#kind of in a haze but whatever

[dullahandyke]

fun game called 'is this an episode or is it just the fact that ive started my period'

[xoxogeorgiegirl]

THE GREAT IMPERSONATOR | lando & max | 1/1 | 1.5k

He wins.

You have given everything to beat him, thrown every scrap of the talent and the perseverance that you have learnt over six long years of standing looking up at the top step and despite it all, he wins. Worse: he doesn’t even allow you the dignity of making it seem hard.

He never calls you his rival. To be fair to him, you have never considered yourself a challenger to him either. Everyone says that to be in this sport you need to believe that you are the best, the worthiest, and maybe you do, but he has always been untouchable, a cut above the rest, too high to touch. A generational talent, soaring while everyone else is desperately flapping their wings in his wake.

But then you win.

The car wasn’t good this year, until suddenly it was, the roulette wheel of this sport finally landing on your number, and now you are the one standing on the top step for the first time while he looks up at you. You have your first win, long-awaited and a long time coming, and it’s enough.

Except you may not have the confidence of everyone else in this sport but you do still have the hunger, the need to dig your fingers in and hold on to a sinking ship even when the wood has already rotted all the way to the core.

And so you do. You claw your nails in as far as they will go and you learn to go for the gap. Last year you were scraping for points, a podium on a good day. Now, you are fighting him for wins, tasting champagne every other weekend.

You fight over victories until suddenly you are fighting for his crown. The evidence says that he is unstoppable , that he knows hunger and how it feels in his ribs better than you ever will but this year, something is rotten in the state of Red Bull Racing and it is hard for even a master to fight two enemies at the same time.

And it’s a long shot but slowly, you begin to catch up, scraping away at his lead until finally it begins to show cracks. He complains, feeling the tugs at his deeply rooted foundations, but it is always because of his own side. The title is his to lose, and his greatest enemy is his car.

What are you, to his reign?

You beat him where it will hurt, at his home in front of his screaming army, and then you take the shape of his victory into your mouth and make sure everyone hears just how far their golden boy has fallen. His friends say that he won’t be happy about it, hint that eventually he will get his own back. It trends on social media; everyone is talking about it. You are the would-be usurper, the challenger, his rival.

He doesn’t care. You keep fighting, but this time he bites back, and he knows better than you where the jugular is. He’s finally begun to match you, to go on the offensive, but you have always been the one with further to fall and no wings to catch you with. You are still just a distraction to play with. His biggest problem is still his machinery and you know, everyone knows, that if he had yours then you wouldn’t be managing even to cling to the feathers he leaves in his wake.

But it is yours, the only thing that you have worth his notice, and he can’t take this from you, so you cling to the fading hope that even your botched job will be good enough.

He tells anyone who will listen and many who won’t that you are his friend, that this doesn’t affect anything. You go home on his private jet, and the two of you make up, or maybe you don’t.

And then you begin to slip. Maybe the car gets worse - you know it gets worse because your teammate slips too, your teammate who everyone says is better than you, hungrier, faster, stronger, even when the numbers are right there for them to look at, the proof of your victory written in black and white - or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the team, only willing to go to bat for you when the last grains of sand have almost run down and then acting like it never meant anything to them, something to be forgotten about and swept under the rug. How foolish, to ever have thought you could have been the last one standing in this.

Maybe it’s you.

You try harder, throw everything you have left to tear out of yourself, give them more interviews, more spicy quotes. You have always been brutally honest to cameras, tearing pieces out of yourself, except now you have someone else that you need to take pieces from.

You fuck up, except now it’s not just a handful of points that you’ve lost but a handful of points that you needed to take from him. Everyone averts their eyes. It’s too late for you to bow out gracefully.

Everyone has already composed their eulogies and their scathing articles, but you still have to show up to the race and pretend that the killing blow hasn’t already been struck, a festering wound rather than a clean kill. They are holding a wake for you, and all year you have been fighting to prove them wrong but the writing is already on the wall. You have shown your hand, your desperate want for everyone to see, and it isn’t enough.

It is torturous, you have discovered, to freefall. Not worthy even for a god to strike you down where you stand instead you tumble, brushed from the sky by his hand. There is nothing left for you to do but squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the impact.

Once when you were still rising, the closest you have ever been to him, a man tore the beating heart from its place between ribs and left it beating on the track at Singapore, the last fuel to offer to a hungry god. A bet, except the cost was taken from you. Out of your hand into empty air, and it’s not even a point to him but he still offers up a breathless thank you over the radio. Even when he loses he wins.

It is noble: even you, blinded by the knowledge of what you have lost, can see that. The man was your friend, too, but you hold no blame. You would’ve bet on him too, if you could; you always have, before, back when he was the one battling against an uncaring god. Like the house, he always wins. ‘If it can’t be me, then I’m glad it’s him’ plays in your mind like an omen.

So you repeat that act of sacrifice now, in your own way. You have already played everything you have, all of your cards splayed uselessly on the table, but that is null and void now so instead you take your last chance to be good enough and hand it over, as you always have, for the team. Maybe it would have been better for you if you had been a less willing lamb to the slaughter, but it is useless to back out now, when the shots have already been called.

You finish behind him, the natural order of things restored, erased from the story in the wake of his fourth greatest victory. There is no champagne to dress and salt your wounds in turn, this weekend.

So he wins. The history books and the news pundits will say that he is unstoppable, will show that he knows hunger and how it fits in his chest better than you ever have.

He wins, and then he comes to you, or maybe you dragged your still-breathing corpse over to him. He tells you to be patient, that your time will come. You hug him; you’re thrilled for him. In post-race interviews you tell them, "He deserved it more than anyone else," and you mean it. He is inevitable, after all. Would you be mad at the sun for rising in the morning, at the axe for falling?

No. Instead you learn to appreciate it, to admire the golden rays of sunshine even as you twist in the air, scrabbling for purchase. He’s the golden boy and you are Icarus flying too close to the sun because you dared to think maybe you could get close enough to touch him.

[devilsskettle]

my workplace is gonna have extended hours coming up so my life is going to be miserable for 2 months starting in 2 weeks

[sheila--e]

You know how people who make no stand aus of JoJo transform the stands into like, animals or whatever. Well I think in that case Spice Girl is just Trish's older rebellious girlfriend with a buzz who got kicked out of school after beating someone unconscious with a pipe.

[encrucijada]

guy too scared for horror keeps writing it

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met in his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and his cock into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[eggmeralda]

having a sibling of a similar age is so weird bc you'll have this vague dreamlike nostalgia for something you're not sure actually existed, and then there's just someone else with the exact same memory

[slowdivinqs]

Golden

Summary: A Sunday afternoon on your farm with Joel.

WC: 4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Soft, dorky Joel. We pretend Abby and Joel chatted it out. Joel and JJ moments. Breeding ( ? ) kink. Oral sex f! receiving. PinV. In da farm house we’re in love baby! Joel doing physical labor…yeah. Can imagine Pedro or game Joel. Reader can paint!

A/N: I just wanted to give a HUGE thank you for all the love, kind words and support on Magnetism! You all melt my heart. Thank you! I’m not so happy with the smut in this but whatever :,)

The Sade record crackles before your favorite song on the album begins drifting through the air. The birthday gift Joel gave you last year that made hot tears fall out of your eyes, just like him when you gave him a painting of Sarah and Ellie for his birthday that hangs in his woodworking space. Your birthday last year ended with 8 hours spent in the sheets, passed out by the end of it, Joel with a sore back for a week - yet claims it was worth it.

You look up at him right now, peering outside the large kitchen windows and spotting him pulling out carrots, in a tight shirt and his work jeans, arms flexing at the particularly stubborn ones. Banjo following along and sniffing inside Joel’s wicker basket filled with vegetables, his tail smacking into Joel’s side. Rosie and Posie bleating in the distance, their fuzzy woolen coats glowing in the sun, seeming to also take an interest in watching Joel work, just like you.

You hear Banjo’s excited barks before Joel closes the dog's mouth shut with his hand playfully, shaking Banjo’s head side to side lightly, riling him up. The sun starts to set behind them, past the fence surrounding your ranch, behind the tall Wyoming mountains. Orange, pink, and yellow, exploding in waves. The bees returning to their hives from the flower box in front of the kitchen windows．

You laugh when Banjo manages to knock Joel over lightly, the two tumbling onto the grass. Joel laughs too, holding the border collie back with his forearm as he tries to lick Joel’s face with all his might.

You smile to yourself as you get back to work, just as Sade starts singing about ‘his hands’ and ‘the way the mountains look’. Lost in the haze of measuring out ingredients, 2 and 3 quarter cups flour, a quarter cup of sugar. Feeling the weight of the ingredients slide into the bowl. Just as you see Joel slowly walk towards the chicken coup, Banjo waiting in the grass - knowing he’s not allowed there.

Milk and salt are next, and you drift over to the fridge to grab the milk, your long white skirt, embraced with abstract flowery patterns flows against your bare ankles as your toes feel the comforting wooden floors of your warm farm home that Joel made sure to install after you mindlessly talked about your love for warm wooden accents. Sat a 20-minute walk outside the walls of Jackson, a small distance away from Ellie’s farm, closer to the lush woods atop the hills.

As you settle back by the kitchen counter, lit up by warm - almost honey-colored rays of sunlight, you try to spot Joel amongst the chickens, but he seems to have vanished, Banjo too.

You glance around surprised for a moment, your eyes flitting from the coup to the vegetable patches, to the flower beds he planted for you, the fairy garden that he denies he took part in yet carved all of the little toadstool homes for you, and Ellie to paint, and even to Old Beardy grazing in the distance, yet Joel is nowhere to be found.

You even turn to the back door, yet there’s no sign of your man. How can a big teddy bear like him disappear in less than a minute?

You jump and let out an embarrassing squeak as a sudden flash of salt and pepper pops up right on the other side of the window pane. You clutch a hand over your chest as Joel’s face comes into view, his cheeky smile and scruffy beard. Utterly pleased with himself at his success in startling you.

You glare at him half-heartedly, trying to hide the smile that’s inching up your face.

He reaches into one of the large pockets in his jeans, and your attempt at hiding your smile fails when he pulls out a little yellow chick. He lifts it to your view, the little fluff ball wiggling and chirping, looking tiny in Joel’s large, dirty palms. His smile grows wider and tender as he sees you beam at the sight through the window.

He scratches the chick’s head with one of his fingers before walking back to reunite the yellow baby with its mama.

You laugh to yourself at his antics. At a grown, grizzly man, surprising you with a baby chicken. He’s a dork and doesn’t deny the allegations when they’re thrown his way.

Banjo runs circles around the vegetable garden just as the back door opens, closing softly with a click. Joel’s heavy footfall, accentuated by his boots, sounds behind you, getting softer as he heads to the guest bathroom. The house creaks and groans as the water turns on. You’re back to baking.

“Smells real good.”

He hums, his, now soft, footfall appearing once again as he approaches from behind you, burying his face in your neck and sniffling dramatically, you feel his wet beard and hair drip onto your neck, giving you goosies. He’s splashed his face and washed his hands, probably so he can distract you without your scolding.

“Me or the food, old man?” You ask with a smile, continuing to knead the dough.

“‘Mm, both.” He hums, rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat. You suspect he might start purring soon. It’s not unlike him, even though he ignores you when you tell him that he basically purrs while snuggling against your chest as you read whatever novel you two have picked aloud to him in the evenings.

“Cinnamon rolls, bread’s in the often.” You hum, tilting your head to the side so he can keep giving you his beard scratches. He starts nibbling too now. You sway your hips slightly to the music, and the way his hands fall to your hips tells you all you need to know.

“Cinnamon rolls.” He repeats amused, smiling against your skin, nibbling again to make you tut at him, grinning when you do.

“Ellie and Dina are comin’ over later.” You say as you grab the jar of cinnamon on the shelf, leaving Joel to step back and watch.

“They bringin’ JJ?” Joel asks, voice loosing his husky tiredness and instead replaced with a lighter sound.

“Yes baby, they’re bringing JJ.” You say with a soft smile, looking back at him only to find he’s disappeared once more. That man is silent as a mouse usually - a habit you suppose. Although, whenever he walks into the house, he does three stomps of his boots - just to make sure you know it’s him. He may have gone soft, but there are some things time will never strip away entirely. His knack for safety is one of them.

Just as you’re finished adding all the wet ingredients to your dry ones, you hear Joel in the living room lowering a box, a few things spilling out. An obnoxious squeak of a toy - you think it’s banjo’s plastic chicken that Joel hid away after the noise drove Joel so insane he accidentally beheaded a cowboy carving he was working on for a month. You catch Banjo’s head shoot up as if he got a sense that his long-lost soulmate is near. Joel hides the chicken away again quickly.

He’s brought out the small bundle of toys you two own - JJ’s toy box - Joel calls it, even made one of those shape sorters and toy soldiers for the little boy to play with, and asked you to paint them when he was done, as he does most of his carvings.

This is the one thing Joel doesn’t try to hide his excitement about. Whenever he sees JJ, or ‘potato’ as Ellie calls him, they might as well be the only people in the world. You think it’s the sweetest thing, makes you want to beg him to have a potato of your own, your body going into overdrive imagining how he’d look at your child while putting them to sleep, how he’d kiss their forehead softly.

Joel begins to organize the toys, placing the few dinosaurs, soldiers, and stuffed animals in a battle scene. The soldiers are apparently no match for the fluffy bear, as he’s flung them around in defeat.

Never did you think you’d see the day that Joel Miller would organize a battle scene between stuffed animals and wooden soldiers, just to see JJ’s face light up in excitement - like the little boy's face doesn’t already do that when he just sees Joel as the front door opens.

You manage to pull your eyes away and start folding your dough. Smiling to yourself at your sweet sweet man. Your stomach swoops the more you think, kneading the dough mindlessly as you’re painfully reminded how badly you want it. How badly you want him to pump you full, make you swell. You don’t even notice how your eyes have gone hazy, kneading the dough harder and harder until you jump at Joel’s big hands cupping your wrists from behind, pulling them upwards slightly to relax them. His beard tickles the fly always at the back of your neck as he kisses the soft skin there.

“What’s got my lady all worked up, hm?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing down the side and inhaling, almost like he wants to brand himself with you.

“You.” You whisper shakily, squeezing the dough slightly like an anchor. You feel his cheeky, boyish smile against your skin, only for a moment before he replaces that smirk with a nibble.

“Me?” He asked softly, planting his chin over your shoulder to watch as you ‘work’, definitely not to watch the way his calloused hands cup over your tits. The dough between your palms is the only thing keeping you stable right now.

“Yes, you.” It’s a breathy whisper, and although he doesn’t see it - Joel already knows your eyes are drooping when you tip your head back slightly, able to breathe in that perfect scent of him after he’s spent the day working in the sun. The musk that is uniquely Joel, that screams man man man.

“Don’t know what you mean, honey bee.” He hums, his mouth ghosting over your earlobe just as his thumbs circle over where your nipples are unfortunately hidden away from him. He knows exactly what you mean.

“Why don’t you head South and find out then, cowboy?” You tease, expecting a playful slap and pinch of your ass before he wanders off to the shower, but instead, you find his hands, then his whole self sliding down down down until his knees plant themselves on the floor.

“Gonna let me spoil my desert?” He hums, his hands sliding slowly up from your ankles, bringing your skirt with them, until he can see the little cotton-lace panties that are hidden underneath. He bites the soft swell of your right asscheek that the cotton doesn’t cover.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip softly as you arch your back slightly, leaning your weight on the dough, squeezing harder as the soft caress of your thighs leaves you dripping - more so than before.

“You know I’d let you do anything.” You whisper to him, and it’s all he needs before you feel his calloused fingers on your lower back, sinking into your underwear before dragging them down, burying his head under your skirt.

He throws your panties somewhere, with a proper flick of his wrist. You can see them land somewhere in your periphery, the white lace discarded, very Joel-like in the most crude matter possible.

“Joel!-“ you begin to exclaim before his warm tongue parts your slick folds with an obscene sound. Slurping up the wetness he’s found as his calloused hands grip the front of your thighs. Squeezing tightly like it’ll let him get his tongue deeper into your pussy.

You almost want to laugh at what it must look like: his head buried under your long white skirt, like a ghost he probably dressed up as for Halloween. But fortunately for him, you can’t laugh when his mouth has sealed around the hood of your clit, when it’s hot hot hot and wet.

“Oh, Joel-” you moan in a breathless gasp, your head falling back and then forward as his tongue licks the underside of your clit, making you squeeze the poor dough for it’s life.

He groans into your pussy, tongue leaving your clit to lick side to side, sliding down your cunt until it’s breaching your drenched hole. His hands grip your ass-cheeks tightly, eating at you like it’s his last meal.

He pushes two of those thick fingers inside you, instantly curling forward so deliciously you think you might die. You lose your voice, moaning hoarsely as you clench around the intrusion. He starts moving his hand faster, paired with the suckling of his hot mouth on your clit, you’re not going to last much longer.

“Give it t’me baby- let me have it.” He whispers against you, and it’s his words that do it, as well as that final crook of his fingers that hit you right where you need him. You’re cumming with an intensity only he can give you. He slurps up all the wetness he can until you’re whining at him that it's ‘too much, too much’ and he stands. Gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before kissing you deeply. Guiding his tongue into your mouth just as he had done your pussy.

“I love you.” He whispers against your lips, and your chest blooms, blinking up at him as he looks into your eyes with a calm tenderness like you’re exactly what he always dreamed of - like he lay awake at night as a little boy getting giddy at the thought that one day you might be real, and now you are, more importantly: you’re his, and he’s yours.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, kissing him once more before he’s once again lifting your hands from the dough, which now looks positively mixed from your absent-minded squeezing.

“‘M gonna go shower, baby.” He says softly, stepping back from you just as you turn to look at him.

“You’re gonna deny a woman her fun?” You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, looking down as he re-adjusts his jeans. His hands glancing at your ass before smirking at something you don’t see yet.

“You’ll get your fun later, baby.” He says with an amused smile, before he’s turning and heading upstairs. You sigh and look around the kitchen, laughing brightly as you see your panties dangling on the hook by the back door, how he flung them so far, you’ll never know.

There’s a knock at the door at 5pm sharp, and Joel bounds down the stairs before walking to the door, the creak of it sweet before the sounds of ‘hello!’ and ‘how’s it going, old man?’ ring through the house. You move away from the kitchen to great Dina and Ellie as they walk in, JJ already cooing excitedly in Joel’s arms as he hugs Dina, then Ellie from the side. Smiling widely at the little boy.

“Hey Els, Dina.” You say softly as Ellie gives you a tight squeeze, her mullet brushed neatly, most likely done by Dina. The Ellie you know would let her hair stick in every direction like the wild child she is and always will be.

“Smells good.” Ellie says softly, a hand on the small of Dina’s back before she’s walking to the kitchen to inspect what you’ve made. You see Ollie - JJ’s favorite toy elephant that Ellie won in the Jackson Fair at 19 - hanging out of her back pocket. You smile at the similarities between Joel and Ellie, clear that he raised her in subtle ways. The most obvious being her recent taking for boots, jeans and flannels. She goes over to Joel and JJ after that, crouching behind Joel who’s sat on the carpet by his battle scene, giving him a bear hug from behind.

The afternoon is spent chatting away with Dina, Ellie occasionally chiming in, yet all three of you mainly watch Joel and JJ playing on the living room rug. Your home is filled with the delighted laughter of a child. Ellie joins in soon too, taking on the role of the toy dinosaurs which makes JJ shriek with laughter as they attack Joel’s stuffed bear, then Joel himself.

Everything is warm.

You all eat together. Roasted Venison with salad and bread, cinnamon rolls later that JJ tries to devour whole while sitting on Joel’s lap - similarly to Ellie who sneaks an extra two with Joel in the kitchen when they think their respective partners aren’t looking.

They stay in the small cottage outside which Joel made sure was perfect before their arrival. JJ and Dina fast asleep as you, Ellie and Joel find place on the couch watching some cheesy action movie that Ellie picked. Just like old times when she was a young teenager. She still leans against Joel’s shoulder all the same. Both of his girls in his arms as lights flash across the screen. You glance up at his face once, and smile when seeing he looks as happy as can be.

He deserves this, he deserves to be happy. Even if he might not believe it, you do, and you’ll let hell freeze over before you stop trying to make him happy.

Ellie bids you goodnight before going to curl up in bed with Dina and JJ. Similarly to the way Joel follows up the stairs behind you as you make your way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Smirking at the twinkle in his eye you see as you pull out his favorite night dress of yours

You’ve just finished up in the bathroom when you walk back into your shared bedroom. Joel shucking off his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. You admire his broad back in the low light of the bedroom. The shadows dusting along his muscles like rivers.

You float up behind him this time, your nose pressed to the line down his back, hands wrapped around his stomach.

“I want one.” You whisper into the quiet night, and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. He turns to face you - you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him.

“Want what, darlin’?” He whispers softly, his thumb running over the apple of your cheek as he breaths softly. You can hear his heart beating, in sync with yours.

“A baby.” You whisper, and it’s so silent, so quiet. His eyes glimmer and brighten, his breath bated as he looks down at you.

“You want that with me, sweet girl?” He whispers, his voice suddenly hoarse and thick.

“More than anything.”

He kisses you deeply, his hand burying at the hair on the back of your head. Cupping the bowl of your skull so tenderly you can feel his love for you pulse through your veins. Your arms wrap rest on his broad shoulders.

“Me too, baby. Me too.” He whispers, and emotion wraps around your throat, as you can tell it does his when you see the shine in his sweet eyes.

You fall to the bed together, his boxers discarded as he makes quick work of your night gown. Kissing along your breasts until you’re driven so positively crazy you need him to soothe it with his mouth.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and you gaze into his eyes as they flutter slightly at the sensation of your fingers, his own meet you there, guiding him inside you until you both gasp softly at the sensation. He lets his hips push in all the way moments after. Your walls grip around him, the thick, hot - length of him, pushing its way through you until he fits into the space he’s made for himself within you. The noise of your wetness clenching around his girth as he holds himself over you on his strong forearms is nothing short of one of Joel’s favorite erotic sound.

“I love you, I love you so damn much.” He whispers, his large - paw like hand cupping your skull as he grinds his pelvis against your pulsing clit, listening to the soft shk shk shk as his cock twitches inside you, pushing up against that spot inside you that turns you stupid.

“I love you too.” You whimper, barely able to think past the way your eyes are rolling. He hasn’t even thrusted yet. You don’t catch the way he’s gazing down at you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like you own every part of his heart and soul, like you might as well be living and breathing within his ribcage : as if you’re the sole thing causing that glow he seems to have.

He starts moving, slow, deep slaps of his hips against yours. Holding you against him as you arch your back slightly, making sure he digs against that spot that drives you wild.

Your fingers dig red lines down his broad back. His head falling forward as he groans so deep and roughly you think you might die from being overly aroused. This man does things to you that you can’t even explain with words, your cries of pleasure seem to communicate it well enough though. Everything is hot and wet and sticky as he whispers into your ear.

“You’re gon’ be such a good mama- fuck darlin’ - take it, yeah-“ he groans into your ear, and your whole body shivers. You clench tighter around him, making him gasp slightly as his hand finds your clit. “Got me achin’ f’you all day baby-“ he whines - whines - into your ear, the soft skin of his balls drags against the curve of your ass, just like his tip dragging through your walls, taking you higher and higher until you can’t even hear the noises you’re making.

He rubs your clit harder, round and round on that pulsing nub until you open your eyes and see his disheveled face. Skin flushed, hair a mess, and his gaze fluttering as he moves his hips against you- his big strong body shining with sweat.

You’re done for.

You dig your heel into the soft flesh of his ass, pulling him closer and locking your legs around him, trapping him deep inside of you.

“Please cum inside me-“ you whimper, gazing into his eyes as he fights with all his might to make sure you cum first, his hand doesn’t let up on your clit, and you clench. “Please let me have it-“

His groan breaks into a soft whine as he drops onto his forearms, face right in front of yours, his nose bumping into your own. You can feel his harsh breaths against your swollen lips.

When you feel him start to fill you up on a slamming thrust, you cum with him, clenching tighter every time you feel one of his thick, sticky ropes shoot inside you while his cock twitches wildly inside you - his moans even sweeter than the sensation.

“Oh god, I love you-“ he whimpers, his moan cracking as you push him impossibly closer with your heel, his hands gripping the sheets next to your head for dear life. He kisses you messily, tiredly as you both lie there - sweaty and catching your breaths.

“I love you.” You whisper back to him, your hand running through his messy hair as you litter kisses along his damp forehead. He nuzzles into you like a big bear still inside you as he softens.

“You need somethin’?” He asks once he’s found his thoughts again, sitting up slightly before you pull him back down with an ‘oof ’.

“Just you.” You whisper back sleepily, your eyes closing shut as you bask in the feeling and love he gives you. You feel a soft kiss to your jaw. His hand splaying over your tummy.

“You got me, baby. Always.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading ! ♡ please lmk if you enjoyed it and reblog if you did ◡̈

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | everyone has their vices

summary: tom riddle tells you he jerks off (and more) to relieve stress. just….in typical tom fashion.

word count: 2k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, so much tension you’ll choke on it, frustrating subliminal tom riddle (though reader is just as stubborn), flirting, masturbation insinuation, make out sesh.

"But how?”

Tom inhaled sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he prepared to reexplain for what felt like the hundredth time. "Because, the slightest distraction or doubt can result in consequence—as I said previous. A momentary lapse in any of the areas we covered will result in splinching."

You blinked, staring at him like he'd spoken an alternate language. The late night and the relentless focus on Tom's face for the past four hours had blurred everything into a haze and dulled his voice into a monotonous hum, blending with the soft rustle of parchment and the distant lapping of the lake against the window. He could see it—your disconnection, the way his words slipped past you like water through fingers.

He exhaled, slumping back in his chair, a hand raking through his dark hair in frustration. "Should we call it a night?"

"Probably," you muttered, your gaze drifting to the window behind him, the surface of the Black Lake rippling under the moonlight. "You've overloaded my brain. I stopped comprehending two hours ago."

You felt Tom's eyes narrow slightly as he studied you—you must have looked a mess. Strands of hair had fallen out of your ponytail, your uniform shirt was half undone, and there was a dullness in your eyes that spoke of more than just exhaustion. A week bedridden with the flu had set you back, and now, despite Tom's best efforts, you felt like you were drowning.

He knew you were stressed beyond measure—you were normally not like this.

"You need to relax," he said, the words landing with the flatness of an undisputed fact. "You won't retain anything in the state you're in."

"How can I relax when I'm two weeks behind? And exams are next week?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your frustration as you leaned your elbows on his desk, burying your face in your hands. "I'm helpless, Tom. I know you know it."

"Would I be sitting here wasting my time if I thought you were helpless?" He watched you, almost clinical in his intensity as he spoke—tone matter-of-factly, devoid of any false comfort. It cut through your despair with ease. Tom Riddle never did anything without purpose; if he was here, it meant he believed you were worth the effort. "My suggestion is that you reset your brain," he continued, his voice steady like his fingers as he shut the textbook between you. "Take a walk. Have a cold shower. Jump in the lake. Whatever you need to do to decompress."

The simplicity of his suggestions almost made you laugh, but it was the kind of laughter that would easily turn into tears if you let it. Tom had a way of stripping everything down to its most basic form—of cutting through your stress and chaos and presenting you with a simple, unvarnished answer.

You were a mess, and he was telling you to fix it—no coddling, no pity, just a clear-eyed assessment of the situation. And somehow, that was exactly what you needed to hear. You appreciated him for it.

"Decompress, huh. I don't believe I've ever done such a thing." You leaned back in your chair with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. "Is that what you do? Jump in the lake?"

Tom let out a huff, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what was almost—almost—a smile.

"Something like that."

Interesting—Tom Riddle, always so composed, every inch of him meticulously put together, as if the mere idea of stress was a foreign concept. You couldn't imagine him spiralling, not the way you did—frankly, you couldn't imagine him ever feeling overwhelmed at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, wondering what he did to unwind—what rituals or habits did the untouchable Tom Riddle indulge in when no one was watching?

"Something else, then?" You pushed it further, gently, your eyebrow arching just slightly.

For a moment, his gaze flickered, something dark and inscrutable passing behind his eyes. You knew he was considering your words, debating whether to indulge your curiosity or keep you at arm's length. Such a fascinating creature he was—all brick walls and boarded windows—you had a feeling he was going to shut this down.

Until, he leaned forward.

"If you're asking if I have habits—I suppose I do," he said, your eyes drawn to the way his lips moved, the way his voice curled around each syllable. "Habitual things I do to—relax, let's say."

You hummed and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you considered him—fighting to hide your amusement. That was the biggest personal moment you've had out of Tom Riddle since the day you met him in first year where he told you his name.

"Well, isn't that a revelation," you teased, toying with the edge of your skirt. "Just the mere insinuation that Tom Riddle has to do something to relax—as though he's not always cool, calm, and collected like he lets on."

His lips curled slightly at your words, his gaze dipping briefly from your eyes to your mouth, trailing lower in a slow, deliberate sweep that brushed over your chest before landing back on the desk.

Your brain buffered, tingles in the wake of his wrath. He picked up his quill, spinning it idly between his fingers. 

"Everyone has their vices—if they don't, they end up like you," he said, his tone laced with an ambiguity that made you wonder just how deep his ran. "Perhaps it's time you found some."

You scoffed, leaning further back in your chair, the fabric of your shirt pulling tighter across your chest. You forced yourself to ignore the visceral reaction your body had as you caught the brief flicker in Tom’s gaze—the way his eyes darted up to the movement before he quickly masked his expression.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining things, but the tensing of your thighs betrayed a reaction you couldn't quite shake.

"And what are yours?" You asked after a moment, your voice softer now. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a conversationalist—and yet here he was, indulging your curiosity instead of shutting it down. He was humouring you, and you intended to make the most of it. "Decompressing with bland tea and ancient tomes? Sneaking into the Restricted Section when no one's looking?"

“Mm, no.” Tom let out a snort, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips— "I’d say my vices are less...pedestrian, than all that."

The quill in his fingers stilled—the change in his demeanour was subtle, though you felt it in the air—electric, making your pulse quicken. He traced the edge of the feather with the tip of his thumb, the motion slow and deliberate, and you found yourself inexplicably distracted, fighting the urge to shift in your seat.

Why in Merlin's name was that so damn captivating?

"Less pedestrian?" You echoed, curiosity at an all-time-high. "What do you do, then, Tom? Dance naked by the light of the full moon?"

"I should hope not," he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the pit of your stomach as you giggled alongside him. The quill twirled again in his fingers, the motion languid, almost hypnotic. "No, I'd say my vices are more...private. Less suited to polite company. Perhaps I should let you guess since the mystery of it seems to fascinate you so."

The look he gave you made you stiffen, a challenge—no, a dare—clear in his deep, dark eyes. Your thighs involuntarily reacted again—less suited to polite company?

"I believe I've already made several guesses," you tried to compose yourself with a shallow inhale. "I'm quite at a loss."

He shook his head, stifling his grin. "Clearly, you lack imagination."

"Clearly, you enjoy being cryptic." You shot back, unable to stifle yours.

At that, he hummed—it was obvious your stubbornness was as entertaining to him as it was aggravating. Perhaps you could say the same. He set the quill down, his eyes on yours as the fingers of his free hand began to tap idly on the desk—and then his gaze dipped again, tracing the curve of your lips before drifting lower, a slow, deliberate path that made you tense.

For a moment, you wondered if the tension in the air was all in your head. Was he always this adventurous with his eyes?

"When the mind is under strain," he began, his voice smooth, clinical, "it's a result of an excessive influx of neural signals. Synapses misfire, disrupting cognitive function. A basic physiological response." He watched your reaction closely, as though gauging the impact of his words. "To address such a state, one must reestablish control over these neural pathways. To be direct, I find the most efficacious methods involve tasks that stimulate the senses without being emotionally or physically taxing. A simple, repetitive action can suffice—something arbitrary enough to encourage the subconscious to lose focus."

You fought the urge to scowl at his change in speech—Tom knew damn-well just how overwhelmed your brain was—and then continued to recite scientific jargon as if it were his full-time occupation.

You’d almost be mad if it weren’t for the fucking words that stuck to the inside of your ears—stimulate, repetitive, lose focus—

"You're a walking textbook, aren't you?" You continued to play it off—you didn't want to make assumptions—you hated the way he danced around the edges of things, never quite saying what he meant. "Be specific."

Tom's grin grew as he leaned in slightly, his fingers stilling on the desk between you. "I find tasks that involve the hands particularly useful. Something that can be repeated in a smooth, steady rhythm, with little conscious thought required. The ability to lose oneself in the pattern is key."

Merlin help you—the atmosphere in his dorm had changed with those words; the air turned viscous, cloying, each breath sticking in your throat like syrup—hands, steady rhythm, lose oneself—the words pulsed with implication, even if it was buried under layers of his typical, infuriating ambiguity.

He was absolutely referring to—no—no assumptions—

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "So...knitting?"

The words tumbled out, a weak attempt at humour to cut through the tension, but they hung lifeless in the air—as hollow as the chuckle that rumbled from Tom's chest.

His eyes traced over you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle. "Not exactly."

"Hm. A different kind of needlecraft, perhaps." You shifted in your seat, trying to inject a semblance of nonchalance into your posture.

But you weren't fooling him—you never had—

"How much longer are you going to play coy?" He murmured, the amusement clear from light-years away.

Heat surged up your neck, the flush burning across your cheeks, betraying you—"how much longer are you going to continue holding your tongue?"

Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with a challenge you barely felt capable of meeting. You and Tom had always been cordial, the slight suggestive comment here and there, mostly from your end. But this—oh, this was different—this was uncharted territory.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Would you prefer I do something else with it?"

Oh, fuck yes you would—

"You're being obtuse," you practically choked out, though the words lacked the bite you intended. "Entirely vague."

"I'm being clear," he countered, his gaze never wavering. "But you're being obstinate—willfully ignorant to my meaning because you refuse to acknowledge it without me saying it outright."

The air between you dissipated—you tried to grasp for a coherent thought, something to regain your footing, but your mind faltered, stumbling over the implications of what he was saying. His eyes never left yours—and you watched them deepen in colour, black pupils eating away the rich brown of his irises, darkening with something that made the room feel unbearably small.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, pooling low in your belly. How did he do this to you? How did he turn you inside out with nothing more than words and that infuriating, knowing smile?

"Tell me," you breathed, hating how desperate the words sounded, "what do you do with your hands, Tom?...how do you use them to relieve...stress?"

The second those words left your lips you realized what was truly happening here—Tom Riddle never did anything without intent—every word, every pause, every smirk, was a thread in a web he was weaving, intricate and inescapable. He'd led you here, gently, subtly, with the barest hint of force, and now that you were caught, you realized that you wanted this.

Needed it.

And it was clear he did too. Otherwise you'd never have gotten to this point—he wanted you to push, to dig deeper—your stomach twisting as you watched Tom wet his lips, but there was no smirk on them this time.

Only something intense—jaw set, eyes focused—

"I think we both know what I do with my hands," he whispered, the double entendre clear in every syllable— "you knew exactly what I was insinuating the moment this started."

Your breath snagged in your throat, a tremor running through your entire body as the warmth pooling in your belly began to spread, sinking lower, threading through every nerve. Your vision narrowed, centering entirely on him—his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his presence seemed to devour the room, leaving no space for anything else.

And then, you nodded, the movement barely there—a subtle acknowledgment of your understanding.

"Do you touch yourself, Tom?..." the words escaped you, a soft, breathy whisper that you could hardly believe were your own. "Or do you touch someone else?"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze, suspended in the intensity of those questions.

The world narrowed to the point of his gaze, the sharp line of his jaw—the reality of where you were, what you were doing, almost seemed to blur—trapping you both in a moment that felt surreal, like a scene caught in the still frame of a film. Never—never—had you imagined a conversation like this with Tom Riddle, hardly your acquaintance, the untouchable genius of the school.

And yet here you were, heart pounding, every nerve on fire, and Merlin help you, you were going to wring every drop of this out for as long as you could.

He swallowed, and you watched the movement, entranced. "Depends on my level of stress."

Tom's expression was unreadable—except for the subtle tension in his shoulders as he leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider, the fabric of his dress shirt straining against the flex of his biceps—

"...and how stressed are you right now?" You whispered, reckless, without a trace of restraint.

Tom's throat bobbed with another swallow, a gesture so simple yet so charged that it sent your pulse roaring in your ears.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice taut, stretched thin. "The past four hours have been rather taxing—wouldn't you agree?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up, escaping before you could stop it. You tried to steady yourself, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. You had never felt so intensely aroused and frustrated in your life, and you knew, without a bloody doubt, that he was perfectly aware of it.

"Are you trying to imply l'm the cause of your stress?"

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze raking over you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if you were something to be consumed, devoured whole. "I'm saying you've exacerbated it. Though I'll concede a fair share of the responsibility—as it is mine, after all."

"How kind of you," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "To admit your own fault in the matter."

"I'm a kind man." His voice was a low purr, the kind that seeped into your bones, making your blood thrum with anticipation. "I like to take responsibility for my shortcomings."

Yes, yes—so very kind—

"Then take it."

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, a challenge thrown into the thick, suffocating air between you. The tension was a living thing now, colled tight, ready to snap, turning your insides into a churning mess of want and need.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Take it?" He echoed. "And what exactly do you want me to take, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart.

The pet name rolled off his tongue with a casual ease that sent a flush of heat straight to your core— the simple word wielded like a weapon, striking you down with its intimacy. There was no denying the power that name held over you, especially when coming from his lips.

"The responsibility..." you whispered, the words trembling as they left you, barely more than a breath. "…for your..." you hesitated, your eyes locked onto his as you finally said, "…shortcomings."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance—until, oxygen extinct, Tom leaned forward, closing the space between you until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own.

Curse this fucking desk between you.

"My shortcomings," he repeated, his eyes flicking to your lips. "Is that all I should take responsibility for?"

"Are you suggesting..." you leaned in as well, the distance between you shrinking to a breath—your gaze drawn to his own mouth—the plush of it, how bad you wanted to feel it against yours, "...there's something else you wish to take responsibility for?"

Said mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile and witnessing the shift this close felt dangerously religious—as though you'd experienced something sacred not many have before—part of you knew you did.

"Many things," he whispered, the sound soft as velvet, dangerous as a blade. "The list is long and varied..."

The heat in your body was painful—you had never been this close to him, never felt the full weight of his presence bearing down on you like this. His cologne—faint, rich, and so distinctly Tom—overwhelmed you, the same scent he'd worn since you first met him.

It was infuriating, how everything he did was so subtle, simple—yet so fucking intoxicating, so irresistible.

"...I'm not quite sure where to start." His eyes flicked back to yours.

Every word that fell from his lips was a new form of torture, his dark eyes pinning you in place, searing into you. The heat radiating from his body made you want to retreat, to find air, to find space—but the thought of putting any distance between you was unbearable, the need to be near him overriding everything else.

You'd rather lose consciousness than pull back.

"Why don't you start..." you whispered, tilting your head, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. "By fixing the insatiable ache in my curiosity...the one you created when you mentioned how you use your hands...to relieve stress..."

He exhaled, the sound rumbling from his chest like a growl and you could almost imagine that if he parted his lips, you'd glimpse fangs behind them right now—you'd never seen him like this—his gaze predatory, fucking ravenous, and it was as though he could devour you whole if he so chose to.

But you knew better. Tom Riddle would never be so crude. His methods of torment were deliberate—Methodical. A slow depletion of your senses until you're gasping for something only he can give you.

Then, in a voice that was all gravel and silk, he whispered, "is that all that's aching...your...curiosity?"

"Gods no—"

But you never finished that thought—because in an instant, his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you forward with a force that sent you careening over the desk and into him—Tom Riddles lips crashed against yours, and it was like drowning, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath and dragging all ounces of your cognitive ability along with it.

You were half out of your chair, caught in the gravity of him, unsure if your legs were even working, or if it was his grip alone that held you upright. His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the desk as his mouth worked you with a fervour that made your head spin. The kiss was incendiary, a wildfire scorching its way through every nerve in your body, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake—the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting pressure of his lips on yours, made you wonder how you survived this long without it.

All the heat in your blood pooled low, deep between your thighs, an ache so profound it threatened to consume you. Tom Riddle was about to show you precisely how he used his hands to relieve stress, and Gods, if that wasn’t the only thing you’d ever needed right now.

[alice-everafter]

"Stop moving around, herbivore."

The otherwise heavy silence is broken by Leona's deep timber of a voice. Rolling onto your back puts you in line of sight of his bed, where you can see the Savanna prince half covered in sheets you couldn't even afford to breathe on. He's facing away from you, barely moving. If he hadn't just spoken you'd assume he was dead or something.

"I could hear your squirming from half way across campus. Settle down or get out, you're disturbing my sleep."

"...Sorry." Your throat twinges with the faint reminder of how you got to sleep in the dorm room of Leona Kingscholar in the first place.

After being so rudely ejected from your beloved Ramshackle home on such short notice, possible sleeping arrangements were few and far between. Now, you could've taken Ace and Deuce up on their offer, but Jack was... he was Jack. And only Jack could convince you to stay in Savanaclaw. But, then Leona had to come and say no, and then you panicked cause you saw yourself and Grim on the street. And that panic plus the sleep deprivation from finals lead you to perform your own rendition of "Cotton Eye Joe" outside his bedroom out of sheer desperation.

You didn't even get to the second verse before he bodily dragged you inside with a growl that had you accepting death like an unspoken principle.

The room was once again blanketed in a thick silence. Grim, who slept by your feet, didn't even make a peep. Banging those pots around while providing you backing vocals must've taken it out of him. Poor guy. Out of anyone in this room, he's the one you'd feel the most bad for disturbing.

So, with a sigh, you accept your fate and get up from your collection of floor blankets. Your destination being one of the Savanaclaw couches.

You knew your mind, you wouldn't be sleeping for a while. There was just... too much. Azul and his contracts, Jade and Floyd and their sharp teeth, Leona and his eyes. The ones that once looked at you like you were vermin to crush through the haze of a raging sandstorm. While Ruggie batted and kicked and cried for breath. And you swore his eyes had glazed over as he fell limp and━

"Hey."

You stop, both bodily and mentally, as his voice once again breaks the silence. There's a cold sweat you didn't notice gathering on your back. You turn to find him staring at you with those same green eyes. You can't tell if he's searching for something in you or debating heavily with himself. But, whatever it is, it isn't for long before he seems to come to a conclusion with a rumbling sigh.

"Come here."

What. "What."

"You heard me, come here."

To say you were conflicted would be the understatement of the century. You had just been spiraling not even 30 seconds ago and now the object of your trauma was beckoning you closer like the parent to your distressed child.

"I don't have all day, herbivore. You coming or not?"

"...It's night."

"..."

"..."

"Just get over here before I change my mind."

"Right."

He heaves another grumbling sigh as you shuffle across the room. Stood next to his bed gives you a view reminiscent of that time in the greenhouse. Him, splayed across his bed, hair cascading over his pillows. While you're stock still and more than a bit puzzled and kind of scared. Even though you're looking down on him, you don't feel like you have the advantage that you should. He looks almost too calm, too relaxed. Like he's assured of a victory yet to come.

That thought sends a chill up your spine, reminding you of the sweat that persists on your back.

"Well?" He raises a brow expectantly.

You blink, "well, what?"

"Are you laying down or what?"

"...Am I laying down or what?"

"Need me to spell it out for you? Or should I help you into bed?"

"Not necessary."

You don't know what possesses you━whether it's self preservation or annoyance or curiosity or just straight madness━but you get in. You pull back those luxurious sheets and slide beneath them where you're immediately accosted by warmth. Heat seems to be radiating from him like a fire.

The revelation is... not an unpleasant one.

You realize he's still staring at you. But, not intently, not like he's trying to pry a secret from you. Leona never looks at anyone like he means to take their person apart. He simply observes and acknowledges, anyone and anything.

"Think you can finally go to bed and stop flopping around like a dead fish?"

"...Haven't I dealt with enough fish today? And now you bring them up in Savanaclaw of all places. Is no where safe?"

You're surprised when his brows pinch in amusement and a short but gruff chuckle leaves his lips.

"My bad then, for touching on such a tender topic."

"Yeah, your bad indeed."

No one says anything else afterward and he seems to take that as an invitation to turn onto his back. Letting out a deep breath through his nose while nestling an arm behind his head, eyes sliding shut.

Somewhere between you climbing into his bed and him settling down to sleep, the sweat has cooled off your skin. Not to mention the sudden heaviness dragging at your eyelids. Seems that you would be able to sleep some after all.

You turn away and towards the open balcony, towards the spot where you had once laid and Grim continues to snooze. The moon lights up the room, and though it's not the sun, it still feels just as warm somehow.

Speaking of warm, there's a heater pressed to your back. Scratch that, Leona is pressed to your back. And that's his arm, sliding over your hip and resting draped over your side.

It feels like the world hiccups when you feel his next breath puff against your hair. But, surprisingly enough, you're not shaking in your metaphorical boots. Just... very confused, once again.

"...Is this supposed to be punishment for 'Cotton Eye Joe?'"

He says nothing at first, and you begin to fear for your safety before he eventually does.

"Whatever helps put you to bed faster."

That arm over your side moves before you feel his hand settle atop your collarbone. Those same hands that had once brought ruin and pain were now just a small brush away from your neck.

This should terrify you, but it doesn't. Because he's gentle in this moment. His arm isn't an insistent press, it's a steady weight. His hand isn't a branding clasp, it's a soft touch.

There are words left unsaid between you two that his body seems to carry instead. And you drift off with the feeling of his tail draping over your ankles beneath the sheets.

[motherismotheringggg]

SLOW BURN

okay wow my first public fic — i’m terrified so pls be kind but feedback is OF COURSE welcome!!

type: female reader x nicholas chaves x cooper koch

(^this is the greed they talked about in the bible 🤭)

tags/warnings: 18+; nsfw; smut lite; kissing; fingering; groping (i think that’s it!!)

word count: 7317 (i was gonna post it in parts but i changed my mind)

*used AI to help organize structure

pt.2 out now!!!!

pt.3 out now!!!!

⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️⛺️

You and your friend Vanessa laughed as you walked into the cafeteria of Camp White Water from a joke that had you both laughing since you both got ready and started heading toward the first day of camp counselor training.

This was your second summer of being a camp counselor at this month-and-a-half long sleep away camp. And you always looked forward to it, the leadership staff was always kind, the campers were actually not too bad and the other counselors were your favorite. All of the returners had become super close and it was super exciting to be reconnected with them when summer rolled around.

This year there were a few new counselors because of the amount of campers that were coming in this summer, particularly in your group. That being said, you were given two new co-counselors.

You and Vanessa were still in stitches about whatever joke had been continuing when you got closer to your assigned table, you noticed your name card with your name between two other name cards, one read “Nicholas Chaves” and the other “Cooper Koch”.

“Whoa..two news guys?” You were surprised, you expected to at least have another returner on your side, “Do they think I’m responsible enough to train two newbies?” you chuckled as you sat on the cafeteria bench.

“Well if they’re dumb and hot, send them over to the young eagles team, I’d love to have fresh meat”, Vanessa gestured to her table with Gene who was the oldest camp counselor and a bit of a gangly man who meant well but wasn’t exactly summer camp eye candy.

You both looked in his direction and giggled, “Hey Gene! You look ripped this summer. I’ll send her over to you in a second” you called out, causing Vanessa to laugh even harder.

As you both continued cackling in a room full of lively conversation, the group of new counselors walked in, it was tradition that the current counselors applaud them as a bit of a harmless hazing ritual.

You clapped and laughed with your friend as the newbies looked around excited but nervously for their name tags. In the middle of your giggling, you noticed two men stopped at your table and started settling in, “this must be them” you thought.

Copper was tall and broad. He had hazel brown eyes and deep brown curly hair. He was wearing a gray zip-up hoodie and tennis shorts and you could tell from his leg muscles that he was in good shape. He had soft features that made you feel immediately calm and at ease - safe almost.

Nicholas was the opposite, he had straight hair and darker eyes. His face was very chiseled, his jawline was impeccable. He had a defined and muscular physique, which stood out even when he’s dressed casually in his shorts and long sleeve college shirt.

He was also tall with broad shoulders but his muscles were more pronounced - a strong chest, and visible arm muscles that give him a commanding presence.

“Hey guys, I’m Y/N”! Cooper went for a handshake, which was too formal for you, without thinking you went in for a hug. You figured you’d get close through the summer like the rest of the counselors.

Cooper was caught off guard but quickly adjusted to the hug, Nicholas was a little reserved but even with just a side hug you felt his biceps take you in completely. They sat on either side of you and you started talking about your experience at the camp the group you’ll have this year.

The camp director gave some opening remarks and then the assistant director had you all start with those cringey ice breakers. He went around and gave out a stack of cards to each group that had random questions on it.

When he got your table, he said “Ah Y/N, happy to see you back again! Boys you’re in good hands, she’s a pro.” You playfully shooed him away to be humble. “I mean it, but you also have some star athletes next to you. Cooper and Nicholas were both finalists in the west end tennis conference and since you’re working on rec fit this year, it should be perfect!”

“Tennis boys huh?” you gestured to your co- counselors, “I knew those builds weren't for nothing” you jokingly nudged both of them in the side. Cooper giggled and you finally got Nick to crack a smile and loosen up.

The ice breakers were stupid but kind of fun and they opened up more conversation; “if you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?” turned into you three talking about your families, “what three things would you need on a deserted island” turned into talking about your favorite vacation spot and “what;s your morning routine” let the guys start to talk about their training which you found…hot. The way they describe conditioning and training completely hypnotized you, like you could understand it but just barely. And watching them interact was a real treat, Cooper was very funny and lighthearted but still very direct and expressive in his words. Nicholas was very sincere in everything and said it with such conviction, even if he was joking it came out so earnestly you thought he was being serious.

Later, for training you all got to wander the camp site as groups. The three of you found yourselves sitting on one of the picnic benches along the trail route, the ice was finally broken so the conversation flowed very casually.

It started to get a little warmer out, too warm for a hoodie so both you and Cooper took yours off. Cooper was wearing a tank top that revealed even more of his physique and you were wearing a stretchy tank top body suit. Realizing this was the first time they've seen your arms, they noticed you had a few tattoos and were both instantly intrigued. "You have tattoos?" Cooper asked, his voice more excited than you expected.

"Yeah, just a few!” You started pointing them out to Cooper while he walked around your body to get a closer look at each one. “I got this one with one of my friends, they are not quite matching but they’re similar” you went on.

Nicholas was also listening to you talk about your tattoos but he wasn’t as outwardly interested as Cooper was. He mostly just nodded in approval after you explained each tattoo. It wasn’t until you bent a certain way to show Cooper a different tattoo that your tennis skirt raised a little, revealing the very bottom of a tattoo on your thigh. "Is that… another one?" Nicholas asked, gesturing to your thigh, catching you off guard.

You blinked. "Oh, yeah," you replied, laughing lightly. "Good eye." You hadn’t expected him to notice that one—it was usually pretty hidden. But it wasn’t awkward and you were happy he actually spoke. “Yeah it’s just my zodiac constellation, I just thought it was cute, maybe a little stupid to get that tatted but I like it”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Nicholas replied, more confidently this time. Cooper nodded in agreement.

“In fact,” Nicholas stood up and took off his bookbag “As long as we’re showing off our sick ink…”. You and Cooper’s eyes widened, you had no idea what this man, who had been fairly silent this whole time, was about to show. He took off his shirt and revealed his perfect abs. They looked like they were chiseled from marble but also soft like flesh. You cleared your throat and gathered yourself. You glanced over at Cooper who was equally entranced by Nicholas’ body.

“What do you think?” Nicholas posed in front of you two and you both looked confused, “I thought we were just showing off tattoos, not seeing who’s built like an adonis” Cooper joked.

You laughed, “yeah, this is a summer camp so the chance to take off your shirt was coming soon enough” you added.

Nicholas laughed back, “no get closer, it’s there!” You and Cooper looked at each other and then got closer to his man’s perfect body and there it was, two small tattoos under both pecs, a smiley face and a frowny face.

‘Totally sick ink right?” Nicholas joked in a surfer voice, you and Cooper threw your heads back in laughter as you jokingly agreed. “It certainly is … ink on your skin,” Cooper added.

“They were stick-and-pokes I did in college just for fun, you can even feel the weird texture of them,” Nicholas said. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Cooper's hand and placed it on the small tattoo. You had to find a way to act normal about this but this was incredibly hot. Two gorgeous men essentially groping each other in the woods felt like something out of a fan fic.

Nicholas looked at you and said, “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite”, in a quiet gravely voice. You felt your shoulders drop and your eyes widened, internally you thought “what is happening right now??”

You used your finger tips to feel the tattoo but followed Cooper’s lead and also felt his chest too. Nicholas would glance down at you two feeling him with his breath hitching just a little. Cooper was into the moment, you were still taken aback. Before this moment could progress, the camp alarm blared calling us all back in for dinner.

For dinner, groups got to mix and mingle so you and Vanessa decided your groups should eat together. Dinner was fine, you were fine. It seemed odd that these two boys who were basically mute at the beginning of the day had this moment earlier with you and were now just so chill about it. But you were going to match their vibe and keep it lowkey.

After dinner, you were all texting and realized you wanted a sweet treat so you went off-site and ended up at this diner a few miles from the camp. You three sat in this round corner booth and just talked about each other.

It was getting progressively later and later in the night and you felt yourself getting tired. Cooper went to the bathroom before you all headed out and you instinctively rested your head on Nicholas’s shoulder. Completely forgetting what happened earlier and just needing a place to rest for a minute.

It took him no time to accommodate your needs and lift his arm up so you could properly get close. He pulled you close to his chest and rubbed your arm as you slightly drifted in his arms.

You all drove in your car there but Nicholas saw how tired you both were so he offered to drive. “Give daddy the keys” he gestured to you to throw them in his direction, “I’ll get us back safe”. You mentally noted that he called himself daddy and tossed him your keys. “You both should ride in the back seat because if you're up here yawning by me that could be dangerous”.

You and Cooper hopped in the back seat and again, you just wanted to lay down, so Cooper sat upright and you laid down with your head in his lap. He also wanted to make you feel comfortable so he started stroking your cheek and did that for the entire ride back to camp.

---

The next morning was Special Classes day, all the counselors would be in various groups to get trained on the specialized activities for the camp this summer. Swimming, archery, arts and crafts, home ec, etc., you were partnered with Nicholas in the swim group while Cooper took the archery class.

The sun beat down on the lake, making the water glisten. You all had been in and out of the water several times for various tests. Every time you glanced at Nick and noticed the way the water drops would sit in between the ridges of his abs you felt something electric in you.

“You all have done a fantastic job today,” the instructor addressed the group, “and we wrapped up earlier than I thought so that’s good. Feel free to go for a free swim or head out until your next activity.”

You and Nicholas non-verbally agreed to head out but not before the instructor asked you both to take some supplies to the first aid shed before you left out. You wrapped a towel around your body and Nicholas wheeled the cart of medical supplies.

When you got the shed, which was more of a small cottage, you held open the door while Nicholas wheeled the items in. He started putting them away while you just stood and watched. Watching the way his back muscles moved with every action, the way he towered next to the shelves and how broad he looked from the back.

He turned to see you checking him out and chuckled to himself, “do you mind helping me out a little?” a smirk brandishing on his face.

You didn’t hear what he asked you when you were in your trance so he chuckled again, a little louder this time, “they’re getting lower in the wagon, could you hand them to me?” he asked again.

“Oh my bad – yeah of course! Sorry, I was just thinking about dinner or something” you tried to cover your tracks in the worst way possible, “or ‘something’ is right” he retorted back, you felt your face get hot.

When you were finished putting the boxes away, you wheeled the cart to where the other storage containers were and joined him back in the main room. The shed was so warm so neither one of you wanted to leave. Nick went to sit down in a chair by the desk in the room. There were papers on top of the chair he went to move but when he picked them up he got a paper cut.

“Shit,” he hissed “oh my god” your eyes widened. It wasn’t a lot of blood but you could yell it hurt because he kept hissing in pain. At one point he even hissed your name asking you to grab him a paper towel and you felt your heart skip a little.

He sat on the chair while you cleaned him up and gave him a bandaid. Once you got him squared away and you put the kit back on the shelf, you just kind of stood in front of him. There was nowhere else to go and not much to say.

He grabbed your hand, closing the distance between you two, pulling you toward him “the old ‘nurse me back to health’ trope huh? What a classic” he joked in a low gravely voice

“You’re so annoying”, you whined jokingly pushing away, as his one hand placed your arm on his shoulder and the other wrapped around your waist.

You caressed the side of his face with one hand, contemplating if this was really about to happen. You just met this guy yesterday - but you have already felt his pecs, cuddled with him in public and let him call himself daddy.

You leaned down and hovered in front of his mouth, “don’t make me beg” he whispered as he moved closer to plant his lips on yours. It started slow but very deliberate, he was soft but sturdy, your knees felt weak and you could feel him holding you up with the strength of his arm alone.

He took more initiative in the kiss and started taking control, his tongue now fighting for dominance in your mouth and he pulled you down into a straddling position on to his lap, never breaking apart. The more intense he got the more inhaled and exhaled sharply, the breathing made it all so much hotter. He started kissing down your neck, using his hands to guide which way you leaned your head to receive him.

He got to your ear and whispered , “I wanted you the second I saw you”, and started kissing and licking your collarbone, “you’re so perfect” he said into your neck before biting and sucking at various spots. While he worked on a particular part of your neck – biting and sucking, making you moan his name. He started to lower your bathing suit strap to reveal your soft wet breasts.

He looked at you as he kissed down your chest and gently placed it in his mouth, sucking and licking at the nipple making you thrash in excitement. You moaned his name out loud again, he switched to the other breast with the same licking and sucking motion while using his hand to play with the nipple of the other. You felt a rush when he moaned, it sent a vibration through your body that you felt it below.

He was so attuned with your body, he knew you could feel the excitement pooling down there and went to feel you over the bathing suit down there. Your back arched the second he touched you, your breath shaky. You locked lips again as he continued to graze it.

Just as you went to reach down to feel him hard through his trunks, the camp alarm sounded, calling everyone back to the main area. The rudeness of the alarm made you two separate and understand what you were really doing.

When you both come down from the euphoric feeling of being wrapped up in another stranger, you pulled your straps back up to cover yourself and he helped you off him. He pushed the chair back, you grabbed the towels both of you came in with and left, not saying a word.

When you joined the group again, you had to sit with your team. You and Nicholas found Cooper and sat on either side of him, typically you had been in the middle of them two but you needed a little distance from Nicholas at the moment.

“You guys are still in your swim stuff? I saw you guys wrapped up earlier than us” Cooper genuinely asked

There was a pause that needed to be filled, you went to speak but Nicholas also started, you both stopped and almost started again and then stopped fully and there was another long pause

“Oh no that's fine, that’s totally how normal people answer a question” Cooper said sarcastically.

---

The next day of training, returners and new counselors had separate schedules. This was perfect because after yesterday, it’s not that you were avoiding Nicholas but you certainly needed a break and time to process how this all progressed so quickly.

That night, in the cafeteria certain counselors signed up for different kitchen shifts, you and Cooper got put on clean up duty. When dinner was wrapping up Nicholas hung around for as long as possible. It wasn’t weird, there was an energy between you two but mostly he just hung around to talk to Cooper. You kept a distance and participated in the conversation from afar.

Cooper went to the back to handle the trashtrash and you were clearing off tables. Nicholas stood up to leave and called you over. You didn't know what he was going to say, was he going to ask you why haven't we talked? Does he want to have sex? Does he have a girlfriend? Every thought ran through your mind as you walked over to him from a few tables over.

You got to him and asked “what’s up?” he paused, stood up and looked down at you. He used his fingers to lift your face in his direction and planted another kiss on you right then and there, without a care in the world. His lips were soft and plush, you felt yourself melt into him from how smooth it was.

“Let me know if we’re doing another sweet treat run tonight” he said just a few inches from your mouth and walked out.

You were floored, who is this man? That kiss was so comfortable, as if you were his and he was yours. It felt natural and right to him.

You wiped down the counters while Cooper stocked and organized supplies for the next day’s meals, the silence between them was oddly comfortable. From the second you met them both Nicholas was a little harder to read and you felt like you had to do a little more to get his attention. Not that you necessarily wanted his attention but with Cooper, he immediately opened up. He was warm, comforting and quiet. He just felt safe.

When everything was done, you and Cooper sat on top of a table while the floors dried and ate ice cream. You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sat across from you criss-cross apple sauce style, him being easily over 6 ft and sitting to make himself look small was so endearing.

The more you talked the smaller the distance grew between you two. Your knees were touching and he was stroking your leg as you both continued talking, doting into each other’s eyes.

He glanced at you, a small smile playing at his lips. “You know, you’re probably the most beautiful person I’ve met.”

You raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Where’s this coming from?”

He finished his cone just in time to place both hands on your legs while he answered. His hands were large and strong, with veins subtly tracing the surface, hinting at a quiet power beneath his skin. The rough texture of his palms contrasted with the smoothness of his long fingers, which moved with a practiced, almost careful grace. There was something magnetic about the way they flexed, confident and capable, as if they knew exactly how to hold the world—firm, yet gentle.

“Just being honest. You’ve been, like… really good to me since day one. Everyone here is nice but you and Nick have made me feel comfortable here”, he said through a smile.

His words made your heart skip, but you tried to play it cool. “I mean, I hope you gave Nicholas thanks like this too, don’t want him feeling left out.” you let out a laugh and so did he.

“No, but it’s different with you,” he said, and this time, he didn’t look away. “I was nervous as hell coming here, and I wasn’t expecting anyone to make it easier, but you did. I didn’t feel out of place with you around. You’re, like, ridiculously sweet and also…” He trailed off, eyes scanning your face like he was debating how much to say. “You’re also, like, the most attractive person here.”

Suddenly you were in the same position you were in with Nicohlas in the shed, a moment of silence where nothing needed to be said, only action needed to be taken.

Copper leaned forward and quietly said, “I’m gonna kiss you now”

He leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your lips as he hesitated for a moment, savoring the closeness. His kiss started soft, tentative, like he was afraid to rush it, each movement deliberate and tender. His lips were gentle against yours, almost shy, and you could feel the slightest tremble in his touch. But as you pressed closer, he exhaled, letting go of his nerves, and the kiss deepened naturally. He found his rhythm, and what began as slow and cautious soon turned into something warmer, more fluid, their lips moving together with a sweet, unhurried certainty.

You felt his one hand on your thigh and the other slipped under your shirt, warm and steady against your skin. His fingers curled against your side, massaging gently as he explored the curve of your waist. Slowly, he moved his hand upward, caressing your breasts with a careful touch, his thumb tracing soft, deliberate circles until your body relaxed into his hands.

'Is this okay?' Cooper pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting lightly against yours as he searched your eyes, his voice soft and filled with concern. The tenderness in his question only made you want him more."

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips found yours again, this time with more confidence. His hand slipped back under your shirt, his movements unhurried but more intentional now, as though he wanted to savor every second of the moment. His thumb brushed across your skin, sending little sparks through your body, and you leaned into his touch, your hands finding their way to his hair. You tugged gently, and he let out a low, quiet groan that only made you pull him closer.

Cooper’s kisses grew deeper, more fluid as he relaxed into it, his earlier nervousness melting away. His hand continued to explore, fingertips dancing across your body as if he was learning every inch of you. There was something almost reverent in the way he touched you—gentle but filled with intent, as though he couldn’t believe this moment was real. He pulled you closer, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin as he took his time, each kiss slower than the last.

'You’re incredible,' he whispered against your neck, his voice rough with affection. The way he said it, so soft and unassuming, made your heart swell, and in that moment, you knew that every touch, every kiss, was laced with more than just desire.

You felt wrap his hands around you and he shifted his position to lay you down gently on the table. He continued kissing you on your neck, whispering praises softly in your ear while his hands smoothly roamed your body, “you’re so perfect”, “I need you”, “you’re a goddess”.

You felt his hand go lower and lower on your body until he got to your waistband. He pulled from the passionate kiss to look at you, he thought you were so beautiful in this moment. Frazzled from his passion, your eyes begging him to keep going. His fingers slipped into your shorts, but stopped, “are you sure?” Cooper asked you again, wanting to make sure you felt safe.

You pulled him down on top of you to kiss again and pushed his hand down so his fingers just grazed over the clit. His fingers continued to massage your area, with each pass you moaned into his mouth. Your kisses became deeper and frantic as you struggled to keep from completely unraveling from him.

“Let go for me baby”, he said with his forehead resting on yours. Before you could catch your breath his hand went lower and he angled his fingers at your entrance, your back arched in anticipation.

He pulled back completely so he could see your reaction to his fingers slipping inside if you. He traced around your entrance a little before slipping in his middle finger. You gasped and shuttered as his finger moved in and out, your moans turned to whimpers as he slipped in another finger.

You moaned out his name as his fingers curled inside of you hitting your spot. You had no control of your body, your body spasming from his touch which was getting deeper and faster by the minute, you were moaning so loud you didn’t care who heard you and your hands searched for some part of him to touch to return the favor. You reached out for his waistband, his hard member was pressed against his pants. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you.

Just as you were about to return the favor, the camp alarm went off for a final roll call for bed. You and Cooper froze, reality settling back in as you both quickly gathered yourselves, adjusting clothes and catching your breath.

Cooper sat back with a sheepish grin, running a hand through his hair. 'I guess I got a little carried away,' he admitted, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he glanced at you, clearly still processing everything.

You smiled back, your heart still racing but now more from the situation than the moment before. 'It’s fine,' you said with a light shrug, your voice playful. 'It was fun... and now I think the favor's officially been returned for being so sweet.'

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes soft and warm as he looked at you.

---

A few days had passed, and while you hadn't been actively avoiding Cooper or Nicholas, you also hadn’t been seeking them out either. You needed a moment to clear your head after everything, to let the tension simmer down before the campers arrived. Still, you didn’t want things to feel awkward, so you invited them over to your cabin to help put together goodie bags for the kids. Your cabin mate was out for the night, so you even suggested they sleep over since their cabins were farther away. It was a subtle effort to show them you were cool, if they were cool. Even though every time one of them shifted closer, the heat between your legs was impossible to ignore.

You all worked in a comfortable rhythm, talking and laughing as you assembled the bags, until a song came on that sent Nicholas into nostalgic mode. His eyes lit up, and with a grin, he said, "This song always reminds me of my first kiss." You laughed.

Nicholas leaned back, his eyes dreamy with the memory. "Middle school. At a dance. I was so nervous I almost missed her lips entirely."

The three of you burst into laughter, and soon the conversation flowed into everyone sharing their stories, one kiss memory after another. Cooper shared about his first kiss behind the bleachers at a football game, and you talked about a spontaneous kiss under the basement steps of your friends’ house with her hot older brother. The mood was light and fun, each of you enjoying the trip down memory lane.

But then Cooper, ever the curious one, leaned forward, his tone more playful than usual. "So... has anyone here fooled around at camp before?" The question hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel the tension shift. You knew exactly why you were feeling awkward, but you noticed Nicholas’s smirk almost instantly. His eyes flicked between you and Cooper, as though daring one of you to speak first.

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what you were going to say, when Nicholas took the chance. "Actually," he began, leaning forward with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I’ve done it twice already. And both of them are in this room."

Your eyes shot open, heart hammering in your chest as you whipped your gaze to Nicholas. Cooper let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment, you were too stunned to speak. Wait—Cooper already knew? Your mind raced to piece it all together, the realization dawning on you like a light bulb flicking on. You’d hooked up with Nicholas. Cooper knew. And they had hooked up too?

"Hold up," you finally managed to say, your voice a mix of shock and curiosity. "You two—?"

Nicholas nodded, leaning back with an easy confidence, clearly enjoying your reaction. "After arts and crafts clean-up a few days ago," he said, glancing at Cooper with a smirk. "We were the only ones left in the room, and we ended up in that tiny back closet putting away supplies…”

Cooper chimed in, chuckling. "It was kind of inevitable. I mean, we were basically on top of each other. And then... one thing led to another. I pulled his shirt off and started kissing chest. He kissed down my neck. Mouths went places, hands went places and rest is a fogged up window.”

Your mind spun, trying to wrap around the image of Nicholas and Cooper together. You could practically picture it—the tension, the closeness, the heat of the moment in the small, confined space.

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise between the three of you again, but this time it was different. This wasn’t about embarrassment anymore—it was curiosity, excitement, a shared secret now out in the open.

Cooper and Nicholas exchanged a glance before bursting out into laughter. Cooper was the first to speak. "Oh, it was obvious," he said, still chuckling. "When you came to the camp meeting that day after special classes, the hickies already started forming on your neck. You weren’t exactly subtle."

Nicholas leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "And I tried to come back to the dining hall after I left that night you two had clean up duty and I heard you two making out in the distance, so I turned right back around."

The three of you erupted into laughter, the kind that shakes your whole body and makes your cheeks hurt. It was funny now, how you’d all tiptoed around it, trying to keep it secret when in reality, none of you had been fooling anyone.

When the laughter finally died down, Nicholas’s curiosity took over. "Okay, so... real talk. Who do you prefer more?" His eyes sparkled with playful competitiveness, and he leaned back with a smirk, clearly ready for whatever answer you had.

Cooper grinned, nudging your shoulder. "Yeah, no pressure, but... we’re all dying to know."

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it was—being asked to choose between them like it was some kind of game. You paused for a moment, then gave a mock-serious look as you made a reference only you could deliver. "You know, it feels like Tyra Banks standing here with two contestants in front of her, and only one can stay."

Cooper burst out laughing, recognizing the reference immediately. "No way, you’re not about to do an America’s Next Top Model elimination on us right now!"

You grinned, savoring the dramatic moment. "But if I had to choose..." you began, your eyes darting between them, building suspense. Finally, you pointed to Cooper. "It’s you."

Cooper jumped up from the floor, arms raised in victory. "Yes! I knew it!" he shouted, dancing around the room like he’d just won a championship. Nicholas, meanwhile, was in mock shock, his mouth hanging open as he smiled at the absurdity of it all.

"You’ve got to be kidding me!" Nicholas exclaimed, shaking his head with a grin. "I thought I had this in the bag!"

You laughed, trying to calm the chaos around you. "Hooking up with you, Nick, was fun and spontaneous. But Cooper..." you turned to Cooper, who was still grinning like an idiot, "...was gentle, tender, and made me feel really special."

Cooper shrugged nonchalantly, though the satisfaction was clear on his face. "What can I say? I just know how to make a woman feel special."

Nicholas rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, leaning closer to you. "Okay, fine. But..." he gave you that familiar smirk, "...if you let me have another shot, I can be gentle too."

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "Oh, yeah? You think so?"

He nodded, the playful tone in his voice now edged with something more serious. "Absolutely. If you’ll let me."

You smiled and nodded, your body buzzing with excitement. "Okay, I’m down."

With that, Nicholas took your hand and guided you to the bed. He sat down next to you and this time, there was no rush, no quick or hurried movements. He was slow, deliberate, his hands softer as they found your waist and pulled you gently toward him. He kissed you with a tenderness you hadn’t felt from him before, each movement careful, as though he was savoring the moment.

The heat between you built gradually, the tension thick in the air but controlled. Nicholas was taking his time, just like he promised. His lips moved against yours with a softness that surprised you, his hand sliding up your side in a slow caress that made your breath hitch. Compared to your first time hooking up, this was different—more intentional, more intimate.

You felt Cooper watching from the other side of the room, clearly entertained but also intrigued. Nicholas’s kiss deepened, but the pace stayed slow, methodical, as he explored every part of you with a newfound gentleness.

"Not bad," Cooper teased from the sidelines, his voice light but clearly enjoying the view. Nicholas smirked against your lips, but didn’t break the kiss, his focus entirely on you. He put his hand on his thigh and started messaging, working his way further and further up.

Nicholas parted from your lips to make his way down your neck. When you first hooked up, he would’ve started biting and sucking but this time he placed soft kisses on your neck, while lightly squeezing your thighs. He whispered in your ear “see, I can be anything you want me to be baby” he nearly whimpered in your ear.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body quivered in response. You were melting into the moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling, when suddenly, Nicholas pulled away. Your eyes shot open in confusion, the warmth of his body leaving yours too soon.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked, breathless, your lips tingling from his touch.

Nicholas smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just wanted to show you I could be gentle,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying how worked up he’d gotten you.

You let out a soft laugh, though you couldn’t help but still want more. “Well, you’ve definitely proven that,” you teased back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Cooper stepped in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, if we’re all trying new things, maybe it’s time I take a shot at being more... aggressive."

You smiled wide as you agreed, Cooper crossed the room in a few long strides and came to sit next to you on the bed. He gently but firmly grabbed your face, pulling you to his direction. His lips met yours with a fiery intensity, pulling you on top of him and kissing you harder, deeper than before. His hands gripped your hips with a sense of urgency, and he moved faster, more aggressively, his kisses more forceful as he claimed your mouth. The energy was completely different from the gentle, careful approach Nicholas had just taken, but it was equally intoxicating.

You gasped against Cooper’s mouth as he pressed into you, his lips trailing down your neck with no hesitation this time. He kissed you with raw hunger, teeth grazing your skin, his hands roaming your body with confident, demanding touches that sent heat pooling low in your belly. Every move he made was firm, and you could feel the shift in energy—this was Cooper letting go, leaning into the moment with full force.

But out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Nicholas watching from where he stood, his eyes dark with anticipation. His gaze was hungry, eager, as if he didn’t care who he joined in on, just that he wanted to be wrapped between you and Cooper.

Cooper noticed it too, pausing briefly to glance over at Nicholas. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes flashed with a knowing look, as if he was silently inviting Nicholas to join. Then, in one smooth motion, Cooper gently but firmly placed you back on the bed, your body sinking into the softness of the blankets beneath you.

Nicholas didn’t need any further invitation.

He crossed the room and joined you both, sliding onto the bed with that same eager smirk he always wore. Without missing a beat, he moved in close, taking his place on one side of you while Cooper positioned himself on the other. You could feel Nicholas’s breath warm against your skin before his lips pressed to the side of your neck, the same spot Cooper had just claimed moments ago.

The sensation of both of them on either side of you was overwhelming, in the best way possible. Nicholas’s kisses were slow but deliberate, each one more lingering than the last, while Cooper’s lips moved more urgently, as though he couldn’t get enough. You were surrounded by them, their hands tracing up and down your body as their mouths explored your neck, your collarbone, the sensitive spots just below your ear.

Nicholas’s fingers skimmed across your waist, his touch light but teasing, while Cooper’s hand slid down your thigh, squeezing gently. The contrast between the two of them made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft, involuntary moan as you sank deeper into the sensation.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Nicholas murmured against your neck, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “Both of us... all over you?”

Before you could answer, Cooper’s lips moved to your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “Tell us what you like.”

You felt completely overwhelmed, your senses flooded by the way both Cooper and Nicholas were hitting every spot that made your body hum with pleasure. Nicholas's lips left soft, teasing kisses along your collarbone while Cooper’s hands roamed your body, his grip firm and sure. The contrast between their touches, one gentle, one rough, had your heart racing, and you were utterly lost in the sensation.

Needing more, you reached up, grabbing Cooper’s face and pulling him into a heated kiss. You matched his intensity, your lips moving hungrily against his, both of you completely giving in to the moment. His hands gripped your hips harder, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to devour you whole.

Meanwhile, Nicholas’s kisses continued to trail down your shoulder, slow and deliberate, each one sending shivers down your spine. His hands were patient, exploring every inch of your body with a calm but insistent touch, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his fingers.

Cooper pulled away just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, and before you could even process it, Nicholas unhooked your bra with expert precision, leaving you bare in front of them. For a second, the weight of their gaze made you feel vulnerable—but the way they looked at you, eyes full of hunger and admiration, made the tension crackle in the air.

Without missing a beat, Nicholas’s lips found their way to your breast, his tongue tracing soft circles before he took your nipple into his mouth. The sensation sent a wave of heat through your body, and you gasped, arching into his touch. His mouth was gentle, but the pressure was enough to make your body ache for more.

At the same time, Cooper’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, biting down just enough to leave a lingering sting that made you squirm in his grasp. His hands explored your back, pulling you flush against him, and every bite, every nip, felt like it was setting your skin on fire.

The combination of Nicholas’s slow, teasing kisses and Cooper’s rough, hungry bites made your mind spin. You could barely keep up with the sensations washing over you, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss, every movement. It was almost too much, but you couldn’t get enough.

“You’re perfect,” Nicholas whispered against your skin, his lips still trailing over your chest. “I could keep doing this all night.”

Cooper smirked against your neck, his hand sliding down your waist. “We might just have to.”.

[reysdriver]

Keeping It Quiet | E.M.

Eddie comes to visit you when everyone is sleeping... or so you thought — eddie x fem!hopper!reader fluff

warnings: suggestive content, making out, fear of getting caught, jokes about guns/getting shot

words: 1.7k

a/n: idgaf about timeline or continuity with the show when I do this series of oneshots, it's just kind of an alternate version of the show where Hopper is still here around the events of season 4 ig (also I LOVE this gif of joseph omg)

It was late at night, but you weren’t sleeping. You were taking advantage of the quiet house and catching up on some reading that finally wasn’t for school. You laid with the book at the foot of your bed, and your feet dangling over your pile of stuffed animals right by your pillows. 

It was so comfortable, you forgot about the world around you. 

And you were only brought back by the terrifying sound of someone knocking on your window. It scared you right out of your haze, at least until you looked outside and realised who it was. 

Eddie was standing right outside your bedroom wall with a stupid grin on his face, and he was pointing to the windowsill, wordlessly asking you to let him in. 

After rolling your eyes and marking your spot in the book, you got up and opened the window for your boyfriend. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, leaning over the separation to peck his lips quickly. 

“Not quite the warm welcome I was expecting.” He grunted, using the log you had placed under your window to climb in your room. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“You scared the hell out of me ‘cause you didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“I didn’t know I was coming over until I was already in my van. I haven’t seen you in forever, plus I had something I wanted to show you.”

The last part was intriguing, but you still wanted to correct his dramatics. You’ve learned that if you didn’t act as the voice of reason sometimes, he would start believing his own exaggerations.

“It’s been two days since you last saw me.” And it didn’t take long for you to give in to whatever he was hiding. “But what is it that I have to see?” 

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down on the end of your bed. He looked up at you with fake sadness. “I should have known you would only like me for material things, Madonna.” 

“So what if I was a material girl? You’d still love me anyways.” 

He started speaking like he was in the school play, which he would never do. “It’s just sad—”

You jumped towards him to cover his mouth with your hand. As much as you loved his antics and would encourage it at any other time, it was all quiet in your house and you were petrified of waking your family. 

“Are you crazy?” You asked him in a hushed scold. 

He just nodded happily since he couldn’t speak with your hand still over his mouth. 

“If my dad hears you, he’ll burst into the room with a gun in his hand. You might be able to charm the pants off of me effortlessly, but I think you’d get shot if you tried to test your charisma on the chief of police.” 

You cautiously took your hand away from Eddie’s face while he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Stop looking at me like that and show me what you wanted me to see in the first place.” You told him, sternly but lovingly. 

“Wow, you really are the chief’s daughter.” He joked as he stood up and took off his leather jacket. 

You figured he was just making himself comfortable, but when he started taking off the t-shirt he was wearing underneath the coat, you wondered what was really going on. 

Then you saw it. 

On his right side, where his rib cage ends, there was a new tattoo. A flaming sword that you knew was based on his current—and favourite—Dungeons and Dragons campaign of his. 

He pointed to the pommel of the weapon, which was a heart shaped gemstone. 

“Did you see the end? It doesn’t have anything to do with the game, but I designed it while thinking of you.” He smiled at you, and you smiled back. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Eds.” You answered sincerely. “When did you get it done?”

“Friday. Right after your dad picked you up from the mall.”

“Did it hurt?”

He shook his head as he gently pushed you back against your pillows, then positioned himself on top of you.

“Not as much as it hurts to be away from you.”

You had to stifle your own laugh at his corniness. As stupid as it was, you did feel kind of flattered by him at that moment. And that’s exactly why you let him kiss you, despite you being just a few decibels away from your sleeping father waking up and grounding you permanently for sneaking a boy in. 

But you pushed all your worries aside and let him press his luscious lips against yours. God, how you couldn’t get enough of that sensation. 

You loved how he kissed you just because he likes to kiss you, how he used flavoured chapstick so he could heal his chapped lips, and how he always tasted faintly of cigarettes and the lemon candies you got him hooked on. 

You loved all that almost as much as what came next. 

When he moved his lips from your mouth to your jaw, and then your neck. He nipped the skin just lightly and then continued to work his magic. You had both noted another time just like this that your bodies must be made for each other, and this exact moment was perfect proof for that claim. 

“Oh, god, Eddie. You’re so good at this.” You praised, trying to keep your voice down. 

He mumbled an ‘mhm?’ against your throat. He was such a sucker for your affirmations. 

“Yeah. Just be careful not to leave a bruise.”

Eddie lifted his head up, causing your face to morph into a frown from the expression of pleasure just a second ago. 

“You don’t want little reminders of my love?” He asked, lips exaggeratedly pouted. 

“Not when my family can see them, loverboy.”

He seemed satisfied with that response, returning his attention to you and practically attacking your neck with his kisses. The way his mouth was worshipping your neck damn near put you in a trance. It was so good that you didn’t even notice the soft knock at your door, nor the opening that followed it. 

When your younger sister called out your name softly, that’s when you realised the importance of not letting your guard down. You tried to push Eddie off of you as he hadn’t seen Eleven there yet, but he got up quickly once he did notice. 

You urged him to sit down and stay silent while you pulled El away from your bedroom and into the bathroom, all while your sister stared at you with a wide-eyed expression. 

Eleven was the first one to speak between you two. “Who was that in your room?”

“That was my friend.” You said, partially honest. He was your friend, he was just also more. “His name is Eddie.”

“What were you and Eddie doing?”

You racked your brain, trying to think of something believable to say that would get your sister off your back. You really should have prepared a lie before this, because it was proving to be more difficult than you would have thought; of course, you never really thought about your sister catching you making out with your shirtless boyfriend.

“We were playing.” You answered as confidently as possible. 

“Playing?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, you know when you and I play-fight, like wrestling? When Dad sometimes thinks we’re hurting each other but we’re really just having fun?”

“So you and Eddie were just having fun?”

“Mhm.” You ran a hand through her hair, feeling somewhat guilty about your lie. “Why? Were you worried about me?”

She didn’t seem fazed at all by your fingers combing through her hair, but her cheeks flooded with pink when you asked if she knocked on your door out of concern for you. 

“I heard you were awake and I wanted to know what you were doing.” Eleven told you. 

It really was nothing embarrassing, she’s just a shy girl. And now you felt less guilty about lying since you know she was just curious rather than upset. 

“Well, I was just playing with my friend. But, don’t tell Dad about Eddie, okay?”

“Why not?”

Another question you didn’t quite have an answer for. Luckily, you were quick enough on your toes that your little sister wouldn’t notice the nonsense spilling from your mouth. 

“You know Dad can be a fun sponge sometimes. Like when he spends an hour questioning your friends before you can hang out, or when he won’t let us turn the couch into a pillow fort. If he hears about Eddie, he won’t let us have fun together anymore, and I would be really sad if I couldn’t see my friend.”

She seemed to be eating your excuse up, knowing exactly what you meant.

“Okay. I won’t tell him.” She agreed. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“And I don’t want you to be tired, little lady. So, now that you know what you wanted to learn, how about you go back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, goodnight.”

She opened the slightly creaky bathroom door and headed back to her bedroom, hopefully to fall back asleep soon. 

“Goodnight, El. Sleep tight.” You called in a volume just above the whisper you were using just seconds before.

You stood in the bathroom alone after you heard your sister’s bedroom door close. For a minute, you just listened to everything around your house. The quiet wind blowing outside, the sounds of Eddie flipping through your books as he waited for you to come back, and best of all, not a peep from your father’s room. 

It was safe to return to Eddie in your bedroom and resume the fooling around from before. 

Once you silently pushed open your door, closed it again, and sat down next to your boyfriend on the corner of your bed, he pulled you onto his lap. 

“So, we’re in the clear now?” Eddie asked you. 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can be any less careful than usual. That just proves my family can hear us, so let’s not be stupid.”

A flirty grin spread across Eddie’s face as he trailed his fingers under your shirt and up your sides. “Baby, I can’t promise anything. Stupid is my middle name.”

[theonottsbxtch]

TWO HANDS | LN4

an: something a little different while i finish up some wips, i wrote this the morning t8's song came out, beautiful song again. i refuse to elaborate on the end, its just a short thing lolsie

wc: 1,9k

The bass thumped in Lando’s chest as the nightclub lights pulsed in chaotic harmony with the music. Fresh off the thrill of his victory in Vegas, his smile hadn’t left his face for hours, and the adrenaline still hummed in his veins. His crew surrounded him, some already leaning over the velvet rope at the VIP section to take selfies with eager fans, others raising glasses in cheers that melted into the cacophony of the club.

“Here’s to Vegas!” Max shouted, clinking a tumbler of whiskey against Lando’s champagne flute.

Lando laughed, letting the bubbles fizz on his tongue as he leaned back into the booth. His head tilted lazily toward the bar at the edge of the room, a stark contrast to the table’s revelry. There she was.

The bartender’s movements were smooth, practised—a cocktail shaker in one hand, a sly smirk on her lips as she teased a customer on the other side of the counter. Her dark eyes glittered under the flickering lights, and her sleek ponytail swayed with every step she took. She looked like she belonged here, commanding attention effortlessly, the kind of magnetic confidence that could outshine even the neon glare of the Strip.

Lando couldn’t look away.

“Mate, you even listening?” Oscar asked, nudging his shoulder.

“Sorry, what?” Lando asked, his voice distant, his eyes still locked on her. She’d just slid a martini across the counter, and the tilt of her head as she laughed made something twist in his chest. He’d been in the spotlight all night, but suddenly, the only person worth impressing wasn’t in his entourage.

“Nothing. Looks like someone’s caught your eye,” Oscar teased, catching the direction of his gaze.

“She works here?” Lando murmured, half to himself. The answer didn’t matter; he was already sliding out of the booth and weaving his way through the crowd.

When he reached the bar, she noticed him before he could say anything. Her smirk deepened, like she knew she had his attention. “What can I get you?” she asked, her voice smooth and warm, cutting through the noise.

“Whatever you think I’d like,” he replied, leaning an elbow on the counter, his grin just as easy.

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that felt like a challenge. “That’s a lot of trust to put in a stranger.”

“Then make it memorable.”

She didn’t break eye contact as she turned to grab a bottle, and he could already feel the heat rising in his chest.

“Long night?” he asked, watching her pour with precision.

“Always,” she said, her tone laced with amusement. She slid the drink in front of him and leaned in just slightly, her expression playful. “But the tips are good when winners roll in.”

Lando chuckled, taking a sip. “You always this charming, or do I get special treatment?”

“That depends,” she shot back. “What kind of treatment are you looking for?”

He blinked, caught slightly off guard by her boldness but finding himself grinning wider. “When do you get off?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if to carve a space for just the two of them amid the chaos.

She tilted her head, considering him for a beat longer than necessary. Then, she leaned in closer, close enough that he could smell the faint trace of vanilla on her skin. “Three a.m.,” she said softly. “If you’re still here.”

Lando nodded, his heart pounding harder than it had all night. “I will be.”

The hours melted away in a haze of music and laughter, but Lando’s attention kept drifting back to her. Even as the nightclub buzzed around him, the moments he spent at the bar lingered in his mind—the curve of her smile, the way she moved like she owned the room.

By the time the music started to wind down, Lando was back at the bar, nursing what he swore would be his last drink. He was feeling it now, the warm haze of celebration buzzing in his blood. He didn’t care, though. He was waiting.

And then, there she was, stepping out from behind the counter, untying her apron and slinging it over her shoulder. Her hair was slightly tousled now, but she didn’t seem the least bit tired. She spotted him leaning against the bar, and a sly grin tugged at her lips.

“You’re still here,” she said, her voice low, teasing, as she sauntered over to him.

Lando straightened up, his own grin spreading across his face. “I said I’d wait.”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as if sizing him up again. “Looks like you earned it.”

Without another word, she grabbed her jacket, nodding toward the exit. Lando followed her, his pulse quickening, excitement surging through him like the roar of an engine on the starting line.

Outside, the Strip was still alive, neon lights reflecting off the polished curves of his McLaren parked nearby. She paused when she saw it, her grin turning mischievous as she traced a finger along the hood. “This yours?”

Lando leaned against the car, folding his arms. “It’s my baby.”

She let out a soft laugh, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You trust me to drive it?”

He hesitated, just for a second, before handing her the keys. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She smirked, sliding into the driver’s seat like she belonged there. “Guess you’re a gambler after all.”

As he slipped into the passenger side, she adjusted the seat and mirrors with the practised ease of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The engine growled to life, and the faintest shiver of excitement rolled through her. She threw him a quick glance, her grin sharp as a razor.

“Where to?” she asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“My hotel,” he said, leaning back, his voice almost a dare.

But she shook her head, shifting into gear. “Why go back to your hotel when we can go back to mine?”

Before he could respond, she pulled onto the road, heading straight for the interstate. With a flick of her wrist, she gunned the accelerator, and the McLaren surged forward, the roar of the engine echoing across the open highway. The Strip’s glittering lights blurred into streaks of colour as she weaved effortlessly through traffic, her hands steady on the wheel, her confidence palpable.

Lando could only stare, his heart pounding harder than it had on the track. “You’re good,” he muttered, almost in disbelief.

She flashed him a quick smile, her eyes gleaming in the dim light of the dashboard. “I’ve been driving since I was old enough to walk. My old man ran a garage—taught me everything.”

The way she handled the car, every shift of the gear, every turn of the wheel, was mesmerising. It wasn’t just skill; it was instinct, passion, like she was born for this. The wind whipped through the cracked window, cool against his heated skin, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“You’re not scared, are you?” she teased, glancing at him as she pushed the car even faster.

“Not even close,” he shot back, but the thrill in his voice gave him away.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a jolt of heat through him. “Good. Hold on, champ.”

The McLaren tore through the night, the speed blurring the world around them. It wasn’t just the rush of the car—it was her, the way she owned every second, every motion. For the first time all night, Lando wasn’t in control, and he loved it.

When she finally slowed down, pulling onto a quiet side road that overlooked the sprawling city lights, she turned to him, her grin still firmly in place. “So,” she said, leaning back in the seat, “did I pass your test?”

He could only shake his head, laughing softly. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smirked, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “And you’re not half bad at trusting strangers.”

Lando’s breath caught, the electricity between them crackling like the city lights outside. He wasn’t sure where this night was heading, but he knew one thing: it was far from over.

Her apartment was an unexpected mix of chic and raw, like her—a blend of sleek furniture and vintage touches that felt effortlessly cool. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city below, and the hum of Vegas seemed a world away from this intimate space.

Lando stepped inside, his gaze following her as she slipped off her jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She moved with the same confidence she had behind the wheel, like every step was deliberate, every motion designed to captivate. And it was working.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said over her shoulder, nodding toward the sofa.

He settled onto the soft leather, letting himself sink into the moment. His eyes never left her as she walked to the bar cart in the corner of the room. The faint clink of glass echoed as she poured amber liquid into two lowball glasses. The soft glow of a nearby lamp caught the curve of her neck as she tilted her head slightly, considering her choices.

“You always drink whiskey after winning?” she asked, her voice light, teasing.

“Depends who I’m drinking with,” he replied, a slow grin spreading across his face.

She turned, two glasses in hand, and crossed the room toward him. Her steps were unhurried, deliberate, her gaze locked onto his. When she handed him a glass, their fingers brushed, and the brief contact sent a spark racing through him.

“To the kind of nights you don’t forget,” she said, raising her glass.

He clinked his against hers. “To the people who make them unforgettable.”

Her lips curved into a smile, and she took a slow sip before setting her glass on the coffee table. Lando watched her every move, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the slight sway of her hips as she turned to face him fully. His pulse quickened as she stepped closer, her eyes glinting with a challenge he couldn’t resist.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, her voice thick with amusement.

“Hard not to,” he admitted, his voice low, rough.

She didn’t respond, just tilted her head slightly, studying him. Then, with a confidence that stole his breath, she straddled his lap, her knees sinking into the cushions on either side of him. His hand instinctively found her waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the curve of her hips as she settled onto him.

Her lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “Just one hand?” she teased, shifting her weight slightly to one side, her body warm against his.

He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her hip. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

She leaned in, her lips a whisper away from his, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “Two hands. I want your hands on me.”

His breath hitched, the world narrowing to just her—her scent, her warmth, the way her voice sent a shiver down his spine. He slid his other hand up to her waist, his fingers tracing the curve of her body, and she rewarded him with a satisfied hum that sent his heart racing.

Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin through his shirt as she leaned in closer. “You always this good at waiting?” she asked, her tone playful, taunting.

“Not when you’re around,” he replied, his voice thick, his grip on her tightening as the space between them disappeared.

the end.

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The floor beneath you feels like it's tilting, moving under your feet like a boat rocking on rough water. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

The bar lights over your head are too bright, and the music thumping from the speakers makes your head feel like it’s trapped in a vice. The clink of glass, every laugh, every order shouted at you feels like a hammer driving nails straight into your skull.

You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest feels tight, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice. Not a choice at all.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some country club douchebag yells from the other side of the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You force a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, you could barely get out of bed. Fever burning through you like you were standing too close to a bonfire, throat too sore to talk, and your head pounding so hard you thought you were going to pass out just brushing your teeth. 

You tried calling in. Tried. Told your manager, Greg, that you were sick as hell, couldn’t make it, but the guy just grunted like he always does. "Can’t afford anyone calling out today," he said. Like the world was going to end if you didn’t show up to sling drinks for a bunch of rich assholes.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing really does at this point.

"Hey!" The guy who ordered the whiskey sour snaps his fingers in your face. "You deaf or something? Whiskey. Sour."

"Got it," You mutter, trying not to let your voice crack as you finally pour his drink. 

Your vision swims a little as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might actually faint right here at the bar.

That’d be something. Faceplant into a bunch of overpriced cocktails in front of half of the Kooks on this island. Greg would probably just step over you and ask you to get back to work.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back. You can’t afford to be sick here. Not when you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time. You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat—if you can call a slice of toast breakfast—and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in. And suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the kind of girl who handles things on her own, and Rafe has this tendency to think that means you don’t need him.

Today, though? You need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help.

You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar like you’re about to keel over. You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you.

“You didn’t call,” he says, voice low but definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m fine,” you lie, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. 

Rafe’s eyes narrow. He’s not buying it. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hate that you feel guilty.

“Because I’m handling it,” you say, voice softer now. But even you can hear how weak you sound.

It’s not convincing. Hell, you’re not even convinced.

He crosses his arms, looking down at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “Handling it? Baby, you can barely stand.”

You let out a sigh, trying not to let it turn into a cough.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe just stands there, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to come clean. You can feel his frustration, but there’s something else, too. Worry. It’s in the way his eyes keep flicking over your face, how his fingers are tapping against his arm like he’s holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket. You blink, trying to keep up. "He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great. Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. You can almost picture him, all dressed up in some preppy golf outfit, spotting you from across the course and making a note to text Rafe the second he saw something off.

Rafe’s still watching you, waiting for a reaction.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some way to brush it off, but your brain’s too foggy, and all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You want to snap back, tell him you’re fine, that you’ve got it under control. But instead, all that comes out is another tired sigh. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out. Said they needed me.”

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. His hands come out of his pockets, flexing like he’s about to hit something—or someone. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret.

But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed. And right now? He’s definitely pissed.

“Greg said that?” His voice is low, but there’s this dangerous edge to it, like he’s two seconds away from losing it, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running. That’s exactly why you didn’t call. You didn’t want to be the a burden again. Like you said, you’re still working on yourself.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, voice louder now, not even bothering to keep it low-key anymore. “You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe, please—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, seriously. What kind of fucking manager forces someone to come in when they’re this sick?” His voice carries, and a couple of the other bartenders are giving you looks, like they can’t decide if they’re more surprised or impressed by Rafe’s audacity, "You’re killing yourself for this job, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Rafe spots him instantly, and if you thought he was mad before, now he’s on a whole other level.

"Greg!" Rafe calls out, loud enough that half the bar turns to look. Your stomach sinks. This is about to get ugly.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he’s already losing the upper hand.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak, almost shaky. Like he’s trying to keep it together, but he knows he’s got no chance. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them like he’s already won this thing.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. The kind that makes your stomach drop because you know the person holding it together is barely holding back.

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile. “Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, probably realizing that this little power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass. “She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe cuts him off, voice like steel. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

Greg’s mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing’s coming. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg finally stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by his own excuse.

Rafe takes another step forward, practically towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching this power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now, but you also know that Rafe’s not letting this slide.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops, and now it’s just pure ice. “You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point, but he manages to mutter, “No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe says, voice low but dangerous. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away like he’s done with this conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Greg just stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly too scared to even argue. He stammers some half-hearted apology, but Rafe’s already turning back to you, brushing the whole thing off like it was nothing.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the bar with that easy confidence he always has. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, like that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard. But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that now, everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I just—don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power.”

Rafe tilts his head, studying you with that look he always gives when he knows you're holding back.

“You think that’s what this is?” His voice is steady, his tone a little softer now. “This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a damn about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, like you were replaceable. And you hate how right Rafe is, how much you needed someone to step in, even if it makes you feel a little helpless. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you still feels guilty.

Not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it all on your own. You've always been the girl who grits her teeth and gets through it, but today? Your body is screaming at you that you just can’t. Not anymore.

Rafe’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for you to argue, but you don’t. You’re too drained. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I just need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, but then he just nods. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, trying to show you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking glances at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day, leaning into him like you might actually make it to the car without collapsing.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His arm tightens around your waist, steadying you as you start to sway a little on your feet.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance, eyebrows raised.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"No guessing about it," he says, softer now, his fingers brushing your arm in a way that makes you feel more grounded. "You’ve been holding down the fort for too long. Let me take care of you for once."

The air outside hits you like a slap, but Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care, but with Rafe, it feels different.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that. You’re still not used to how easily he says stuff like that, like it’s no big deal. But he’s rubbing off on you, because you can say it just as easily now.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled before he shuts the door. He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how wrecked you feel. The fever, the headache, the exhaustion—it all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back? That makes it a little easier to breathe.

[fyodior]

⌕ pairing: dad alpha!toji fushiguro x daughter omega!reader

⌕ warnings: BLOODCEST, reader goes into heat, piv sex, use of dad/daddy/papa, kind of subspace-ish but just bc of heat, knotting, toji is guilty as hell, a/b/o stuff like pheromones/scent/slick, toji is a dominant alpha, crying. dead dove do not eat! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

⌕ word count: 2.7k

MORE A/B/O-TOBER HERE!

This was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. You and your beloved father had planned this vacation months ago, with the hopes of finally having a full two weeks of father-daughter alone time you two had so desperately been craving recently. Between both of your demanding jobs, respective social lives, and other various responsibilities, you barely even got to see each other anymore, outside of when you both came home at night. It had been a rule that you were to eat dinner together every night, and you had upheld that for a long time, but it had gotten to the point where it was no longer feasible.

So, the solution to missing each other? A two weeklong trip to the beach town of your dreams, at an all-inclusive resort that your wonderful dad had spent months saving every last cent to pay for. He had said it wasn’t right to force his beautiful daughter to pay even a single dime for this trip. It was his gift to you. Your gift to him? Just your presence and love.

To be quite honest, you and your dad had a… less than conventional relationship. Your friends found it odd that you still lived with him even though you were plenty financially stable enough to go out into the world on your own, and would surely have much more freedom in doing so. But you just couldn’t leave your beloved dad. Not when he loved you the way he did, cherished you and pampered and spoiled you at every turn. Who in their right mind would ever give that up? Certainly not you. You made it a point to never mention to others that you still slept in his bed every night, put to sleep by his strong arms wrapped tightly around you as you breathed in each other’s familiar scents.

When planning the vacation, you had made sure to schedule it in a timeframe where you would not be in your heat. They had always been fairly regular, so you had just done the math and planned it for when you’d be in the clear. Toji was more than happy to do so, as he wanted you to enjoy this trip completely uninhibited, especially from something so debilitating as a heat. Toji himself wasn’t too worried – in his older age, his ruts had slowed down pretty significantly, and even then, they weren’t ever severe enough to truly hinder his day-to-day life too much.

To say the vacation was much needed would be a vast understatement. The stress of busy lives had melted off both of your shoulders as you basked in the sun on white sand beaches, calmed by the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and sipping fruity cocktails served in coconuts. At night you’d go out dancing, grinding against each other in a drunken haze amongst people who didn’t know your familial relations. Sure, the age difference was apparent, but they didn’t know Toji was your dad. It was so freeing. And if he had kissed you soft and sweet on the dance floor? That secret would go with you to your graves.

Of course, with your luck, the magic couldn’t last forever. In the afternoon of the fifth day, you had started to feel… odd. Twitchy. A little foggy. Your skin felt hotter than normal, but you chalked it up to too much time in the tropical sun. The strange tingling between your legs was just because of… something. Whatever. Nothing was to ruin the vacation of your dreams, so you’ll ignore, ignore, ignore. No need to pay attention to such silly things.

Until it got worse. You had uncharacteristically asked Toji not to cuddle you to sleep that night, which he found profoundly odd, but your skin felt like it was on fire. The thought of anyone else touching you, even your dad, sounded like hell.

And then… even worse. In the wee hours of the night, you woke up gasping and whining. You felt hot all over, a sheen of sweat coating your body. Everything ached, your head felt fuzzy and sharp at the same time, and you could barely breathe. The worst, though? You were so painfully horny, your cunt throbbing and leaking, it was pure misery. There was no denying it anymore – you were in heat. Immediately, you began to panic. This was not supposed to happen.

The only thing you could think to do in your haze was shake the man next to you awake.

“Dad, daddy, please wake up,” you whined, shaking him by his arm.

“Wha- what it is it, sweetheart? Everything okay?” Toji mumbled gruffly, eyes still closed and clearly still mostly asleep.

“I’m in heat.”You could barely get the words out, speaking suddenly feeling impossible.

That woke him up quickly, lurching up. What? W-what do you mean?”

“Heat,” you repeated. “I-I’m in heat,” you damn near cried.

The heat pooling between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second, groaning as you cupped your hand over your throbbing pussy.

“Why? How? We-we planned around it!” he stuttered, staring at you with wide eyes. It was unmistakable, the presentation – despite never seeing you in one for long, he had witnessed the beginning phase of it multiple times.

What really tipped him off, though was your scent. The whole suite reeked of your sickly-sweet scent, pheromones emanating off your shivering body in droves. To say Toji wasn’t affected by it would be a lie. In fact, he scooted back in the bed to try and escape the potent yet divine odor, but there truly was no escape.

Toji wants to panic, unsure of what to do in this shocking moment, but it’s clear you’d beaten him to it. Hyperventilating and scratching at your skin, the panic of an incident so interruptive really settling in. He had to comfort you, and fast.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, calm down,” he attempts, gathering you in a tight hug to try and soothe you. “It’s okay, I promise. Daddy’s here.” That was the problem. Only daddy was here – no heat partner in sight. While you had no real partner, you had a few alpha friends who didn’t mind helping you out during your heats to ease the pain. Of course, those same friends were a plane ride away, and it’s not like you could ask the alpha next door if they could knot you.

As his eyes trailed down your body, he gulped when he saw the crotch of your sleep shorts was soaked in slick. Fuck.

Fat crocodile tears ran down your burning cheeks as you sobbed in his arms, and all Toji could do was hug you close and rock you side to side. With you so close to him, he had no choice but to inhale your bleeding scent, and he wishes he could rip his nose off. This is not good.

Resigning himself to the situation at hand, Toji sighed. There’s only one way out of this – unless he just locked you in the suite to suffer through your miserable heat alone.

“Calm down, baby, daddy’s gonna help you, okay? Daddy will help you.”

“R-really?” you sniffled, pulling back to look your dad in the eyes, gauging his sincerity.

“Of course, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you feel all better, okay? No need to worry anymore.”

Saying that Toji had never had thoughts like these about you before would be far, far, from the truth. In fact, he’d lost count of the times he’d jerked off in the shower to the thought of burying his cock so deep inside you, you couldn’t breathe, but he always watched the cum swirl down the drain in shame. And you, the same. Your fingers never felt as good as you’d imagined Toji’s would. Even though you were closer than the average father-daughter duo, the two of you had never crossed that line. At least, not yet.

But now, your brain was so addled by this primal state that the implications of what your father was promising you meant nothing. All you could think about was relief.

Toji gulped. There’s no going back now.

“Lay on your back, baby.”

You quickly do as your told, movements far from graceful as you fell from his arms and stumbled back on the bed. Maybe he could just get away with a quick fingering – maybe that would put you back to sleep for now.

Slithering a hand down your sleep shorts, Toji shivered when he felt how soaking wet you were. Pressing the tip of his ring finger just at the rim of your hole had you whimpering, head falling back against the pillow and gripping his arm tight.

“More, please,” you groaned, eyes screwed shut.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

His ring finger slipped into your hole with shocking ease, absolutely no resistance. Clearly your body was well beyond desperate. The gasp and groan you let out was one of pure desperation and distress. The thick finger inside you surely felt nice, but it was still only one – you needed much more.

“More, more,” you whined, gripping his wrist and attempting to force him further inside you.

Toji’s heart pounded in his chest, dread filling his entire body and chilling his blood as the realization that his fingers would almost certainly not be enough. Even worse, the lethal combination of your scent, slick, and whines sent blood rushing south. Fuck.

A second finger dipped inside you, and he began slowly pumping them in and out of your hole, scissoring his fingers apart in a hopeless attempt filling you up enough to beget enough relief. It was simply futile.

Whines and whimpers filled the suite as you bore down on his fingers, taking it into your own hands to push him further inside you. The arousal churning through your veins was intolerable and it just wasn’t enough.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you yanked him towards you, making him stumble and almost collapse on top of you. Hot, frantic breaths fanned across his face as you pressed your forehead against his, involuntary guttural groans escaping your throat.

“Dad, please,” you begged. “P-put it in.”

His heart stopped, blood running cold at your desperate request. Once you crossed that line, you could never go back. Hearing your pained moans though, was addling Toji’s judgement.

“Honey, I…” he started, fingers still pumping in and out of you in hopes of keeping you slightly satiated. “I don’t know…”

Toji fought hard to maintain his composure, but the fact of the matter was, he was still an alpha - and a dominant one at that. Though middle age had relieved him of some of the more undesirable, undeniable traits of such a label, he was only human. One could only fight biology and primal instinct for so long.

“Fuck it.”

Pulling away his fingers despite your protests, he roughly yanked off your shorts and panties, flinging them off the side of the bed before throwing your legs over his shoulders. Tugging his boxers down just enough to pull out his aching cock, wasting no time at all as he forcefully thrusts into you, bottoming out immediately. Your cries were almost certainly loud enough to be heard outside your room, but neither of you could give less of a fuck.

Guttural groans tumbled out of Toji’s mouth as he basks in the feeling of your tight, wet heat clenching hard around his length, thrashing underneath him. Despite his considerable endowment, you had not a single complaint, your pussy clearly frantic to be filled.

“Daddy!” you cried out, throwing your arms around his neck and panting deeply, chest heaving.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Toji assured, resting his forehead against yours. “Dad’s got you. It’ll be okay.”

It’s not long before he’s building up a considerable rhythm, fucking you hard and deep as you keened underneath him with a constant stream of whimpers and cries. The wet, sticky sound of skin on skin was sweet music to Toji’s ears, encouraging him to pick up the pace – something you were more than happy about.

The primal alpha instincts in him had him digging his nose deep into your neck just over your scent gland, huffing your potent scent like the sweetest drug, soaking up your pheromones that emanated from you. He wasn’t even aware of the way his own pheromones had mixed with yours, the musky odor clouding your senses. It was like you were made just for him, and he just for you. Your pheromones swirled together and encased the both of you in a blissful bubble of primitive desire and ecstasy.

The sex was messy, sloppy, and uncoordinated, having lost any sort of real rhythm in favor of frantically rutting into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every desperate thrust. A tiny voice in the back of Toji’s head, what was left of his rational mind, wondered if maybe your heat had catapulted him into rut, but that was no concern to him in the moment.

All you needed, all he wanted was to satiate your burning desire and arousal, to curb your instinctual need to fuck and be fucked, if only for a little bit.

Wanting to feel you deeper, Toji leaned forward to press your knees to your shoulders, allowing him to bury himself deep in your pussy, his tip kissing your cervix. So caught up in the ecstasy, a familiar yet bygone word escaped your lips.

“Papa!” you exclaimed, throwing your head back and gasping.

Papa. A term you had given up well over a decade ago, indicative of how far gone you were. How you had reverted to nothing but pure instinct, recognizing the man fucking you as what he once, and always would be, to you.

Toji almost came right on the spot. A strangled moan came from his throat, his arousal increasing tenfold.

“Say it again,” he demanded, voice deep and gruff.

There was no need to tell you twice. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” you chanted like a perverted spell, entirely unaware of what you were saying, much less the implications.

And Toji does something he swore he wouldn’t do – without halting his movements, he cupped your cheek and crashed his lips against yours. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and spit, but he could no longer keep himself from kissing his sweet, sweet daughter.

“Papa’s got you, baby,” Toji mutters against your lips, punctuating his words with hard thrusts. “Papa’s gonna make you feel so much better.”

The overstimulation of pheromones, messy kisses, and the hardest fuck you’ve ever had, had you hurtling closer and closer to what you so badly needed.

“Gonna come,” you whined, gripping his cheeks and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss.

That had Toji’s heart racing even faster, scared he’d go into cardiac arrest at this point.

“Come for me, baby,” he encourages, kissing you back. “Come for Papa.”

Your next words yet again brutally took him by surprise.

“Knot me, daddy, please.”

Fuck. How is he supposed to deny that?

As your own orgasm crashed over you like a suffocating wave, screams and moans piercing Toji’s ears, he continued to fuck into your oversensitive pussy deeper and deeper until he began to feel the familiar swelling at the base of his cock. And soon enough, he’s damn near howling as he spills hot, sticky cum into your welcoming cunt, balls spasming as they empty themselves inside you. Neither of you were in the right mind to reckon with the potential consequences of that.

Toji’s thick knot had swelled to full size, stretching to a point that had you whimpering, hugging your dad close.

“Hurts Papa, it hurts,” you whined, tears gathering in your glossy eyes.

Toji quickly kisses the tears away, cradling you as best he could. “I know, sweetheart, I know. It’ll go down soon, okay? And we can get some rest, you and me.”

The alpha was far from prepared for how many more of his knots were in your future.

[beenbaanbuun]

cock warming w/jongho

words - 🫣

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - cockwarming, dom!jongho, sub!reader, kind of non-sexual intimacy (cockwarming but not necessarily horny), a single spank, praise, guidance, it’s just very cute

you cant convince me that jongho doesn’t absolutely love cockwarming. like there’s just something about the intimacy of it that really gets him going. mix that with the casual dominance of it all - him pinning you down with a strong arm, spanking your thigh if you begin to grow restless, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear as you lay your chest against his in a dizzy haze - and he’s going practically insane.

it’s movie night, just you and him, and for some unknown reason he decided to use that feature of netflix that picks a random film for you

of course, after 4 or 5 tries, it lands on nothing good (because it never does) and the two of you decide to settle for whatever random film it decided on

it starts off with you two making fun of the poor editing and direction of the film, picking at all the plot holes until you were both giggling incessantly

that little game lasted a while, but it didn’t take long for it to become boring and the two of you were plunged into a comfortable silence once more

until, of course, a sex scene!

in the grand scheme of things, it had no relation to the film whatsoever and was quite frankly incredibly poorly made

like you don’t know who those moans were coming from, but they didn’t match up with the mouths of either of the actors

but just as you were about to make fun of it to jongho, you noticed a little something of his lap

well, more like a big something, and you couldn’t help but gasp

“this is making you hard?” you scrutinise, eyes narrowing as you pull them away from the tent in his pants to instead look at his face

you expected him to be embarrassed or ashamed, but he wore a stoic expression as he shushed you

again, you gasped and sat up from the position you were in, leant up against him

“first you get hard to the worst sex scene i’ve ever seen, then you shush me?” you scoffed, “just say you hate me, next time.”

you watched as he rolled his eyes, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen to look at you

“i’ve been hard for the last 20 minutes,” he grumbled, “you just didn’t notice so i didn’t say anything.”

oh… that’s weird

it’s not like you’d been doing anything to try and make him hard, and it’s not like the film had even been remotely sexy in any way shape or form

like you’d understand if you were lay there in lingerie, but you were in what you described as your ‘grannie nightie’, curled up against him like you would be on any other night

you frowned

“well, why are you hard?” you asked

“am i not allowed to be?” he replied

it was a fair response, but you still wanted answers

“well there has to be a reason…” you mumbled

“i’m sorry, why don’t you just call the erection police?” his voice was dripping in sarcasm, “hello? 911? yeah, i was being cute around my boyfriend and now he’s hard. come arrest him please!”

at this point the film was just background noise as the two of you went back and forth bickering about his penis of all things…

“wait, your erection is because of me?” you cock your head to the side in confusion

again, your pyjamas were hardly the sexiest thing in the world, unless you’re an 80 year old man and this is the most thigh you’ve seen in years

but jongho wasn’t 80, and he saw your thighs on a daily basis

fuck, he saw a lot more than thigh on most days

“well who else would’ve caused it?” he glanced between you and the screen, “you can’t seriously believe this shit show made me hard?”

“oh,” you mumbled

“yeah, oh…” he rolled his eyes

and you thought that was it for a moment before his hands were on you and you were being tugged onto his lap like you were nothing more than a rag doll

you squeaked in surprise as his strong arms pinned you to his lap, erection digging into your thigh

you squirmed, but the look he gave you quickly stopped you in your tracks

“you want to know why i’m hard?” he mumbled into your ear, a soft smile gracing his lips

he looked so innocent, and you would’ve believed it if it weren’t for the obvious

you nodded

“you’re just too cute, baby,” he chuckled deeply into your ear, the sound heading immediately south, slicking you up a little, “in your cute little nightie, making your cute little comments. sue me for being attracted to you…”

“but that’s not…” you trailed off, “i’m not being sexy, am i?”

“you don’t have to be, baby,” he cooed, “you don’t have to make yourself sexy for me to want you. i want you just as much now as i would any other day.”

“so you want to fuck me because i’m not sexy?”

he scoffed, “i want to be close to you, baby. it’s not the same.”

it sounded the same to you, but still you nodded as if you understood

“want me to take a seat?” you grounded down once and he groaned

his eyes rolled back into his head in pleasure, but just as you were about to do it again he stopped you

“not if you’re not going to be a good girl and sit still for me,” you barely registered the sound of the slap until the stinging sensation spread though your thigh a moment later, “i said i didn’t want to fuck you, and here you are grinding on my dick like you can’t understand basic instructions!”

you stilled at his comment, a frown forming on your face

now you really didn’t get it…

he seemed to notice your sudden change in demeanour and sighed

“i don’t want to fuck you, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be inside of you,” he explained slowly, desperate to make you understand, “i just want you to be around me, sweetheart. no expectations, i just want to be close to you.”

oh…

you supposed that made a little sense

with a slightly less confused look, you nodded

you didn’t move though

you misunderstood him before, now you wanted him to guide you through it so you didn’t get it wrong again

luckily for you, jongho took more than a little pride in telling you what to do

it boosted his ego, and he couldn’t deny how sweet you looked when you followed his every instruction

so he gave you a sweet smile before setting his hands on your waist

“straddle me, baby.”

his hands never left your sides as you followed his directions

“good girl,” he praised, making you puff your chest out a little with pride, “now i need you to pull my bottoms down, hm?”

and you did it, because jongho was right - you were his good girl!

you reached your hands down and shuffled back a little to give his dick enough room to spring free

and when it did spring free, you couldn’t help but sit in awe of how pretty it was

you’d seen it before, but you were still shocked at how perfect it was every time you saw it

a decent size lengthwise, but thicker than most

a pretty pink tip that leaked pearlescent precum in little droplets

jongho chuckled

“you done staring, or do you want to take a picture?” your eyes widened and your gaze shot up to his face again.

he wore a wide smirk as you mumbled an apology

“it’s okay, sweetheart,” his thumbs rubbed circles over your sides, “now, can you slip your panties to the side for me? i want you to sit on me…”

and again, you did as he asked because you were good and you wanted to behave for him

so your fingers slid south and pushed the thin cotton to the side (ignoring the way you had to peel them away from your gooey wetness) and you shuffled forwards until your core was hovering above his cock

you slid down slowly, the stretch almost painful but not quite

it took a moment for you to bottom out, his tip snug against your cervix and your thighs resting against his own

the temptation to start bouncing was certainly there, but at the risk of no longer being his good girl, you decided not to

not that you could anyway, not when he brought his arms around you, pinning you to his chest and holding you there like it was just any regular cuddle on any regular day

like his dick wasn’t resting heavily inside of you

like you weren’t so close to disobeying and seeking out your own pleasure

a big hand came up to the back of your head to hold it against his shoulder, fingers lacing themselves in your hair and giving it gentle, rhythmic tugs like he always did when you needed to chill a little

his fingernails scratched against your scalp in a way that was so soothing, it seemed to turn your whole body to jelly

and suddenly, the horny tension that laced itself up within you dissipated like it was never there

well, it wasn’t completely gone - you still had your boyfriends dick in you, after all - but it was duller, more manageable

you moaned as you relaxed into his warmth that surrounded you from every angle possible, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle

“do you get it now, honey?” he whispered into your ear, “do you understand what i mean when i say i want you close?”

you just nod

“oh, you’re so precious, baby,” he gave you a particularly tight squeeze with his thick arms, “so good for me, hm? letting me hold you close like this. i expected it to take you longer to settle down, but you’re such a good girl, right? shouldn’t have doubted you, baby…”

his words made your mind cloud over as you sank into the praise that he spoon fed to you

you just lay there with your head on his shoulder, staring up at him like he was your entire universe, eating up every single word he said to you

“love you, bear,” you mumble into his neck

he chuckled

“love you too, honey.”