and caressed it with gentle circles still completely lost in fleeting pleasure.

-You look even more beautiful when you're cumming all over my cock. - He murmured, still lost in pleasure against her hair, making his wife smile.

Y/n in turn, faced the mirror and sighed with contentment when she saw their reflection. Aemond behind her still panting with his usually stoic face relaxed in pleasure as he held her against him still holding her thighs firmly to keep her in contact with him as she squeezed lightly every now and then.

-Love you. - She said tiredly, still with her head lying on his shoulder, looking at him through the mirror.

Aemond didn't respond with words, he just mumbled like he always did. But Y/n no longer needed words, she had learned to distinguish every look, every touch and every sigh of her husband to know that he was also in love, especially when he pulled her even closer and left a soft kiss on her neck .

Tag list: @slut-for-m3 @fallout-girl219

[vitalverstappen]

Homecoming SMAU - C. Leclerc

summary: have you ever had a massive crush on your team rival? (smau edition)

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Red Bull driver!reader

fc: various, just pretend they're all the same person

a/n: i kinda love this fic wayyy too much to let it go so soon, so I decided to make a smau version for your enjoyment!

written

masterlist

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 737,602 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Didn't go how we planned, but grateful to snatch a point. Congrats to Charles for the home race win!

view all comments

charles_leclerc: thank you!! can't wait to celebrate later!

yourusername: lmk when and where and i'll be there!!

user1: wdym my two fav drivers are definitely about to get plastered together??

user2: they've been friends since she broke into f1, only makes sense they would user3: yeah "friends" he's been in love with her since he saw her for the first time

user2: no.

maxverstappen1: over/under on how long it takes for her to get ready? line is at 2.5 hours

logansargeant: over

landonorris: over

oscarpiastri: over

redbullracing: over

user4: there's no way she really takes THAT long

logansargeant: you'd be surprised

twitter & max's texts

liked by user1, user2, and 36,583 others

f1gossip: some of the drivers out and about in Monaco celebrating Charles' home win!

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user5: whoever let lando dj needs a RAISE

user6: i heard logan and oscar were also there!

user7: is it just me or do charles and y/n look weirdly close together??

user3: im telling you guys there's got to be SOMETHING going on between them

user2: again, guys and girls can be just friends.

user6: it's also a club. they're gonna be packed together

user8: i don't even want to know how much money they spent

monza media day

liked by: logansargeant, francolapinto and 673,842 others

tagged: logansargeant, francolapinto

yourusername: wdym i'm now the only one here repping the red, white n blue?? but in all reality, it's been an honor getting to know you Logan, you'll always be my best friend & I can't wait to see what you do in the future!!

but welcome to the grid Franco! you've got some tough shoes to fill

view all comments

logansargeant: thank you y/n. gonna miss you <3

yourusername: at least now you wont have to spend the 4th in the UK... again...

francolapinto: gracias y/n! No puedo esperar a ver qué trae el resto de la temporada!

yourusername: i have no idea what you just said but yes!!

user9: oh she's just like us

user10: girl is down bad

user2: @/user3 no like from Charles... how are you feeling after this?

user3: by the end of this season i'll be yelling i told you so from the rooftops

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 987,325 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing: The queen of COTA has arrived! 🇺🇸

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user11: ugh she's glowing

user12: her austin looks always slay

user3: CHARLES IS BACK IN THE LIKES! I REPEAT CHARLES IS BACK!!

user2: you weren't kidding when you said you didn't give up hope

maxverstappen1: you guys better not be plotting to get me in a cowboy hat

yourusername: pffffft why would we do that??

redbullracing: fine, we'll go put it away...again...

charles_leclerc: if you need someone to dress up, i know a guy

user13: omg stand up king, this isn't even y/n's insta

yourusername: @/charles_leclerc wdym "you know a guy" you couldn't even wear your hat properly

liked by charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli and 985,432 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, texasfootball

yourusername: hook 'em 🤘

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texaslonghorns: it was a pleasure to have you! same time next year?

yourusername: you know it! 🫡

texasfootball: thanks for the support! we'll have to get you suited up next year

yourusername: as long as i don't get tackled im yours

user14: awh y/n and charles are already starting to adopt the 2025 rookies

oscarpiastri: i do not need any more siblings

charles_leclerc: thx for showing me the joys of college football 🧡

yourusername: anytime charlie!!!

user15: CHARLIE?? girl WHAT?

user3: GUYS ITS HAPPENING!!

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 985,920 others

yourusername: P1 baby!! It's always special to race at home and being able to win it means even more! A weekend I'll forever remember ❤️🤍💙

view all comments

redbullracing: congrats y/n!! a win well deserved!

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: honor to be on that podium with you! let's run it back in vegas

yourusername: only in vegas??

maxverstappen: your ego is gonna get too big if you win everything else

user16: RAH RAHHHH AMERICA 🦅💥🦅💥🇺🇸

user17: U! S! A! 🇺🇸 U! S! A! 🇺🇸

charles_leclerc: congrats on the win!! now, drinks on me tonight?

user18: oh charles grew a pair

yourusername: @/charles_leclerc actually, i think i still owe you for monaco 😊

user3: 👀👀👀

liked by user3, user2, and 45,832 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1gossip: newest wag(s)?? charles and y/n were caught making out in a club in Austin. The two, along with the rest of the grid were there celebrating y/n's homecoming win. Cheers were heard from the other drivers as the two shared their moment.

view all comments

user19: oh. my. god.

user20: what in the romeo and juliet with a happy ending??

user2: @/user3 go ahead. say it.

user3: @/user2 I TOLD YOU SO. I TOLD YOU ALLLLL SO

user3: I DON'T LOOK CRAZY NOW. I KNEW IT

user21: what does @/redbullracing have to say about this

redbullracing: i'm just glad it isn't one of the mclaren boys mclaren: we wouldn't date you either its fine

want more? @coco-loco-nut wrote a sister story. Check it out!

[caramelcal]

you'll always be my girl - t. nott

summary: theodore nott was your brother's best friend, and had been the boy of your dreams since you first lay eyes on him. everyone knew that. so it's a surprise when you suddenly get a boyfriend, and theodore is determined to show you why he's the better choice. always has been and always will be.

warnings: all characters are of age. smut, cheating. all that fun stuff. theo is reader's brother's best friend. reader pined for YEARS but it faded away when she got with her boyfriend. she's a bit of a pushover. virgin!reader. dom!theo. sub!reader. modern au. lots of swearing. arguing. praise kink. overstimulation. dirty talk.

note: this prob isn't great, i don't write smut often idk

"Mate move! Move! He's behind that wall." Theodore shouted, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tapped the keys on his controller trying to be revived faster.

"Fuck! I can't find him," Lorenzo had replied, a similar tone to Theodore's as their eyes were both glued to the screen in front of them.

It was only the two of them at Lorenzo's tonight, something that wasn't overly uncommon for the two of them to do. Despite being close with the rest of their group, Theodore and Lorenzo spent the most time together just the two of them. Theodore practically lived at the Berkshire's house half the time nowadays, finding it much warmer than his own.

Honestly, it was more shocking if he wasn't at the Berkshires.

"Over there! Shit!" Lorenzo cursed, the loud, violent tapping of buttons ensuing at a more alarming rate from the two of them.

"Where's his-"

"Theo! Theo! The-" A red alert came over the screen, letting the two boys know that they had lost the game. They both put their controllers down, Lorenzo using the palms of his hands to rub his eyes in frustration, and Theodore throwing his head back with a groan.

"We really ought to get better at this mode, or we need to just stick to doubles," Theodore said, looking over at his friend who chuckled with a nod.

Mr and Mrs Berkshire were both out for the night, away on holiday, or business or whatever, Lorenzo didn't tell Theodore all the details. Theodore didn't particularly care anyway, it didn't make a big difference to him.

Lorenzo's parents were lovely to him, always greeting him pleasantly, always happy to see him, and telling him he was welcome at any time. They had even unofficially allocated one of the spare bedrooms in their house to Theo, who was eternally grateful for the escape it gave him.

"Enzo, I'm home!" Theo's attention was directed towards the door, where he heard someone kicking off their shoes by the door before walking towards the living room.

Y/n Berkshire. Lorenzo's younger sister. He was honestly surprised he hadn't noticed earlier that you weren't there. Even though you normally tucked yourself in the small library in the house, he had been here for hours and hadn't heard a peep from you.

Sure, you were normally quiet, but normally you at least said hello.

While growing up with Lorenzo, Y/n was never normally far behind. You had adored your brother when you were younger, and even as you both got older you remained close. Theodore on the other hand, had elicited a different sort of adoration from the younger girl. One that brought a blush to your face every time he spoke to you, or even looked in your direction.

It had been that way for years, and honestly, Theodore couldn't remember a time when you had been able to look him in the eye for longer than five seconds before getting too shy and looking away.

Footsteps echoed towards the living room, and the second you came into view, Theodore's eyebrows furrowed. Your body was covered in a silk dress, your hair styled perfectly and makeup on your face. You looked fancy, and Theodore could not imagine what you possibly could have been doing to require such an appearance.

There certainly weren't any parties on, if there had been, Lorenzo and Theodore would have been the first ones to know.

"How was your date?" Lorenzo didn't even look back at his sister as you sat down on the other couch, a sigh of relief as you sunk back into the comfortable material.

A date? The question had Theodore baffled. You had been on a date? With who? It certainly made the appearance seem more logical, you looked pretty. You had made that effort for a boy.

"It was good," You nodded your head, not looking over at your brother either as you grabbed the book that sat on the coffee table, flipping it open to the page you had dogeared earlier on that day so you could continue reading.

"You were on a date? With who?" Theodore asked.

"Oh, hi Teddy," You looked up from your book, sending a small smile to your brother's best friend, only just noticing him, "Adrian Pucey, he's in your year."

Teddy. The name you had called him since you started to talk. Everyone had called him Teddy when he was growing up, including Enzo, his parents and yours, but you were the only one that didn't grow out of it.

"It's Theo, y/n/n," Lorenzo had corrected you, as he always did, knowing how much Theodore despised the nickname now that he was older. What he'd never tell your brother though, was that he didn't mind it when you did it. It felt natural coming from your lips. He couldn't ever imagine you calling him Theo, or, god forbid, Theodore.

"Yeah, sorry," You mumbled, picking at the edge of your dress as you looked down at your lap, the book held in your other hand, a finger on the page you stopped reading on so you could keep your place now that you had straightened out the fold.

"Why are you going on a date with Adrian Pucey, he's…"

Theodore wasn't sure what to call him. Annoying? Arrogant? Not good enough for you?

"My boyfriend?"

"Your boyfriend?" Theodore echoed, his eyes almost bulging out of his head and jaw almost falling onto the floor. His tone was incredulous as if you having a boyfriend was completely out of the question.

"Well, that's new," Lorenzo murmured under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear, but loud enough for Theodore.

His tone let Theodore know that he, too, was not too happy about the arrangement. Adrian wasn't 'boyfriend material' and certainly not good enough for you. He was sleazy, and an average quidditch player at best.

"Yeah, is it so unbelievable that I could get a boyfriend?" Your tone -despite your word choice seeming a little sassy- was soft. Your eyes battered between the two boys, eyebrows furrowed as you sat forward.

Silence ensued between the three of you, your eyes still battering between the two boys, both of which didn't know what to say. It wasn't surprising that you could get a boyfriend, but your choice was certainly questionable. Frankly, they were too astonished to speak.

While Lorenzo had known you were spending more time with Adrian, he was hoping that it would fizzle away before labels got attached. He barely gave it any thought, thinking you wouldn't take a boy like Pucey so seriously. Oh, how he was wrong.

"I'm gonna head upstairs," You said quietly, sulking off the couch and quietly walking away, feeling a little ashamed that they seemed so surprised that you had managed to get your first boyfriend.

Theodore's eyes followed you, staying stuck to where you disappeared upstairs as Lorenzo broke the silence, breathing out some air, "Never expected that. Well, at least we know she's not pining over you anymore."

"Yeah, I guess."

…

It was less than a week later when Theodore was heading to quidditch practice, his bag slung over his shoulder, broom in his hand. He ruffled his hair with his free hand, breathing out some air as he prepared himself for what he could guess was going to be a pretty gruelling practice.

Granted, he could give himself some leeway, being the captain and all, but that didn't set a good example. They had a big game coming up in a few days and they needed to do well. There was little space for error, and Theo would make sure everyone was ready.

Hearing faint talking as he walked up to the locker room was odd, considering he was normally the first or second one there. He must've been running a few minutes late.

"-how you managed it, mate, I mean, between her being Berkshire's untouchable little sister and everyone thinking she liked Nott, you can understand why everyone's a bit surprised."

Theodore's hand halted its movement, not pushing the door open just yet as he listened in. They were talking about you.

"She just needed to know who the better boy was, didn't she?" He heard a muffled Pucey reply, "I certainly showed her."

The familiar feeling of anger began to bubble in Theodore's chest as he registered the words that came out of Pucey's words, and the laughter that followed them. Walking in, his hardened blue eyes immediately caught onto Pucey's, a silent warning.

Yet, all the smug cunt did in reply was smirk. That certainly didn't help the feeling of red, hot, anger that exploded in Theo's chest. Quidditch practice was going to be hell for him, Theo would make sure.

"Wait up!" An hour and a half later, the anger still hadn't faded from Theodore's system. His shoulders were uptight, his hand holding onto his broom with a deathly amount of force. It was a surprise the wood hadn't snapped yet.

Your light footsteps struggled to catch up with the thundering pace that Theodore kept. His eyes cast over to you beside him as you finally caught up, his hair still wet from his shower after quidditch practice.

"Can I talk to you?" You asked, looking at Theodore awkwardly. You never normally felt awkward around him, but from the way he was looking right now, you could tell he was mad, but that didn't mean you could let what happened slide.

"Mhm," He hummed in response, his eyes staying straight forward as he waited for you to speak.

"So Adrian was speaking to me and he said that you were going extra hard on him at practice. I understand that you and my brother aren't happy that we're dating but-"

"You came here to stick up for your little boyfriend?" Suddenly, Theodore had stopped walking, turning around so he was facing you. His eyes stared into yours, the anger in his voice rising.

He towered over you, making you crane your neck up to look at him, a drip of water from his wet hair falling onto your forehead. You cleared your throat lightly, not used to Theodore being in such a mood. Even if he was annoyed, he didn't normally talk to you like that.

"I- uh, yeah, kind of. I just don't think it's fair that you're punishing him. It was my choice to date him, he didn't make me."

"Listen, y/n/n, if Pucey had a problem with me, then he can come to talk to me, not send his girlfriend to sort out his issues like a fucking pussy," Theodore spat out Adrian's name like it was a disease on his tongue, his jaw clenching at the mere thought of you taking Pucey's side over his.

If you had any sense, you'd know to mind your own business. You had grown up with Theodore, you had known him for your whole life. Adrian had been your boyfriend for all of a few weeks and you were already choosing him over Theo? That was what wasn't fair, not a few more laps at training.

He saw the frown that made its way onto your face, and if he wasn't so angry at you and Adrian, then he would've crumbled. He knew you were sensitive, much more than most people, and the last thing he wanted to do normally was make you upset. Yet, if you wanted comfort then you could go to Adrian, especially after you tried to stick up for him.

Turning on his heels, Theodore began to walk away again, but it seemed you were a little more determined than normal.

"Come on Theo, you know it's not fair!"

That just about tips him over the edge. This was so unlike you, and it was all because of Adrian. You always went by what Lorenzo and Theodore said, but today you chose to stand up to Theo. You chose Adrian over Theodore and refused to let it go and now you were calling him Theo?

You had been reprimanded for over a year about still using the nickname, and a few weeks into having a boyfriend you suddenly dropped the name of endearment? That was enough.

"What was that?" Theodore stopped in his tracks the second the words had come out of your mouth, barely managing to get the words out between his gritted teeth. He looked over his shoulder at you, watching as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"You know it's unfair."

"You have no idea what's unfair, y/n."

"I know making Adri do double the number of laps as everyone else is unfair! I know knocking into him with double the power as everyone else is unfair, Theo! You're his captain, you need to be fair!"

"Stop that." His tone was reprimanding, like telling you off for doing something unspeakable. He didn't like this one bit, you talking back to him. It felt like something had been shifted and he wanted it all to go back to the way it was.

It was your turn to let out clipped, sarcastic words. Something you would have never dreamed of doing to him; the boy you had pined over for years. Yet, all you could see was an immature, childish boy, not the guy you had liked for as long as you could remember, "Stop what, Theodore?"

"Stop calling me that."

You knew exactly what he was getting at. You always had an inkling that he enjoyed the nickname you refused to drop, given that he, himself, never told you off for it. You also knew he didn't like change, and that the idea of him and Lorenzo not being your number-one priority anymore bugged him. He hated that you had a new boy in your life.

"What? Stop calling you your name?" You replied, raising an eyebrow at him as he clenched his jaw again, letting out a dark chuckle as he started to walk away.

"Just fuck off, y/n."

You didn't bother to follow him.

…

You and the girls were bustling about in your room, doing all sorts of things. Some were getting changed, some were doing their makeup and some, along with you, were doing their hair. It was a Halloween party that practically half of Hogwarts was going to, and luckily for you, the house was only a few minutes walk away from yours.

Lorenzo and his friends were getting ready too, but you had chosen to keep your girls in your room, completely separated from them. Frankly, it was too much tension, and drama, and you didn't want that to stomp on your excitement for the party.

"Hey, y/n, do you have any snacks? I'm starving," One of the girls piped up, stopping doing her makeup to look at you in the mirror. You nodded your head with a smile, telling her you'd be right back as you headed down to the kitchen.

There was noise coming from the tv as you walked by the living room, letting you know that some of Lorenzo's friends were probably in there, taking a mental note to avoid. You wished that he had gotten the vibe to keep his friends in his room, but your brother was clueless sometimes.

He even seemed to be clueless about the fact that you and Theodore had been ignoring one another for the last three weeks, acting as if the other didn't even exist. With your arms full of all types of snacks, you left the kitchen, making your way back up the stairs.

Your eyes are on the snacks in your hand, making sure that none of them are going to fall as you walk, only to be halted by something being in your way. You had walked into someone.

"Oh, sor-" You cut yourself off as you looked up, making eye contact with intense blue eyes staring down at you. You narrowed your eyes.

"Y/n," He had acknowledged you for the first time, but not being nearly happy about it, his mouth in a thin, straight line, and his voice apathetic.

You mirrored his tone and body language, "Theodore."

He remained looking down at you, your pretty eyes looked up at him in disdain, a constant reminder of how you guys had last interacted with one another. He was still slightly mad, more irritated than anything, about the situation, and it was clear you weren't over it either.

It was so unlike you, and he hated that. While he wanted you to stick up for yourself more regularly, he hated that it only seemed to be him that you were being resistant to. It frustrated him to no end, that your relationship after so many years had changed so much in the blink of an eye.

He missed the way you looked at him with your doe-like eyes, so hopeful and kind and soft. Now, they were narrowed, almost as if a threat for him to say something. He hated that it was like you were trying to test his patience.

His mouth opened slightly, just about to speak to you, only to not get the chance, your bedroom door opening, "Y/n, c'mon! I'm hungry!"

In an instant, your eyes are no longer looking at him, but down towards the snacks that lay in a disorganised bundle in your arms, brushing by the taller boy towards your room. You spare no attention towards him, not a word nor a glance, leaving him alone in the hallway as you continue getting ready in your room.

It doesn't feel too long after that when you are all ready, all of you bundling down the stairs ready to go to the party. You know all the boys are now in the living room, and you would have happily walked by without entertaining him, but you knew you couldn't.

"Enzo, can I have some of the money mum and dad left?" You say, coming into the room. The boys are all ready too, but you know they won't leave until the party had already started for forty-five minutes at least, too busy playing video games and not wanting to be around for the awkward start most parties have.

You adjust the wings that are on your back as you walk towards your brother, white boot heels hitting off the wooden floor, the girls falling shortly behind you.

Theodore's eyes flicker up to you casually, but when he catches sight of you his jaw almost falls off, the modest girl you are, with the shortest skirt on he's ever seen. If you turn around, he knows he's almost guaranteed to see the curve of your ass, driving his mind haywire.

You adjust your bright-coloured corset and wings once more. It's obvious that you're supposed to be a fairy, but Theodore knows you're no Tinkerbell. You're perhaps the sluttiest, most tempting fairy he's ever seen. His mind races.

Lorenzo scratched the back of his neck, "Kitchen."

You nodded your head, heading off to the kitchen as all the boys quiet down. Lorenzo looked down at his phone, as the girls all follow you out of the room, "Mate…"

"What?" Lorenzo replied as Theodore sat beside him, all the other boys engaging in small talk again.

"Are you letting your sister go wearing that? Surely you can't," Theodore's trying to keep calm, but his mind is practically begging Lorenzo to make you change. The thought of someone else seeing the curves of your naked thighs and the curve of your arse makes Theo want to die.

"Nah mate, it's not ideal, to be honest, but her mates are just…they call you all sorts and start screaming if you say anything," Lorenzo finally looked up at his best friend, and Theodore can tell that Lorenzo isn't very happy with the predicament either, "and y/n/n just doesn't listen anymore, so there's no point."

There was a point though, to Theodore anyway. He didn't care what your friends thought, or about this new attitude you had adopted since you started dating Adrian.

You're back in the living room soon enough, coming to say bye, but Theodore is quick to walk over to you, not looking very impressed. He speaks lowly, "You should go change."

"What? Why? Do I look bad?" You smooth down your skirt a little, looking up at him with your usual wide eyes, a crack in this new attitude you've been showing lately.

"No," He's quick to shut down any doubt you have about your appearance, "It's just a bit inappropriate."

"Oh, don't be a prude, Theodore," One of your friends overhears, piping up in your support.

"Go change," He paid little mind to your friends, looking down at your eyes and repeating his previous order.

"Girl, you look so hot, don't let him cramp your style," Another one of your friends joins in to support you, a hand on your shoulder as she began to steer you out, "now let's go before he has anything else to say."

The second he saw you being steered out the door and towards the party, he just knows that this night is going to be one of frustration.

His prediction was correct. Only an hour and a half later he was ready to get out of there, the strongest alcohol he could find in a glass with his hand wrapped around it. Purple strobe lights, people laughing, and loud music all seem to fade into the background as his eyes focus on you. He could tell Pucey was trying to rile him up, and it was working.

His hands have been all over your body: while dancing, while sitting down, just every second of this party, and Theodore loathed it. He hated that Pucey's dirty, sleazy hands were on your soft skin, exactly where they didn't belong.

He tried to ignore it, his eyes closing as he downed the rest of his drink, slamming it down on the table. He didn't know where any of his friends were, and honestly, didn't care. He didn't want to talk to anyone or be with anyone but you right now.

He hated that he was thinking about you like this. Lorenzo's baby sister. It was supposed to be the other way around, you were supposed to be the one obsessing over him, so why couldn't he get you out of his head? Why have you been the only thing consuming his thoughts for weeks?

"Hey there, love," A girl sat down beside Theodore, a thing he loved at parties normally. The attention was something that had him feeling smug, but he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. His eyes focused on you as he hears your giggle echo through the room as Pucey whispered something in your ear.

Nothing Pucey could say would ever be funny enough to elicit such a beautiful sound. It felt illegal that he was allowed to hear your laugh, never mind be the reason for it.

"You seem tense, Theo," The girl puts her lips slowly closer and closer to Theodore's neck, her voice quieter and slower as she teased her lips against his neck, lightly grazing it, "Let me help you."

The song that blasts through the speakers had Pucey pulling you up to dance, twirling you around in his arms until his hands thread through to hold your waist. You're facing away from Theodore, completely naive to the blue eyes that follow your every move.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier to meet Theodore's cold gaze, a smirk coming to his lips as he looked down at you, then moving away slightly, only to bring a hand down on your arse.

That has Theodore on his feet immediately, hearing the yelp that you let out as he stormed towards Pucey, ripping him away from you and getting right in his face. He was taller than Adrian, towering over him too as he gets right up in his face, "Don't fucking lay a hand on her again!"

"Theo!"

"She's my girlfriend mate, I'll do what I want." Pucey only fuelled the fire of rage that burned in Theodore's chest. You seem frozen, unsure of what to do as you try and catch the attention of either boy, wanting this nightmare to end.

"Yeah, we'll fucking see about that," Before you could even react, Theodore's fist is making contact with Adrian's nose, and Adrian stumbled back for a few steps before his legs gave way underneath him and he was on the floor.

A gasp emitted from your throat in shock and horror, looking at Adrian as he groaned, holding his nose, red staining the skin. A hand grabbed your wrist, much softer than you had expected from the same fist that had just floored your boyfriend, and dragged you away.

"Theo-"

"We're going home, y/n."

The next thing you know is that you're at the front steps of your home, wanting to say something, anything. Yet, any time you took a breath of air before speaking, Theodore was sending you a look that had you shutting your mouth straight away. Something was daring in his eyes, something a lot more threatening than normal.

His grip gave you little opportunity to wriggle free, his other hand banging open the door, his foot harshly hitting it shut behind you before you are trailing after him up the stairs. He barely gave your feet any chance to keep up with him before you were in his room.

He only let go once you were in the middle of his room, the door shut behind you both. The room is dark, and you both are heaving out a breath. You can just about see Theodore's shoulders sag a little, his voice quieter as he spoke, "I don't like what the boy is doing to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dressing like this," He stepped towards you, his fingertips grabbing the edge of your skirt as he continued, "acting like a slut, that's not you baby, you're normally so good."

Your stomach is filled with butterflies as he looked down at your eyes, soft for the first time in weeks, "I am good, I-"

"You think tempting me like this is good, baby? Wearing this outfit and dancing with another man's hands all over your body," Your stomach flipped at the pet name once more, your heart feeling as if it's going to race out of your chest.

Your throat feels blocked up as you watch every slight move he takes, feeling as if this moment is surreal; as if you're dreaming. His voice turned soft as he spoke again, "Where'd my good girl go?"

His hand caressed the side of your face softly, the pad of his thumb swiping over your soft skin and guiding your somewhat messy hair away from your face so he can see you more clearly. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, hoping that one day Theodore would reciprocate your feelings.

The feeling of his hands on you was so euphoric that no amount of dreaming could have ever made you feel like this. This was real.

"I-" You couldn't speak, your brain feeling as if it was going to overload.

You knew this was wrong. Theodore was your brother's best friend, you had grown up with him. He was off limits. You had a boyfriend. So why couldn't you find it in yourself to pull away from his grasp?

You felt as if you were getting pulled closer to his body. The temptation is so bad that no amount of self-control could save you now. You were a goner, you had always been when it came to Theodore.

Since you had been young, you knew that you would do anything for him. Anything so that he could give you this sort of attention, and make you feel like a princess. Your rational thoughts and morals should be pulling you away, but your heart aches for him, it always has.

"You gonna show me how much of a good girl you can be, angel?" He asked, almost as if he was trying to aid you in finding your words. You could only nod your head.

Suddenly, the familiar scent of cologne and cigarette smoke overtook your senses, his lips crashing against yours in a soft, but desperate kiss. His hands reached around you to pick you up, your hands going into his soft hair, grabbing onto the strands with your fingers as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Swiping his tongue across your lips, you opened your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss as he took steps towards the bed, lowering you down onto the bed. His lips are still connected to you, and you can feel your lungs begging for oxygen, but you don't want to pull away.

Theodore does first, his blue eyes meeting yours as you slowly manage to open your eyes, your lips parted as you breathe in, trying to fill your lungs with the oxygen they had been deprived of. You follow his eyes as he slowly kisses down your neck, then down the valley of your breasts, his hands pulling down the corset, and you're quick to aid him in pulling it off.

The feeling of his lips grazing over your stomach has you hitching in a breath, watching as his head slowly lowers down your body. Then, his head is nestled between your thighs, kissing the soft skin that isn't hidden by your skirt. The hair on his head tickles them, the skin so sensitive, so unused to being given this much attention feeling so good.

With a racing heart, you watch as Theodore pulled up slightly, wanting desperately for him to touch you where you needed him the most. You ached, a feeling in you that you had never experienced before. You knew that Theodore often evoked feelings in you that you never experienced with anyone else, but this was new.

"You sure about this, baby?" You nodded your head in immediate response, but that didn't please Theo. With a light swat to the inside of your thighs, he looked at your eyes with a slightly more serious expression, "Use your words."

"Yes," The word spilt from your lips breathily, "Please."

Theodore, with a satisfied smile, came up to your face, leaning over you and softly attaching your lips to his. It feels just as surreal as the first time, and it makes your heart race just the same.

With his mouth still attached to yours, you feel his fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, just over your clit, making you hitch a breath. His fingers move the light fabric to the side, his fingers teasing against your hole.

"So wet for me, baby," The praise isn't taken lightly by you, soaking up every inch of approval he gives you.

Slowly, he adds a second finger, his thumb pressing down on your clit as his fingers curl into you, making you let out a breathy moan into the kiss that he eagerly swallows.

Your back arches off of the mattress, and as good as it feels you need more. You need him, "Theo…"

The blue of his eyes meets your gaze as you whine. You can't help it, you're desperate for more, to feel him inside of you. To take care of you and this pressure you can feel building in your stomach.

You mumble something out, a feeble attempt at getting him to speed up the process without verbally admitting that you're desperate for him. He doesn't take the hint though, not that you ever expected him to. He was torturous, tempting you and teetering towards what you wanted, but keeping you on the edge.

"Please."

It's a whisper as you let out another moan, your fist clenching his hair in your hand, grabbing onto any part of him that you can keep from pulling away.

A ghost of a smirk came across his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, "Please what, baby?"

You could tell from the familiar look in his eyes that he knew exactly what you wanted, his fingers curling up once more as they stretched lightly, stretching you out. Your eyes screwed shut as you felt slight tears pricking at your eyes. It just felt so good.

"Please," A broken whisper escaped your lips once more as you let out another moan, his thumb roughly coming down on your clit as you tried to bring your hips up, feeling a knot form in your stomach. It was so unfamiliar and had you heaving for a breath as you grabbed fistfuls of Theo's sheets.

With a final thrust of his fingers and a pinch against your clit, you came undone with a strangled moan. Your face was tilted back, mouth open and eyes closed, your hips bucking up to chase your high. You looked unreal, and Theo couldn't get enough.

When he removed his hands from you, he was coated in your bliss, your eyes softly opening, half-lidded, looking as Theodore brought his fingers up to his lips, his tongue transferring the taste of you, sweet and blissful, into his mouth. Your cheeks were tainted red when you realised what he had done, shifting about on the mattress and casting your eyes down.

Yet, you don't get much of a chance when a strong hand reaches for under your jaw, pulling him back up to meet his eyes, "Don't go all shy on me now, angel."

He could see the slight fuzz in your eyes as you stare at him, and he loved it. He liked how, simply with his fingers, he already had you dazed. His hands were soon pulling down his trousers with ease, and lifting his shirt off with one hand, leaving him in only his boxers.

You could see the outline of his bulge, and it had you gulping. You didn't know how the hell you were going to be able to fit that. He was so much bigger than you had imagined, or expected.

"Don't worry baby, we'll take it slow," He was quick to reassure you, a smug smile on his lips as he brings his mouth down to your collarbone, lightly nipping the skin as he sucked. It was definitely going to leave a mark, but that's what he wanted. He wanted Pucey to see it the next time he saw you, trying to assert some dominance on the situation.

Once he pulled his boxers down, he was soon lining up his tip with your entrance, lightly brushing it against your walls. He couldn't help himself when he asked, "Has Adrian ever-"

He began, but you were quick to shake your head vigorously, giving him a sense of satisfaction. He watched as your eyes screwed shut, soft breaths falling from your lips as he asked, much softer, "Is this your first baby?"

Unwilling to admit it out loud, you hesitantly nod your head, confirming Theodore's suspicions. He only just managed to conceal his grunt of satisfaction at being the first one to see you this way. To be the one to ruin you.

"Don't worry," His head is just beside your ear, a hand coming to gently brush the hair away from your face so not a single change or twitch in your face could go unrecognised by him. He wanted to see everything, every reaction you had as he ruined you, as he made your face twist in a type of pleasure that was entirely unfamiliar to you.

Slowly, he began to push into your tight entrance, the feeling of your walls squeezing him making him want to release already, grunting. He can hear your breathy moans of pain and pleasure as he struggled to go slowly, watching as he disappeared inch by inch inside of you.

All he wanted to do was slam into you, to hear as you screamed in pleasure, but he controlled himself, gripping the sheets with his hands to remain his discipline. You feel tiny in comparison to him.

When he finally bottomed out inside of you, you let out a strangled breath, not used to this feeling of being penetrated like this.

"You feel like heaven, sweetheart," The praise fell from his lips as he grunted once more, one of his hands coming to hold the side of your neck.

"'m so full," You partially cried out, tears leaking from your eyes at the unfamiliar feeling. It felt so good, overwhelmingly so, that you couldn't help the water that leaked out of your eyes.

His mouth came to softly kiss the tears away, your hands coming up to wrap around his back to hold him close to you. You wanted him as close as humanely possible as you slowly became accustomed to the feeling of him inside you.

"You're doing so well, baby," The praise is murmured against your cheek, his eyes closed in pleasure, "Let me know when I can move."

It isn't long before you're giving him the green light and he rocks his hips back and then forward, going slower to start with and soaking up your moans and whimpers with his mouth. His thumb pressed against your clit as he began to go faster, making your moans get louder and you become more desperate.

His hips snapped against yours and you sob into his lips, your nails scratching down his back. His hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your body and worshipping it all. He knew he could sit and caress each part of your skin and never get bored, feeling intoxicated by the softness of it.

You were like a drug, something he shouldn't touch, something that was supposed to be off-limits, but far too tempting to leave alone. He knew that from now on, he'd never be able to let go of you, never be able to keep his hands to himself.

Your moans were melodic to him, something that he could never get over hearing. He had never had sex like this with anyone before, always quick fucks to satisfy his needs, but this was different. He felt like the barrier was broken, that you guys were connecting on a different level. Something you could never go back from. He would never let you.

The look of your parted lips, mascara running down your cheeks with your tears and your hair messy was a sight that no man but him deserved to see. He could tell you were getting close, he was too, your walls clenching around him as your moans got higher in pitch and louder.

The tears roll down harder, pouring out of your eyes as you barely manage to get your words out, "Teddy- please."

The return of the nickname has him going harder, abusing your g-spot as he hit off it time and time again, igniting a flame in his stomach as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

"There she is," He whispered to you, his lips still against your forehead, "There's my good girl."

You came not long after that, walls convulsing as you came around his cock, moans loud as he found himself not far behind, quickly pulling out as he came over your skirt and bare chest, both of you panting and moaning, lost in the sound and feeling of one another.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 3- The Reveal

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N gets rejected for the sixth time. Max win's the Monaco grand prix 2023. Y/N decides she needs time for herself.

No hate to anyone, it's for the story

{Reader's POV}

I fell asleep crying, a faint buzzing from my phone was heard from the other room. I woke up after a few hours at 3 am when I found my phone which was burning up. The messages hadn't stop coming. They had gotten quite frantic as I scrolled through my notifications. I decided to reply to Max's messages.

He was still the guy I liked, I couldn't not reply. But I was hurt and in no shape to be talking to him. I don't know what Max said after my message because my phone shut down. I pushed myself to clean myself up and my surrounding. I was a stress cleaner and I'm so grateful to having 2 jobs right now. It meant my mind would be preoccupied. I cleaned my whole house before leaving for school in the morning. My eyes were red and puffy; I was on coffee. I had yet to switch my phone on. I wasn't ready to face Max yet.

Today was the worst day, not only because of last night's revelation but I had the least amount of classes today. None of the kids needed help after class either. That meant I was left to my own devices. When I switched the phone on, I could see missed calls and texts from Max and a couple voice messages; from the night before and today morning I guess. I opened up Google to check his schedule; he was in Monaco, which was also his home currently. I found out a lot about him, you think you know someone but then Google tells you otherwise. His dad was as shitty as he described. His records and feats were astonishing and if I wasn't this angry at him for hiding it from me, I would've been so proud and told him so. His Instagram feed was pretty and polished and he posted so much racing content. I found his streaming account with a team, he was exactly like the Max that called me everyday with occasional appearances from the cats on stream. People spoke so rudely about Max, it angered me to no end. He was a kind man, a liar but a sweet man.

The real kicker was Max's girlfriend's account where I found so many pictures of them together with her daughter, from what I found out. He looked happy, he had a family like he always said he wanted. I couldn't help but smile bitterly, a part of me wished that it was me who was the woman beside him with our kid. Life is cruel in some ways, mine is satire at best. Here, I can't date a man because I'm hung up on a guy I've never met before while said man has a family. I felt tears streaming down my face which I quickly wiped them off. I had enough of pity and sympathy stares since the morning to last a lifetime, I can't deal with any more of them.

I knew I wanted to talk to Max, the only guy who has ever understood me, however, I also knew that if we spoke I wouldn't be listening to him. I was scared I would lose the one true friend I have. Would Max understand where I was coming from? Why did he hide this from me? Did he not trust me enough? I get it, but you are a public figure. I don't know how to feel about all of this. It was the weekend tomorrow. I would be left with my thoughts and I probably shouldn't confront Max before his race on Sunday, right?

I spent the next two days planning how I would talk to Max. How I would ask him why he hid everything from me? I didn't want to fight him; my parents always said I was rude and difficult to work with, that my anger consumed me, that my words were harsh. I wasn't supposed to show such negative emotions they said. I didn't want to lose him; but was I allowed to hold on to him when he never let me have him?

Max called and texted me every day but I was very scared, scared of becoming the monster my parents said I was, sacred of hurting the one I love. There I said it, said Max and love in the same sentence. I had threaded that line so carefully but after all of this, I realised that I've loved him for years and watching him be happy with some else hurt as much as knowing that I never truly knew Max. It was Sunday night, I checked the news and saw that Max won. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to rejoice watching the man I love win at what he was best at or be hurt watching him live a life I knew nothing about.

I texted him at night on Sunday, maybe he would be busy celebrating his win, I didn't know. I didn't know a lot of things. As I waited for the text back, I logged on to my emails that I had forgotten about to find a reply from the publication I had sent my work to; to be met with dismay. Another rejection, I'm not sure how many more rejections I could take. My hands shook, making the laptop fall from my lap onto the bed. I got up and got myself a glass of water.

I laid on my bed for god knows how long before the familiar ring of my phone pulled me out of my trance. I had taken the day off tomorrow. I knew I didn't have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with anything. I answered the call to a worried Max.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. Max looked at me confused. Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I could see the colour leave Max's face. He licked his lips before speaking. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? Max was quite, a sort of uncomfortable silence had enveloped us, for the first time in 10 years. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. I felt my voice begin to crack while I spoke, the lump in my throat unbearably big, my breathing was uneven. Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. (I smiled with only my lips) Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. I laughed bitterly. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I had tears streaming down my face at this point. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. (I wiped away my tears) Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I saw tears streaming down Max's face. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And then the screen went black.

[Max spent the whole week worrying about Y/N. He couldn't think straight. This was weird, she was never this busy before. It was stressing him out, he couldn't eat or sleep. He never even thought about the fact that maybe his lie had been exposed. When Y/N texted him, he was at a club in Monaco with the other drivers to celebrate his win. He only saw it after he got back home and immediately called her. She looked different, there was this sadness in her eyes. The smile didn't reach her eyes. And then she started talking, his heart was beating very fast. The moment she said Formula One, his whole world came crashing down. The more she spoke the more he felt like he was falling deeper, in a pit of his own making. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain himself but no words left his mouth. Then she started talking about his girlfriend. He felt like this was the last time he would get to talk to her, the last time he would hear her voice. This felt like the last time he would have her]

[the-little-ewok]

An Unorthodox Method

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Rating : 18+/E

Word count : 7600 (ish)

Warnings : It's the one bed trope!, Lil mild angst, lots of teasing, Poe being an adorable little shit, mentions of Poe having hearing problems/being partially deaf in one ear, fluff, banter, SMUT, PIV, fingering, marking (love bites and nail marks), praise kink if you squint, illusions to cum eating, mentions of oral f- receiving, overstimulation if you blink, aftercare, very brief mention of casual sex/one night stands.

Summary : All you want is a hot shower, some clean dry clothes, and to crawl into bed. What you absolutely do not want is Poe Dameron in that bed with you.

@campingwiththecharmings thank you so much for this request! I'm so excited to finally do the one bed trope for Poe! I hope you like it.

Special thank you to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

~~~~~~~~~

The rain hammers a steady ping ping ping on the window as you and Poe stand in the doorway to the room, your clothes soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your skin, your shoes leaving puddles of water.

"You have got to be kidding me!" You groan as Poe laughs.

You had been looking forward to a hot shower, a nice warm bed, and at least a good few hours of peace and quiet. The last part had already been thwarted by the fact some error in the hotel booking meant you only had one room with no others available, and now to add insult to injury there was only one damn bed.

"Well, this is going to be fun!" The pilot chirps happily from beside you, walking in to dump his bag on the chair and leaving wet boot prints in his wake.

Climbing into bed with the resistance's best looking pilot, who you were, if you were honest, a little bit in love with, did not constitute as fun. In fact, after the day you had spent with him, it was the very last thing you wanted to do.

Poe was always, and had always, been chatty, but today he seemed to have turned all his dials up to maximum. He'd talked non stop, made unfunny jokes, inappropriate innuendos that with anyone else you suspect he wouldn't have gotten away with, and done just about anything he could to make himself the most annoying person this side of the galaxy.

For what reason, you had no idea. You had started to suspect perhaps he had realised your warm feelings towards him, and maybe this was his way of making you hate him so he didn't have to let you down, and honestly, you might think it was starting to work.

Trudging into the room, your boots squelching with each step, you place your bags down, resigned to your probably sleepless fate.

"You want the bathroom first?" The pilot offers, despite the fact he's worse off than you, having given you his jacket to hold above your head the moment the downpour started. It hadn't helped much after the first few minutes, but you had been grateful for the shelter anyway.

You don't really register his question, your thoughts lost as you finger the worn leather coat remembering the way his scent clung to it, invading your senses as you splashed through the flooded streets.

"Hey," you look up to find the pilot watching you, his brow furrowed. "You okay?"

You drop the jacket onto the dresser, giving him a smile and a nod.

"Just sick of listening to you."

Poe snorts with laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt and peeling it up over his head. You purposely busy yourself pulling out some dry clothes from your pack , not allowing yourself to peek, although it's a difficult battle.

"There's nobody you love listening to more than me," Poe states, thankfully not seeming to notice your internal fight of keeping your eyes off him.

You sigh, somewhat thankful his annoying cockyness is a distraction from his semi-nakedness. Picking up your sleepwear and wash bag you head towards the bathroom, trying to ignore him. Poe however gives you no quarter, trailing along behind you.

"So what exactly are the sleeping arrangements going to be?" He asks.

Frowning you turn around, your eyes deciding to flicker over his bared torso before meeting his gaze. Even the smallest glance is enough to get blood rushing through your veins, and you can feel heat blossoming across your cheeks.

Ignoring the feeling you gesture to the bed with a raise of your eyebrow.

"But what if you snore?" The pilot asks, clearly not noticing your desire to leave the room until he's decided to put some clothes on.

You pull a face, not quite understanding his issue when he's half deaf from the war anyway. The explosion that had damaged most of the resistance ships had permanently damaged his eardrums, which Poe liked to use to his advantage when he decided he wasn't going to listen to someone, although you think he hears far more than he lets on.

"Poe, you can hardly hear out of one ear as it is! Just sleep on your good ear and you probably won't hear a thing out of the other one."

He folds his arms stubbornly. "I'll hear if you're right next to my head."

"Then you are more than welcome to sleep in the bathroom once I'm done," you offer, stepping into the tiny fresher.

"Nah, I'd rather sleep in the bed. But what if you steal the covers?"

"Then you can take them back."

"What if you cuddle me in your sleep?" He fires quickly.

You give him a withering look, trying not to think about pressing your body against his, keeping your eyes trained on his face.

"Oh trust me Poe, I won't." In fact you will do everything possible not to touch him, just for your own sanity.

"But you might. I'm very into consent and if I'm asleep-" he pauses mid sentence, opening his mouth and then closing it again before leaning against the door frame. "Actually scratch all of that. I absolutely give you consent to do whatever you like to me."

The pilot grins at you and you feel a familiar surge of heat through your body, collecting and coiling in your abdomen. Combined with your patience finally snapping, it's the last straw. You slam the bathroom door in his handsome smug face.

The lukewarm shower really tops off the day.

~

"I've been thinking" Poe starts the moment he exits the bathroom, after loudly complaining through the door about you using up all the hot water.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh, the hope that he would have calmed down and go straight to sleep evaporating. You are grateful however that he's at least finally put a shirt on.

"That must hurt."

"Oi!" He protests with a shocked expression, that at least brings a little smile to your lips. He grins at you, letting you know he took no offence at your words.

"As I was saying," he continues while you lay out his clothes to dry, the ones he dumped in a wet pile in the middle of the floor. "I've been thinking, and I know what's wrong with you. I want you to know it's okay."

The way his voice suddenly goes so gentle makes you look around. The pilot holds out his hand, wrapping his fingers around yours as he pulls you closer, holding your gaze steadily. You hope he doesn't notice the way your breath catches, or the heat blazing through you that makes your hands clammy.

"It's okay to be nervous," he continues, while your mouth goes dry. "I know spending the night with me is a lot, and it's going to be so difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself, but we are going to get through this together, and you'll be able to tell everyone about it when we get home."

You snatch your hand angrily out of his while the pilot bursts into laughter.

"Grow up and get in the damn bed!" You growl, climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and turning over away from him, your heart thundering in your chest. How, even when he was joking, did he manage to get so damn close to the truth?

"Why do you want me in bed so badly, huh? Thinking about late night cuddles?" You hear the pilot ask, feeling the mattress sink with his weight.

"No. When you're asleep, you're not talking," you bite out, still stinging from the embarrassment of your reaction when he was just being his usual annoying self.

Poe ignores your hostility and you feel him shrug.

"Listen, all I'm trying to do is tell you that we could eliminate some of this sexual tension. Well, if you wanted to."

Sexual tension wasn't exactly what you would say was between you, but there was always certainly something, although with Poe you imagine he had that with everyone. With you though, your feelings for the pilot ran a little deeper, not that you'd ever dare speak those aloud. The last thing you needed was the "it's not you, it's me" speech, especially if his behaviour was to drive you away. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

You run a hand down your face with an exasperated sigh. "There is absolutely no sexual tension, Poe. What there is, is murderous tension."

Poe lets out an exclamation of excitement.

"Oh my favourite kind!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile, lest you encourage him to continue.

"Please Poe, go to damn sleep," you whine, pulling the pillow from under your head and pressing it against your ear, trying to block out his incessant rambling.

"I will if you admit it."

"Admit what?" You groan, frustrated. Why can't he just shut the hell up and let you get through this?

"That you've thought about us."

"Poe I swear-" you take a deep breath, grabbing the cushion with one hand, rolling over with the intent on smothering him into silence. You're surprised to find the pilot on his side, almost nose to nose with you in the small bed.

"You've seriously never thought about us kissing?" Poe interrupts.

"I…I…" you’re thrown by his closeness, by his long lashes and soft smile, by the damn doe eyed look he's giving you.

You know there's no shutting him up until you tell him what he wants to hear so you take a breath. It wouldn't exactly be news to him, Poe knew just about everyone had considered kissing him at some point or another. The man did come with a reputation for having a rather skillful mouth after all.

"Fine! Maybe once or twice. Now go to damn sleep!" You growl, annoyed at him, and yourself.

The shit eating grin he gives you is enough to make you turn back over, tucking the pillow under your head and shutting your eyes tightly, as though that alone might drown him out.

"I knew it," he gloats with a happy sigh, clicking off the bedside lamp.

You grip the pillow, considering the option you still have of smothering him.

Thankfully he's quiet from that point and infuriatingly asleep in less than five minutes. You can feel the mattress move with his slow steady breaths.

Glancing over your shoulder he's laid out on his back, one arm tucked under his head, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreams, his full lips open with a soft sigh.

Turning around again you punch the lumpy pillow, trying to get more comfortable.

You will not think about kissing him. That was a one time thing. Okay, maybe three or four. Well maybe more… a lot more. You're determined tonight for once, you will not fall asleep thinking about his mouth on yours, you will absolutely not think about his lips on your skin, or his fingers caressing your breasts…

Someone suddenly shakes you and you open your eyes groggily, the room swimming and blurred as you blink sleep from your vision.

"What the hell?" You grumble, looking up at the pilot with his sleep tousled curls, still half asleep himself, one eye still shut and the other half open, bathed in the soft moonlight glow that sneaks through the blinds.

"You said my name," he mumbles, voice still sleep gravelled. "You alright?"

Flashes of his mouth sealed over your nipple, his tongue darting out to lick a path down to your navel, your hand gripping his hair, his mouth between your thighs.

Oh no. You absolutely did not have a sex dream about him. Not now, not here. Please no!

"You must have dreamt it," you swallow, desperately trying to play it cool. If Poe heard you while he was dead asleep, then you must have been loud. You feel the heat prickling the back of your neck.

"No, I definitely heard you say Poe," he insists.

"Well even if I did I'm fine so you can go back to sleep," you insist, shifting your legs restlessly. You're too warm. Well not just warm, burning hot, sweat cooling on your skin, an uncomfortable ache between your legs that screams of unsatisfied desire.

"You sure? You sounded a bit…breathless?" The pilot asks again, genuine concern in his tone. Although you can barely see him in the dim lighting you can still see the frown pulling his brows together, both eyes now open and studying you. You really don't want him to press any further. Even his voice brings back flashes of the dream, sultry whispers in your ear, his tongue lapping at your folds, the cry of his name from your mouth.

You swallow again, pushing the thoughts away.

"Really, I'm fine. Must have been a nightmare if it involved you anyway."

"Ouch." He holds his hands over his chest, collapsing back onto the mattress as though you wounded him, giving a long drawn out dramatic death rattle.

Pulling up the covers you throw them over his head with a laugh.

"Go back to sleep, Flyboy."

Laying back you shuffle as close to the edge as you can, putting as much distance as possible between you and the pilot. You wonder if it would be better for you to stay awake, just in case your dreams come back to haunt you. You absolutely wouldn't get away with saying his name a second time.

"It's okay you know," Poe speaks suddenly into the darkness as you lay rigid beside him. "If you were dreaming about me. I wouldn't mind."

You can't help but snort with laughter at that.

"You wouldn't mind if anyone dreams about you."

"True," Poe admits. You feel him shift and even though you can't see him, your eyes staring up at the ceiling, his gaze burns you.

"Let me rephrase. I'd like it if you dreamt about me." He continues.

When you don't turn to face him or grace him with an answer, you feel the shift of the mattress again as he lays back.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, and for once it sounds genuine, not a hint of playfulness in his tone. "I thought this would cheer you up. It's been a long week and you've just seemed so… I don't know. Not yourself, like you're bottling everything up. I figured maybe if you were thinking about how annoying I was, or making you laugh and fight with me, it would give you a bit of a distraction and an outlet, but I get it, maybe I took it too far, even if it is the truth."

It had been a long week, the longest in fact. While the mission itself had been a success, you had seen a lot of the First Order's destruction in the process, and it was worse than either of you had realised. You'd felt melancholy for days, the sights you've witnessed replaying in your mind. You hadn't noticed it much at the time, too lost in your own thoughts and angry that he was so loud that it was impossible to hear yourself think, but the more you think about it, the more you realise what he's been doing — trying to make you smile, keeping you distracted, making you focus on anything but what's happened. All you've done is complain to him about it.

Guilt twists hard in your stomach.

How typical of Poe to try and be helpful in the most unconventional way.

Part of you wants to reach for him, to cuddle him tight against you and thank him, to tell him you're here for him too if he needs someone. The other part keeps you rigidly pinned to the mattress, afraid to move in case so much as a finger brushes up against him, unsure if you can hold yourself back with the lingering memory of the dream.

"You mean the truth is that you really are worried I snore?" You ask, trying to break the unbearable tension.

His answer is the most serious he's sounded all day. There isn't a trace of humour, of teasing, just a tiredness, the kind that comes from pretending to smile all day, the kind that signals a surrender.

"No, I could live with that. I mean the dreaming part. I'd like it if you dreamt about me."

"Oh." You can't find anything else to say to that, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest you're sure even through his damaged ear he can hear it.

The ongoing silence suddenly feels heavy, like a crushing weight on your chest, the truth feels like lead in your belly. Poe hasn't made a single noise in a while but you get the distinct feeling he isn't asleep. You wonder if he's laying still too, muddling through his thoughts.

You can't take back your behaviour towards him but you can at least give him something in return.

"Poe?"

The response is instant, "Yeah?"

You take a breath, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting into the sheet at the edge of the bed, nervously gripping them.

"Every day," you whisper quietly.

"Huh?"

You feel a slight shift as he must turn to look at you.

You clear your throat, staring hard enough at the ceiling that your eyes start to burn, repeating yourself louder.

"I said every day. I lied earlier. It's not once or twice. I think about kissing you every day. I have for a while," you admit.

A sudden blinding light obscures your vision, making you cry out in surprise and squeeze your eyes shut against the sudden intrusion. Coloured lights flash behind your eyelids and you have to blink a few times in order to see anything.

When the room comes back into focus Poe is sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring down at you, the bedside lamp illuminating his head like a synthetic halo.

"You were dreaming about me!"

With a groan you grab the pillow and hold it over your own face, deciding if you can't smother him you could just smother yourself instead, which seems like the better option than actually having this conversation.

You feel the pillow tug back gently, but you hold fast, refusing to give it up.

"Come on, let go and talk to me. You've said it now." A grunt of effort and a hard tug on the pillow before Poe sighs. "I'm not going away so you're either going to suffocate or talk."

"Then I'll suffocate," you mumble into the pillow, already regretting saying anything.

"You know I can't hear you right? Come on." This time he tucks his fingers under yours and peels them off the pillow cover until it falls halfway off your face.

"Better," he smiles, letting go of your hands to remove it entirely. "Why are you hiding from me?"

"I don't want to see your smug smile about how right you are," you glare, trying to hide your embarrassment that you've blurted out exactly what you've been trying to conceal from him. Once more, Poe takes your attitude in his stride.

"I've thought about kissing you too, you know? In fact I've thought about kissing you at least four times since you woke me up." He gives a shrug, like you should know that, like it's completely utterly normal for someone to think about kissing you that many times in the space of ten minutes.

You bite your lip, familiar tendrils of desire reigniting in your belly. Your body, still clearly on edge from your illicit dream, thrums with tension.

"So why haven't you done it yet?"

Poe rolls his eyes, as though the answer is obvious. "Clearly I'm building up the sexual tension for it!"

You're done letting him have the upper hand in this. In a surge of confidence, and to stop the smug look on his face, you wrap your hand around the back of the pilot's neck, before you pull his lips to yours. You feel Poe's brief smile, probably of victory, against your mouth before he kisses you back.

It's soft at first, almost sweet tender kisses, short and playful, getting to know each other. He kisses your top and bottom lip, he gives you tiny pecks of affection, he licks playfully at your bottom lip.

Effortlessly he shifts his weight over you, slotting himself between your thighs as though you were made to fit together. His tongue licks into your mouth, slick and hot, sliding against your own as he presses his body against yours, your kisses descending into something much more passionate.

Maker, the rumours weren't wrong. He is good at this, better than good actually, infuriatingly good. You can't even find any fault to tease him about.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, tugging gently and causing the pilot to moan into your mouth. You give a shiver of desire at the sound, your mind filled with thoughts of how you can draw it from him in other ways. Poe's mind seems to be on a similar track, his hips grinding against yours, pressing himself against your core and causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the jolt of pleasure.

Perhaps there was a little sexual tension after all.

The pilot pulls away, his chest heaving, eyes dark and lips kiss swollen, his curls messy and tousled from your fingers.

"Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away so quickly," he apologises, swallowing hard as he clearly tries to get a handle on himself, holding his body off yours, allowing a brief respite for you both to collect yourselves.

"I don't mind getting carried away," you admit, still feeling feverish with his closeness, your mind filled with the fantasy of your dreams. You raise your hips, pressing up against his clothed length, making the pilot let out a choked moan of surprise before his eyes darken.

"Well in that case," he grins, recovering all too quickly. Desire coils in your belly and before you can drag his mouth back to yours, in true Poe fashion, he continues talking. "Why don't you tell me what I was doing in this dream of yours?"

You give him a coy smile. As if he's going to get it out of you that easily.

"Fulfilling my deepest fantasy," you answer as Poe licks his lips, eagerly leaning forward to listen.

"Oh yeah? What fantasy might that be?"

"You were quiet for a whole five minutes," you sigh dreamily. It takes a second to register with him before he leans back bursting out laughing. You can't help but start to giggle yourself.

"Okay, I deserved that!" He laughs. "My methods may be unorthodox, but they work!"

He was entirely correct in that him being his usual annoying self was exactly what you had needed as a distraction, although you're sure there were less annoying ways to achieve the same means.

"I don't know. I actually considered murdering you at least a few times. Maybe I still will, when you're fast asleep and least expecting it," you warn, running a finger along your throat in a playful threat.

Poe hums, leaning back down over you, caging you to the bed with his arms.

"What exactly makes you think either of us will be going back to sleep?"

Oh.

There's another rush of heat that tingles against your skin, shooting straight down to your aching core. It's not at all helped by the fact Poe leans down to capture your lips, his tongue slipping between your teeth as he moves one hand to grip your hip, sliding it slowly up your body and under your shirt to trail his fingers across your breast.

You moan into his mouth as he rolls your peaked nipple between his fingers, grinding yourself up against him, uncaring of whatever commentary he wants to make as long as you can deal with this rapidly intensifying desire.

When he finally pulls away once more it's hard to get your breath, especially as he continues to steal little kisses from you, his fingers still resting against your skin.

Bracing himself on one arm above you, the other slides down to tiptoe over your hip.

"Do I have your consent to remove these ugly pants?" He grins teasingly, pulling at the waistband of your shorts. They had seen better days in all fairness but you hadn't really considered anyone else seeing them.

"Hey, they aren't that bad! Not like you're the pinnacle of fashion." In retaliation you poke your finger through a hole in the leg of his threadbare sleep pants, making the pilot laugh.

"These are my lucky pants."

You can't help but snort with a roll of your eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard."

Poe raises one eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

"They got you into my bed didn't they?"

You scoff, "The hotel management got me into this bed."

"You know what, you're right. Maybe I should go thank them now," Poe muses, his grin turning into a laugh as you wrap your arms around him, preventing him from leaving.

"Will you please just stop talking?" You laugh, wondering how much of the night is even left. You swear if the sun rises and you haven't resolved this, you will combust of need, and you will take the pilot out with you.

Poe raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I would, but you still haven't answered my original question."

You stare at him, trying to figure out what exactly he's talking about before you realise.

"For the love of… Yes Poe, I give you consent to do whatever you want to me as long as you stop dragging this out like a massive tease!"

The pilot lets out a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, a soft gesture in a stark contrast to what leaves his mouth, "dangerous words, sweetheart."

You almost shudder with the flash of desire that bolts through you, making sharp heat rush across your skin and your pussy clench.

"I need you to make me a promise first though," his fingers slip across your abdomen, resting just above the waistband of your pants. The feverish desire at his touch is overshadowed by annoyance that he's still talking. Maker, you swear he won't survive till sunrise.

"Po-

"I'm going to need you to be loud," he purrs in your ear, cutting you off as his hand slips under your waistband. "I don't want to miss a single noise you make."

Even if you wanted to be quiet, the pad of his finger slipping across your clit causes your body to react in a primal way, letting out an embarrassing loud moan for such a little touch.

Poe chuckles.

"Just like that." He praises, sliding his finger down further to dip into your entrance, letting out a soft groan of his own at how wet you are, before he drags it back up, spreading your slick over your aching clit and making you whine again. "Can you do that for me? Can you be loud enough?"

The best you can muster is a whimper as he slowly thrusts his finger knuckle deep into you.

"Nu-huh," Poe chides, "loud."

A second finger quickly joins the first, stretching your walls and filling you more than your own ever could. This time you arch your back off the bed, chasing the blissful feeling as a much louder groan tears itself from your throat.

"Better," Poe grins. "I heard that one."

You want to smother him, you want to kiss him, but most of all, despite his annoying little smug smile, you still desperately want to fuck him.

You decide on option two, at least for the moment, pulling his lips down to yours.

His tongue licks into your mouth as he thrusts his fingers inside you at a leisurely pace, swallowing each whine and moan you give at the pleasure skittering and coiling in you.

Poe curls his fingers, pressing up against that spot inside you, making you pull away from his kiss to throw your head back in pleasure, a loud groan of his name escaping. You're half expecting him to make some sort of cocky comment, but Poe seems as lost in this as you are. He drops his head to press open mouthed kisses across your neck, biting and sucking, marking and claiming you as his.

When he works a third finger into you, his thumb brushing against your clit, you come undone. Normally you would feel embarrassed about how loud you are, the way your body shudders and heaves, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, but the shaky little fuck Poe groans in your ear, obliterates any notion of embarrassment.

As you come down from your high, your body still trembling from the aftershock, whining as he slips his fingers from you, you realise he's breathing almost as heavily as you are, his breath coming out in short pants as he looks you over.

"I need to fuck you," he growls, clearly struggling with his own needs.

You're already nodding before he gets halfway through his request. Whatever he needs, whatever he wants, you'll give it to him without hesitation.

He all but tears your pyjamas from you, making short work of removing them and throwing them across the room, before his join the unceremonious pile on the floor.

This time you allow yourself to look, you allow yourself to take in his broad chest, the little scars crisscrossed with a larger one, old and new, your gaze trailing down across his abdomen to the line of hair that guides your eyes down to -

"Are you done admiring?" Poe's amused tone makes your eyes snap back up to his, your face growing warm with embarrassment that you've been caught staring, although you know he has probably done exactly the same to you.

"I don't know about admiring," you shrug as though your pussy isn't pulsing at the thought of him burying his cock deep inside you. "Think the resistance needs to re-evaluate their best looking pilot status."

Poe simply grins at you, seeing through your nonchalance all too clearly.

"Good to know you like what you see. Tell me, how wet did it make you to see me earlier, all soaked and shirtless?"

"Didn't," is all you are able to punch out as he leans down, pressing his body against yours, rolling his hips just slightly so his hard cock brushes against your slick folds, holding himself at your entrance like the tease he is.

"Really?" He smirks, "Somehow I think you are lying. But alright, I'll get the truth out of you, one way or another." The threat gives you a rush of excitement, wondering exactly how he's going to do that. Not that you're going to let him know that so easily.

"Are you going to keep talking or are we going to-" your question cuts off into a gasp of pleasure as he presses himself inside you, slowly, so you can feel every vein and ridge as he stretches your walls.

"Are we going to what?" He grins.

You slap his arm in reply but there's no power behind it, you're too busy concentrating on the wet noise as he pulls out of you before slowly pressing back in, making you whimper in need. The first time your pussy clenches around him it's involuntary, the second time it's just to enjoy the little groan the action draws from the pilot.

"Stop," he warns, his head dropping to your shoulder, clearly trying to steady his breathing as you clench around him a third time, just for fun. "Taking it slow."

"You don't have to take it slow," you assure him. For a moment you think it's sweet he's considering your comfort but you're more than ready for this.

"I want to," he grits as you clench around him again. The tone of his voice lets you know he's digging his stubborn heels in and nothing will change his mind. Even so you need more than he's offering. This has gone on too long, the tension is too much, the need drumming through your veins screams to be sated.

You whine, you beg, you plead, you drag your nails along his back and arch your hips against him, but he doesn't give. He rocks into you slowly, achingly slowly, maddeningly slowly, and for all your initial protests you enjoy every second of it.

The pleasure builds just as slow, each roll of his hips winding the cord tighter and tighter until you're sure you can't take any more, and then it pulls further. You can't do anything but surrender to the bliss it offers, raising your hips to meet his in the hopes his resolve will eventually break.

"You're incredible you know?" He pants against your mouth, sweat beading at his hairline, his curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes hooded and glazed. "Not just at this, but this too."

All you can do is stare at him, somewhat dazed, wondering how he's even thinking in coherent sentences right now, let alone speaking them. Somewhere your subconscious registers his words and it accompanies a host of butterflies in your belly.

"Just you, exactly as you are. You are incredible," he repeats, only this time it comes with a much harder thrust. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your head drops back against the pillows.

"Poe, please," you beg, unsure if you are able to take much more. Clearly neither can he, his name on your lips undoing his patience. He wraps his fingers around your thigh, hoisting your leg up over his hip as he sinks deeper into you, picking up the pace.

His hips slam into yours, filling the room with the sound of flesh on flesh, accompanied only by his curses and praises that fall freely and loudly. For all his requests for you to be loud the pilot's own moans are enough to drown yours out.

Working a hand between your bodies you press a finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the hardened nub as Poe angles his hips, pressing up against the blissful spot inside you. Your whole body almost arches up off the bed with the combined pleasure catapulting through you, an almost screamed curse fighting its way out of your throat.

Poe groans low and shakily, barely holding his own climax back, his thrusts becoming messy and mistimed.

"That's it baby. Fuck wanna feel you cum, wanna hear you," he groans, completely wrecked.

That's all it takes. Your orgasm hits suddenly and brightly, your whole body writhing and stiffening as the pleasure overtakes you, coursing through your veins like lava, making your vision go white as you tremble through it. Poe had wanted to hear you, but the purely feral noise you let out, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn hotel heard you. You're sure Poe would probably enjoy it if they did.

It's almost too much for your oversensitive body to feel Poe thrusting into you faster and harder, chasing his own end, babbled curses and praises falling from his lips. You shake with overstimulation when his hips stutter, emptying himself deep inside you, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders as you cling desperately to him, your thighs trembling, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Poe half collapses on you, letting your leg down slowly as he presses soft kisses to your neck, against every love bite he's given you in the heat of the moment. You suspect there may be quite a few questions when you get back to the base tomorrow. Turning your head you press a soft kiss to his cheek, making him lean up to look at you.

"Better than you dreamt?" He grins, still flushed and panting.

"I didn't dream about that," you giggle breathlessly, shaking limbs melting into the mattress, sated and tired. Poe raises his eyebrows, letting out a thoughtful hum before he suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper and immediately miss the feeling of him inside you.

Shuffling down your body he presses a soft kiss between your breasts. You frown at him, confused by his sudden movement and how he still has so much energy. How is it you're a wrecked mess and he's still acting like he can go another ten rounds? Why can't he just be still for one second?

Another kiss to your ribs, first the right side, then the left, moving slowly down, before he pauses, looking up through his lashes at you.

"You didn't dream about us making love?"

You go to make fun of his choice of language but before you have a chance he licks a hot stripe down to your naval, making your breath catch with the sudden rush of pleasure. You're starting to question if he's able to read your thoughts, if he knows the truth of your dream already. Perhaps you had said more than just his name in your sleep?

"Nope, not about us," you breathe unsteadily, trying to hold yourself back from begging anything from him again. You suspect you know what's coming next and honestly, you're not sure if your body is able to handle it, barely over your first two climaxes. Still you weren't about to give in to his questions, he'd never shut up if you admit it. "Told you, I wasn't dreaming about you."

"You are a terrible liar," Poe states, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. The rush of cold air against your heated flesh makes you gasp and the pilot smirks, his eyes flickering down to your swollen cunt, leaking with your combined climax before coming back to you, a devilish grin taking over his face.

"'Whatever I want to do to you' still stand?" He asks.

All you can do is nod mutely, a fresh wave of need building despite your exhaustion.

"Good," Poe grins, pinning your thighs to the mattress, preventing you from moving. "Because I'm going to get the truth out of you my way."

He does exactly that. He drags the truth out of you to every question he wants answered and more, twice with his mouth, then again with his cock, reducing you to a babbling trembling mess, willing to tell him whatever he wanted to know, and he's infuriatingly smug about it.

~

Poe had been surprisingly tender afterwards. He'd carefully cleaned you up, brought you a glass of water, massaged your sore muscles, before he'd finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

Of course you had known Poe was kind, of course you knew he took care of the people he was close to, even those who only spent the night with him. There were enough stories around the base to give you a general idea of that, but for some reason you can't place this felt different, it felt intimate.

What surprised you more than anything was how quiet he was now. Appart from a few murmured words about how good you had been for him, and to check you were alright, he hadn't said much at all. It was almost unnerving after his behaviour all day. Really if you had known this would have shut him up you might have jumped on him hours ago. But now, the silence seems worrying.

"You okay?" You ask, your head still against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as his fingers draw mindless patterns against your back.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking…maybe we can do this again? Sometime soon? Be in the same bed I mean." The pilot asks. He doesn't sound like the cocky confident Flyboy you're expecting. If anything he sounds a little unsure of his own question.

You won't give him the satisfaction of the enthusiastic yes that tries to escape. The last thing you want out of this night is to become some regular casual hook-up. Poe wasn't exactly known for keeping long term relationships, citing the fact it was too difficult during the middle of a war, which you suppose you could understand. He was at least always very clear about that with whoever he got involved with.

Equally you don't want to say no. You want this, him. You want the moments of passion and quiet, you want the teasing and fights, you want more in whatever way you can.

In the end you go for the middle ground, giving him an option of more, while closely guarding yourself against this being a casual fuck.

"Hmm, suppose if you buy me dinner first then I might consider it. I don't make a habit of sleeping with people without dates."

It's disarmingly sweet when he presses a soft kiss to your head, tightening his arm around you. Your chest aches all the more for moments like this.

"Alright. A date it is." You can hear the smile in his voice, sleepy and happy.

You didn't exactly expect him to agree to that so easily, and while it gives you a flutter of hope, you don't quite trust he catches your meaning.

"I said I'd consider, I didn't say I'd agree. I might have other options," you warn, trying to get him to consider what he wants you to be to him.

Poe lets out a soft chuckle.

"You say that like your pretending it wasn't the best fuck of your life, and you're desperate to do it again."

You lean up on your arm to look at him, raising an eyebrow and fixing him with an unimpressed look at his cockyness.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenges confidently, "because if I am, then I'm just going to have to keep trying. The aim is to make you fall hopelessly in love with me eventually."

"Through sex?" You laugh, ignoring the now familiar butterflies that tell you he might be closer to his aim than he knows.

Poe shrugs, "through whatever necessary means, as long as I get to keep you as mine."

It's almost a knee jerk reaction to open your mouth and tell him you aren't a pet or property to be owned, but as you meet his gaze you realise you are once more judging him a little too quickly and all too harshly. It's clear he means more than that, his gaze open and vulnerable.

A warm feeling of familiarity, of safety, of something bigger, spreads through your very bones, something that shows there is much more than lust and affection, perhaps for both of you.

Your response is much softer than your initial reaction might have been, had you not taken a moment.

"Take me to dinner tomorrow then?"

"I think tomorrow might be today," Poe smiles, nodding towards the window where the faint pink light of dawn is starting to peek through the drawn blinds. You groan knowing sunrise both means you really should untangle yourself from the pilot and head back to base.

"Well honestly I think I've had enough of you for one day." You tease, pushing yourself off him and sitting up, debating if you can handle another cold shower. In all honesty a cold shower is probably exactly what you need after you make the mistake of glancing down at Poe, still naked, the sheet barely covering his more private parts, his curls messy from your fingers, peering up at you with a half smile.

"We both know you can never get enough of me," Poe states, before he wraps his arms around you and drags you back down onto the bed. He throws one leg over yours, effectively trapping you next to him as he snuggles up close to you.

You don't bother fighting, too tired from the night's activity to argue your way out of his grip. Sighing you sink into the bed, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

"I knew this would work," Poe hums happily in your ear. You mumble enough of a sound to make him realise you're asking what he means.

"Getting you in a hotel room with me would make you admit you wanted me."

You give another tired hum in acknowledgement before his words finally hit you, and you sit up to stare at him, suddenly wide awake. Poe grins back at you, knowing exactly what you are thinking.

"Tell me this was not some plan to get me into bed!"

Poe feigns a comedic shocked expression, holding one hand to his chest as he stares open mouthed at you.

"Of course not! What do you think of me? Why is your opinion of me is so low that you think I'd go as far to break the ship engine, so we'd be stuck here alone, find the busiest hotel on this planet, specifically book one room knowing the others would be booked already by the time we got here, ask for the smallest bed-"

He doesn't get to continue. Picking up the pillow you repeatedly hit him hard with it while Poe laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm joking. I'm joking, I swear," he laughs, grabbing his own pillow and hitting you back. "I'd never purposely break a ship."

"You manipulative little shit,"

Neither of you surrender until the bed is covered with feathers, the pillowcases empty and discarded, your limbs tangled together, lips pressed against sweat salted skin. This time it's you who pries the truth from him, your way.

"My methods may be unorthodox but -" he gets no further before you smack him in the face with your pillow, causing him to dissolve into laughter once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[kpop---scenarios]

Whispers Of The Night (3)

Pairing: Stray Kids x Reader

Genre: Vampire! Au, College! Au

Summary: You just want to live a happy life, but currently, that wasn't happening. It's not until you meet 8 strangers who turn your life upside down and you discover what they are.

Warning: Mentions of blood, Drinking, Violence [this is an 18+ story; will contain smut in future chapters]

Word Count: 3k

A/N: AND AS ALWAYS THANK YOU @skzdust FOR YOUR HELP I'M ETERNALLY GRATEFUL BESTIE

Taglist: @steddie-steddie @hongtyong @purple-bell

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon

@dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

@satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97

@1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat

@pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog

@anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr

@jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13

@stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez

@stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002

@honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco

@chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang

Part One | Part Two

The two days that you spent at the SKZ house, as they called it, were… interesting to say the least. You woke up on the earlier side to make sure you had enough time to get to class, and each day they were all awake, watching TV, working out, doing homework. You'd offer to make them breakfast as you made your own, but they all claimed to have eaten just after they woke up. There were no dishes in the sink, the same amount of food in the fridge. Not to mention their beds were always made up the same every morning. You'd never met college guys who were so… put together. It was throwing you off a little.

“So.” Sam smiles. “These guys you stayed with for a couple nights… any chance you're going to move on from Mark?” She asks.

You can't help it, but you roll your eyes at her question. You still weren't sure what you were going to do about him. You hadn't confronted him, fuck, tou hadn't even spoken to him since San dropped that ball on you the other day. While there was an attraction to, well, let's be honest, all of them, you technically, were still Mark's girlfriend, so the chance of you doing anything was even lower than zero. You weren't a cheater, you never understood the desire to hurt the person you're supposed to love most in this world but that's more than you can say for Mark.

“I mean, yeah they're all extremely attractive.” You laugh. “But I'm still with Mark, and until I figure out what I'm going to be doing, I won't be doing anything with them.” You murmur.

“Them!?” Sam gasps. “You wanna fuck them all.” She laughs. “I always knew you were fucking kinky.”

“Sam!” You laugh. “Jesus christ.”

The two of you laugh, finishing up your makeup, before getting dressed and heading out. Sam had wanted to get ready at the house with the boys, but with all the testosterone radiating in that house, you needed out for a few hours. Luckily for the both of you, Sam's parents were out of the evening so you had the house to yourselves.

“Come on, some shots before we go.” She says, walking into the kitchen. She grabs two shots glasses, pouring you each a shot of vodka.

“We cannot show up sober. A few shots each should do the trick.” She laughs.

You don't say anything, instead welcome the liquid burning your throat as you take shot after shot, desperately hoping for it to erase all your problems for at least one night. Once you were feeling tipsy enough, you and Sam got into your Uber, heading over to the boy's house. When you pull up, the party is already in full swing. There are people out in the front yard drinking, the front door is wide open, welcoming anyone and everyone to join.

“Wow.” Sam gasps. “This looks crazy!”

You laugh, grabbing her hand, pulling her towards the front door. The moment you stepped foot into the house, it was like all 8 of them knew you were there. Very quickly and one by one, they came up to you, giving you a hug to say hi and saying hi to Sam. By the time Minho, who was the last one to come up to you, said hi, Sam had smacked you so many times you thought you'd have a bruise in the shape of her hand on your arm for sure.

“Let's get a drink.” You murmur, pulling her towards the kitchen, not letting her say what you knew she desperately wanted too.

“They're all so fucking hot.” She yells into your ear as you're pouring you both drinks. You laugh as your stomach twists with anxiety. Yes they were, and you were definitely having troubles with that. As the two of you take a couple sips of your drinks, you begin to hear what sounds like a commotion in the living room.

“I know she's here, and I dont fucking appreciate you forcing her to live here! I'm her fucking boyfriend… me!” You hear.

Your stomach drops.

“Mark.” You whisper.

“Don't go out there. Just stay here. Maybe he'll leave.” Sam says. At this point the music had been turned way down, and everyone was crowding around all 8 men and Mark. You knew he wouldn't leave. He was too fucking stubborn. You pushed your way through the crowd of people until you stood beside Hyunjin, who glanced over at you, worriedly.

“What the fuck, y/n.” Mark snaps, motioning to the men. “So what, you're just out here being a whore now?” He asks.

Hyunjin steps forward, but Jeongin pulls him back. “Excuse me?” You ask. “No, I just figured we were done since you can't keep your dick in your pants.” You snap back.

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Mark groans, rolling his eyes.

“San told me, don't play fucking dumb.” You spit. “You never stopped seeing Chae, even after begging, and crying on your knees for me to stay.” You yell.

You wanted to laugh along with those laughing in the crowd, while Mark looked embarrassed.

“Why would I still see her if I told you I only wanted you?” He asks.

“Why would San lie about that? He's your best friend.” You say.

“Yeah, my best friend who's… in…love with you!” Mark mutters.

“What?” You respond. There was no way. Absolutely no way. You'd never gotten those vibes from San, not in the two years that you had been with Mark.

“Why else would he say that?” Mark asks. “Think about it.”

“I am thinking about it, and you're full of shit.” You laugh. “There's no way that San feels like that.”

“I don't feel like what?” San asks, pushing his way through the crowd.

“Mark here says that you lied about Chae, because you're in love with me.” You say. The alcohol you had drank was making you more courageous than you'd ever been in your life. Sober you would never.

“What the fuck?” San laughs. “No offense, y/n but I have a girlfriend that I love very much.” He says. “And Mark's known about her since we started dating, a year and a half ago.”

You turn your head, glaring at Mark, who in turn is glaring at San.

“Interesting.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, this isn't a conversation that should happen around others.” Mark scoffs. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards him. “C'mon, let's go home.” He says.

“You know what, Mark?” You begin. “No.” You say, trying to free your wrist from his grasp.

“Y/n, now is not the time.” He snaps, looking around the room.

“I'm done. We're done. I don't trust you anymore. You've done nothing but lie to me. It's over.” You yell, pulling as hard as you can to free yourself.

“What's going on?” You hear from behind you, a familiar voice echoing through the almost silent room.

“Mark, you're hurting me!” You whine. Your wrist is beginning to throb and ache as you try to free yourself.

“Let her go.” You hear the same voice. Suddenly, Chan is beside you, his hand on top of Mark's. Chan didn't look like he was putting in any effort, but Mark's gave away how much pain he was in. Chan rips Mark's hand from around your wrist, pushing him back. Mark falls down to the floor.

“You're sleeping with him aren't you? Fucking whore.” Mark screams. Chan chuckles, taking two steps towards Mark, punching him in the face. You can hear the thump from his body dropping to the floor followed by the cries as he holds his face.

“We're not done! You won't find anyone like me! You're mine!” Mark screams.

Chan turns around to face you, and you weren't sure if it was because he saved you, or you were drunk, maybe a bit of both. But you walked up to him, grabbed his face, and quickly pressed your lips to his. Chan wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can hear Mark swearing as San pulls him out the front door.

You break away from the kiss. You can't look Chan in the eyes. You turn away, your eyes now searching for Sam, and when you find her, her eyes are wide with a giant smile on her face. You push through the crowd, leaving Chan standing there as you grab her arm, dragging her into the kitchen. You open a bottle of something, you don't even care what it is. You put the bottle to your lips, chugging it, ignoring the burning sensation in your throat.

“Bitch.” Sam gasps as you put the bottle back down onto the counter, breathing heavily.

“Did I just do that?” You ask, staring at your best friend.

“Yeah.” She laughs. “Yes you did.”

“Oh my god.” You groan, drinking a little more.

“Okay, alright.” She laughs, taking the bottle from your hand. “Let's not black out.” She murmurs. It was too late. You were already gone.

The next morning, you wake up with the worst headache in the world. Sleeping on the couch for the last few days definitely did not help your body when it desperately needed to recover. You were sore, stiff and felt like you'd been run over by a truck. And then you remembered ending things with Mark.

“Fuck.” You gasp, dropping your head into your hands.

“Everything okay, beautiful?” Hyunjin asks, walking into the living room, plopping down onto the couch beside you.

“I broke up with Mark.” You murmur.

“It's about time, y/n.” Jeongin chimes in.

“Yeah, honestly. He's fucking awful, and that's coming from me.” Seungmin chuckles.

“Yeah, no, I know he was. But I just… I don't know what to do now.” You say. “All my stuff is there… and I have nowhere to go.”

“The fuck are we then? Did we become temporary housing and no one told me?” Minho asks. “You've been here for days, y/n. Let's just go get your stuff and make it official.” Changbin smiles.

“That's really sweet you guys… but.” You trail off.

“But what? You can't live with 8 guys?” Felix laughs.

“I can't sleep on this fucking couch anymore.” You fake cry. “My back… it hurts so bad.”

Everyone laughs.

“Well, it's a good thing there's a bedroom ready for you then.” Chan smiles.

You hadn't seen him since you kissed him. That you remembered very, very vividly, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. In what world would any of these gods like men, actually like you?

“Wait.” You pause, thinking about what Chan said. “A bedroom?” You ask.

“Of course.” He smiles. “You think we'd ask you to move in here and make you sleep on the couch?” Han laughs. “I mean… Seungmin or Minho might but not the rest of us.”

“You're not wrong.” Seungmin smiles.

“Wow.” You laugh. “Thank you guys.”

“Let’s not get all sappy here.” Minho mumbles. “Can we go get your stuff now?”

“Yeah.” You smile.

The nine of you get ready to head over to your old shared apartment with Mark, unsure of what was going to happen.

You stood outside the door, the number 7 on the door looked different, even though it had only been a few days. You took a deep breath, glancing over at the 8 men that were waiting a little down the hall. You had told them that you needed to do this part by yourself. You were worried that if he opened the door and all of them were standing there, he might end up in a fit of rage. Though, you should have known better that he would end up in one regardless. You knocked on the door, putting your hands behind your back as you waited for him to answer. The door was pulled open, and Mark looked shocked to see you, before a smug ‘I knew she would be back’ look spread across his face.

“Y/N.” He breathes. You put your hand up to stop him from saying whatever he wanted to next.

“I'm just here to grab my stuff.” You explain, avoiding any eye contact with him. He doesn't move out of your way. You want to go inside and start packing the things that belong to you but he stands there still staring.

“Y/N.” He says in a low tone. “Don't be like that, baby.” He smiles. “C'mon. You know you wanna come back home.”

“Actually, what I'd like, is for you to get the fuck out of my way so I can get my stuff and go.” You say, giving Mark your best, annoyed smile.

“And if I don't?” He asks. “If I don't get out of your way? Then what? You gonna punch me like your little boyfriend did?” He mocks.

“No.” You sigh. “But they might hit you.” You say, motioning down the hallway. Mark peeks his head around the door frame, seeing 8 angry and annoyed looking men leaning against the wall.

“You’re such a bitch.” He mumbles, stepping out of your way. You smile, waving to the guys to come with you inside.

You walk past Mark, and can hear him grumbling as each man steps inside. They're all taller, more muscular, better looking, smarter, and funnier than Mark was, and he knew it too.

“Lets get this done, and get the fuck out of here.” You say, everyone scatters to tackle a room. It took the nine of you 4.5 hours, and a trillion questions about what was yours, for you all to finally finish. Mark didn't help at all, and that wasn't a surprise. He didn't want you to leave or leave him, and he was sure to continuously let you know throughout the afternoon.

“Y/N, wait.” Mark says, as you follow the guys out of the apartment. You don't wait, until he grabs your wrist again.

“Let go.” You spit. “This didn't end well for you the last time and it won't end well this time either.”

“Just wait a fucking minute.” He grumbles. “Don't go. Stay with me. Please.”

“No.” You deadpan. “I have no interest in being lied to or cheated on any longer. I hope I never see you again.”

You rip your wrist from his grip, walking down the hall.

“I'll have you again! You'll see! You'll be back when they inevitably kick your ass out!” He screams.

If only he knew how that would never happen.

“Ready?” Changbin asks, grinning from ear to ear. His hand was on the door knob for your room, and honestly you were so excited.

“Yes! Please open it.” You say, nearly falling over from excitement. He turns the knob, opening the door and your jaw is almost on the floor. It was exactly your style, a nice queen bed sitting in the middle of the room that was painted your favorite color. Everything matched, every single part of the room was your exact vibe and you were eternally grateful.

You had put a lot of your stuff in storage, since they had all told you that you wouldn't need a lot of it. To be honest you thought they were full of shit, but here they were, definitely not full of shit.

“We'll let you get settled.” Chan smiles, ushering the men to leave you be.

“Thank you guys. Really. I love it.” You smile.

It felt weird. To have people who truly cared for you like they did. You were worried that they would turn on you, because that seems to be the trend for people in your life. Your mom, dad, Mark, past friends. There was always something that made them leave you. You already felt a strong bond with all 8 of them, so you hoped nothing like that would happen but honestly, you can never truly prepare for the future.

That night, you sat outside on the front porch by yourself, wrapped in one of your new blankets from your new room. It was almost entirely pitch black out, almost silent except for the sounds of cars passing and the faint sounds of people walking by. The only light you had was the cherry from your roach, each time you took a puff, as well as the stars that scattered throughout the sky. The moon was high, shining down on the trees. It was a truly beautiful night.

You felt so relieved and free tonight. Mark hated when you smoked weed, so you weren't ever able to. But now with him out of the picture, you were excited to be able to partake in your favorite way to relax and unwind. You inhaled a long puff, slowly blowing it back out, enjoying the way it was making you feel. You weren’t very high, but it was enough. You lean your head back, closing your eyes, taking a breath when you hear a noise. A grunt, maybe. Your eyes shoot open, you see Jeongin walking towards the front steps of the house. As he walks closer, you see him more clearly under the front door light. There's blood dripping down his face. Your stomach sinks. He looks mad. You stand up, dropping your blanket on the porch, rushing towards him.

“Hey, Jeongin.” You start, popping up in front of him.

His eyes. They're red.

“Are you okay?” You ask, motioning towards the blood. He doesn't respond. He doesn't move. It doesn't even look like he's breathing. You can feel the tension surrounding you and him. It was making your stomach churn.

He stares at you, it almost feels like his eyes are burning through your skin.

Your eyes close.

When they open, the sun is shining through your window. You're laying in your bed, your blanket, that you dropped covering you.

What the fuck happened last night?

[lovifie]

Hiii 🩷

I really loved your ‘Mr & Mrs. Price’ story where his partner he is marrying is younger than him! I was wondering if you had anymore of those stories?

If not, I was wondering if you could write a little after they get married sort of thing. Like would they have kids right away, etc.

Thank you!!

Hi love!! 🩷🩷 Thank you for asking so nicely 💕

At the moment I don't have anything else written for Price and her younger wife, so I'll write you a little bit of what I thought would happen after the wedding.

A continuation to Mr. & Mrs. Price

Suggestive | 730 words | Back to Masterlist

The first thing would be the honeymoon, and Price gives me the vibes to go somewhere cold, like the Norwegian Fjords (? I don't know why, he just does. Constantly clinging to his wife like: "I'm cold, dear. Can't you see?" Only to sneaky get his hands under your clothes.

Friends and family complain about how little photos you took, but it's just because most of what you took, were taken inside your room. So many, so many pictures of his hand on your body, the gold band on his finger shining on all of them.

So much fluffy/dirty talk. "My dear, wifey... See? I told you I was going to marry you one day, and look at you, Mrs.Price... so fucking beautiful under me..."

Neither of you are surprised when a couple of months later you get a positive pregnancy test.

"We used protection..." Price says, as if that would change something.

"Yeah... Until we run out, Mr. I Pulled Out." You say.

Having a child so quickly after the wedding was neither of your plans, but Price was already talking about taking a step back from the dangerous mission and for some reason neither of you were panicking after the news.

It was a weird feeling, at first at least. But on the doctor appointment, when you hear the little alien's heartbeat it was set. Price's hand holding yours, the whole way back home.

He did step back from the dangerous mission, working at base helping the recruits and helping on the small missions, not wanting to be far from you. So he spent his working hours at base, and one day he forgot some documents at home and asked if you could bring them to him.

So you did.

You grabbed the folder, and drove your pregnant self to base.

Ghost was the one who saw you first, almost as you stepped off the car. And he was immediately on your side, stunned when he saw your belly.

"Are you..." He asked, not wanting to be rude; looking from your stomach to your face.

You quickly nod, the man's eyebrows disappearing under his mask. He took the folder from your hands, as if it was a heavy piece of furniture you were holding making you laugh. "Congratulations... That's what people say, right?"

You nod again, holding onto his arm to ease his mind as you walk towards Price's office. Small talk about how you were planning a baby shower and if he would like to assist, the panic clear on his face making you chuckle again.

"I'm pulling your leg, Simon. I'll send you a message with the important news." You say, patting his arm.

"And I will be forever grateful for it." He says, slowly falling in a comfortable chat with you.

Gaz and Soap walk out of Price's office just as you turn the corner. Both their expression of shock.

"Captain!" Soap calls him, annoyed with just finding out. "Ye got yer missus pregnant already? Ye filthy dog."

Price furrows his eyebrows, walking out and smiling widely. Quickly walking to you to give a kiss on the lips, his hands resting on your tummy.

"How are my girls doing, sweetheart?" He asks, Simon hearing it perfectly.

"Girls? You are having a baby girl?" He asks, making Gaz and Soap repeat it as echo.

You chuckle again, taking the fold from Ghost's hand and handing it to Price. "We are doing great today, John. Here's the documents, Simon wouldn't let me hold them myself."

"Good lad." He says, nodding at the mancunian making you shake your head.

Unlike Ghost, Gaz actually asks you about the baby shower and if he can assist. Price doesn't say anything, but he is really glad he offered; having now a familiar face at the party.

And even though only Gaz assists in person, he brings a present. "From Ghost, Soap and I, hope the girly likes it. Whenever she uses it."

He says that because the gift is a bright pink toy car for the baby to drive around.

Price complains about the safety of it, but later at night when everyone is gone he sits on the sofa, looking at you drive the car yourself talking about how you always wanted one as a kid. And Price is not sure how he got this lucky in life.

[destinationtrekk]

aftercare with wesker headcanons

a/n: he's taking over my brain like a parasite. i need him to kiss me sooooo bad and i'm 100% convinced he's the aftercare master

gn!reader, mentions of sex, nothing explicit but 18+ MDNI anyway

masterlist

the very first thing he does when he finally pulls out of you is cradle your face and check on you

he's very mindful of your state the entire time you're having sex, or doing anything together really, but he likes to make sure the endorphins and adrenaline haven't overwhelmed you after you finish (probably for the third or fourth time, at least)

he immediately wipes you down as well, he knows you hate to be sticky and you get really cold when your sweat dries

if you want to take a shower instead, he goes in with you. even if you're perfectly fine, he still wants to stay close. he's addicted to the quiet intimacy you give him and he'll use any excuse to justify never leaving your side

he's a velcro-boyfriend lapdog basically

in the shower he'll do everything for you as well, washing your hair and rubbing soap all over you to clean you off

sometimes this leads to another round, but it's pretty rare. even in his spacious shower he's still just a little too tall to make the position work

he'll sit you on the bathroom counter and dry you off, using a clean towel and taking his time to touch every inch of you.

sometimes, when he's been really rough on you, he'll make you lay flat so he can check you out, make sure he didn't tear you anywhere and that you don't have any chaffing or raw spots. he's so gentle when he touches you then, his fingers feather light as he rubs lotion or ointment on your sore spots

he's such a caretaker, now that he has someone he wants to take care of

once when you first got together, you had shyly asked for one of his t-shirts to sleep in, and even now, years later, he still hands you a soft shirt from his side of the closet and the sight of you wrapped in his clothing makes his heart soar

he makes you lay down and tucks you in, hands stroking over your head and arms while you smile sleepily up at him

he always makes you eat something, even if it's just some crackers or cheese or even a few pieces of chocolate. ideally he wants you to eat something like a protein bar, but you rarely have the stomach for anything heavy

he also makes you drink water, an entire bottle. he'll watch you to make sure you finish it, whether you chug it or take a few minutes to drink it, speaking softly with him in the mean time

he makes sure everything is ready before he finally gets in bed with you, checking the doors and locking them and flicking lights off. he has a really hard time shutting his mind off, even when he's this tired and content, so sometimes it takes you sitting up and pouting for him to settle and get in bed

this is his favorite part - 100%. you're wrapped tight in his arms, face pressed into his neck and warm breath fanning over his chest. it makes his heart skip a beat, the way you melt against him like you don't have a care in the world

he can smell your hair like this, and rub his hand up and down your back and cup your head to pull you closer. he's making sure to touch you as much as he can, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces

you know he needs this just as much as you do. you make sure to thank him, to tell him what you liked and that you're grateful to have such a generous and kind partner to take care of you, and finally, that you love him

he appreciates it, every time, and hearing those three words from your lips (especially after he spent hours doing nasty, vulgar things to make you squirm and moan)

like i said he gets so deep in his head, whether it's before or after uroboros, and he really needs the reassurance that, after everything, you're actively choosing to love him

he tells you the same, that you were so good for him, so pretty and he adores you, and he loves you

he actually doesn't say he loves you very often. sometimes he's in his head and struggling with his emotions and the words are too much for him

he says them every time he's holding you like this though. not for himself, but to make sure you're happy and warm and comfortable and safe

you inevitably fall asleep on top of him, dead weight lax in his arms, and he's certain he's never been so happy in his life

[dark-konohagakure2]

If the requests are still open, can you write obsessive Anbu!Itachi breaking into the house of his civilian crush (f) just to record her being passionate with her actual bf and then use the tape to blackmail her into secretly getting with him instead? 👀

tw: noncon, stalking anbu!Itachi, voyeurism, blackmail, blowjobs, facials, nonconsensusal photography, threats, yandere, victim blaming, stalking, power imbalance

All characters depicted are 18+

Itachi is nothing but grateful for his promotion to the role of captain on the Anbu Black Ops, it is both an honor and a great responsibility, one which allows him to keep close eye on and protect those dear to him, such as his village, his younger brother, and his future girlfriend.

Of course doesn't know that she's going to be his girlfriend very soon, but he does, but there is one annoying little problem standing in his way, her current so-called 'boyfriend'. Itachi can't wrap his head around why she would deign to be involved with someone so painfully average. He isn't as smart, powerful, or handsome as Itachi, and if what Itachi has seen through her window in the late hours or the night is true; he's certainly not as good in bed as Itachi.

It enrages Itachi to no end that his beloved has already lost her virginity to such an inferior man. While a pacifist at heart, Itachi would love nothing more than to show that whelp what never ending terror is, to make him pay for stealing Itachi's property, but the Uchiha holds back on his more vengeful urges, instead deciding to rectify the situation with a little bit of negotiation.

Itachi has fancied himself as a something of a photographer lately, being a part of the Anbu he needs to occasionally snap photo's for evidence, or in more insidious cases: blackmail. He doesn't delight in blackmailing people, especially not the object of his affections, but her infidelity has left him with little choice but to go to these measures, and he'll be sure to chide her for being such a bad girl as he shows her all the photos he's collected.

"Don't be so dramatic now, you should have known better than to keep your curtains open like that. I can make these photos go away, if you just get on your knees, that is..."

Itachi is still resentful of the fact that he didn't get to fuck her pussy before that pitiful excuses of a lover of her's, but he's able to look on the bright side of things; at least he gets to fuck her throat first. In all of his time spent stalking the couple, he's only seen them have plain old penis in vagina sex, how utterly boring. Since he's getting her throat first, he's going to make an impression on it, one that will render her throat so sore that she won't be able to talk without thinking about him.

He'll force his cock in and out of her mouth at a pace that is nearly impossible for her to adjust to, his balls slapping against her chin as he claims her throat as his personal cocksleeve. Part of him, the more malicious part of him, wants to snap a photo of her choking on his cock and send it to her worthless boyfriend, but he holds back for the time being. After all, what's the point of blackmail if he can't hold it over her head for as long as possible?

He'll draw it out as long as possible, wanting to savor the feeling of deflowering his beloved's throat, so he'll use every last ounce of his endurance to hold back his climax for as long as he can. When Itachi finally does finish, he'll cum all over her face, leaving her face and mouth reeking of his cock, he hopes that her boyfriend is able to taste it next time he kisses her.

He's glad that they were finally able to consummate their relationship, even if she wasn't even aware that they had any sort of relationship, but regardless of her playing coy like the silly girl she is, he'll make sure that she knows that her status as his fucktoy girlfriend is now official, whether she likes it or not.

"Good girl... I'm sure that pitiful boyfriend of yours has never fucked you that good... Speaking of him, I don't think you want to hang around him anymore, unless you want your parents seeing these pictures..."

Itachi is glad that he was able to establish a relationship with her, although it is more unconventional than he originally planned, but regardless of the means, he's still able to have his girlfriend all to himself now, and that's how it's going to stay if she values her reputation.

[ki-yomii]

baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess. 

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Snapshots of Desire (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: unanticipated yet again, and you all have this anon to thank!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan finds himself in the throes of desire. For better or worse, it will always be you.

August (after the nocturnal file, and before part five)

That dream was driving him insane.

He had awoken in the wee hours of the morning, the sun not having yet risen, and succumbed to his depravities. There was no way he was going back to sleep after that.

At least he was having an early head start. He jumped in the shower right away, because he was restless, but mostly due to the fact that he had to clean himself up.

He had been covered in his desire for you, so to speak, his seed coating the surface of his lower stomach. He felt shame - what would you think if you saw him like that? Would you turn away in disgust?

Or would you watch?

You would purr, Whatcha got there, baby?

He would reply, I'm all ready for you, darling.

Would you use your soft, delicate fingers to pleasure him? They would look so pretty, squeezed around his...

Fuck. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist, thinking that maybe he needed to jump back in for another cold shower.

He took a deep breath, a piss poor attempt to quiet his thoughts. You still flooded his mind no matter how he tried to spin things.

For fuck's sake, he hasn't even kissed you yet, and you were already the one and only object of his lust.

Only two days, and then he will see you again.

Only two days. Damn it, he needed to get a grip.

December (during the 'chemistry read' in part six)

He knew it was you before he even turned your way. He didn't know why exactly. Maybe it was the particular swing in your step, the smell of your perfume, the shape of your body which he recognised even from the periphery.

This was a set up. His heart was lodged right in his throat, his mind going awry. He had not seen you since that night, and craved you so badly.

He often thought about it - what he would say when he sees you again. If he could even say anything. He was supposed to feel cold, wasn't he? It wouldn't be right for him to want you back.

You sat next to him. Well, at the farthest end of the couch.

He gave you a cursory glance. You looked nervous, your hands fiddling with the script pages on your lap.

Still so fucking beautiful. How could you not be?

"They're all in on it," he blurted out. That's it? That's the best you can do?

She's not everything. Not anymore.

Your responses were cautious, almost shy, as if you didn't want to annoy him. He realised how unpleasant he must be acting when you even offered to leave for his sake.

Please don't go, darling. He started to reach for you, but caught himself at the last moment. "Stay."

Stay forever.

January (just before part seven)

Ewan was grateful for the holiday season. Time spent with family. Time off from work. Time to regroup and hone his craft for his upcoming projects.

Time to be with you. When his family questioned why he wanted to head back to London so soon after Christmas, he told them he had work commitments.

Your arrangement had started just before he went back to Derby, and it was all he could think about since then.

It was unfair to you, and it was wrong. But you felt so right against him, beside him, underneath him. You felt so fucking good all the time.

He always left afterward, right when he sensed himself growing weak and those three words were at risk of spilling out of him.

Would they even mean anything to you? He can't let you win. Not this time.

When you would reach for him after sex, searching for comfort in his eyes, he would turn away and pretend not to notice.

Once, you rolled onto your side away from him, your body unmoving except for the slight, occasional trembling of your shoulders. Ewan could swear you were crying. Because of everything.

Because of him, and what he demanded from you.

Suddenly, he felt like breaking. Breaking everything in sight. Travelling back in time to that meeting in New York and breaking Bruce's fucking jaw. Breaking down and pulling you snug in his arms. He wanted to whisper sweetly in your ear, I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry. I love you.

He stood from the bed, going through the motions of putting his clothes back on, each one like the lash of a whip. Don't leave, you idiot. Hold her.

"I have to go," he said, the words mechanical and meaningless. It was always that.

I'll call you.

This was great.

Sorry, but I have to be somewhere.

He felt hollow. If he had a heart, it was no longer in his chest, with how cruel he felt he was being.

If he still had a heart, he was leaving it with you.

March (the club scene in part ten)

Jenna held on to his arm as they walked the red carpet outside the nightclub. When the photographers had gotten their fill and they were finally cloaked in the shadows of the venue, she went off to find her friends.

She understood the arrangement, and played her part well. Ewan liked that she seemed just as irked with the whole thing. That she didn't expect more from him.

That she didn't expect anything real.

Ewan went through the motions, wading through the crowd and introducing himself to people whom he has only seen onscreen before. The elegant masks blurred together, none of them holding his interest for long. His mind was elsewhere, tethered to the entrance, waiting for you to arrive.

And then, there you were. His darling.

Ewan's breath caught in his throat. Your gown hugged your body in a way that made his pulse quicken. Your hair done up to perfection. Your smile was confident, your movements graceful.

You hadn't seen him yet.

You were the only one in the room, the only one who mattered.

When you approached him, he felt elated. You were taking time off. You both needed to figure things out. You couldn't be seen together. It just wouldn't work.

But there you were, seemingly drawn to him as he was to you. Walking towards him like a glowing mirage.

When you kissed him, he couldn't get enough. It didn't matter how many times you touched him or how often - it would never get old. He would always need more. His fingers would dig in the flesh of your hips, and he would crumble. Your tongue would slip past his lips, melding with his own, and he would cling to you like a vice.

He was an addict, and you were the substance.

Your dress was so fucking tight, it left little to the imagination, clinging to every dip and curve.

How easy it would be to lose control. To push you against the wall, lift the hem of your dress, and claim you in the shadows, away from the eyes of the masquerade.

No one would notice. No one would care.

The temptation was unbearable, your body practically begging for him to abandon his inhibitions.

But he couldn't, could he? Not there.

He almost felt like screaming when you were interrupted, even in the supposed privacy of the smoking room.

When he finally has you again, there will be no holding back.

Addicts need their fix, just as bodies crave warmth. Just as hearts thrive off of love.

Just as Ewan desires you.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART ONE

"trying to play it coy, trying to make it disappear"

⚠️ new series alert! ⚠️ and also my 1k follower celebration!!! (altho it might as well be the 2k celebration now considering how fast my following has grown. thank you ;-;) i polled my followers a little while ago to choose between 3 different fic premises and this one was the winner! it was originally meant to be a stand alone but i'm actually more interested in making it a brand new series, so i hope you guys enjoy! i'm not exactly sure how many parts this will be yet, i'll let you know when i do. title and lyrics are from 'bad liar' by selena gomez.

summary: you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. (no outbreak, no use of y/n) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: (for this fic in general) age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, dirty old man joel, corruption (but it's consensual), praise kink, dirty talk, general smut, mentions of religion (reader's family are very catholic) -- (for this chapter) wet dreams, mentions of masturbation. word count: 5k ao3

The sun is warm and pleasant on your bare skin as you lay out in the freshly mown grass of your backyard, absorbing the heat and smiling languidly despite the humidity. You're grateful for your family's wealth on days like today, knowing that at any moment you could take a few steps and dive headfirst into the cool water of your pool, fresh and inviting. It's been about a month since you returned and you've spent almost every day outside among the green grass, the chlorinated water, the burning Texas sun. It's been heaven.

The backdoor suddenly swings open and your father's voice booms out into the backyard, "Family meeting," he states, loud and serious, "Five minutes."

Or hell.

With a groan you slowly sit up, hands digging into the thin towel laid out beneath you. You know better than to ignore an order like that. Being back from college for the summer has certainly had it's perks; no annoying roommates, no loud parties, a large backyard and pool to yourself, but having to deal with your parents again certainly isn't one of them. You'd thought coming back after three years might have softened them a bit, lowered their guard, made them less strict. Instead, it's almost had the opposite effect.

You slide into your flip flops and walk begrudgingly inside the house, making note of your mother standing anxiously by the stove with her arms crossed. What's the issue now? At least once a week your father calls these "family meetings", which always pertain to you and only you, seeing as you're their only child. Last week they'd spent half an hour berating you about forgetting to put the garbage out, the week before they'd tried to explain the importance of an early bed time to you, like you were seven.

You're a grown woman, a full fledged adult. Sure, you're only twenty one, you're unemployed, you're currently in the process of obtaining an arts degree that probably won't secure you anything tangible in the real world, but you're an adult nonetheless. You only have one year left of school before you can leave all this behind and start fresh somewhere else. You'd thought coming back home for one more summer would bring nostalgia and happiness, a few months of normality before life exploded in front of you.

Turns out your parents had pictured something different.

Your father gestures toward the kitchen table, urging for you to sit. You hate when they do this, make you feel small and childish while they both stand above you and reiterate rules they've had your whole life, rules that apparently you'll never grow out of. You wonder what rule you've broken now.

"We've noticed that you barely leave the house," your father begins, voice deep and authoritative, "We were under the impression that when you came home you'd be spending time with old friends, doing some volunteering again."

"Going to church," your mother adds beside him, a frown permanently etched on her face, "You've only gone twice since you've been here."

Call the cops, you think to yourself, forcibly holding back an eyeroll. Ironically your father is a police officer, and you highly doubt he'd ever come if you called.

"Instead, you just spend all your time in that backyard," he continues, nodding along with your mother, "We didn't invite you back to simply laze around all summer, there have been clear expectations you're not meeting."

You take a deep breath, feeling a hint of anger and stubbornness burning in the pit of your stomach. You shove it down, back to that secret hiding place you've cultivated throughout all these years of having to deal with them.

"I'm sorry, dad," you say, trying to sound as earnest as possible as you look to him and then your mother, "Sorry, mom."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, we need to see action," your father replies quickly, brow furrowed, "No more lounging around in the backyard on weekdays, that's a weekend activity from now on, we clear?"

You nod, "Clear."

"We want you to get involved in something," your mom takes a step forward, places her hand awkwardly on your shoulder, "Why don't you call Bethany? She's always looking for more helpers at Sunday School, or maybe Alice? I hear she's been volunteering at the soup kitchen for the summer."

You haven't spoken to either Bethany or Alice since you left for university three years ago. The thought of calling them, let alone having to work with them in either setting, makes you feel ill. You nod again, pretending to agree.

"That sounds good, I'll call them tomorrow morning," Both of your parents smile, appeased, "I think I'll go for a walk now, if that's okay. Clear my head, think about things I can do to improve."

"That's the spirit," your dad says, wrapping an arm around your mother, "Remember, be back before dinner or the door will be locked."

"I know," you nod, forcing a smile, "I won't forget."

--

Well, that's it, then. You'll have to leave.

It sounds dramatic to say that your parents telling you to get off your ass is enough to send you packing, but it goes so much deeper than that. You've spent your entire life doing everything these people say, nodding and smiling when you're meant to, apologizing for everything, doing anything you can to appease and impress them. You'd spent your high school years in youth choir, church group, organizing fundraisers, studying your ass off, tutoring, joining as many extracurriculars as possible until you had no free time. And even then, nothing ever seemed to be enough for them.

When you'd left for college they'd both cried at the airport, held you in their arms and told you with sincerity that they'd miss you so much. Your mother had kissed your face and held your hands and your father had hugged you for the first time since you were eleven years old. And because of their sudden burst of emotions, of affection, you'd actually missed them once you left. You remember you'd cried on the plane, scrolling through pictures of them on your phone until the battery died, thinking to yourself that maybe they weren't the horrible, authoritarian people you thought they were.

They called you once a week while you were at college, asking for updates, telling you they missed you, giving you neighborhood gossip that made you laugh and feel nostalgic for home. Being away from them, it was like they suddenly became two entirely new people, bonded together by their suddenly empty nest and seemingly trying to do right by you now, even if it felt a little too late. You'd thought about coming home a few times for a visit, but the memories that triggered the anger in the pit of your stomach kept you from doing so. You'd kept them at arm's length until you felt ready to come back.

And now you're back, and nothing has changed. They're the same people they always were, expecting too much of you, thinking they can control you, never quite believing that you're trying your best. You'd told them before you came that you just wanted to relax this summer, spend some time at home, maybe meet up with some old friends - keyword being maybe - and they'd seemed totally on board with the idea. There had been no mentions of keeping busy, no mentions of Sunday School or soup kitchens or rules. Then you'd arrived and realized how stupid you'd been to believe that they could ever change.

Your entire life you've been their perfect girl, their A+ student who volunteered and read bible verses and tutored the neighborhood kids, sacrificed your happiness more times than you can count for the sake of keeping them satisfied. But that's the thing: they're not satisfied, and they never will be.

Your flip flops smack against the concrete of your suburban street, sun beginning to set in the distance as you think about how exactly you're going to escape this hell. Yeah, you could just walk out the front door without a word, but it's not like you have anywhere to go or the money to do it. You have your plane ticket for your return flight back to school, but it's not 'til September and it's under your father's name. Your family might be wealthy but none of that wealth has ever gone directly into your pocket, and you doubt it ever will if you just bail on them in the middle of the night with no warning.

Your thoughts scatter when you hear someone call out your name nearby. Your head swivels and you see one of your neighbors, Mrs. Lillard, waving from her front porch. You wave back, give her a small smile.

"How's college treatin' ya?" she calls to you, taking a sip from a bottle of beer, "Got a boyfriend?"

Your cheeks warm immediately and shake your head, "Not yet!" you call back.

"I bet you're battin' 'em all away," her voice is slurred and you're sure that's probably not her first beer of the day, "Nobody's good enough for ya, huh?"

"I guess," you say awkwardly, continuing to walk and hoping she won't ask you to join her for a beer, "How's your husband?"

"Pain in my ass," she responds with a grunt and takes another swig, "Bet you can't wait to have your own white picket fence, perfect as you are."

Her words make you uncomfortable but you just give her your signature fake laugh and flip your hair, waving again, "Bye, Mrs. Lillard."

Your face falls as soon as you turn around, anger burning again. You've spent so much of your life being the picture perfect little suburban girl, doing everything your parents say, saying your prayers and reading to the elderly, killing yourself to get straight A's and only speaking when spoken to. Your reputation is widely known around the neighborhood; the sweet little girl, the pure and innocent God fearing angel. You've portrayed yourself as that girl for so long that you almost don't know which part of you is real anymore.

You keep walking down the street, eyeing the sunset as you go and wondering what would happen if you just didn't go back home tonight. As your father had said, he locks the door every night after dinner; you don't have a key, you've never had a key. You're only allowed into your house on the basis of trust and good merit. If you just refused to go back tonight, how would they react? The thought of doing something like that sends a warm flush of rebellion across your skin, eyes bright with intrigue. But where would you go?

You turn the corner and your nose is suddenly hit with the delectable scent of a barbecue, smokey and delicious. You slow a bit, closing your eyes and breathing in the warm air, stomach growling. You suddenly realize that if you don't go home tonight you'll also miss dinner. Another rule broken. You keep walking, trying to follow the scent like some kind of bloodhound. Maybe you know whoever's cooking and they'll invite you to eat with them.

A few houses down you start to hear the sound of music. There must be a party going on, a birthday or some other special occasion. It's only as you get closer to the sound that you realize it's not being played from a speaker or stereo, but from someone's front porch; a real guitar, live and acoustic.

You approach the house in question and see a man sitting on his front step, guitar in hand as he strums a steady tune. He's looking down, watching his fingers, monitoring his movements, but you see dark brown curls with hints of grey peppered throughout, a stubbled jaw line and curved nose. You slow your speed, furrowing your brow as you try to place him. You're not sure you've ever seen him before.

His music is calm and inviting, a plucky sounding tune that seems vaguely familiar. You're suddenly filled with intrigue, trying to place the song and slowing to a complete stop in front of the house without meaning to. You watch the man's callused fingers pick away at the strings, fast and professional, like he's been doing this for years. He probably has.

You're still trying to place the song, biting your lip and swiping through songs in your mind like an invisible rolodex. Johnny Cash? Bob Dylan? It sounds like one of those songs your parents would forbid you to listen to as a kid, the ones with devil worship in their lyrics, sung by bad men who didn't believe in God. You'd always questioned this logic, wondered how songs about living out in the country or falling in love could be inherently against your religion. They didn't even listen to it, just blindly told you it was against the rules.

Suddenly the man stops playing and you realize the song has come to an end. He looks up then, notices you standing there at the end of his walk with your furrowed brow and flip flops. His eyes are brown, expression startled at first but then fading into something softer as he gives you a small smile.

"Been there long?" he asks, voice crackling slightly, like he hasn't spoken much today.

You shake your head quickly, "I'm sorry, I heard you playing and I-"

"S'alright," he replies strumming his guitar absentmindedly and giving you a shrug, "I don't mind an audience."

He's southern, definitely a Texan, but you're sure you've never met him before. His face and voice are unfamiliar to you, but certainly not unwelcome. He's older, probably in his 40s or even 50s, but he's handsome and slightly boyish in a way despite his greying hair and freckled skin. He reminds you of one of those men on album covers your father had slammed down one day in the record store when you were nine, yelled at you in front of everyone that the men who made that music were filthy sinners. It hadn't stopped you from listening to them, though, curiosity getting the better of you.

Is that who you're looking at now? A filthy sinner?

"You okay?" he asks slowly, tilting his head. You realize you're just staring at him, gathering your thoughts.

You shake your head again quickly, feeling yourself blush under his gaze, "Sorry," you repeat, "I'm uh, I was just passing by and I heard you playing that song. It sounded really familiar."

He gives you a crooked smile and a nod, "Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan," you say, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. That song was from one of the albums you'd listened to in secret, one of the only times you'd had to delete your browser history. You feel pride swell in your chest at the smile you elicit from the man in response, like he's recognizing a fellow music lover.

"Good ear," he continues to lightly pluck at the strings of his guitar, "You play?"

"Um, not really." It's a half truth but mainly a lie, you've never played in your life. You feel slightly disappointed in yourself and you're not sure why; it's not like you've ever felt any kind of urge to learn, especially considering your parents would've made sure you only learned appropriate songs. When would you have even found the time between all your extracurriculars?

"Well, it ain't difficult," he starts playing the song again, slower this time, "Pretty repetitive chord progression, room for some adlibbin' here and there once you get the hang of it."

You nod like you understand what he's talking about, suddenly lost in the way his fingers pull at the strings, make the music come to life out of nothing. His hands are big, fingers long and thick as they curve back and forth, up and down. It's hypnotic to watch. He stops again and looks up, catches you staring.

"How old are you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You swallow, unsure what exactly the right answer is. Part of you wants to lie, tell him you're older than you actually are so he doesn't just see you as some bright eyed kid. This is the first person you've encountered since coming back who doesn't know who you are, doesn't know about your reputation. You could tell him anything, be anyone, and he'd take it at face value.

"I'm twenty five," you lie, but it sounds unnatural in your mouth.

He looks you up and down, eyes raking your body in a way you're unfamiliar with. Like a man. Like the way your roommates back in college get looked at, sensually and flirtatiously, being eyed up by drunk guys at the bar who only have one thing on their mind. You feel your heart begin to thrum quicker in your chest; is that really how this man is looking at you? This grown man, not a high school crush or a college fratboy, a real man?

"Sweetheart, we both know that's a lie," he says with a chuckle, eyes coming back to rest on your face, "I'd guess twenty."

You make a face, "I'm twenty one, actually."

He laughs again, putting his hands up in surrender, "My bad, twenty one."

You watch as he starts to strum once again, something new and unfamiliar. You listen for a few moments, eyes trained back on his fingers, watching him play.

"You wanna come in for a bit?" he asks, voice nonchalant, like he's asking you something completely casual.

And maybe he is, but the words make your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. The way he'd looked at you just then, laughed at your words, wanted to know your age... now he's inviting you into his house? You've never actually been flirted with before, not when it mattered, and you're not entirely sure if that's what's happening. But it feels like it, even though you can't imagine how someone like him could see anything sexy about a girl like you.

"...Why?" you ask quietly.

He looks up at you with another smile, still plucking the strings, "If you need to ask then maybe I read you wrong," he chuckles again, eyes trailing down your legs and taking in your short dress, the way it stops at your knees, "Now that I really look at you, maybe I'm talkin' to a good Christian girl."

"You're not," you say it too quickly, "I mean, I'm not. I'm not a good Christian girl."

"No?" he smirks, "Don't have a good southern daddy waitin' for you to come home? Momma waitin' with a pie in the oven?" he's not being serious but you feel your skin flush at the accuracy of his words.

"Maybe," you mutter, hand going down to touch your dress nervously, "But maybe I don't wanna go home."

He nods and stops plucking, licking his lips and thinking to himself. You have to admit, there's something about him that draws you to him, something masculine and new. He's much, much older than you but not in a way that creeps you out or makes you want to run away. You find yourself hoping he'll ask you to come inside again so this time you can give him the right answer, the one he wants to hear.

"You probably should," he finally says, then stands up on his porch steps and slips his guitar onto his back. The strap digs into his broad shoulders, accentuating his size as he suddenly towers over you on the step.

"Sh-should what?" you ask breathlessly, and you wonder if he can tell your heart race has picked up, see the thumping of your pulse in your exposed neck.

"Go back home," he says with a shrug, "I mean, if they're waitin' for you..."

"They're not," you say it with firm finality, shaking your head, "I'm twenty one, I do what I like."

He walks down the steps then, getting closer and closer to you until he's suddenly standing directly in front of you. His eyes cast downward, assessing your expression; you swear he looks at your lips and licks his own again.

"So would you like to come inside?" he asks again, peering down at you with a dark sense of desire that makes you swallow roughly, feel a light and steady thrum between your legs, "Let me teach you how to play that song?"

Here's your chance. Just say yes.

"N-no," you gasp, taking a step back from him, "Um, n-not today."

He smirks, almost like he knew that would be your response. He hitches his guitar up his shoulder and gives you one last smile before turning around and walking back up his steps.

"Well, I'm here if you change your mind," he calls back to you, reaching for the doorknob on his front door and peering at you with another side glance, still assessing you, "Would love to teach a pretty thing like you how to use her fingers."

You feel your lips part in surprise, an unfamiliar tingling sensation flooding your body as he gives you a wink and walks into his house, shutting the door behind him. You've still got that steady throbbing feeling in your underwear, something you've only felt a handful of times. You know what it is, you're not completely clueless, but you can't remember the last time it happened.

You take another step back slowly, heart still pounding in your chest as you stare at his closed door. Then you turn on your heel and speed walk back the way you came, flip flops slapping against the ground aggressively. You revel in the way your thighs rub together as you walk, soothing that ache.

Any thoughts of not going home have gone from your mind. You need to ask your parents who this man is. As soon as possible.

-

You get home right before dinner, giving yourself just enough time to formulate exactly how to ask your parents about the man with the guitar. You're slightly afraid that you might seem too eager, too curious, and that they'll see right through you; you can't imagine how they'd react to knowing their perfect little girl is getting butterflies over a middle aged man.

But that's what you have: butterflies. In your tummy, all over your skin, between your legs. Being talked to the way he did, being looked at the way he did, it's making you feel hot all over, itchy and uncomfortable but in a good way.

The last time you felt this way was during your first week of college, at a party you'd gone to with your roommate. You'd seen him across the room, tall and blonde, watched as he licked his lips and looked you up and down. He was gorgeous, an angel you were convinced God had placed at this party just for you. You felt that tingle between your legs, swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat and imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him.

Then he'd approached and you realized he'd been looking at your roommate the entire time.

Your mother is just beginning to plate the meal when you slip into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table beside your father. She serves you both with a smile and sits, then extends her hands to both of you.

"Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts," she begins quietly, and you quickly hang your head and close your eyes as she continues, "which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," you and your dad echo, then begin your meal. Just the same as always.

"How was your walk?" your father asks.

Here goes nothing.

"It was nice," you say, nodding thoughtfully to yourself and hoping you sound nonchalant, "I said hi to Mrs. Lillard."

"We've been praying for her," your mom interjects immediately, "She's an alcoholic, you know."

Your mom stays on top of all the neighborhood gossip, part of the reason you feel she might know something about the mysterious man. With a nod of your head you continue, "And then I saw someone else, a man playing guitar on his front porch, but I've never seen him before."

"Oh, him" your mom rolls her eyes, "Mr. Miller. Piece of work."

Bingo.

Your eyebrows raise, intrigued, "How so?"

"Kindness, dear," your father says with a disapproving nod to your mother, "He's done nothing to us."

She sighs and shakes her head, "You're right, I'm sorry."

The conversation is definitely going somewhere but it's already taking a turn into dangerous territory; you're not one to question, to interfere or interject. Pressing them further might make them suspicious, but you have to know.

"What did he do?" you ask, trying your best to sound casual, "If you don't mind me asking?"

Your mother is about to speak but your father gives her a look, almost a warning. She closes her mouth and sits back in her chair, waiting for him to answer you instead.

"He didn't do anything," your father explains, "Your mother invited him for dinner and he declined, that's all."

"It's the way he declined," your mother sits forward again, voice curt and irritated, "He was very rude."

"Rude?" You can tell your mom wants to talk about it, dredge up something she hasn't been able to discuss for a while; you're surprised she hadn't already told you over the phone while you were at college.

"This isn't appropriate conversation for the dinner table," your father says sternly, and you're not sure if he's talking more-so to you or your mother, "End of discussion." As usual your mother folds in on herself, picking up her fork and starting to eat again.

"Your father's right," she says, though you know she doesn't really believe that, "Let's just eat."

You wonder what the man - Mr. Miller - could have said to make your mother react this way. It's not unusual for her to get stiff and bothered by people - it's pretty easy to push her buttons, actually, but the list of things that offend her is long and detailed. He could have said pretty much anything to set her off. The specifics are lost on you.

You resign yourself to defeat and eat your dinner, sincerely glad that the tingling sensations in your body have subsided. You do not need to be feeling like that with your parents in the room.

-

You dream about him.

It's muddled and confusing, taking place simultaneously back at college and in your childhood bedroom, but he's there. In both places, somehow. You're back at that first week of college party, but instead of the blonde boy it's him standing across the room, eyeing you up and down. But this time he doesn't go for your roommate, he walks over to you and looks deeply into your eyes, gives you that delicious smirk and brings his hands down to touch your waist. He's so big compared to you, so much older. He pulls you in with a strong grasp and holds you to his broad chest, runs his hands down your back.

Then you're both transported from the college party to your parent's house. You're on your bed, sitting next to him atop the covers and watching him play guitar. You watch his fingers, long and thick, hypnotizing you with their movements. He stops playing and brings one to your chin, tilts your head up to look into your eyes again.

"You're not a good Christian girl," he whispers in that southern drawl, breath ghosting across your face, inching closer and closer, "You're all mine, aren't you?"

You wake up with a start and immediately feel the dampness in your underwear, the butterflies back again with a vengeance as your pussy throbs and pulses. You've never felt anything like this before, grasping your chest and reaching for your bedside lamp in the darkness. You sit there in bed for a few moments, catching your breath and waiting for the feelings to vanish again, for your aching core to stop reminding you that it's never been touched, not once, even though you know it's absolutely begging for it.

With shaky hands you reach down and run a finger through your wet folds, shivering at the soft touch. You've never masturbated before, never had sex or anything else you've learned about from your friends at college. They'd looked at you with disbelief when you'd told them you'd never even had an orgasm; one of them had gone so far as to ask if she could give you one.

"No," you'd said curtly, "No thank you."

Now you sit on your childhood bed with your legs open and a finger pressed lightly against you within your underwear. You're not even sure what to do, where exactly to touch, how to bring yourself to completion. You're twenty one years old but you've spent your entire life being the good, pure, God fearing girl waiting for marriage like her parents taught her.

"Enough," you whisper into the darkness, "I'm done waiting."

You yank your finger out of your panties and lay back on the bed, switching off the lamp and closing your eyes again. You've already decided before you drift off that you'll be paying Mr. Miller another visit tomorrow, as soon as possible.

He told you he wanted to teach you how to use your fingers; you intend to make sure he does.