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viennakarma · 11 months ago

Text

Everything I Wanted I.

LESTAPPEN X READER (Part 1)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. I know I said it was a oneshot, but the thing got out of hand, and I had to split it in half. Soon there will be a part 2! English is not my first language, so please ignore any mistake!

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“They’re not friends, you understand? They’re rivals, and that’s all they’ll ever be.”

You stand, hugging your helmet firmly against your chest, your dad’s words louder than the ringing in your ear from the way he slapped the side of your head. You were 9 and it was your first time competing in a karting competition. You tried to befriend the other kids your age, but as soon as your dad called you away, fuming, you knew it was a mistake.

You followed your dad’s orders, and didn’t talk to any of the boys again. Max was already cold towards you, so he pretty much ignored your existence. But Charles was more talkative, and as you stopped answering him, he became taunting, annoying, but you didn’t fall behind, you used to clap back at him with the same intensity.

Sometimes you eavesdropped on their conversations, initially it wasn’t intentional, but they were always complaining about you, calling you names, and you realized your dad was right, they would never see you as a friend or equal, only as a rival.

One day you’re walking by when you hear your name in their conversation.

“Nah, don’t worry about Y/N,” Max shrugged, his accent thick, as he pointed to the side of his temple “she’s a little slow, but maybe she’ll catch up.”

You stood there, his words echoing in your head, she’s a little slow, that was a kind way to call you stupid, which, compared to the way your father called you that many times, it was much sweeter. You shouldn’t have let that get to your head, specially said that way. But then again, you were 11, and you kept hearing those words again and again in your head. You never considered yourself dumb, your grades in school were average, and whenever you had time off of karting to study for your exams, your grades became even better, a little above average.

And despite knowing that, after going back home after the competition, you spent the whole Saturday at the local library, studying everything you could find on motorsports and Formula One. You lent books on strategy, history, and even mechanics. Every spare time you had, you spent reading those books, or lending others. You didn’t want to be slow as they had called you.

After that, you stopped talking to Max completely.

“This is a waste!” Your dad shouted, and you flinched, taking a discreet step back, away from him, trying to avoid him getting physical.

You had argued with him, which made him more furious. You tried to tell him it wasn’t your fault, you were just as good at racing as everyone else, maybe better, but no one was willing to give a girl a chance. It made him even angrier.

“You had one job! You get into F4 on your first try!”

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t your fault. That they weren’t willing to give a girl a chance, even if you were better than half of the boys who made it to F4. But your dad didn’t care about any of it, he wanted you to succeed or nothing. He used to always say that anything below first place is failure.

So he decided you, at 14, weren’t worth the money he spent on karting. And he simply left. Making peace with the fact that your dad never saw you as his kid, but more like an investment, was hard.

“You’re never going to be a Formula 1 champion.” Was the last thing he said to you, before dropping you at your mom’s to never come back.

Living with your mom ever since your dad gave you up was something else. She had lost everything after the divorce, thanks to a prenup she had naively signed without knowing anything about it. So when you moved in with her, you noticed how the house was smaller than your dad’s, you two slept in the single room that was there. Your mom worked two jobs living paycheck to paycheck, and you barely saw her. But she was kind, comforting.

You soon realized that she wouldn’t be able to provide for your karting career. So you lied, you told her your dad was still paying for the karting, and you found two part time jobs to pay for racing. You mom worked so much, she didn’t notice your absence in the afternoons, when you went to work in an auto repair shop. Sometimes, on the rare occasions she was off work in the afternoons, you lied and told her you were out with friends, or studying in the library or even doing extracurriculars. You had the best intentions, you used to tell yourself at night whenever you laid awake, you knew she would blame herself or even work herself to death to provide for you.

The entirety of the next year was a constant struggle, and you worked, and scrapped and lied your way through the entire karting competition. It was one of your last chances to get into F4, and you weren’t sure you could live another year that way, without a sponsor.

When the competition ended, you were second place overall. Your kart had problems during the race and you were sad that it affected your performance in a race you could’ve won.

You walked closer as you saw a few of the other boys gathering around some adults, you eyed them curiously. As soon as you noticed who they were, you swallowed. They were probably scouts, it was very common in finals of these competitions, you were used to it. You also were used to being ignored by all of them scouts. You had tried many times before to make connections and make yourself known, maybe even meeting a potential sponsor, but they always ignored you. They weren’t interested in a girl, they didn’t care about a woman in motorsports. Your only hope was that one day you would meet a female scout and she would see your potential.

But meanwhile, there were only men, and they didn’t give two fucks about you. So you didn’t even get close enough to join, you heard Charles and Max talking with them, and you just turned around, going back to your kart.

You pulled a few tools from your backpack, working to fix the difficulties you felt during the race.

“What are you doing?” A man approached you, crouching close to watch your work. You briefly looked up, the guy was wearing sunglasses and a cap, just a normal guy, looking like someone’s dad.

“I’m fixing my steering wheel, it was a bit stuck during the race so I had to double the force used to be able to make it work,” you explained, and he nodded.

“You finished second, right? Why are you here by yourself?” The man asked.

“The other kids don’t like me very much. And they’re talking to the scouts,” you shrugged, trying not to think about all the opportunities they would get and you wouldn’t.

“You should be there, no? Meeting scouts is important for your career.”

“They’re not very interested in a girl racer. Believe me, I know.” You muttered, finishing with the steering wheel, testing to see if it was working all right. You turned, fixing your left rear tyre. The tyre wasn’t responding very well to the braking, “besides, my kart won’t fix itself, right? Look, you see how this tyre is slower to respond to my braking? It messed up with my balance during the race. I could have won.”

“Shouldn’t you take your kart somewhere to get it fixed?” The man asked, helping you unscrew the tyre.

“Can’t afford it,” you said, “I’m saving to try and get into F4, so I can’t spare any money on this one.”

You weren’t usually this talkative with new people, mostly keeping to yourself. But maybe you were missing a grownup figure in your life since your dad had dipped and your mom was always busy. And that man sounded really interested in your stuff, so it felt natural explaining to him.

“So, no one sponsoring you?” He asked, which made you look at him again, hesitantly.

“No, uh, I had one but he dropped me last year” you said, leaving out that part that it was your dad.

“You know who I am?” The man asked and you looked at him, shaking your head.

“Someone’s dad? I mean, I haven’t been introduced to all the kids and their parents yet, but you’re kinda familiar, so-” As you were babbling and trying to explain, he took off the cap and sunglasses, and you immediately recognized him, “oh my god!”

“Shh, shh” he silenced you, putting the disguise back.

“You’re Kimi Raikkonen!” You whispered, and he nodded.

“I’ll be your new sponsor, eh? What do you say?”

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nodded.

"How do you know I'm good enough for a sponsorship?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, are you good enough for a sponsorship?" He asked. He had been keeping an eye out at that very category, and you had caught his attention as seemingly smart and emotionally controlled with the kart.

"I'm the best of the bunch," you smiled at him and you won him over with that answer.

Kimi became your lifeline, in a way. His family was quick to embrace you in an affectionate way you would’ve never expected of them. They invited you for their little New Year’s party, and you eventually told everything about your life to Kimi. His wife Minttu had also taken you as one of her own and their kids liked you a lot.

Under Minttu’s suggestion, Kimi also enrolled you in language classes, so besides English, you spent the next years learning French and Spanish, and you also caught a little Finnish from being so close to them.

You kept pushing your way up from F4 to F3 and so on, but instead of climbing it steadily like the boys, you had to win two or three times more than them to prove you were worth taking the next step.

You were 16 when your paths crossed with the boys from your childhood again. They recognised you, but they never really talked to you, so they didn't this time around either.

Coming out of the bathroom you once again caught a conversation, and you stopped dead as soon as you heard your name.

“No, not really… I don’t see her like that at all- she’s- uh-” Charles was speaking, probably looking for the words in english, “-she’s more like one of the boys.”

You paused, your breath hitched.

“Yeah,” that was Max, “I don’t see her like that either. I guess she doesn’t care about the things girls her age do.”

You felt a lump in your throat, retreating back to the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror, watching your face as the tears fell down on your cheeks. You were dressed in your regular racing day attire, cargo pants and a sweater. You didn’t wear makeup and your hair was all frizzy because of the helmet.

The next time you went to the Raikkonen residence, you pulled Minttu aside one moment.

“I want to be pretty. Will you help me?”

You two went through a long chat with Minttu reassuring you that you were pretty in your own way and you insisting you wanted to be pretty like other girls, more feminine and girly.

When you entered F2 after the winter break, you felt and looked like some better version of yourself. Minttu had helped you set a skincare routine that was already helping clear your face from teenage acne. She also took you to a hair salon, where you trimmed your hair and made a few highlights. She upgraded your wardrobe, and even if you tried to refuse saying it was too much, she said it was a Christmas gift and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Your path until reaching F1 was slow and steady, and you were a reserve driver for two years before finally getting a seat at McLaren. You knew Kimi probably had a hand in getting you a chance, but he denied every time you asked.

Kimi told you the raw truth before the season started. He and Minttu sat you down and talked about how the world and Formula 1 would expect more of you than of any other rookie. How they would stress your mistakes tenfold. How they would diminish your achievements with the same intensity. You weren’t afraid, really.

“I’ve lived with my greatest hater more than half of my life, I can handle strangers” you had laughed to the couple.

Still, Kimi taught you everything about his Iceman persona, and told you to pick whatever you wanted from it. Minttu also convinced you to start therapy, which you accepted.

The hate started as soon as you were announced. Beyond the regular misogyny, they were calling you too old to be a rookie at 24, they were questioning your abilities even with numerous championships from other categories to back you up, even with the fact that your mentor was Kimi fucking Raikkonen. But you didn’t let any of that get under your skin.

Sebastian Vettel was quickly drawn to you, and he became your first friend in Formula 1. He had been close with Kimi from the time they were teammates, and he kinda adopted you.

The guys your age didn’t want to get too close to you. The very few times they talked or walked with you, it sparked romance rumors, and soon they pretty much ignored or avoided you. You knew their intentions weren't to be mean, they were probably just avoiding problems with the media and their girlfriends or wives, but it didn’t hurt any less every time they walked straight past you.

One of those times you were going to the group press conference and all three of the guys walked past you as you tried to chat with them. Your shoulders slumped, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What was that?” You jumped at the sound of another voice. You looked behind you to see Fernando Alonso walking up to you. Up until that point, he had been polite to you.

“Oh,” you stumbled over your words, “being seen talking to me is bad press, apparently.”

“Una tontería,” he muttered, shaking his head, which made you laugh, surprised. He put a friendly hand over your shoulder and led you to the media session.

Simples as that, Fernando too became your friend.

You asked your PR manager, Amanda, to bend a few rules to make sure you would always be at the press conference with Seb and Nando or at least one of them. Most of the time, you did. But sometimes you were unlucky and had to sit stiffly through rounds of absurdly odd (and downright misogynistic) questions by yourself.

Soon you gave up on befriending the other drivers and being charming to the media. You realized the Iceman persona of Kimi looked like a good way to protect yourself from the clutches of the motorsport world. By the sixth race of the year, you gained the Lioness nickname. An agile hunter in your driving style and just as fierce in your answers.

“You’re always seen more comfortable with either Sebastian or Fernando, who are way older than you” some reporter said, “why is that?”

“I believe we’re closer in maturity age,” you said, face expressionless. You heard snickers around the room and you looked to Fernando who was visibly holding a laugh.

“So you’re saying the other drivers are immature?” The reporter pressed, but you didn’t want to talk anymore.

“No,” it’s all you answered, putting your mic down.

Everyone already thought you were arrogant, selfish, and superficial, and as you embraced your cold persona, you just fed into their assumptions. You couldn't care less, it was a good way to protect yourself, to be distant from the media who were constantly trying to drag you to the dirt.

“You mentioned the other day that you believe you should’ve joined F1 around the time the guys your age did. Why do you think that didn’t happen?”

“Because of what’s between my legs, Brian” you deadpanned.

You had to prove yourself two or three times more than the boys every single step of the way, to get into F4, F3, F2 and now F1. You made it, you were there, between the 20 best of motorsport in the whole world… and still… Still you had to hear questions about how you managed to race with a period, questions about boyfriends, questions about hair care or skin care, or whatever. You wouldn’t mind any of that if those were common questions, if they were asked of every driver, but they were only asked of you.

“I would like to express that, from now on, I will only answer questions that would be asked of the male drivers too, about the sport, about the cars, about strategies and everything that revolves around racing,” you warned one day before the end of a media conference when someone asked if your PMS interfered in your racing.

You started to not give two fucks about the media. Every time someone asked you a misogynistic question you just stared at them and put your mic down. So those types of question died down a little bit.

“Do you think you would’ve already been world champion had you entered Formula 1 earlier, let’s say at age 19/20?”

“Yes.”

Most of the guys ignored or avoided you, but your path always clashed with Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. They always hinted at not liking you in the slightest, and the media and the fans started catching up to it, throughout your rookie year. They would shamelessly shade you, and you never backed down, giving it as hard as you got.

You walked to a reporter, still using a towel to dry your face at the post race interview.

“Did you hear what Leclerc said about your move as you left the pits?” The man asked you.

“No, I didn’t. Do I look like I care about a man’s opinion?” You said, loud and clear.

You got as many fans as you got haters, especially as you messed with Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s loud fanbases. It wasn’t really on purpose, but one of them would usually jab at you in interviews, and when word got back to you, it would anger you to no end, and you would shade them back, and in an insane amount of back-and-forths until your rivalry was in articles, the news, twitter threads, and in the mind of every single reporter in a race week.

“Verstappen talked about your overtake at lap 49, he said it was a dirty move.”

“Like he did to me back in Silverstone?” Your eyes held a mischievous glint as you scoffed, “Funny, you didn’t see me whining about it back then.”

You had the best rookie year ever since Lewis Hamilton debuted. You almost reached the same overall numbers as him, getting six podiums and your first ever Formula 1 victory. You finished the driver’s championship in fifth place, over older drivers that were literal champions of the world.

The first time Lewis Hamilton really engaged in conversation with you was during the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony by the end of the season. You were proudly smiling, holding your Rookie of the Year trophy. He had been polite to you before, but he always looked unattainable, in a way. He was beyond the world of Formula 1.

“Congratulations!” He smiled at you, sitting by your side. Your heart thrumming in your chest, trying not to fangirl too much. Sometimes it was unbelievable sharing casual conversation with legends you grew up admiring from afar.

“Thank you, Lewis. Congratulations on the championship!” You said.

“I’m sorry for not realizing most of the boys were excluding you. I chatted about it with Seb, and he told me your only friends are him and Fernando.” Lewis whispered, looking genuine, “I guess I was so focused on the championship that I didn’t bother to check on you. I’m sorry, really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you raised your trophy, “I made it, right?”

“Succeeding despite the adversities… I see traits of a champion in you, congratulations” Lewis got up, raising his flute in a toast for you, “see you around, Lioness!”

Soon the next season you realized you had a competitive car. More than the year before. As for the first few races of the season, you had a win and podiums, which put you as a contender for the driver’s championship. Unfortunately the other people competing closely with you were none other than Charles and Max. Your rivalry had died down a bit when they noticed that you only shaded them when they provoked you first. So as their jabs became few and far between, it meant your clap backs did too.

The season was as good as it could get, that is until Monza.

You had felt the problems braking specifically during qualifying and your team tried to fix it but there wasn’t much anyone could do due to parc fermé. So you spent part of the night before the race working with your strategist to find a way around your braking problems and the best way to preserve your tyres.

The data had shown it would take a bit more strength to brake, which would eat up at your tyres quicker than usual, but other than that, everything seemed normal.

You all were wrong.

As the race went on, your brakes got progressively worse, to the point that curves were taking your body strength so much you could feel your muscles sore.

“We are considering retiring the car,” Jace, your engineer said. You inhaled, trying to calm down.

You were barely holding your P5, when you saw a Red Bull approaching you. You weren’t in position to fight, so he overtook you turning in a chicane. But your brakes didn’t work as you tried to slow down behind Max’s car, you tried not going into him but your tyres locked as you tried to avoid his rear. You drove straight into his rear, making the two of you lose control of your car. You braced for impact against the wall but luckily the gravel slowed you enough that you just touched the barrier.

After checking with your engineer, you left the car and saw Max leaving his, both DNFs.

You knew of your fame of being a reckless driver, often known for risky maneuvers and overtakes, but you never dove into someone intentionally because you knew trying to take someone out would mean yourself getting taken out too. As a marshal took you back to the garage on a motorcycle, you were ready to swallow your pride and apologize to Max for accidentally taking him out.

But as soon as you stepped down from the motorcycle, Max was in your space. His face was red and his hair all sweaty and disheveled, when he fronted you, chest to chest. You knew there were dozens of cameras pointed to you, so you tried to diffuse the tension for once.

“Are you insane?! Why did you drive into me?!” He kept advancing and for each of his steps ahead, you took one back to try and explain. But he didn’t give you a second screaming all kinds of curses and blame, “you should’ve never made it to Formula 1!”

His words were like a slap to the face, and you stopped trying to apologize or explain. You put both hands to your back, inflating your chest to face him.

“You don’t get to fucking decide that! You dipshit! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You said to his face, that’s when someone from the RedBull garage ran closer and stood between you.

You watched as he was taken away from you and inside his garage. At the same time your PT found you and walked you back to McLaren.

Changing from your race suit, you tried to cool down before going to the media. You gulped down your water as you watched Charles leading the race, and getting closer to the championship than you.

“There was an altercation between you and Max Verstappen, can you comment on that?”

“He was visibly upset with the racing incident.” It was all you said, after chatting with your PR manager before stepping out to chat with the journalists.

“And what happened at that incident? Can you walk us through it?”

“Yes, uh, we’ve been feeling something wrong with our braking system since yesterday. The data showed us it would require me to be more forceful during braking, which seemed feasible. But the brakes were wearing off during the race and we were about to retire when I completely lost the brakes. I really tried to avoid him but my tyres locked and I ended up hitting Verstappen.”

“Are you sure this accident has nothing to do with the ongoing rivalry between the two of you?” You got offended by the reporter's words.

“Of course! I would never intentionally do something to put myself or other drivers at risk. I have all the data to back me up and anyone can check my onboard.”

The FIA investigated your altercation with Max, and you ended up getting an unsportsmanlike behavior penalty. Two points in your super license.

“What the fuck?! Why the fuck would I be punished for that! There are fourteen different angles from that argument and all of them show how Verstappen aggressively came on to me first!”

It got worse when you heard that only you had gotten a penalty and Max didn’t even get a reprimand.

Everyone close to you noticed how you were on edge next week. During media day your answers were short, dry, and every single journalist seemed to want to talk about the penalty.

“Yes, I do have opinions on my penalty. But no, I won’t talk about it, only the FIA’s opinion is relevant” Your words during the press conference were enough to express a little dissatisfaction and to put an end to those questions. Everyone was surprised at the fact you chose to be quiet about the whole ordeal, they were all expecting your complaints and harsh words.

When you went back to your driver’s room, you went straight to lay your head on your mom’s lap, feeling a bit down. You stayed quiet as she ran her hands through your hair softly untangling it. She knew you were upset and why, so none of you bother to voice anything, bashing in the comforting silence.

The best thing about Formula 1 was being able to retire your mom from working, now you didn’t have to worry about her burning out and she didn’t have to worry about bills or mortgage or debts. Now she had a new, bigger and better house, everything was paid for and you even gave her a credit card for hobbies or whatever she wanted. She sometimes went to the races, but she usually stayed at home, relaxing.

“I know things are hard right now,” you mom started, her voice soft, caring, “but I know you can do it, honey. You’ve faced pushback since the beginning of this dream, but you always came out on top.”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“You will be a world champion, honey. I know it.” She smiled down at you.

You sat up as your mom removed her watch, handing it to you.

“I wanted to give it to you on your birthday, but I feel like this is the right moment,” she turned the watch, showing you the inscription that read strong woman, and you felt your eyes water, “this was my grandma’s. She gave it to my mom, who gave it to me, and now it’s yours.”

That week you got a victory, raising your P1 trophy for your mom, who was watching you with a hand on her heart, crying happy tears.

As the season progressed the championship became even tighter between the three of you. Mere points set the three of you apart, and with each week result, the P1, P2 and P3 shifted between you. It had become one of the most competitive seasons in the sport.

When the third to last race came in Qatar, you were P3 in the championship, and you needed at least P4 in that race to keep fighting for the championship. You didn’t care about anything other than getting a podium, focused on your racing mindset, no distractions. If you only got that win, it would mean getting back that P1 in the championship and you would go down in history.

You were P3 after your last pitstop of the race, you had a small window of time to take advantage of being with new mediums while everyone else was with old softs. You had to pull ahead and open at least ten seconds, so you could become first when Max went to the pits. You had the perfect opportunity for an undercut.

That was until you overtook Charles’ Ferrari for P2. You passed him easily, he hadn’t gone to the pits yet, so he had old tyres. But you frowned as Jace warned you about Leclerc trying to take the position back. He couldn’t fight against your new tyres, everyone knew that. You accelerated to open a distance, but as you went fast into turn 4, you only felt the hit to your side, making you lose control of the car.

It was barely a few seconds that you couldn’t wrap your head around, so shocked you couldn’t brake, only feeling your stomach churn as you braced for impact. The second hit came against the barriers even harder than the first, it shook your whole body, leaving you dizzy and out of breath.

You talked with Jace, telling him in a shaky voice that you were okay but out of breath, and you unlocked your seatbelts with trembling hands. After removing your steering wheel, you tried to get up but you were dizzy and your legs felt like jelly. A marshal helped you out of the car, but as soon as your feet were on the ground, you stumbled to your knees. The nausea got the best of you and you puked against your balaclava and inside the helmet. The marshals made a small shield around you, as one of them helped you remove the helmet and balaclava, still dry heaving. The marshal gave you a towel, and you cleaned the best you could as the ambulance was coming.

You looked behind you to your destroyed car.

And just like that, you had lost any chance at the championship.

You held your tears as you went through the medical procedures and examinations. The world had been muted in the background and you could only hear the noise of the crash, visualizing your ruined car, and your dreams being crushed once again.

But as you came back to the hospitality, you found your mom, and sobbed quietly against her chest.

“It’s ok, honey. It’s okay,” her voice was so soothing and the pain meds were working, so you cried yourself to sleep while she held you.

Later that day, you watched the replay of your crash. Leclerc had gone way too close to you, but in turn 4 he hit the curbs and lost control, hitting your car right in the middle, full force. Your car had spun out a lot then hit the barriers. It was lucky that you had come out of the crash relatively unharmed, it was ugly and could’ve been a lot worse, from the way you spun and the G force your car hit the barrier with.

“You’re still watching that?” Your mom’s voice sounded in the middle of the night.

“He shouldn’t have tried to fight for the position back, he didn’t even have enough tyres for that! And he was way too close, look!”

Your mom closed your laptop, putting it on the coffee table. She took your hands in hers and smiled gently.

“I’m sorry about the championship. But I’m glad you’re okay, that was one of the scariest couple of seconds of my entire life,” she whispered, teary eyed.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, ashamed that it didn’t cross your mind how worried she might have been.

“It’s okay, honey. There’s always next year, I’m sure you will be world champion. And will be there cheering for you.”

The next week in Jeddah, you felt like the world was out to get you when they put you in the press conference with both Max and Charles, as well as Lewis and Sebastian.

“Y/N, how are you feeling after last week’s crash? It looked pretty bad.” Someone asked.

“I am doing ok, thank you,” that’s all you said into the mic.

“Unfortunately, the crash ultimately took you out of the championship, what do you say about that?”

You were so tired of that question, so tired of your PR manager talking in your head about not blaming Charles publicly, despiste your desire to scream to whoever may hear that the monegasque just wanted to take you out of the competition, so he could fight only Verstappen for the championship. You just wanted the season to be over, in all honesty.

“There’s always next year, right?” You echoed your mom's words, that were also your rehearsed answer. You looked to the side, feeling Sebastian’s hand softly on your forearm, a silent show of support.

You left as soon as it was over. You knew Charles had been trying to talk to you. You supposed it was to apologize, but you weren’t having it. You were still so angry at him that you worried you’d punch him as soon as he was in your face. So you just avoided him like the plague. You didn’t want to see him, and you couldn’t afford another punishment if you acted on your anger.

“Charles has been looking for you,” Sebastian said, walking up to you as you were finishing braiding your hair for the race.

“I have been avoiding him,” you said, not looking at Seb, still focusing on your braids.

“He just wants to apologize.”

“And I want to punch him in the face, so what? We can’t always get what we want” You clenched your jaw, using an elastic band to finish.

“Y/N…” Sebastian sounded tired.

“Don’t Y/N me. I just want this season to be over, ok? The championship was in my reach, and now it’s not. And it wasn’t even my own fault. So no, I won’t see him.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything as he walked to you and pulled you in an affectionate hug that made you want to cry again.

During the driver’s parade, Fernando acted almost as a guard dog, not letting anyone close to you. You talked with him and Lewis about the crash, explaining how it felt to you.

When the season ended, you got a third place trophy during the Prize Giving Ceremony. You remembered your dad’s words throughout the entire night. Coming down from the stage, and you met with Minttu and Kimi, they congratulated you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of failure. You looked at Charles on the stage with his P2 trophy.

“Anything other than the first is failure, right?” You sighed, eyes glued to the stage, where Max got the trophy of Champion of the World.

“What crap is that?” Kimi said, suddenly.

“My dad used to say that when I was a kid.”

“Well he was an asshole,” Kimi said matter-of-factly, “and he never made it to F1. He didn’t even make it to F4, he has no reason or power to get in your head. You were just a kid. You understand?”

“Yes, Kimi," you swallowed, feeling some kind of wheight being lifted from your shoulders. Kimi had done many great things for your life with very few words, and his succint way of being was great to pull you back to the present whenever you anxiety got the best of you.

You ended up getting the Personality of the Year award too, which was such a surprise that it worked wonders to lift your spirits and to end the season with a sweet note.

Even being in a better mood, you didn’t stay at the party too late, saying your farewell to your friends as you dropped Kimi and his wife at the hotel. You were removing your makeup after a shower when there was a knock on your hotel room door. Thinking it was an emergency, you rushed only to be faced with Charles Leclerc.

“What are you doing here?” You looked around the hall, confused.

“Can I talk to you?” Charles was still dressed in his formal attire, black tie. He fiddled with his fingers as you let him in, afraid someone might see him at your door.

“What?” You crossed your arms as you closed the door.

“I’m really sorry about the crash in Qatar,” he waited for your answer with bated breath.

“Can we have this conversation when next season starts?” You proposed. You knew you weren’t ready for that talk yet, too much anger was still clouding your judgment for a level-headed talk.

“It wasn’t my intention to take you out-” He started but you cut him off.

“Look, you’ve never liked me, I’m aware, and you cost me an entire championship, so I don’t know if I believe you.”

“It really wasn’t intentional, the accident cost me the championship as well,” you could see in his eyes that his patience was wearing thin. But so did yours.

“No it didn’t. You still had a chance even after that DNF, you just didn’t win anyway,” your anger simmered again, making you raise your voice.

“Fuck you! You treat me like this because you always felt like you were better than everyone-”

“I treat you like this?! Be fucking for real, Charles! You hate me so much you took my chance at the championship away!”

“If you had more wins during the season maybe this wouldn’t be a problem right now!”

“Unbelievable! Because you are so much better than me, all you got was second place!”

“Shut up.”

“You’ve always hated me for absolutely no reason-”

“Shut up.”

“And now you think you can barge into my room and tell me you think I’m a shitty driver? I’m not standing for-”

“Shut up!” He shouted, which was so surprising you actually stopped talking.

The both of you were breathing heavily, in one second you were sure you could strangle him, in the next, his lips were against yours and his hand gripping your hair. The kiss was nasty, all teeth and lips and tongue, his hands going down your body, pressing you into him, and your fingers tugging at his suit, ripping the buttons. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but Charles’ lips found your neck and he bit into your pulse point.

“Fuck you, Charles” you said, breathless, opening his trousers and he ripped your little sleep top with his bare hands.

It was so hot as you stumbled backwards and he followed you, tossing your top behind him, you took off his shirt and undershirt and he helped you kick out your shorts.

Charles pressed you against the wall, kissing you aggressively again, and you moaned as he placed his thigh between your legs, and you ground against him, turned on, dampening his trousers with the wet of your panties. You pressed your hand against his bulge, and he groaned, pressing into you even harder, humping like horny teenagers.

You didn’t even bother to get him naked, with his trousers half undone, you just pulled his cock out, heavy in your hands. You watched his pained expression as you spit on your hand so you could masturbate him.

“Fuck it,” you moaned, knowing grinding on him was not nearly enough.

You pulled your panties to the side, and lined his cock up into you. It was so tight as he slid into you, that your eyes rolled in pleasure, and he raised one of your legs against his waist to make room for his hips. He pulled back and snapped his hips into you again, his cock stretching you so good you were shaking. You put one arm around his shoulders holding on him and the other hand you held his ass under his loose trousers, your nails biting into his flesh as you pushed him even deeper.

“Fuck, ah-” he moaned in your ear, “so hot- putain-”

The loud, wet sounds of his hips pistoning into you were obscene. You angrily bit him, his shoulders, his chest, his jaw and he went even harder, your back hitting the wall behind you, and you pulled his hair, sweat starting to form all over your body.

“Fuck, Charles!” Your moans got even louder, and Charles stuck two fingers into your mouth, muffling your sounds as he fucked you.

He was hitting the perfect spot inside you, and it was enough for you to know you would come that way. You slapped his cheek, taking out some of your anger and he groaned, going harder. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and held your neck, pressing your torso against the wall and choking you a little bit.

“I can’t hold much longer” he warned you between gritted teeth, relentlessly fucking you.

You pinched your own nipples and it didn’t take long for you to come, your cunt clenching so hard around him, it was enough to send him over the edge too.

Shaking, the two of you slid to the floor, breathlessly lying down, half naked and sweaty.

None of you said a word.

When he was ready to go again, he put you on your knees, your torso against the mattress, and he pounded into your cunt mercilessly from behind.

The third and last time was lazy, slow missionary and he held your wrists above your head with one hand, pressed your clit with the other, sucked a few hickeys around your tits and his cock pressed over and over your g-spot.

When you woke up the next morning, Charles was still asleep by your side. You went into the bathroom and showered, hoping he would catch the hint and leave. But as you came out showered and dressed, he was still out cold. So you quietly packed your bag and left for the airport.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #lestappen #Spotify

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khawla-gfm2 · 2 months ago

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📰Khawla's Family Campaign Update: 37📰

$5,307/$20,000 as of September 20th [10pm CDT]

Currently $193 away from $5,500 as a short term goal

The fundraiser is a 4th of the way to reaching it's goal! let's keep up the momentum as much as possible! The next target is $10,000 which would be the halfway point for the initial goal.

Please consider donating even just $5, $10, or $20 to help push the fundraiser closer to it's goal! And keep reblogging/sharing the campaign so that more people who can donate may see it!

[Vetted By Association: I was approached by Mohiy from @/mohiy-gaza2 to make this campaign for his sister Khawla as she has limited access to internet making it hard to campaign for herself.]

[For more information on the campaign: Check the pinned post of this blog, check the campaign page itself, or message me directly if you have any questions]

[tag list under the cut]:

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kakushino · 1 year ago

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I'm married, Miss

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

Your husband is a changed man when drunk.

Tags: fluff, alcohol consumption, post-Muzan era (so minor KNY spoilers?) Word count: 0,8k

Masterlist

Giyuu and you had gone on your customary monthly date night - to the lively izakaya you had first met at, introduced to each other by Tengen. It was a place that also served good food, other than the good alcohol, which was a definite bonus, but you were not thinking about any of the details of how or why you became a couple.

How could you, when Giyuu seemed to be deep in his cups and looking cute enough to eat?

A slight flush overtook his face some time ago, making you admire him with a bright smile. Your husband was so handsome, wasn’t he?

He took a small piece of food from the shared plate of assorted meats you shared, still a little clumsy with his left hand. He had an adorable frown marring his brow, his lips set in a pout, before he finally managed to successfully bring the bite to his lips, his expression relaxing as he chewed.

He truly was a changed man when drunk.

“I love you,” you told him, still staring at him with a wide smile on your face.

Giyuu paused, blinking a few times, as if he’d just noticed you were there. “I’ll have you know I’m married, Miss,” he retorted neutrally, stumbling over his words a bit, the frown from earlier returning.

His answer surprised you. How much had he had to drink? Before you could tell him you were his spouse in question, he started to speak.

“I’m afraid you have no chance against her. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He jabbed his chopsticks in your direction, as his coworker Obanai used to do with his finger, accusatory. “You might be pretty but she’s prettier.”

Laughter bubbled from your throat. “Is she? Tell me more about her, please.”

Giyuu’s frown was replaced by a completely neutral face, the only indication to his intoxication the blush on his cheeks. He was dead serious about ‘his wife’, it seemed. “She’s amazing,” he said breathily, adoration clear despite his expression. “My pearl, gods, what I wouldn’t give to hold her right now…” He looked down on his hand, still holding the chopsticks as it rested on the table, looking like a sad puppy. “She’s so-” he gestured oddly in the air, snapping his chopsticks as he concentrated, “she’s so comfort-shaped.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, your smile turning lovesick as you took in your drunk husband. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? He loved you as much as you loved him.

“She’s my treasure, flashiest treasure - she’s always got this glow, you see?” Giyuu leaned forward as if he were telling you a great secret. “She’s beautiful.” He nodded sagely, agreeing with himself.

You couldn’t help but to ask him a personal question that had weighed on your mind for a time while he was out of it. “Oh, what about her bad traits? Surely, every human has a bad trait? Like, does she snore, or is she annoyin-”

“Absolutely not!” Giyuu looked offended at that. “My wife- my wife and annoying? No, never. Never ever-” he slurred his speech a little, waving his chopsticks threateningly in your face. “And how dare you say she snores! My pearl only ever releases the sweetest sounds known to man, but you-” he pointed at you angrily, “-you are hurting my wife’s honor, and I will fight you for that.” As if to prove a point, he jabbed his utensils into one of the meats on the plate and ate it, glaring daggers at you.

You were pleasantly surprised at the valiant defense of your character; it only made your husband more endearing, and you really, really wanted to continue teasing him - especially knowing he would remember this in the morning - but your bladder felt too full to sit still for much longer.

You excused yourself, which Giyuu ignored, still munching on the food with vigor. You kept giggling under your breath as you went to the lavatory, a sense of light schadenfreude making you grin wide, knowing he would suffer in the morning and regret his choices. Now however, you would enjoy the situation.

When you came back, your husband greeted you warmly, recognizing you at last. “Heyyy, my pearl,” he smiled warmly, leaning forward against the table to be closer to you. “I missed you - so much.”

“I just had to go to the toilet, dear,” you reminded him with a soft laugh.

His flushed face scrunched up into a pout. “There was someone insulting you while you were gone. I defended you though.” Giyuu sat up straighter, preening a little, waiting for your compliment.

“Thank you, dearest,” you could only grin at that. Oh, you so would enjoy him remembering the night come morning.

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

Network: @enchantedforest-network

#drunk giyuu is my pookie #i love him sm okay #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fluff #demon slayer fanfic #kakushino

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almostempty · 1 month ago

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The more you suffer

Self Esteem Part 4 | Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Hey y’all, it’s me back with more farm-to-table Joel smut. Took a while to figure this one out, but I hope you’re hungry horny bc it’s lengthy and full o’ fuckin’. Date Night Dave is back by popular demand, and fuckboy Joel finally experiences a consequence???

Warnings/tags: fuckboy!Joel, gratuitous smut, pwp, alcohol use, unprotected piv sex (that has no physical consequences bc it’s fiction and I like it that way), oral sex, public blow job, cock warming in a car, reoccuring guest appearance by dom!dave, date night dave inspo from the cartier campaign bc that's rich dave right??? au/ooc dave york is single/rich/mysterious and down to clown, jealous!joel, soft!joel, cuck!joel, jorkin’!joel, some angsty bits, no use of y/n, voyeur/exhibitionistish, light d/s dynamics, light (?) degradation/humiliation, praise kink, AU modern/no outbreak, overall just a lot of sex with some feelings in between, no beta blame all mistakes on me/adhd/insomnia

Notes: please leave feedback! Tell me all ur thots!

Thanks: to everyone who has read parts 1-3, that means the world to me

Dedicated to @gothcsz for the punishment inspo and @auteurdelabre for encouraging my delusions , and @strangergraphics for dividers

WC: 12.1K AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It’s like it was a curse, not a confession. Joel’s voice plays on a loop in your mind. For days. You hear it when you wake up, against your will. It’s a reflex at this point. You hear it when your mind drifts at work, when Katie blathers on about who knows what on your brunch date, and it gets loudest at night when you can’t sleep. It repeats and repeats and repeats. Taunting you, describing you, mocking you. Leading you on.

Occasionally, you play the tape all the way through. Finishing the rest of the scene. Starting with 'All I can fuckin’ think about' all the way up to when that coward skipped out the door at the first glimpse of that thread connecting you. The first sign of something laced with vulnerability.

Every minute that passes since you’ve been cursed with Joel Miller’s enigmatic mid-coitus confession is torture. Slow, painful, agony. Time drags so excruciatingly slowly that you feel like months have passed, but it’s only been three days since you were cursed with this affliction when you get a text. Well, it’s practically a fucking email. A business memo.

Dave: Hey, I wanted to follow up. I enjoyed our date and would love to see you again. I’m out of town for the next 72 hours, but I’d like to take you out for drinks again when I return. I can pick you up again Thursday night, same time? Or, if you’d rather, I’ll be available earlier in the evening on Friday. If you’d like to do dinner.

Dave: I’ll be honest, though; I’d prefer to see you sooner than later.

Holy shit.

You reread the message at least three times as you sink onto your sofa. Your stomach flips at his second message, before you start trying to pick it apart, anyway.

It’s almost too…formal? Cordial? Maybe you’re just used to only getting cryptic sentence fragments from Joel, who texts like he’s rocking a Nokia 3310. Because it’s also so direct. Dave is not afraid to communicate clearly and express his interest in you. It’s not overtly sexual, but not nonchalant, Goldilocks approves.

You grin at the phone in your hand, and your gaze veers off until you’re staring at the wall, projecting the replay of your date with Dave like a movie at the drive-in. His mouth grazing your ear as he murmured filthy thoughts to you at the table, his fingers skating up your thigh, the taste of his cock sliding along your tongue, and the sounds that started from deep in his chest before he came down your throat.

It’s not like Dave wasn’t memorable, but damn, you had been wallowing in your feelings over Joel like it was your full-time job. Fuck that. Dave is a welcome distraction. You agree to drinks and let him know you’re looking forward to seeing him, before swapping to your text thread with Katie.

You: is it just because the bar is in hell for men, or is it appropriate for my pussy to flood over a man with a plan???

Katie: Can it be both?

Katie: Oh my god

Katie: PLEASE tell me it’s the bathroom blowjob guy

Katie: Is he planning a second date?

Katie: I told you! Green flags!

You: maybe 🙃

……..

Knowing you have a date to look forward to eases the sting. The memory of Joel walking out the door. You can still hear his fucking bedroom voice in your ear, but the chokehold loosens slightly. You fill the next couple of days with anything and everything to make the time pass faster. Too busy to have the time to check your phone or, worse, text Joel.

Dave continues to be everything Joel isn’t. Communicative, confirming your plans the morning of, punctual, pulling up precisely on time, and a gentleman greeting you with a compliment and opening the car door for you. You know you've let the demented demons within you get a little too comfortable when the green flags almost give you the ick. Katie’s voice echoes in your ears, and you suck it up.

It turns out Distraction Dave is just as hot as you remember–even without a jealous Joel-shaped ogre stirring your loins from across the room. He exudes a debonair charm with his tailored, quiet luxury brand look. You feel a wave of insecurity lurch in your chest before you realize he’s got you on his arm like you’re a designer accessory. He’s pleased to be seen with you as he guides you to your table in the dimly lit jazz-style lounge. It puts you at ease when he takes the lead in making decisions.

The cocktails are strong, but you’ve only had a few sips before. It’s Dave who has you feeling warm in the face. He’s flirty but doesn’t push. He doesn’t assume you will get handsy under the table again. In your twisted brain, that only emboldens you to make a move. He’s still talking, but you aren’t really listening, distracted by his neck and lips and how close you are to each other.

Close enough that it’s no stretch to slide your hand from your lap to his. You drag your hand slowly, up up up. When the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, you feel your pulse jump. The atmosphere fades, and the noise blurs as your senses lock onto him. Dave’s brow twitches just before his hand covers yours.

“There she is,” his smile is devilishly handsome with a dark glint in his eyes, “my dirty girl.” His voice, his words, and the heat of his hand sprinkle horny fairy dust over you. “Thought about you all week,” he confesses.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

You swallow your intrusive Joel-voiced thought. Flush it away into the sewer.

“Me?” you ask coyly, batting your lashes. He hums, affirming. His hand squeezes yours, and heat starts to pool between your legs. “What about me?” your eyes have a sparkle in them as you sip your drink. He leans closer to you, nose grazing the soft skin behind your ear, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Thought about your pretty face,” he tips your chin towards him with his free hand, so close he’s all you can see. “Thought about these lips,” he gently kisses you, retreating before you can escalate the intensity. You pout at the distance when he draws back and smirks at your needy expression. “Thought I might not hear back from you with how distracted you were by your not-ex not-stalking you last time.”

An ache flares in your heart before you drown it with irritation. Garbled words stick in your throat. Something sharp and defensive tries to slash through, but Dave continues, unbothered before you can get anything out of your mouth.

“Mostly,” his crisp, rich scent washes over you as he dips into dot kisses up your neck, dissolving your defenses. His warm breath tickles your ear as he husks in a low tone, “I thought about how this greedy throat felt trying to swallow my cock,” his fingers wrap around your neck for emphasis, and he feels your quiet whimper of a response.

Your cheeks burn. He claims your lips with a hungry kiss that has your moans vibrating in your throat beneath his hand. It’s urgent and needy how your tongues, teeth, and lips collide. When his other hand finally releases yours, and he possessively cups either side of your jaw in his large palms, you’re lost momentarily. Consumed by the sensation of Dave’s tongue sliding against yours and the desire to crawl into his lap and straddle him here in the booth.

You shove away the thought of Joel that flashes through your mind and double down on your desire for Dave. You bite sharply at his bottom lip, roughly knocking your faces together as you press your body into his, demanding more intensity as you make out.

When you break apart, you feel the crazed expression on your face as you smirk at the man in front of you. “I’ll give you more to think about,” you say more breathlessly than you intended, but the message is still clear.

You dive back in, licking a hot stripe up his neck and biting at his earlobe. Your hand is back on task, groping for Dave’s thick erection when he stops you again. He tugs your hand away, and you huff.

Dave laughs, enjoying the frustration on your features as he tucks your hair back behind your ear. He’s rudely composed while you’re on fire.

“Finish your drink,” he tilts his head towards the antique glass in front of you. You down the rest in an impolite gulp, wiping at the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Dave shakes his head softly, a mix of mild disbelief and something headier. “That’s a good girl,” he acquiesces you for following his direction with gusto.

His praise drips over you like warm honey, easing the confusion you felt at his rejection of your touch. He answers your unspoken question, “We can stay here, dirty girl, but I’d prefer to take you home so I can get my mouth on you this time.” The close quarters in the booth have you nearly nose to nose. A smirk spreads across his face when your lips part at his proposal.

“Let’s go,” you respond quickly, it’s an easy decision.

He takes you to his condo nearby. It’s modern, masculine, and decorated but not very revealing of anything more personal about him. He wastes no time leading you to the bedroom, and you’re just as eager to get him into bed.

But when your impatient hands start tugging at his clothes, he grips you harshly, fingertips digging into the flesh of your upper arms, pinning them to your sides, essentially immobilizing you as he holds you back. He has this look to him like he knows something that you don’t, and that’s enough to make you pause.

“She’s hungry, hm?” it’s phrased like a question, but you don’t think he’s expecting a real answer. His eyes rove over you before he relaxes his grip.

“Sit.”

You obey without a thought, perching on the edge of the perfectly made bed before him. “That’s a good girl,” his voice has a raw edge to it, and the phrase shoots straight to your core. You fight to keep still, overwhelmed with the sudden need to please him and convinced he wants to see how closely you’ll follow his orders.

Dave’s eyes are full of lust and something darker as he studies you, his presence looming, commanding, and teasing. “Look at you, ready for more.” His tone is mocking but coated with approval that tingles along your spine. He grabs your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze again, “You liked the risk last time. Coming on my fingers under the table.”

You nod, and he grants you a flash of a smile. It’s gorgeous but restrained and tampered back down.

"And you liked being on your knees for me. You liked taking my cock down your throat, didn’t you?”

You nod again, but his fingers dig into your cheeks slightly, a silent reprimand. His voice drops to a low growl, “Use your words.” Your eyes widen before you blink away the mixture of shock and thrill.

"Yes,” you get the word out in a quietly, “I liked it," you manage to add a hint of confidence.

The corner of his mouth twitches. Satisfaction flickers in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he strokes your cheek gently, “you did such a good job taking care of me last time.” His adoration flutters across your skin, spreading heat. “But it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

The wicked smirk on his face makes you feel lightheaded as he lowers himself in front of you. Your knees part reflexively to let him move closer. “That’s a good girl. Spread these legs for me,” he continues as he runs his hands along your smooth legs until he’s bunching up the bottom of your dress.

Without wasting a second, his mouth is on you, kissing the soft crease of your thighs and sucking an open mouth kiss over the damp fabric covering your core. His hands anchor your thighs, thumbs caressing your flesh in a mockery of tenderness as his mouth delivers a sinful symphony sucking at your skin, nipping at you in a way that makes your thighs tense beneath his grip and spewing dirty thoughts.

“So wet for me,” he mutters as he raises in front of you, pulling you to stand so he can strip you bare. Your arms hang submissively by your sides as his hand moves slowly, down your jaw, wrapped around your throat, down your chest, pausing to marvel at the sight of your tits in his palms and how your mouth parts when he kneads them in his hands.

You wonder if you should feel vulnerable as he proceeds with his inspection, but the precision of his movements keeps you lulled. Dave’s hand slips between your legs and his fingers trace the slick seam of your cunt. You can’t help the whiny groan you respond with as you strain to remain still for him.

He snickers at your struggle, then makes it worse. “You’re dripping, you know that?” the mocking tone in his voice does something just right to you, “such a needy slut.” Oh. That has your thighs flexing, tightening around his hand as he continues to torture you, parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, drawing circles too slowly.

“Have to stop myself from bending you over now and fucking you hard and fast.” Your body floods with need at the idea, dripping around his fingers and causing your hips to jerk.

“Please,” you whisper. You figure it’s polite enough.

"Ah, ah," he warns, pulling back. "I know you’d like that, dirty girl.”

Yes! You consider spinning around and giving him your best tempting display, hoping he’ll give in, but he seems to be a step ahead. “Lay down. You’ll get what you want.”

Dave has a wicked gleam in his eyes as you spread out across the bed for him. He’s deliberate when he gets between your legs, spreading them wide and skipping the teasing kisses this time. He drags his tongue from your entrance to your throbbing clit before his plush lips wrap around you. The suction and pressure are dizzying, and you fill the room with panting and moaning.

Your hips chase his mouth as he uses his tongue expertly, alternating between lazy circles and sharp flicks. The pleasure builds as he works at you. His technique gradually becomes indelicate, using everything he’s got in a way that makes you feel wild. His nose nudges at your clit as he dips further down. He allows you to keep rolling your hips gently as you rock against his chin before he pulls back.

"Look at you, already unraveling for me," he says, voice drenched in amusement. "So desperate. She wants it all, hm?"

“Yes,” you whine, and your moans keep flowing as the pressure coils tighter within you.

“Good,” he asserts, “come for me.” It’s a demand that has you gasping when he punctuates it with his fingers plunging inside of you. If you weren’t so enraptured by the growing pleasure and his voice, you might nitpick the logistics of coming on command–but he gives you no room for debate.

Persuasively compelling your orgasm to hit as his fingers fuck into you and he sucks your clit into his furnace of a mouth. He doesn’t relent. The intensity of his mouth and fingers overwhelms you through the violent flash of pleasure and remains consistent as you writhe and contract, coming back down to earth.

He's working you back up before you can fully recover or process his praise. Coaxing you toward another peak, capitalizing on his command of your mind and body. Every flick of his tongue pushes you higher until you’re gripping at the bed to stay in place.

The ache for release teeters on unbearable as Dave’s groan buzzes through you. You tremble, sticking to the sheets with the sweat of desperation. You’re not cognizant of how you’re pleading with Dave, “Yes, yes, yes!”

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he stops, sitting up.

“Hey!” you’re on edge and disoriented.

"On your hands and knees," he orders, rougher now. "I’ve had my fill."

Oh shit.

You scramble to obey, face hot with frustration and need as you arch in presentation for him. His hands spread your cheeks so he can get a good, long look at the sight of your glossy, swollen cunt.

"That’s good, dirty girl, so eager," he chuckles, lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you deliciously with the slightest stretch. "You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe, the word spilling out before you form a thought.

"That’s what I thought." He pushes inside you in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gasp as he fills you completely, stretching you wide. He pauses only long enough to feel your walls rippling with contractions around the length of him, confirming his prediction. “Yeah, knew this tight little cunt would take me so well.”

You can only hum mindlessly in response before he sets a rough pace. Gripping firmly at your hips, he keeps you in place as he drives into you, grunting with the force as his hips smack against your ass, adding more lewd noise to the moans and single-syllable words you cry out.

You’re slipping away in the feeling of him pounding into you from behind. So mindless as your body bounces off of him that, for a split second, your tortured mind drifts to Joel. Joel’s voice and his filthy mouth, how he always gets you to beg for more. You tense up, eyes wide, hoping you haven’t said his name in your stupor.

Mercifully, Dave doesn’t seem to react. He continues at the same pace until his hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he knocks your legs wider with his, angling you lower and thrusting even deeper inside of you. It’s a sharp, blinding need to come that possesses you.

“Don’t stop,” you plead between gasping breaths.

He gives you a slap for that. The sting has your eyes nearly rolling back like a caricature. Dave is launched closer to his own release because of your desperation, your ass jiggling, and his view of his cock disappearing inside of you over and over in time with your moans.

He gives you exactly what you need as you shift, letting your weight fall into your shoulders so you can snake your hand back to swirl your fingers over your clit with precision, quickly bringing yourself to the peak. You fall apart around him as he grips your hips forcefully, using you as he needs while waves of pleasure debilitate you.

He doesn’t slow down, pounding into you until his own release verges on crashing into him, and with a low, strained sound, he pulls out. The wet sounds of his fist are drowned out by the groan you both make as you collapse without his support, and he comes across your ass and lower back.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both panting as you come down from the high. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans down and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to your shoulder. "Good girl," he murmurs, a soothing balm after the intensity. And, when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean you up, you feel glowy and drunk in his bed.

Dave drives you home, at your request, and walks you to your door like a gentleman. He repeats that he would be happy to see you again.

And he does.

You both get what you want out of the arrangement. Neither of you wants a relationship and has an interest in an emotional connection. Dave isn’t always available, but he’s communicative and arranges to pick you up once or twice a week when he’s free.

He always offers to take you for drinks or dinner at his favorite spots. Some nights, you just ask him to take you straight to his perfectly made bed. The nights you desperately need him to fuck Joel’s voice out of your head.

It works, for the most part, as the weeks pass. Katie rolls her eyes at you when you claim you prefer your weekly dick appointments to a real relationship, but her judgment fades when you give her a juicy detail or two about the things Dave says to you in bed. You’re grateful to have an easy out to redirect her because you don’t feel strong enough to let her see the festering wound in your chest, still refusing to let go of Joel.

Most days, it’s dull enough to manage. It’s more of a cruel joke when you hear Joel’s voice in your head first thing upon waking. When your phone buzzes and your heart stutters, you laugh bitterly at yourself for thinking it could be that stubborn asshole. It’s never him. You don’t hear from him. You don’t reach out. You consider blocking him altogether but can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t see him on any nights out with Katie.

You bite your tongue when you see Tommy at another karaoke night. You can’t ask about Joel, nobody knew you had been seeing each other, if that’s what you could even call it. You strategically keep yourself on the opposite end of the table from Tommy, hoping to stay out of earshot if he mentions the man haunting your thoughts.

But as you drink your feelings one after another, they evolve. Anger swirls as you think of texting Joel and calling him out for being a gutless wonder. You pull out your phone and open your messages, rereading the last text from him.

Joel: Miss me?

Out of context, the two words trip you up momentarily. Even though you’ve reread them more times than you’d like to admit. And replayed that night more than you can stand. You don’t type anything to him. Your anger still burns in your gut.

You attempt to engage with your friends, but it’s all for show. You can’t stop glancing towards Tommy, the door, or your phone. Your anger converts into something you can’t escape.

After one more drink, your vision keeps getting blurry, not exactly from the booze.

You try to blink back the tears in your waterline, excusing yourself from the group and dashing for the bathroom. Something messy and hurt and possesses you. Destabilizing you entirely as you feel yourself breaking down.

Weaving between bodies until you’re slamming into a stall and collapsing into a wobbly-limbed mess. Ugly sobs rip through your diaphragm, stirring up the most vulnerable fears and a cruel internal voice. Why are you hung up on someone that treated you like shit? You think it’s what you deserve? You can’t even move on? You still can’t stand up for yourself?

Someone else enters the bathroom, and you try to hold yourself together, but they catch your sobs and ask if you’re alright. You do your best to assure the stranger that you’re okay.

“If he makes you feel like that, he ain’t worth it, hon’,” she offers before leaving you with your thoughts in the bathroom.

You know she meant it to be helpful, but it knocks you deeper into your feelings. You’re upset, and for what? Does he even care? Has he actually thought of you even once? He isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth it, and you still can’t stop the tears pathetically streaming down your face. It hurts even worse to know you shouldn’t care.

You stand up, and your head spins, not just from the emotional agony but from the alcohol. When you not-so-gracefully emerge and see yourself in the mirror, you nearly lock yourself back in the stall and vow to live here now. You can’t return to the table with your eyes that swollen and red and your mascara rubbed away.

You don’t want to be seen at all. You want to be left in bed to wrestle with your self-esteem and crippling grief over something that never existed.

You pull out your phone, only dropping it once before sending off your hail Mary, hoping Dave can pick you up.

Where?

The response is almost instant. You send off the name of the bar and do your best to make yourself look presentable before marching back towards your friends. You give Katie a quick hug from the side, yell-whispering into her ear that Dave is picking you up and you’ll text her tomorrow, before you slip away as quickly as you can manage. Bouncing off the back of a chair on your mission to get outside.

You lean against the cool brick wall, eyes closed, taking deep breaths of the crisp fall air as you wait for your ride. You can hear the bass from another club across the street and the laughs and shouts from the gaggle of smokers gathered further up the block. You feel syrupy and wrung out, but you aren’t going to be sick. You just need to get home.

“You alright?” A smooth voice cuts into your thoughts. You jerk your head more dramatically than you intended, taking in Tommy’s concerned brown eyes with a sigh. Of course.

“Just waiting for my ride,” you do your best to act sober and emotionally stable. Whatever that looks like.

“I’ll wait with you,” he decides.

Your shoulders drop. You must not be very convincing. “Really, I’m fine,” you add, leaning your head against the wall.

“Right,” he steps back but doesn’t leave. He lights a cigarette and allows you the silence as he smokes alongside you. It’s kind, you suppose, not wanting to leave you alone on the street. But he’s the last person you want to be next to right now. Or maybe second to last, you realize when he laughs and steps forward with a wave, drawing your attention to a scene that stops your heart.

A familiar truck pulls up to the curb in front of you, and you take back your earlier assessment. You feel like you are gonna be sick. Your stomach lurches, and you feel the panic rising in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy shouts, “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, like maybe if you keep them closed, you’ll blend in with the wall.

“Just giving a friend a ride,” Joel responds gruffly from inside his truck. Your plan immediately fails. His voice compels you to look at him.

Some unspoken fucking sibling communication happens between the two of them, and then Joel is staring at you. Unreadable. “You getting in?” he hollers at you.

“No,” you mumble barely audible. You clear your throat, feeling hoarse, and try again. “I’m waiting for my ride.”

“I think it’s here, darlin’,” Tommy says as he steps towards you to usher you towards Joel’s truck. You shrug him off, pulling out your phone to check your messages. To see how long it’s been since you told Dave your location.

You didn’t.

You texted Joel.

You’re mortified. No, no, no. This cannot be real. You didn’t text this hot nightmare. There’s no way he would’ve responded.

He did.

Joel: Where?

You’re still shaking your head and trying to wrap your head around the situation. You’re the architect of your own worst nightmare now. A disaster asking to be rescued by the guy who knows exactly how to twist the knife in your gut. You’re spiraling inwards.

Completely unaware of the exchange between Joel and Tommy. Or how gone, you look to them.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters at Tommy as he comes round to help you into the truck. “What’d she have?”

“Hey,” Tommy defends, “I just came outside, and she said she was waitin’ on her ride. I don’t know shit.”

“Figures,” he’s still grumbling as he shuts the door. You’re in shock as you sit in the cab of Joel’s truck. The only other time you were inside was the night you met.

“Shit,” you curse at yourself as Joel gets in and pulls away from the curb.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything. Just drives in silence. Through every light, all the way across town.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I didn’t mean to text you.” It hangs in the thick silence. You focus so hard on keeping your breathing steady, tamping down the sobs fighting to break through, that you barely register the tears that stream down your face.

You hear him sigh before his hand rests on your thigh, “What happened?” he croaks like it hurts to speak.

You’re reeling at that. Hearing him sigh like you’re a hindrance, like your emotions are a burden like it pains him to ask. You don’t have the clarity of mind to filter yourself.

“Nothing,” you snap, glaring at his hand. “Don’t pretend like you care,” you dig, refusing to look at him, hot tears still rolling down your cheek. He doesn’t ask again. But he doesn’t pull his hand back, and you don’t move it until he’s shifting into park.

Against your better judgment, you turn to face him. Your gut twists at the sight of him so close to you. After you’ve been left alone with your thoughts for so long. You can’t read his stoic face or his beautiful dark eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying not to linger on how insane you must seem. Asking for a ride, snapping at him, and then thanking him. You cringe at yourself, trying to swipe the tears under your eyes away like that’ll make you seem more put together.

You hop out of the cab and take a second to steady yourself. Joel’s door slams as he rounds the front of the truck to steady you.

“Don’t,” you mutter. He puts an arm around you as if it’s natural, and you still.

“Baby,” he says, low and soothing, “let me help.”

Baby. It stirs the stupid butterflies in your stomach until your brain catches up.

“No,” you shove him away. It’s weak, but he steps back.

“C’mon,” he urges you, “let’s just get you inside.”

“No,” you still don’t move. Afraid you’ll fall apart if you try. You need him to leave before you come apart. If he touches you, you know you’ll beg him to fuck your pain away.

“I can’t do it again.” You muster your courage, but when you look at his face, a soft sob finally breaks through, and your body shudders, gasping for a breath, “Please.”

His face darkens. His arms hang limply at his sides before his fists tighten. The street is quiet in the dark. “You think I’m here to fuck you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” it’s a genuine question, but it rings harsh in the night with your uneven breathing. You fumble, dropping your keys when you finally dig them out of your bag, swearing under your breath. He grabs them before you and offers them to you, dropping them into your hand, avoiding your touch.

You mumble thanks and stalk towards your door. He stays put, watching until you’re inside before he turns to leave.

……

You get a text from Katie the following morning.

Katie: Girl, are you alive?

Katie: You wanna tell me why Dave looked an awful lot like Joel?

You: not really. did Tommy say something?

Katie: No?? I was trying to get a glimpse of your man when I saw you getting into Joel’s truck??

You: I texted the wrong number

Katie: ….

Katie: Uh, unless you’ve got him in your phone as Daddy Joel (real) I don’t think those letters are that close together babe

Katie: WAIT

Katie: When did you get Joel’s number? He barely talks to anyone!

Kate: Don’t answer that, I’m coming over and bribing you with a hangover cure bacon egg n’ cheese and you’re telling me everything

You: and a cold brew?

Katie: Duh

…………..

“Fuck,” Joel grumbles when he hears a knock at his door. He knows exactly what this is. He lets Tommy in without a word and tromps back to his kitchen to get another coffee before his interrogation starts. He sits at the table, and levels the darkest “don’t start with me” glare he can, but his idiot brother has always been immune.

…………….

“What do you mean?” you whine at Katie from your side of the couch. “There’s no use trying to talk to him; he’s emotionally constipated, and he only wants one thing from me.”

“Maybe there’s more to him,” she suggests vaguely.

“You were the one telling me to drop him and move on anyway!” you argue like a child.

“I didn’t know it was him!”

“How does that change anything?” you glare at her. Katie chews at her lip while you devour the last of your breakfast sandwich. It’s cold. You had been so wrapped up in your recollection of the ups and downs of your non-relatioinship with Joel you forgot to finish eating while it was fresh. It feels like a stupid metaphor about how he forgot to take care of yourself when you were drawn into his toxic cycle.

You thought confessing would reduce the weight on your chest. You weren’t prepared for Katie to add to your delusion.

“I don’t think it’s really my place to share his… baggage,” she muses.

“Since when?” you cut her a nasty look.

“I just think,” she pauses, and you ball up the foil from your sandwich and throw it at her, earning you a glare, “It’s complicated.”

“Okay, Avril Lavigne,” you mock. “You’re the worst, and this is not helpful! You’ve gotta give me something. Is he married? Am I the mistress? Is he a felon? A drug dealer?”

“You think I wouldn’t warn you about any of those?”

“I don’t know. I never thought you’d be taking his side,” you say in a serious tone.

“I’m not defending him!” She holds up her hands in surrender. “You deserve better than fuckboy behavior from a grown man.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s just,” he considers her words as your eyes narrow, “it seemed like it meant more than that. You were practically glowing half the summer.”

“And a lifeless zombie the rest of the time?”

“A cute zombie?” she shrugs. “I’m serious, though. Do you think he’d show up to rescue anyone else–no questions asked? That fast?” her words get softer.

“I don’t know,” you mutter, draping yourself miserably along the end of the couch, trying not to think about the times Joel bent you over the armrest. “I don’t know him at all, really.”

“Do you want to?”

Yes! A naive part of you shouts, hopeful and bright, blind to the reality of your situation. Oh, no. Definitely not. You dropkick that idea right to the back of your mind. Ignoring the way it screams until it’s muffled by the dejected, logical thoughts. “I can’t risk it,” you respond weakly.

Katie hears it. The ever-resilient part of you that tries to stay one step ahead cracks and lets the vulnerability out. You refuse to worsen the abandonment wound, but it’s entangled in your heart.

Katie doesn’t bring it up again. She spends the rest of the day with you, ordering takeout and putting on your favorite movies, like you’re going through a breakup. It helps.

…………

Life lulls back into the same routine. Except now, when you wake up, it’s Joel’s face–not his voice–that haunts you. The

Instead of Joel’s voice haunting you when you wake up–it’s his face. The way he looked hurt. The way he dropped your keys into your hand

when you begged him not to come inside. It sinks like a stone in your stomach that you carry all day as you go through the motions. It feels hollow, but you persist. Your friends lighten the dark fog. Dave’s praise soothes the ache, and he fucks you so hard you can forget almost forget.

But Joel lurks in your walls, in your skin, and you swear you see his headlights sweep over your living room, but it’s never his truck. At least not in the two weeks since karaoke night. You’ll never understand the trickery that makes misery slow time, but every day has felt bloated and stretched.

Sick of feeling sick, the following week, when Joel’s face pops up, the second you open your eyes, you curse him. Spite simmers in your bones. If he had something to say, he had all the time in the world to show up and say it. Channeling the malaise into something darker, you let your anger renew your energy.

All I can fuckin’ think about MY ASS.

You’re itching for the distraction by the time you’re getting ready for your date with Dave this evening. You know you’re going to be a menace, and it’ll turn him on, which already has you smirking to yourself. You’re almost ready when you hear a knock at your door. You frown, checking the time. Dave’s usually precisely on time, not early. Close enough, you figure, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading for the door.

You swing it open, ready to see Dave, but your jaw drops when you see Joel. He’s caught off guard by your date night look and hesitates as his eyes sweep over your little black dress. Without a thought you slam the door in his face.

What the fuck?

He knocks again, loudly, as if you weren’t standing on the other side with your mouth gaping like a fish. But the pounding brings you back to reality.

You open the door and start before he even has a chance.

“It’s been three weeks since I last saw you, Miller, and that was an accident! I don’t know how long it was before that, but now you’re gonna show up and ruin another date? I don’t fucking think so. You’ve got five minutes. Spit it out. What are you doing here?”

He blinks dumbly for a moment. Taken aback by your words and still breathless at seeing you all dolled up for your date. You cross your arms, unimpressed so far. That’s somehow worse. The irritated look on your face makes him want to fuck the attitude out of you. He takes a deep breath, trying to refocus before he starts.

“You’re right,” his voice is gentler than you remember–It’s criminal really, ��I shouldn’t have waited.” He pauses and swallows thickly. Is he nervous? That’s new. “I’m not great with words, and I haven’t given you any reason to give me the time of day. I’m here to apologize.”

“Go on then.”

“It wasn’t right of me to run from you–”

“Which time?” you won’t let him get through this easily. Not now. He lets that sink in. The vulnerability makes his eyes shine. You can sense the charge in the air like he might just run right now.

“Every time,” he admits. “Didn’t think you’d let me back in every time, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying. Knew you wanted me too.” You scoff at that. Amused at his approach. You see his shoulders tense before he lets your disapproval roll off of him. “Convinced myself, it was fine, or you’d stop answerin’ the door. Thought it’d be easier–”

“If I did your dirty work for you?” you accuse sharply. “If it was my responsibility to hold you accountable?”

“Thought it’d be easier if you hated me, I guess,” he runs his hand over the back of his neck. You stop seeing red and take him in. He smells fresh, like some over-fragranced body wash, his nearly dry hair brushed back. You hate how you feel the urge to soften just at the sight of him. “Figured you’d move on,” he rumbles.

“Didn’t seem like you wanted me to move on when you crashed my date.”

“It wasn’t my plan,” he mutters. Right. You raise your eyebrows. “You–you just drive me fuckin’ crazy. I don’t know why. But I can’t get you outta my fuckin’ head.”

That makes you smile. His confession willfully given on your front doorstep. In the daylight, without your body seducing his. You drive him crazy.

Dave’s car pulls up behind Joel’s truck. “Time’s up,” you say, “as much as I really enjoy this 90s romcom-style confession, and I really do, I’ve got a date, and I don’t like to keep my dates waiting.”

“Right,” Joel takes you in like he might never see you again, “he something serious?” he nods towards Dave’s car.

“Why, you planning to ask me out?” you’re not afraid to be direct anymore. Nothing to lose.

“Thought I’d just start with the apology.”

“Good.”

“You accept?”

You laugh loudly, full-chested. It’s a release, but it ends mockingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than this to show you really mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, turning to leave. A wicked idea flashes through your mind as you watch him turn and look past him towards Dave, who is watching you intently.

“Wait,” you call out, and Joel spins immediately. “I’ll consider your apology tonight on one condition.” He waits to hear more, and your grin sends a shiver down his spine. He’s in for something, and if it’s anything close to what he deserves, it’s gonna hurt.

…………

You slide into your favorite corner booth, in between Dave and Joel. You admire them both in the dim light. You haven’t been able to keep the nefarious smirk off your face since you proposed your idea. Dave was an easy sell, just as you knew he would be, with minimal questions and clear on the role you wanted him to play. You weren’t surprised that Joel agreed, but you’re skeptical that he’ll be able to keep his cool.

“You’re coming with us,” you told him like it was a command, “you’re gonna watch, and you’re gonna prove to me that you can behave.”

He seems to keep it together through your date. He’s quiet, only accepting a drink when you tell him not to be weird. You know the jealousy is screaming beneath the surface. He does his best to rein it in, but when Dave taunts him with sly comments or touches you so freely, you catch his jaw tensing and his hands balling into tight fists, but he doesn’t say anything.

Dave exudes confidence and control. He relishes in the power dynamic and more so, in how you’re so turned on by having an audience. Dave’s eyes are sharp, catching all of Joel’s discomfort when you giggle when you share a story when he touches you, but worst of all, when you touch Dave. “Dirty girl,” Dave murmurs close to your ear, “you want to give your guest a show before we take him home?”

Your eyes are bright and shining when you smile at him. You give Joel a once over. He doesn’t look like he will flip the table or smash his fist through it. He glowers at Dave but softens for you, swallowing down the humiliation and washing it down with another drink.

“Yeah,” you turn back to Dave, “he can take it. What do you have in mind?”

“I think I dropped something under the table,” Dave’s low voice drips down your spine, and excitement buzzes in your core, “You think you can help me out?” You smile wide as the Cheshire cat before sinking beneath the table. It’s cramped and dark, but you’ve never been more grateful to Dave for reserving his favorite secluded corner spot.

You wiggle a bit brushing against Joel as you situate yourself between Dave’s legs. The table muffles more of the sound, blending their voices into the sound of the music. You can tell Dave is trying to continue a casual conversation with Joel, and you can tell Joel doesn’t respond with many words. You find it easy enough to tune them out altogether as you focus on your mission, opening Dave’s belt and working quickly to tug at his pants until you can free his thick cock.

Before you can get your mouth on it, Dave cups your jaw and grabs your attention, “Good girl,” he husks, matching your hungry gaze. “This what you want?” he asks as he grips the base of his cock and angles it towards you. You nod, wetting your lips in anticipation. “Do you want him to watch?” he asks, tilting his head towards Joel.

You smile again, “Yes.”

“Come closer,” he directs Joel, “she wants you to watch.” Joel shuffles over, scooting down the curved bench until he can see your face looking up at him.

“Shit, baby,” Joel hisses, shifting to adjust himself. You see the mix of emotions flickering across his face. You can’t help yourself from holding eye contact with Joel as you slide your tongue down Dave’s length. You keep your eyes on him as you begin to bob your head, taking his cock deeper into your mouth.

Having their eyes on you, has you squirming. The attention and the dynamics between the three of you has your heart in your cunt. The blazing jealousy in Joel’s eyes eggs you on, working sloppily to please Dave. You moan below them.

“Look at her,” Dave speaks calmly to Joel, only a hint of strain in his voice as he maintains his composure. “You think another woman could enjoy your cock this much? You think you could find a mouth better than this?”

“No,” Joel grits through clenched teeth.

“You think you deserve her?” Dave asks like it’s as meaningless as asking about the weather.

“No,” he grits again, his eyes shut tightly, waiting for something to pass, before he can continue watching you. You see the torment taking hold, lighting a fire within you that spurs you on. You break the eye contact to take Dave’s cock even deeper. He groans approvingly above you.

“That’s it,” Dave encourages you with his hand gently wrapping around the back of your head, “just like that, fuck.” He keeps watching you, but his next words are for Joel. “Tell her,” he says, drunk with pride and lust, “tell her what a good girl she is. Think she more than deserves to hear it.” You know your cunt is dripping between your legs at the intensity of your lewd behavior and the control Dave wields over the both of you so effortlessly.

You shift to watch Joel. He tempers the storm of his frustration and arousal to make sure it sounds honest. So you know he means it.

“That’s good, baby,” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat before continuing, “Such a good girl.” Your eyes nearly roll back. You didn’t think it could hit any harder than when Dave praises you, but hearing the words from Joel sends you to another plane. You melt before your determination is renewed, and you’re on a mission to make Dave come. He knows what you want, and his hips tilt, rocking into you as you swallow around him eagerly until he’s groaning again and pulsing against your tongue as he comes.

The men shift, and the three of you adjust and fix yourselves, respectively, as you return to your seat between them. You’re pleased with yourself but overtaken with the need throbbing in your cunt. You don’t miss Joel’s attempts to adjust himself and squash his own aching desire. It makes your lips curl with a hungry smile.

Dave pulls you towards him. You’re buzzing so tensely with anticipation that just his grip around your waist brings a whiny moan out of you. He chuckles darkly at your wrecked response. “So worked up just from that, aren’t you?” Dave teases. You hum in agreement, letting your senses be overwhelmed by the scent of both men and their warm bodies on either side of you. “Already soaked and ready to be filled with a cock, hm?”

“Yes,” you agree, closing your eyes and smiling dreamily.

“Tell me,” Dave murmurs with a dangerous edge.

“So wet,” you purr in agreement, but he laughs again. You open your eyes, confused.

“Was asking him,” Dave tilts your chin towards Joel. You thought your idea of having Joel watch would be punishment enough, but you weren’t prepared for how Dave’s filthy mind works a step ahead of yours. You pull Joel’s hand between your legs. “Check for me,” he orders.

Joel obeys. His fingers are quick to find your soaked underwear, and he easily dips them beneath the fabric into the pool of slick at your fluttering entrance. “Fuck,” you both curse at the sensation. It’s overwhelming, and you jerk at the intensity of being touched where your body wants contact the most.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” Joel confirms like it’s painful to say it, “needs it bad.” You think the latter might apply to both of you.

“You think you can make it all the way home, dirty girl?” Dave teases. You nod, but the whiny sound that comes from your throat as Joel removes his hand says otherwise. Dave considers your needs. “He’s only here to watch, hm?” he confirms. You nod mindlessly. “You think he’d make a nice seat for your ride home? Keep that empty hole full for you?”

“Oh, shit,” you feel your face heat at the idea, “yes.”

Joel’s more conflicted than he’s ever felt in his life. He was prepared to fight off his jealousy and tame his anger. He wasn’t prepared to watch you give Dave head in public or for how fucking hard he would get watching. But the most difficult thing to reckon with is the humiliation. More specifically, how every comment from either one of you that further salted his wound made his skin boil but also sent jolts of excitement through his nerves.

“You think you can keep it together?” Dave challenges Joel.

“Yes.”

………………

Joel regrets agreeing before you leave the parking lot, but you couldn’t pay him to go back in time and change his answer. He thought the worst of it was over once you finally settled on top of him, sinking painfully slowly down his cock until your ass was flush with his hips, but you can’t stay still. You tense and contract around him, nearly blinding Joel with the heat of your velvety soft walls choking his shaft. You lean forward, trying to get comfortable, and when the car bounces over a speed bump on the way out of the parking lot, you both groan with pleasure and frustration.

“You feel better?” Dave asks you as he navigates swiftly back to yours.

“So full,” you state, desperately fighting the urge to beg Joel to grab your hips and fuck you. You weren’t exactly exaggerating the last time you had sex with Joel when you said you missed his “big fat cock.” Every bump on the road has you biting back moans, and you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Please,” Joel’s low voice is strained and ragged, “quit moving.”

You should’ve had the foresight to realize this wasn’t a punishment for Joel. This was just going to weaken your resolve. You know the second he gets his hands on you, it’s useless. You’re his through and through. You thought you were still pissed off enough that he couldn’t get to you, that Dave’s presence would keep you on track.

Well, you didn’t really think about it at all. You just felt your knees go weak when, and your cunt do a flip when Dave made the suggestion. You need to make a mental note to show him just how much you appreciate his dirty mind when you get back home.

You can feel Joel’s growl rumbling through his chest and his thighs tensing beneath you. It’s a vicious cycle. Every sound he makes is like a call and response with your body. Your cunt denounces your orders to stay still and pulses rhythmically, trying to take Joel’s cock deeper on it’s own accord. His breath hitches, and you adjust.

“Baby,” he rasps, sounding wrecked, “I can’t–fuck–can’t do this if you’re gonna be a fuckin’ tease. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers digging harshly into your flesh in an attempt to keep you still, but the pressure makes you cry out softly.

“Is your chair complaining?” Dave mocks, and Joel’s cock tenses inside of you.

“I’m about to complain,” you try to snark, but it comes out needy instead.

“What do you need, dirty girl?” He asks sincerely. You know it’s not long to get home, but you can’t think straight with Joel’s cock so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, I…” you wiggle again, causing Joel to grunt behind you, and the noise makes your pussy flex, “I can’t,” you trail off, digging your nails into your palms, trying to steady yourself. You feel pathetic right now, unable to put together a sentence and barely able to keep yourself still.

“Hey,” Dave coos gently, seeing the pained expression on your face. “You decide what you want. Your rules. You want him to touch you?”

“Mmm,” you groan loudly with want, “please, please, please.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, hands searching immediately and yanking you closer as he gropes at your body. The freedom to move gives him power over his urges, more control than either of you expected. His breath is hot against your neck before his voice, gravelly and dark, vibrates just behind your ear, “Missed hearing you beg for me.”

Your head lolls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open. You moan in sync as his hands wrap around your body, slipping under the top and bottom of your dress at the same time. You’re pinned, back against his firm chest, as one hand pinches at your hard nipple and the other taps at your clit. Your body struggles in his strong arms, unable to bow at the overstimulation of his touch. All you can manage is to rut your hips into him.

“You desperate to come on my cock again, baby?” he goads you. Feeling confident now that he’s free to run his filthy mouth again. Feeling drunk on your needy noises and the way you writhe for him. He carries on teasing you in his Joel-specific way with his words and his fingers. It’s maddening, and you feel lit up, skin tingling as you’re at his mercy. You can only see blinding light, like you’re inside of a star, as you get closer and closer.

You’re too incapacitated to realize you’ve made it home, that the car has stopped moving, that Dave has turned to watch you. Joel continues to rasp filth into your ear, but your body spasms in response when Dave begins to encourage you. “That’s right,” Dave coaxes you, “take what you need.”

You do. Falling headfirst into the rush, broken, gasping, moans ringing through the car. The scent of sex swirling in the air. Your tension snaps, flooding with endorphins, and riding through the waves as you’re fully supported by Joel’s arms and body.

“Fuck,” Joel chokes out, biting down into the curve of your neck to stifle himself. Your cunt still weakly tries to milk his cock as your hips twitch and jerk while you ease back down from your orgasm. You can feel the mess you’ve made. Hot and sopping wet, dripping down Joel’s cock and making you slip against his thighs. You’ve never made such a mess before.

Joel shudders and tenses beneath you. Lifting you off of him with a familiar grunt. It’s his come leaking out of you. Your head swivels, “that wasn’t for you.” His cocky attitude from minutes earlier is gone; shame washes over him. His curls are no longer tamed like they were when he showed up at your door; one sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling, as he mouths a barely audible apology.

It’s twisted that it stirs your need to comfort him. Fuck it. You figure the whole evening has been wild enough so far. Plus, he can take some of the emotional whiplash this time. You’re tired of being the one with that look on your face. You can see the taunt dancing on Dave’s tongue; you know he’s ready to cut Joel with vicious words, but he holds them, waiting for your lead.

It’s an unbelievable position to be in. You aren’t used to feeling like you’ve got the upper hand in the power dynamic like this. Not with Joel. Not with two men that radiate dominance like it’s in their DNA. You’d like to savor the moment, but now that you’re not burning a horny fever, you realize how incredibly impractical it is to sit on top of such a large man inside of the car. You’re all gonna end up with neck cramps if you’re in here another minute.

Despite dying to know what Dave’s holding back, you have more mercy than him or Joel. Joel, who currently can’t look you in the eye as he stays uncomfortably rigid beneath you, well, except for his spent cock. The thought makes you snort weakly, amused at your own sense of humor.

You contort in Joel’s lap to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Chin up, Joel,” you lilt. “You can make it up to me. We’re not done yet,” you nod towards Dave who smirks darkly, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.” You open the door and hop out, leaving both men to watch you walk to the door. For the first time since you opened your door tonight, you’re alone long enough to let some nerves start to get to you.

Your dates don’t follow immediately. They take long enough that you start to spin out in your head. Are you insane for this whole idea? Did you really just crawl under a table to Dave in front of Joel? In public? What the fuck are they talking about without you? You’re impatient now, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, letting the cool night air stream into your living room.

Then they’re striding towards you. Hungry eyes glinting. Both are intimidatingly gorgeous in their own ways. Dave exudes a slightly detached, effortless, authoritative swagger. It makes you feel special when he gives you his undivided attention. Joel is raw, slightly untethered like he’s always weary from warring with his own demons, but he still wields lethal power. They stalk towards you swiftly, catching your concern as they usher you towards your bedroom with more coordination than you expected.

The door closes behind you with a soft click, but the tension in the air is heavy, as if someone had slammed it shut. Your room feels smaller with the weight of the situation about to unfold. Dave’s presence behind you makes your pulse quicken; the head of his body and his signature scent surround you. Joel watches, leaning against the door, arms crossed, jaw set, determined restraint weighing on his features. Despite the distance between you, Joel’s presence feels all-consuming. You’re mesmerized by his figure. His arms look even bigger, crossed in front of him, his broad shoulders, his pouty bottom lip, his strong jaw. You feel possessed with the need to …bite him? But, you don’t move.

Dave’s fingers trace lightly down your spine as you continue to unabashedly ogle Joel, who stiffens at the sight of Dave’s hands slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. He’s unreadable, but the something simmering beneath the forced calm is contextually obvious. Joel’s trying to keep his cool; he doesn’t flinch, but he shifts, unable to remain still while he can only watch.

Katie always referred to the chair in your room you designated as laundry purgatory as the cuck chair. It was only a joke, but if it isn’t perfect now. You glide across the room, tossing the worn-once sweatshirts and denim into the laundry hamper for future you to sort, offering the seat to Joel. It’s comical how his presence seems so out of place on the thrifted antique parlor chair.

You giggle softly as you spin back toward Dave, eager to find out what his depraved mind is plotting for the rest of the night. Dave’s voice is a low hum as he welcomes you into his arms, “Let’s make sure Joel gets a good look at what he’s missing out on, hm?” You nod, letting Dave arrange you as he pleases. “Pay attention,” he orders Joel, “I’m doing you a favor.” You can hear the devious glee lurking beneath Dave’s controlled tone. Joel’s dark eyes spark with something fierce as they flick to Dave before landing back on you.

You can feel your pulse beating in your neck—and your cunt—as your chest heaves dramatically as Dave’s hands move over you. His touch is both tender and possessive as he makes a show of removing all of your clothes. It’s exaggerated to eat at Joel, but it works you up just the same. Dave pauses, letting his fingers hover over your nipples, brushing them just enough to make you shiver before kneading your soft tits, making you gasp.

“You see that?” Dave asks over your shoulder, addressing Joel. “She’s so needy already. All worked up again. How are you going to satisfy her if she needs my cock right after you make her come?”

You see Joel stiffen, gripping the arms of your chair like he might crush them. He’s still holding on to some semblance of composure, but it’s unraveling. You didn’t expect the dynamic between them to hit you straight in the pussy, but you’re dizzy, humming with anticipation.

“On the bed, greedy girl,” Dave instructs. You follow without question, crawling onto the mattress, your pulse pounding in your ears. Joel’s eyes are glued to you, devouring every inch of your bare skin. It’s impossible for you to look away from him. His struggle as he works so fucking hard not to show how much he wants you, even though it’s written all over his face, is driving you wild. His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to touch you, to take.

With your head still turned, locked onto the sight of Joel, your mouth parts in a soft gasp as Dave’s broad hands spread your legs wide, exposing your heated skin to the cool air in the room. You break away from your staring contest to catch the searing heat in Dave’s eyes before he lowers, pausing just before his lips brush against your swollen clit. He doesn’t ease the ache yet, lifting his head and turning to Joel with a smirk. “Come closer. You might learn something,” he challenges smugly.

You’d roll your eyes at his arrogance, but then he dives in, tongue sliding against your slick cunt with devastating precision. You can only dig your fingers into your sheets as you arch and moan in response to his expert rhythm. With your eyes squeezed shut and your breath coming in uneven, shallow pants, you relax into the sensation coursing through you.

“Tell him,” Dave hums into your skin, “Tell Joel how good it feels.”

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Joel’s gaze. The sight of him has you at a loss for words. His face is expressionless, but as always, his eyes betray him. Sharp, hungry, and barely containing the storm inside of him. “So… feels, fuck, feels so good.”

Joel’s chest rises and falls heavily. Dave’s taunts don’t hurt Joel’s pride, but watching you fall apart for another man twists his gut harshly. You’re so close he could count the beads of sweat forming on your chest. He can taste you and smell you, and it drives him wild. Like a beast, only held back by his hope to have a chance for more.

Dave chuckles against you, his breath teasing your clit before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard. The pleasure slams through you, and you cry out, your hips jerking against his mouth. Every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can’t think, only feel.

“She’s so responsive,” Dave gloats.

Joel doesn’t acknowledge the comment. His composure is cracking, the frustration bubbling to the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes stay glued to the place where Dave’s mouth moves over you with expert ease.

But Dave isn’t done with either of you yet. He pulls back from between your legs, his fingers trailing over your slick skin as he moves to stand. His eyes are alight with that dangerous gleam that makes your heart race. “Let’s show Joel what a dirty girl you are for me.”

You’re eager to obey. “How do you want me?” Your voice is breathy and ragged already. It only crosses your mind now that you’re completely naked while they’re still fully dressed. You sit up, reaching for Dave’s belt before he’s answered you. He takes off his shirt while you work diligently to release his cock. “Look at her, Joel,” Dave taunts, his voice thick with pride and adoration for you. “She just wants to be fucked right.”

Joel swallows hard. The effort it takes to keep himself in check is wavering. He’s burning with the urge to claim you, to show you the meaning of being fucked right, to make you come so hard you forget Dave’s name. His ears ring, tuning Dave out completely, watching you adjust, lying back on your pillows, welcoming Dave between your legs.

Joel is transfixed. Watching as Dave positions himself between your legs and slides into you with an agonizingly slow thrust. Distantly, he can hear you moaning loudly; he can hear Dave continuing to goad him about how tight you are and how he gives you what you need or whatever else he thinks matters. All Joel can process is the sight of Dave’s cock disappearing inside of you. Over and over and over again.

A deep, nauseating wave of embarrassment sinks heavily into Joel’s stomach. You wanted to punish him? Like this? It’s too absurd to be a joke, to be a sick prank. It can’t be some kind of trap. You aren’t cruel like that. Worse. He’s trapped between his anger and arousal. Forced to watch as Dave takes you apart, piece by piece. Tortured by his own cock throbbing painfully in response to everything about you. He looks at your face and feels dismantled by your gaze. Hazy and sweet, you’re staring at him, wet lips parted as you gasp shallowly while Dave keeps up his pace.

Joel’s composure is slipping, his hands flexing before he gives in, trying to readjust. Hoping to find the slightest relief as he palms himself over his jeans. Your brows wrinkle with pleasure, and a breathy “oh, fuck,” slips out of you. Seeing Joel so turned on just from watching you sends you rolling into a warm, vision-blurring climax.

“I know,” Dave coos in your ear as you catch your breath, “I know.” He’s still murmuring against your neck, but it’s the silent exchange with Joel that makes you smile lazily. You think he figured it out, the power he has over you with just his expressions. That he’s the one that has you breathless. “Tell her,” Dave growls over you.

“Good girl,” Joel utters hoarsely, mouth dry. He sees the glow wash over you at his words, and it clicks. Finally. Whatever it is between you affects you just as much. His punishment isn’t watching someone else please you, wondering if they really can make you feel better than he can. Wondering if they’ll treat you better. If you’re better off without Joel at all. No.

It’s knowing they can’t. Knowing you’ve been just as empty without him as he’s been without you. That it’s been his fault. He’s made it worse. You’re all he can fuckin’ think about, and he’s in your head just the same.

And right now his punishment is to wait this night out. To be vulnerable and reveal the truth. The desperate desire he has for you. He’s pathetic with it, honestly. He’ll sit here all night, show you how hard you make him, tell you how badly he wants you, describe how perfect you are, anything. It starts to pour out of him as his jealousy and anger recede. “So good, baby, you look beautiful, like a dream,” Joel’s voice is filled with earnest wonder. You beam, your eyelids heavy with lust as Joel continues. “I want you so bad it hurts. You’ve got me losing my fuckin’ mind.”

“That’s a start,” Dave commends Joel before he shifts, pulling out and flipping you onto your hands and knees. You can hear Joel cursing under his breath as Dave kneads the plush curves of your ass, spreading you wide and showing off your glossy cunt. “You see that? Perfect, right?” He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond, focused on lining himself up and sliding back inside of you as deep as he can.

Dave groans along with you as he lights up every nerve within you, and your pussy contracts coaxing him deeper. He pauses when his hips meet your ass, filling you to the hilt before he wraps an arm around you to pull your back flush against his chest. “Look at him,” Dave tilts your head to be sure you can take in Joel’s wrecked expression. “You think he deserves to touch himself while I’m fucking you?” Dave asks, shifting his attention back to you, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, resolute. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I want to watch, so he will.” Dave’s grin widens, reveling in your direct nature. He lowers you, and you adjust, resting your cheek on your pillow so you can watch. “Please, Joel, let me see.” Your begging has the exact effect you wanted on Joel when you hear the throaty groan he makes.

You squirm involuntarily when you finally get a clear view of Joel’s cock, clenching tightly around Dave’s cock. He hums behind you, muttering about how you’re unreal, and he hopes Joel can handle a woman like you as he slowly drags himself almost completely out of you before snapping his hips brutally, slamming back into you.

You’re bewitched. The head of Joel’s cock glistens, weeping with precome, enticing, and menacing as his fist strokes slowly along his shaft. You’re salivating at the debauched scene and drenching Dave’s cock as he continues to slowly work you back up. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mingling with your gasps and moans.

“You see that?” Dave asks you, “Look how desperate he is. You think he wants to come?”

“Yes,” you reply, “fuck, yes.”

“Ladies first, though, hm?” Dave muses as he picks up his pace, pushing you closer, finding the perfect angle that makes your mind go blank. The pressure builds inside you, and the louder you get, the more Joel starts to fall apart. Your flip between Joel’s eyes and his fist pumping his cock ravenously. For you. All for you.

That sends you over the edge, wringing all the pleasure out of you, taking Dave with you as he stills against you, cock pulsing hotly inside of you, as your limbs feel weak and you sink into the mattress. You watch as Joel spills over his knuckles, cursing and grunting as he comes, and it makes you giddy.

Dave kisses your shoulder tenderly, praising you quietly, just for you, before he gets up and, like clockwork, heads to the bathroom to clean up and get you a warm washcloth. You continue to grin loosely, giggling softly, still amused by how out of place Joel looks. You see the fear flit across his face, and a cold, nasty feeling rips through you as you brace for the worst. Cruel words spring up, ready to protect you, but you hold your tongue. You won’t guilt him into staying. You can’t choose for him.

It’s a painfully long minute. He doesn’t look at you. You try not to shut down. And then Dave is back, ever the gentleman, with warm washcloths for both of you. He checks in with you softly, “What do you need?”

The words stick in your throat. You sit up and force yourself to get them out. It’s barely above a whisper. “I need to talk to Joel.” He looks at you finally, as if you whispering his name snapped him out of a trance. Dave nods.

“You want me to stay?” Dave asks. You blink at him curiously. Neither of you do sleepovers. You don’t need a bodyguard. You must have it stamped across your forehead like a holiday package: fragile.

“No.”

He takes your word for it, redressing and heading out swiftly. Leaving you alone with Joel.

Unreadable Joel. With no clues in his eyes or his body language. His head follows you, watching as you cross the room to grab a shirt. You honestly wonder if he could disappear in the half a second your vision is obscured while you pull it over your head, but he’s still there. So, you gather your courage and face him head-on.

“Can we talk?”

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@cuteanimalmama

@perpetuallymanic

@whirlwindrider29

@wintersquirrel

@callmecath1

@msmorningstaarr

@bitchesuntitled

@julkaamazing

@loveisacowboyyy

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

Pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed

Also PLEASE let me know what you think <3

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x you #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic

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jomamaofficial · 7 months ago

Text

The Chronicles of A Hero's Daughter pt.2 (Father!All Might and Daughter!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: SO, THIS WAS ASKED IN MY ASK BOX. BUT I STUPIDLY REPLIED TO IT SO I DON'T KNOW WHICH ANON ASKED FOR IT SO I'M JUST GOING TO TAG EVERYONE WHO LIEKD THAT POST HERE AND HOPE IT'S THE BRILLIANT ANON WHO WANTED ME TO WRITE A PART 2. @dark-magic-phoenix @crystal-freak24 @observaureium @justtovi3w62. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Graphic descriptions of blood (coughing blood), graphic imagery of crushing a heart (doesn't happen, just explained) CW: difficult father-daughter dynamics. Taglist: @thatcatladywrites @smikys-stuff @kimberlyfletcher @dawnwriterimagines Masterlist Word Count: 1951. Summary: One argument led to another– the foundation of your family was built upon suffering and sacrifice. Secrets were unveiled, revealing the true intentions of your father, the lingering wounds of the past stinging harder than any cut has ever. With tension reaching a breaking point, what happens when you confront your father, searching for the harsh truth, even if it leads to a devastating decision– you will never be the same again. He will never be the same again.

——————————————————————————————————

Toshinori’s chest rose and fell.

“You don’t mean that…”

A pang struck through your heart as your father’s laboured breaths increased, tailing off in steady wheezes that only grew louder.

“Dad…” you whispered, closing your eyes. “Dad, I didn’t m-”

Your voice cracked, succumbing to the hot tears which burned against your cheeks. Emotions flooded your head, as though they had been waiting to escape from the dam of truth that you had to silence to protect the peace in your family. The pressure had built up and that dam had finally broken in the most irreparable way possible.

Shame hammered your mind, delivering blunt throbs as you watched your dad clutching his frail chest in agony.

Guilt drilled poison into your veins as your father struggled to stand up– his sickly body unable to bear this pressure. His airways had been restricted, thus his once strong and proud chest had nothing to show but a vacant cavity, struggling to hold itself up.

This living room had always been small– enough space just for the two of you. Dad and his little hero. It had always been you two, but today, this room was longer and narrower, as though mocking your sanity which had become a battlefield.

Would you protect your father and carry on living in this dollhouse family, of which the foundations were built off of your suffering.

Or would you protect yourself and destroy your relationship with the only family that you ever had.

The struggle had refused to forsake– silence had become your greatest enemy. It had left you alone with your screaming thoughts of doubt that deafened your conviction, leaving you straggled, naked, and vulnerable in the vast depths of your fears because what if.

What if Midoriya truly was better than you?

What if you truly were not worth it?

What if you had lost your rights to call yourself his daughter.

Forever.

You had lost everything to the ravenous beast which ruined everything you touched, and it wanted more. It wanted more, so it began making more noise, howling over the whispers of the wind, it howled over the ticking of the clock. It howled until nothing could be heard.

Silence.

It had become silent.

As though you were the only person in the room.

A sudden thud drew your attention to the floor.

Toshinori collapsed on the ground, and his eyes had gone blank, jaw slack. His ribs stuck out from under his skin, showing through his thin white t-shirt as his brassy cough filled his mouth with blood.

He urgently covered his mouth with his hands, forcing it shut but to no avail. It had already slipped past his hold, travelling down his neck, staining his shirt. A constant offender.

Your father began developing bloody coughs over three years ago. Yet every time you saw his chest heave and bleed, surges of nausea would creep up your veins, forcing you to leave.

“Dad!”

This was too much blood. It wasn’t meant to be like this… The doctor said a few drops or so, maybe a teaspoon, but that was ‘highly unlikely’. You watched as his white shirt became saturated, dizziness threatening to blur your vision.

But you could not see him like this. You didn’t think twice before rushing to help him– but you were stopped.

Toshinori raised his shaking hand immediately. You were halted, frozen in disbelief.

He put his hand back on the floor, taking a few breaths before pushing himself, warranting another step forward from you, another cry, but he just stopped you again. You could only watch as your father relied on his bony wrists to push himself up.

You could hear his shallow gasps for air, and his repressed coughs– and all you could do was watch your father’s face contort in fatigue and ache. Toshinori had finally gotten up, but that look had not left his face as he pushed past you. You watched the limp in his leg as he hobbled towards the couch, slowly lowering himself onto the cushioned couch. His head slumped onto the head rest, limbs unfurling in exhaustion.

You were suspended in your head, unable to move past the questions which rung bright sirens.

You shouldn’t have raised your voice at your own father– the doctor had told you. He’s injured, he’s getting older. He can’t process such shocks like this anymore.

What was wrong with you?

But it couldn’t have been just your fault… right? But then he pushed you– maybe he didn’t just notice– but what if he did it on pur-

“Y/N”, your father had called for your name, but his eyes did not meet yours.

Instead, they looked past you.

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was five years old.

A decade after the first quirk was discovered, many adoption agencies in Musutafu began sorting children based off of a ‘ranking system’.

Official documents stated that this case was first brought up in the Supreme Court due to an incident that had occurred in an orphanage near Musutafu, 26 years ago. It was a heartbreaking case of manslaughter that had taken place when six year old Chihiro Onodera– Quirk: Lava, accidentally murdered eight year old Honoka Sugo– Quirk: Bubbles, during lunch time as they were play-fighting.

It did not take much convincing as this case had reached international news, thus the court immediately passed a bill on the separation of quirks preliminary based off of their strength and danger levels, which were to be evaluated on a scale of 1 to 5.

Nevertheless, this bill had struck a controversial match, becoming the largest contemporary topic that was disputed over in the past years.

Demonstrations, protests and violent public outrage reached its peak when leaked intel revealed that a lot of children began to go missing from Adoption Agencies under the radar– they no longer had papers, as if their identities had been erased off of the face of this Earth.

Nanami Tomoda, Sae Ojima, Makoto Kanezaki– these were some of the household names that had garnered petrifying national and international headlines:

Heartbreaking Tragedy Strikes Japan: Devastating Attack Leaves Communities Reeling

Japan in Shock: Deadly Assault Rocks Nation's Sense of Security

Aftermath of Brutal Assault Leaves Nation Grieving Chaos and Carnage

Not much was known about these young adults.

Apart from two things.

First.

They were not independent contractors. All of them could be traced back to some of the very few established, powerful, underground organisations.

And second.

They were all orphans, rated 5, who had been declared missing for ten or more years.

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was rated 5.

Toshinori Y/N lost her quirk at age ten.

You are rated 0.

Zero.

Toshinori took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I have raised you since you were five years old.” He still did not meet your eyes. “I raised you in hopes that you would become a strong, and powerful young lady.”

He drew a breath in– it was laced in disappointment.

“But why does it feel, as though it has had no influence on you?”

Toshinori shifted both of his arms onto the couch rests, sitting tall.

“One does not become a hero by winning every fight. Not everything is about a hero’s physical strength. A hero is made when they understand that retaliation only makes them the real villain.”

Your father’s voice had deepened, and so did the dreadful pit in your stomach that sunk your resolve.

“A true hero understands that strength lies in the ability to rise above the pain. Because those who focus on what has been lost”, he continued, lips twitching, as a faint, uncontrollable tremor laced his words in indisputable venomous contempt, “are either insane, or desperate for attention they know they will never get.”

Small muscles in your face began to twitch despite the heaviness that had been pulsed through your body, holding it in place, as you just stood there. Your eyes, once red and exposed, had no inhabitant, no focus.

A ghost town.

“A true hero is grateful. And recognises every bit of effort someone else put in order to get them to where they are now.”

His gaunt eyes found yours, casting an unfamiliar chill in your body. They were sunken in, casting his gaze in dark shadows– an abyss impenetrable by light.

“You got your quirk stolen, Y/N. But you cannot get that back anymore. But it’s been years, I expect at least some gratitude considering I did you a favour by adopting you.”

He had left a clot that blocked your heart.

“Because no one else would have wanted you.”

It is always the one closest to you that hurts you the most.

The man you called your father had waited until the last second to take the satisfaction of crushing your heart, flesh against flesh.

Humans evolved to gain resistance and immunity against everything that threatens their survival.

Therefore, living with this man only meant that you had to gain immunity against pain and humiliation, because that was the only thing that could guarantee your survival.

So when you shook off the heaviness in your lid and focused onto your father’s face, you could only lift the corners of your lip.

“If you didn’t want me. Someone else would have adopted me instead. Like you did. No papers, no nothing– I’d slip under the radar, at least I’d still have my quirk, and end up on those headlines.”

“How dare you?” he uttered, face contorted in malice.

“I was five. That’s why you adopted me. Don’t deny it”

Toshinori stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His shoulders, broad and hubris, had become small and meek. You watched him contemplate: his eyes, vindictive and daring, were cast down, hiding amongst the Tatami flooring.

“My child…” he began, his voice softer. “After your quirk had been stolen, I could not risk making you the target again. That’s the reason I don’t come to your events. It’s because you’ll become the target everyone goes for because they know you’re my daughter”.

“They’ll know?” your lips had pressed into a thin line. “Like how Midoriya knew I was your daughter? Like how the media knows?”

In the stifling air, your dry laughter bounced off of the discomfort.

“Don’t act like you aren’t ashamed of me.”

Your face had settled into a stone.

“It’s not about me being a target. It’s about protecting your image.”

“My daughter-”

“You have lost the right to call me your daughter. If I was such a disappointment after my quirk was ripped away from me, why did you keep me? You could have sent me back. Why did you keep me, dad, why did you keep me!”

Those closest to you, leave irreparable wounds.

But there was a reason they were close to you. A reason that subsided in love, care, and hope.

Your crushed heart was surviving on its last breath, waiting to hear something that could revive it.

Toshinori lifted his head again, his eyes flickering behind you.

It locked onto an object that somehow gained more attention than you ever had in your entire life. You risked a look over your shoulder, only to see the picture of your father and Midoriya, smiling–almost mockingly– back at you.

You knew what the answer was going to be.

“I’m beginning to question the same thing.”

A flat-line.

“Well if that’s how you really feel, I have no obligation to stay here anymore.”

You drew your breath in, words suspended at the tip of your tongue.

“I wish you and your student the best of luck, All Might.”

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crazykuroneko · 3 months ago

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Claudia's Celebration of Life: Spark in the Dark

As the title suggests, this event is to celebrate the wonderful Claudia; her personality, her aspirations, her journey. The heart for the past two seasons of AMC Interview with The Vampire. This is to take the narrative back to her, proving she's not just a shingle roof for us.

The event will be held for 30 days (from Aug 11th to Sept 9th) with 15 themes. Anyone can join, and you can post whatever you like, from gifsets, meta analysis, fic recs, fanvids, web weaving, fanarts, fanvids, even poems. You can post them on Tumblr, or Tiktok, or AO3 etc. The rule is just one: make sure to tag "#Claudia's Spark in the Dark" and her character tags #Claudia and #AMC Claudia. Let's flood her tags with posts about her again! (plus, please give TW or CW when it's appropriate)

Important point: This event is AMC Claudia & Madeleine focused only. Please try to minimize inclusion of other characters or iterations except when it's on the theme.

Themes and dates are under the cut!

(The order of themes are generated randomly. Feel free to interpret each theme. For the themes with 'OR', you can choose which one you want)

1. Aug 11th & 12th: Hobbies

2. Aug 13th & 14th: Alternate Universe

3. Aug 15th & 16th: Quotes (From TVC books, other cast, Anne Rice about Claudia OR web weaving with other media)

4. Aug 17th & 18th: Family (Her relationship with Louis and/or Lestat OR with the concept of family itself)

5. Aug 19th & 20th: Claudia's Voice and Lack There Of (e.g. Claudia's diaries as her outlet and how they're used by others)

6. Aug 21th & 22nd: As A Caged Bird OR In Solitude (e.g. the limitations Claudia faces as a seemingly 14-year old Black girl OR bird motif)

7. Aug 23rd & 24th: Happiness (Anything as long as Claudia is happy. I just want to see her happy)

8. Aug 25th & 26th: Favorite lines or scenes

9. Aug 27th & 28th: Womanhood OR Childhood (e.g. Claudia's relationship with womanhood OR the still childlike or innocent part of her)

10. Aug 29th & 30th: The Actress(es) (Bailey Bass and/or Delainey Hayles with or without Roxane Duran)

11. Aug 31th & Sept 1th: Finding The X (Claudia's quest in searching for love)

12. Sept 2nd & 3rd: Enduring (e.g. Claudia relentless determination to "make the best out of it" with her vampirism or how the abuse she suffers and witnesses shapes herself and her views)

13. Sept 4th & 5th: Fashion or Costumes

14. Sept 6th & 7th: FREE THEME!

15. Sept 8th & 9th: Claudia & Madeleine

Special thanks to my mutual (you know who you are) who has helped me with the themes.

Update! I also made a submission page available during the event, if that's your preferred way to post.

Feel free to ask by replying under this post or ask me on my account or on my Twitter @itskuronekos

Let's go!

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #claudia #claudia Éparvier #claudia de pointe du lac #claudia de lioncourt #amc claudia #claudia's spark in the dark #vampterview

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cherriesxinthespring · 8 months ago

Text

WASTELAND, BABY!– ellie williams x reader

hi! I'm writing a new series that happens after the events of TLOU II. it's an enemies to lovers. A story about ellie eventually finding happiness and love again. She finds her light; and so do you.

Before you read the summary– please read this. Free Palestine. Do not consume tlou fanfics without educating yourself about its zionist themes.

this story is only posted on ao3. read it here.

*SUMMARY: You had decided to give life one last try. That was it. After the events in The Last of Us Part II, Ellie decides that the only way to find peace is to turn herself in to the fireflies. She finds a lead; they tell her to find you, a young woman who wanders around with no purpose. When she eventually does, you refuse to tell her where the fireflies are; if she finds them, everything that you did in your past would've been for nothing.

You embark on a journey together, walking through rain, snow and through the darkest places this cruel world has to offer. What neither of you expect, broken and traumatized, is to find the light again in each other.

"For the world is Hell, and people are on the one hand the tormented souls and on other the devils in it." (Schopenhauer, On the suffering of the world)

LINKS: read it here. playlist.

C.W/GENERAL TAGS: enemies to lovers, AFAB reader, eventual smut, gun violence, ellie kinda kidnaps you?, suicidal ideation (both ellie and reader), r! is wounded, PTSD and trauma, triggering flashbacks. canon violence in the game, depression. overall heavy themes, but happy ending i promise!

CHAPTER 1: One last try. You encounter Ellie. She follows the trail of blood you were leaving. You refuse to give her the information she wants. So, she drags you through the entire state of Montana. "You’re bold for someone unarmed and bruised, with a gun pointed to their head"

CHAPTER 2: Courage, dear heart. A small flame inside you ignites. you finally have a purpose; to mislead her, and to escape from her. You come up with a plan, and that involves earning her trust. just enough until she becomes sloppy. But you can't let her see your skills; she might see you as a threat. That plan quickly goes to waste when you encounter a large group of clickers.

“I could kill you right now,” she said, holding your own knife against your throat. Her knuckles were white from how much force she was using. Her features were almost unrecognisable. “Then you’d break your promise,” you said. “Promises mean nothing in this world.”

CHAPTER 3: No one left to sing to The rain doesn't stop, so you and this strange girl are forced to stay inside the cave. You're feverish, disoriented. After a conversation in which she mentions the fireflies, you decide to go through her journal to find answers. And you do.

"Are you a firefly?" she asked, like she had just read your mind, or you were thinking out loud. “not a firefly,” you said. you held back a laugh, but she saw the flash of a smirk. You, the reason why they were gone after Salt Lake City, a firefly. “Definitely not.” you paused. “are you?” you asked. “No.”

CHAPTER 4– Your blinding light (flashback chapter)

Summer 2033, Boston QZ You waited for Hannah to come to you. Life in the QZ was simple for you; being confined in between four walls, listening to your mom's Beatles cassettes, and sneaking out past curfew. That is, until your mom slowly starts abandoning you. "Maybe Hannah was the only one you had, after all"

CHAPTER 5– This darkness i'm condemned to

Ellie and you finally reach the nearest town. And your plan is successful; you finally lead her to danger. What you failed to account for is that this danger can harm you, too.

“took them out right?" you said, trying to test the waters. Trying to sound lighthearted, but failing completely at it. "Damn right you did," she said.

CHAPTER 6– The injury of finally knowing

taglist: since i impulsively deleted my old account, i'm tagging my old taglist. it's still me! the bitch that wrote the abby greys anatomy AU! you can still join my taglist here

@kissesskittens @zahraaziza @uraesthete @elsvrse @lonelyfooryouonly @ximtiredx @ellabsprincess @spaceshipellie @machetegirl109 @sc0ttstre3ted @taylarxse @carmellie @mayfieldsz @brooklynvwilliams @rinarchy @elliesgffr @wannabwanted @ellabsweet @sapphic-and-sappy @imyour-favouritegirl @andersonsgirl @heyabimina @novadanversss @mulan-but-gay @lez-zuha @abbys-sweat-wife @maribelo-o @peppesgirl

if your name is crossed out, it means I can't tag you– please check your settings and follow these steps!

dividers by @saradika-graphics.

#ellie williams #the last of us #tlou ellie #tlou fanfiction #tlou part 2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #the last of us part ii #enemies to lovers #canon universe #wasteland baby

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h0neysp1ce · 2 months ago

Note

Hii

Sorry if this is weird but please can I request some headcanons with Kaveh, Alhaitham and Diluc (Also if you don't write Diluc, Tighnari is good instead) where the Reader has extremely painful period cramps, like to the point where they need to vomit and can't move 🙏

Not at all! here you go 💚🫶

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ Summary: ↑ How does he take care of his s/o when they have very bad cramps?

Characters: Kaveh, Alhaitham, Diluc, Tighnari Tags: Established Relationship (all Separate) Fluff?? Constellation: Head canons Warning(s): Mentions of Period symptoms, nothing graphic reader can be read as gender neutral or Female (Had no clue which one to put so I put both) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

A/N: I tried my best, apologies if Diluc's and Tighnari's Parts are shorter, and hopefully I went into enough detail as you asked , also I hope I titled it in the most un akward way possible, This was my first time writing something like this so I hope its not to bad ^^"

sorta Proof read (will edit later)

Word Count: 1243

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Kαʋҽԋ 🎨

This man is worried about you the moment you start not feeling great.

There's no need to feel embarrassed or ashamed; he understands that this is something you go through.

It’s nothing new, really. You've been open with him about your cramps being bad, and he understands that.

The first time this happened, it freaked him out because he thought something was wrong with you until you told him what it was, and he calmed down.

Kaveh: "Alright, I'm back with the heating pad and snacks."

You: "Kaveh, aren’t you supposed to be out working with a client today?"

Kaveh: "Oh no, I canceled all my work for today. I’m not leaving you alone and unattended."

You: "KAVEH!!? No, don’t worry about me. You should worry about your work. I know it's stressful and—"

Kaveh: "No, you're more important right now. Please, let me take care of you."

If you end up getting sick, like feeling like you’re about to vomit at any moment, he’ll be there with you, holding your hair back if you're actively getting sick, rubbing circles into your back, and staying with you in the bathroom until you feel better and can get back to bed.

Knowing that you can’t move much in this state, he'll take it upon himself to get you things. Want food? He’ll make you some. Want cuddles? He’ll gladly cuddle you.

He’ll have medicine ready for you along with a glass of water and a heating pad.

This man pampers you 100%.

It pains him to see you hurting and not feeling your best. You won’t see it, but he tends to have a frown on his face when you're hurting. He’s doing everything he can, but he can’t take your pain away completely, and it makes him sad.

He’d take away the pain and discomfort from you if he could.

Most of the time is spent cuddling. It doesn’t matter to him; whatever makes you most comfortable and relieves at least some of your pain is what matters to him.

He’ll kiss your face all over, along with some hand kisses, giving positive affirmations that you’re going to get through it, that it’s going to be okay, that you’re very strong, and that it’s only temporary.

His voice goes soft when talking to you, running a hand gently through your hair. He’ll be looking at you often, always asking if you're alright or if you need anything.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Aʅԋαιƚԋαɱ 📚

He’s read plenty of books to know what you’re going through and the best treatments for it.

He knows what it is without even having to ask you, as you’re wrapped around the toilet suffering.

He’ll sit with you and wait until you feel slightly well enough to get back to resting.

He will be honest with you and say that he doesn’t mind or care; there’s no shame or embarrassment. It’s a normal thing you go through.

If you let him, he’ll use his hands to place them on your abdomen. He has warm hands, and he’ll keep them there if it helps relieve the pain and discomfort, even just a little bit.

He’ll pull off his cape and put it on you if that helps comfort you in some way.

If you’re lying down, he’ll make sure to pull you closer. Usually, he doesn’t like being so close, but he’s doing this for you because he cares.

You: "Alhaitham, am I burdening you?"

Alhaitham: "I've told you multiple times already that you’re not a burden. You just need help and assistance right now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Now go back to sleep." (says this while reading a book)

He’ll carry you or pick you up and take you places since moving by yourself is a no-go.

He’ll be reading a book while you lay with him. In reality, he’s keeping an eye on you, not reading a page of that book, just pretending.

This man would take the pain away from you in a heartbeat if he could.

He’ll be with you the entire time through this tough period.

He’ll make sure you take your medicine every few hours as directed.

In a modern AU, he’d likely turn on a movie or something for you, and you two would stay in bed mostly. He’ll also get you anything you need, don’t worry.

He’s still able to do his job remotely from home as the Akademiya's Grand Scribe. What, did you think this man was going to work while you weren’t feeling your best? Nope! He’s going to take care of you because that’s what partners do.

Even if he shows little affection normally, he’ll make sure to give you some during this time.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Dι��υƈ 🍷

He’s more than aware when he wakes up and finds you not up, as you’re usually up before him.

He’ll ask you, and when you confirm his suspicions, he’ll grab some things (food, whatever you want if you just ask him).

He’ll also make a quick trip to the Tavern and have someone take over for him for a couple of days since he’s going to focus on you right now.

If you allow him, he’ll heat up his hands with his Pryo Vision and place them on your abdomen to ease your cramps slightly. If you’re feeling sick at any point, just tap on him or signal him, and he’ll make sure you get to the bathroom.

He’ll always take one of your hands, pepper kisses all over, and look at you while the two of you are in bed as you relax.

This man is a gentleman (all the men are gentlemen).

Your well-being is a main priority for him.

He’ll shower you with affection and pamper you lots.

He’ll always talk with you and explain that if you need anything at all, just tell him. It’s no bother nor burden. He’ll always assure you that you’re his partner and that he cares about you, giving plenty of reassurance if you need it.

All his duties will be resumed once you’re feeling better completely, so don’t worry about him being behind or anything. He still manages things remotely from Dawn Winery.

Diluc: "Please do tell me if you need anything, anything at all."

You: "Of course I will, Diluc. I love you."

Diluc: "Love you too."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Tιɠԋɳαɾι 🌻

He’ll brew up some tea or have you drink a glass of water first when you confirm with him that it’s that time.

He has plenty of medicine and herbs on hand to ease your cramps and maybe the nausea caused by them.

He’ll let you have snacks but will also make sure you have balanced meals, going for the healthy approach.

Don’t be afraid of your mood changes or swings; he understands. He’s not going to be mad if you end up snapping at him.

He’ll try to limit his job as a Forest Ranger so he can keep an eye on you and take care of you.

The first time it happened, he thought you’d come down with some sort of sickness until you told him what was happening. He understood and went out of his way to help you (though he did end up going on a ten-minute ramble about what you already knew and didn’t need to hear).

If you have back pain, he’ll rub your back for you. If you’re feeling any other discomfort, he’ll do whatever he can to help.

He also tends to give you face kisses and affection. He’s a cuddle person and doesn’t mind you being clingy (none of the men mind you being clingy).

Tighnari: "Now remember what I told you, [Name]?"

You: "Tighnari, we’ve been over this five times already." sigh

Tighnari: "I just need to make sure you’re retaining the information."

You: "This is going to take a while."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #fluff #alhaitham #kaveh x reader #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x reader #genshin kaveh #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #h0neysp1ce #gender neutral reader #female reader

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hereforthehitsbaby · 3 months ago

Text

Tag, You're It | Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Synopsis: Late summer mornings are beautiful and peaceful, but not when you car is a piece of shit. A simple jump will do but, was it smart to flag down the guy in the windowless van?

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dark fic, Oral M!Receiving, Giving Head While Driving (Don't try this at home,) Wicked Banter, Reader is such a smart ass,

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Requests are officially open! Also this sounded wayyy better in my head - forgive me if this is shit.

Tagging: (If you want to be tagged feel free to let me know!) @babygorewhore @cherryinterlude @rosaleelovesdilfs @prozacwhorehouse @rubyfruitjungle @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @lustskitty69

If you would like to be tagged for my fics, please fill this out

Why did life need to be difficult? Why did it need to throw curveballs you way so outrageous, that it stops your daily routine? That is the one thing that drives you bonkers – having your entire day thrown off. What is the point of it? To make you slow down, take in the sights? To make sure you are never taking a moment for granted. To make sure you’re safe. Yeah, like that is a fucking thing. No, the harsh reality is that life wants to make your day to day so complicated it causes anxiety, dissociation, detachment. It causes you to feel out of line with every timeline, and in return you shut down. At least, that is how it’s feeling now.

It is just another day, but something feels off. It’s too alive outside. The winds are quiet but cool, but there is a thickness to the air. The tingling of sweat cooling on your forearms and face is making everything feel sticky. The whistle coming from God knows what, is driving you up a wall. Everything is too much. Sitting back against the living room couch, you take a deep breath. Today is supposed to be a good day, a great day! You’re supposed to be getting your assignment from your boss – whether you are going to be running the London office all by yourself, or if you are to stay in Pittsburgh. You wanted that escape, needed it in fact. Penn state was bleeding you dry, you needed a change of pace.

All morning you sat by your phone, waiting to see that nine digit life changer pass by your lock screen – signaling that you are worthy of this. Yet, radio silence. You did contemplate calling your boss to see but, would that be too desperate? Would you rethink her decision if it was already made? Does she remember seeing you around the corner when you called you a useless waste of talent? The words still coat your mind, never leaving until you prove it wrong. Today was the day to do that, today you were meant to be seen. With The Butcher’s antics starting up again, you needed to get out of Pennsylvania before you were next. Last October when Cooper Adams was captured, then escaped from police custody you grew cautious. Walking with pepper spray, a taser from Amazon, and a knife always. You adjusted your schedule enough, so you weren’t out past five at night, didn’t dare to leave your doors unlocked or windows open; Suffering in the heat was better than being a statistic. You wanted to live without fear, without the constant thought of what if it’s me next time? You wanted to be unafraid.

Breaking you out of your spiraling thought was the sound of your phone going off, the number you have been waiting for coming across your phone. Vivienne’s number flashed and you felt your heart race, not knowing what could be coming next? What if I just ignore it? Send it to voicemail? Will it show that I am serious or playing hard to get? Will it make her give me the London office sooner? Swallowing down the pride in your throat, you slid your thumb across the call bar – shaking as you heard your bosses angelic voice rain through. “My star investigator – is this a good time?” She sings, sounding a bit jittery on the other end. You nod as if she could see you, sighing out a laugh before speaking. “Sure is.”

“You didn’t get the London office,” she stated bluntly, not giving you a second to speak before maneuvering the conversation. “But, you are going to be staying with me in Pittsburgh! We are taking on the Ladellia case – that’s as exciting as London!” It didn’t hit you immediately but, it was a slow progression forward. First the ache sat within your heart, then your head, leaving your throat for last. You noticed how your TV went from clear to blurry almost instantly. An ache sat at the back of your throat, enough to cause your teeth to ache. You couldn’t control the sob that ripped from your mouth, the tears falling at a quickened pace. “Are you okay, honey?” Vivienne’s sympathetic voice comes through too clear for your liking, as if she was sitting next to you. “I got to go.” You let out without a thought, ending your call and turning your phone off. You stared at your reflection against your phone, noticing the puffiness gaining under your eyes – the glimmer of hope dying with each glance. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you needed to get out of here.

Hyperventilation set in at a rapid pace, causing your body to shake. The speed in which your heart was thumping concerned you, making your eyes waver and head pound. Your blood pressure was skyrocketing to the point where you felt as if you would pass out – everything you worked for, gone in an instant. Without thinking, you jetted off of the couch to the kitchen table, grabbing blindly for your bag and keys – needing an escape from this every-loving nightmare. Without turning around to set your alarm, or put away the dishes on the counter, you pushed yourself out of your home’s front door. The crisp air of late summer kissed your skin – no longer humid like it portrayed earlier. Your car was only a few steps away in your driveway, backed in which meant you could drive right out with no issue. The navy blue of your Mazda glimmered like the night in the late August sun, showcasing the twinkles of blue glitter in the paint. Usually it would bring you ease but, today something felt off. Maybe it was being passed over for the promotion but, it felt like something bigger.

Tossing your bag into the passenger’s seat as you slid into the driver’s side, you felt your hands go up to your steering wheel instinctually – gripping at ten and two. The second your driver’s side door slammed shut, you let out a blood curdling scream, fingers white knuckling the leather wheel. Everything within you shattered; The pain you were experiencing disintegrated with ease. Every octave your voice climbed brought a new wave of anger, rage, and sadness. Why does this always happen to me? Why am I always left out of everything? Every negative message you could possibly muster out was out in full force. You tried to suck in air, but nothing would go, only primal grunts and sobs slipped passed the crack of your lips, eyes full of rage. Though, you felt at peace in a way – knowing that what you needed was a good scream. Nothing mattered anymore, not for you anyway. Come Monday you would quit and disappear somewhere else. Somewhere where you didn’t need to worry about a stupid job or responsibilities, you’d be taken care of. Where that was you didn’t know but, you wouldn’t stop driving until you got there.

Wiping under your nose with the back of your hand, you sniffled softly as you pushed the start button on your car, the key fob sitting in the cup holder. The car rattled as it tried to click over to start, the starter catching on your alternator but never finishing the job. You tried again, and again, and again to get your car to click over – the silence rattled you to the bone. Again, you tried and with that, the car refused to turn over. “Piece of shit!” You screamed aloud, placing your forehead against your steering wheel. Staring at the mat of your floor, you let out a defeated sigh, giving up as your arm dangled. No matter how many times you would try to click your car over, it was toast. Sucking in a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment to realign your mood, not wanting to storm out of your car and back into the house. You still wanted to leave but, you would need a jump. You remembered having a set of jumper cables in your emergency trunk pack, now all you would need is the battery source.

Opening the driver’s side door, you caught a glimpse of a white van sitting across the street, the side door opened but seemed to have no one inside. It wasn’t dark enough outside to be pitch black but, enough that you could tell dusk was setting in. Trying not to stare and entice whatever was in the van to come towards you, you looked away as you stepped out, tailing around your car to the trunk. “That clicking doesn’t sound good. You need a jump?” A buttery soft voice called out from your side, from the direction of the van. Slowly you started to spin around and face where the voice was coming from, feeling your pulse quickening as you stared into the darkness. A pair of hands were held up under the streetlights that just came on, face obscured slightly by the brim of a baseball back. “I’m okay, thank you though.” You said matter-of-factly, smiling small as you waved off the stranger. You couldn’t help but find yourself enticed by the mysterious person in the van, their voice like liquid sex. It was husky yet, soft. Raspy yet calming. You wanted to swim in it.

Skirting around the back of your car, you noticed the hatch of your trunk was slightly ajar, leaving you to cock your eyebrow. Grabbing onto the underside of your trunk, you lifted the door up to see that your emergency case was there, in its bright pink glory, yet it looked deflated. Reaching forth you started to unzip the case, noticing your flashlight and tire iron were there perfectly content, but the pink and black cables were gone. What perplexed you the most was that you never used them before and knew when you bought it from Amazon it was in there – to up and walk away was not happening. Your eyes peered forward over the back row of seats, staring intently out your front window. The van was still there with the door opened, hands nowhere to be seen but a darkened figure could be made out. That’s not…no, there isn’t a way it is. He wouldn’t be that stupid to come back here. The lack of sleep was starting to get to you, imaging the worst instead of the best-case scenario. It didn’t mean that man in the van was The Butcher, but the chances were slim to none. Letting out a defeated sigh, you removed yourself from the trunks covering and made your way back to the front of your car. “I’ll take you up on that offer. My cables are not here.” You yelled out enough to be heard. The backdoor did not close but the taillights lit red in the slow darkness of the night. The beeping of the van backing up got closer to you as the driver become more obscured. With the van directly in front of your car, you wrapped you arms around yourself – looking around at your neighbors’ houses. With the free Lady Raven concert down at the stadium, you doubted anyone else was home. “Come grab the cables, I’ll pop the hood.”

Stupidly you made your way over to the van, not putting any caution to the wind with the killer on the loose. Maybe, just maybe you were hoping he took you. Maybe, it’ll help me be set free. Shaking your head of the perverse though, you investigated the dark of the van to still hear it running but, were not met with hands holding jumper cables. Instead, you were met with gloved hands, an obscured face, and thick energy radiating from the opening. Leaning forward to get a better look of this man and grab the cables – you couldn’t have anticipated what would happen next.

Everything happened so quick you didn’t have time to process. Strong hands reach forth to grab you by the front of your shirt, yanking so hard small tears were present on your top. You didn’t even struggle, making your body pliant as he grabbed you. One minute your feet were on the ground, standing in place. The next you were having your back slammed against the cold floor of the van, this man standing over you in the darkness. “Too. Fucking. Easy.” The dark, sadistic tone of the manmade your panties dampen; you never would admit it. Mint and coffee lingered on his breath as he hovered over you, grasping your wrists in his strong hands. “No fight in you? Now where’s the fun in that?” The man pouted as he slammed the door of the van, reaching his hand above himself to turn on the van light. The violent assault of the yellow bulb caused you to squint out of its way, letting your pupils adjust to it before staring ahead. Slowly everything came into view; An orange flyers baseball cap, black sweatshirt and one very handsome face. You thought your eyes were deceiving you for a minute, flashing who you hoped for in front of you – not who you were expecting. In a way you had to know which is why you didn’t put up a fight but – this was just too good. Cooper. Fucking. Adams. Straddling your waist as you laid against the floor, smirking over you the same way he did when he was carted out of his home last year after kidnapping Lady Raven and running rampant on Philadelphia. You were in deep shit.

Due to your ogling of Cooper, he had enough time to bind your wrists together with zip ties, then move himself into the driver’s seat of the van, skirting off of your property before anyone came back from the concert. You were stuck in your position, not even trying to move – not daring to move in case something was to happen. “You know, the whole fun part about this is the struggle. I feel robbed,” Cooper feigned hurt, pouting at you as he turned. Moving yourself up to a seat position, you grabbed with your bound hands against the passenger’s seat, steadying yourself as the van sped off at the green light. “But I’ll be damned if I was going to let you go. You were a hard one to catch, little mouse. Always scurrying away from danger.” He laughed, a twinkle in the ember eyes.

You were too in shock to process that you were kidnapped, by The Butcher, after you lost your job opportunity. It had to be a dream, there was no way in hell this was happening. “Oh, but it is, princess. Better believe it. You’re mine now.” The way he stated it as it was a fact made your thighs clench as you rested your cheek against the chair, watching the town ahead of you turn to bright, pixelated lights. Stating that you were his was not something you would get turned on by, it was fucked to be turned on by him. You didn’t care that you stated it out loud for him to hear, nothing mattered anymore. But he had that early 2000’s heartthrob vibe going on, it was impossible to not be persuaded by him. “So, are we…like enemies to lovers? Is that the trope we are going for?” The way you deal with fearful situations is to joke – this was one of those times.

It may not have seemed like it, but you were shitting bricks internally. Knowing what this man does, who he is and what he is capable of frightened you – as it excited you. It was fucked that you were awestruck by him, a killer. You hated a part of yourself that wanted to see what his hands were capable of. Ever since you saw the police body cam footage of him in his home, shirtless, being tased over three times and pouncing on an officer – you were flustered. “What?” He said with such confusion it made you snap back into reality, forgoing the thought of his body, shirtless, on top of yours. Feeling the heat creep its way along your cheeks, you stared at him – reality finally setting in. His confused look made you realize that this isn’t a simple fantasy you made up in your head, it’s reality.

Anxiety bubbled in your stomach as you sat back on your haunches as he drove, his eyes fixated forward. That feeling of dread sat in your gut like a rock, making you almost physically sick. This wasn’t some story come to life; The Butcher had you – took you away from your home, from your life. His only intention was to see the life drain from your eyes – not be his plaything. Your fingers started to shake around the dull edge of the zip tie, your vision becoming blurry as your head pounded. “This isn’t like you, Cooper!” You screamed as a diversion, thinking if you went all Friday the 13th on him, he would resort to believing you were his mom, or a maternal figure. If it worked in the movies, why not now? What other play did you have? Leave the van? The handle from the inside was removed. Even the interior handle of the passenger’s side door was gone, only his remained and there was no way in hell you were going to make it past him to side out. “You were a good boy!” It was a silent plea, yet no tears or crying came. It was more fight or flight. Though you weren’t making a run for it, you weren’t trying to jet out of the van. Your body and mind were confused, as were you. Trailing up to the stop light, Cooper turns to stare at you, deadpanning with no emotion, a faded smirk on his lips. “That isn’t going to work on me, Lady Raven already tried that last year.”

The way he nonchalantly said that made your body burn hot, causing you to toss yourself into the passenger’s seat. For a serial killer he didn’t have a petition to block the front seat from you – rookie mistake. “Oh, for fucks sake!” You exhaled as you leaned back, huffing with annoyance. You were experiencing the stages of grief, and you had no output on how to handle it. Maybe he wouldn’t end you and chop you to bits like he did everyone else – those were only men, right? Maybe if you went along with him, used your attraction towards him – then maybe you could get off free? It was a dumb thought, pimping yourself out to live but – in a way you were also not complaining. He exuded charisma and daddy energy; you were drunk off of it. Cooper laughed a genuine laugh at your frustration, panning over to roll his eyes in a playful way. “This isn’t the position you want to be in? That is a shame. When I have it my way, I’ll have it be better for you.”

Cooper’s nonchalant attitude was killing you, wanting to do nothing more than just grab him by his face and kiss him. You hated that his perfect face was making you feel this way, it made no sense. “So, what position do you want me in? Face down, ass up?” There you went again with the banter, needing to fill the air with more smart mouthed remarks that were probably going to get you got before you were ready. Talking back wasn’t your strong suit – it isn’t something you did on the daily but, new days – right? If you weren’t going to make it back home, why not have some fun with it? Cooper seemed shocked by what you said, turning his head to face you with a cocked brow – utterly stunned you were so ballsy. To be honest, you felt the same way – you were never this gung ho to talk like this, let alone with your kidnapper. “Is this normal for you? Are you all mouth?” Funnily enough, it wasn’t. This was so out of the normal for you it was mental. You brain was being fried from all angles, you couldn’t tell what was right or left anymore. Something else was taking over, something dark that seemed to have been unlocked when Vivienne called you earlier – something wrong sitting beneath your skin. It was you – the real you, not the plastic naivete you put on for everyone else.

“I’m also tits and ass but, you like my mouth?” You giggle, batting your lashes up at Cooper. Fucking with him was becoming a national treasure for you, seeing both how flustered he got, mixed with annoyed. Something about the tick in his jaw was getting to you, making you squirm in your seat. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would end you now but, it felt like he wanted more. Maybe he didn’t kidnap me for his playbook, maybe he…no, there isn’t a way. Has he been stalking me? Is this…am I? So many questions flooded your head at the realization of what this truly could be. After all being separated from your wife and kids for a year, who want nothing to do with you, can make you a dull boy. Cooper placed a tightened hand against your thigh and squeezed, causing you to grimace a bit. “Stay. Quiet.” You did it, you cracked his armor.

You pulled you lip between your teeth with a silent chuckle, smirking to yourself that you got under his skin. You were right, sexual frustration is a fickle bitch – and you happened to be the best at that game. Pressing your thighs together where his fingers caressed the inner part, you rocked softly against his hand, hoping to whatever God was listening that he wouldn’t pull away. You wanted him to stay right where he is, and let you give him what he needed. Clearing your throat, you saluted him with your bound hands, trying to act serious. “Yes, sir. Or do you like daddy? I feel like you’re into that but won’t admit it.” His grasp got tighter on your leg before pulling it away, causing you to pout. Cooper slammed his hand against the steering wheel with frustration, twitching his nose and lips to try and keep from talking back to you. “Oh, my god. You didn’t seem mouthy when I watched you.”

That was a statement you were not expecting to hear, confused and slightly terrified. “You’ve been watching me?” You ask seriously, feeling your body run hot. That feeling that has been nagging at you for months, was real. Cooper Adams was watching you; That figure you caught outside the bathroom window as you showered, around the living room windows as you cleaned. Hell, outside of your bedroom window and you pleasured yourself – was him all along. Not some ghost or paranoia, it was real – he was real. Cooper froze in place for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to tell the truth or leave it as is. In lieu he chose the latter, opting for silence as he got into the rural part of the state. Pulling over on the side of the dirt farmland, he put the van in park quickly, spinning around to face you at your side.

Reaching between your legs, Cooper roughly maneuvered your calves to get at his bag on the floor, pulling out a piece of cloth, from an old shirt. Grabbing it in his hands, Cooper roughly bound the cloth into a ball, holding it steady as he reached through your hair and to your neck, grabbing at you with precision. “Open up, I’m not dealing with your back talk, or main character dialogue.” The jab made you climb back into yourself, shrinking silently as you wondered if you annoyed him. But it didn’t seem like a jab, no, it seemed more of a control factor. Cooper didn’t – couldn’t handle your smart ass remarks because why? His victims never had the guts too – all they did was beg and plea, and he hated hearing that sometimes. He wanted them to grovel, not whine. “Gagging me, seriously?” You tried your hardest to not sound offended but, alas it came through. You noticed the tick in his under eye, like he was reading you, wondering what your next thought was going to be. He didn’t seem like he wanted to but needed to. It was about keeping him sane; you were making it difficult.

“That mouth will keep running if I don’t. I want peace on this trip, not an ear full from you.” It was a lie, he didn’t want a reason to stuff your mouth full of his cock. You could see it as you glanced down to his lap, the stiffened erection appearing painful in his denim constraints. You cocked your brow with a smirk, biting your bottom lip as you kept yourself in line. Cooper couldn’t tell what you were going to say next but, he knew there would be no coming back from it. Licking your plush lip, you smiled sweetly up to him – holding your wrists out in a silent as of remove these, please? Cooper didn’t blink, didn’t move, only his hands. For they undid the strap of your zip tie with expert precision, making sure to not hurt you. Now free, you could let the fun begin. “I can think of other things to keep my mouth full.” You let out in a sultry whimper, getting closer to Cooper before he could reach.

His ember eyes looked down at your soft, supple lips, licking his own as he raked his nails against the skin of your neck, cupping the side like a lover lost in time. “Drive.” You coaxed out in a raspy tone, wanting to make this memorable for him. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you nodded to Cooper as a way to make him obey. To which he did; His hand retreated from your neck and put the car in drive, moving down the road to the destination without a single word talked back. You leaned over to Cooper and trailed your hot mouth along his clothed arm, hands sitting sweetly on his lower thigh, slowly moving upwards. Each graze of your fingers threw him a curveball, a moan escaping his lips.

You watched intensively Cooper’s grip on the steering wheel tightens, your hand grazing his clothed member through the rough denim. Circling over the hardened flesh you watch how the muscles in his thighs contract sporadically. each little flick of the muscles falling softly against one another; It looked like they were having a party - in which you wanted to join. The faint whimper leaving your mouth to fall into Coop’s ear caused his hands to tighten - white knuckling the steering wheel harder than more. His foot lay flat against the floorboard, yet his foot on the gas was starting to speed up. Nipping lightly at his neck you smirk against his skin, purring softly into his ear; "Sshh, relax...I'll take good care of you."

Moving your hand from his thigh to the ever-growing bulge in his jeans, you bit down a bit harder onto his neck, watching how he eyes falter for a split second. There was a gentle tsk seeping from your mouth, enough to divert his attention back to the road . There was a ball of fear bubbling in your chest, threatening to scream out - but this new, darkened side of you made sure to silence it, licking at the straight jawline of Cooper.

Your fingers work to undo his belt, the clink echoing through the van as you remove his length; cheeks flash hot at the sight of him. He was big, too big for your mouth. Instantly a pool of saliva started to fall into your lower jaw, taking him all in with the minimal light you happened to have. Yet you could see every vein twitch and pull, beckoning you closer - wanting the sopping wet feel of your mouth over the tender, tanned flesh. The swollen, strained head of his cock made your core throb, wondering what it would feel like in your cunt. Maybe if your head game was strong, he could return the favor later on. Groaning at the mental image you created, you knew the real fun was about to begin. Cooper was not a patient man when it came to his large, hardened cock being out. The cold air nipped at the tender flesh - wanting to be enveloped by your mouth.

Leaning forward you press your mouth around his tip, licking softly over the slicked slit of his head, moaning against the reddened skin. The salty taste of his pre-cum caused your eyes to dilate to almost black - seeing nothing but pure passion. Bringing your right-hand up to gently cup his balls - you let your talented tongue slide over just the head, suckling on him gently. What you would give to see the look on Cooper’s face; His slack jaw hanging open, the slants of his eyes showing his lust perfectly. Holy shit, the thought of his hand slamming your head fully down onto his thick length, swallowing around him. The dirty thought caused you to moan against his tip, earning a softened hiss from Cooper’s mouth. You could feel him tossing his head back as you started to bob, eliciting a moan against his cock; "Eyes on the road, be good for me."

Nodding cheekily at your statement Cooper’s eyes focus on the road, while yours focus on his ever-growing cock. With each swipe of your tongue, he seemed to get longer, thicker just in your grasp. You needed to take him now. Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you slowly started to lower your mouth down, hollowing out your cheeks around him. Each time you sunk down it caused Cooper to grip harder at the wheel, the leather cracking under his touch. It was enough incentive for you to try and take him fully - which you thought you could easily do. As the tip of his thick length brushed against your uvula, you instantly retracted - feeling how the tightening of your throat began - how the gagging commenced. Coop loved it, seeing you wipe yourself out just for his pleasure, it caused him to twitch right against your lip. The salty tang of his head and the mixture of your sweetened spit caused your pussy to throb, fuck you needed him.

Leaning your mouth back down halfway, you created a steady rhythm. Your mouth bobbed with two seconds each pass, your hand working the opposite. With the binaural beats you were creating on Cooper’s cock, his chest heaved erratically. He would not admit this to you, but it had been quite a while since he last got taken care of. Looking down for a split second, Cooper saw how patiently you worked with his length, giving it tender treatment. He loved how your plush lips wrapped around him effortlessly, basking in his musk and taste - giving him the best treatment he could ask for. Though his eyes threatened to watch you, not the road, he did not want to make his girl mad. He wanted to give you the world, to return the deed softly - once you got to his hideout, he was yours for the taking.

The mere thought of it caused his stomach to clench, you could feel it right against your cheek. He was going to cum so soon, and flat-out bricks in your mouth. The thought caused your eyes to widen, your tongue salivating quickly. Working the extra spit your mouth had produced over his member, you felt it start to drip down his length, pooling in the soft tuft of brown hair against the base. It was enough incentive for you to speed up your mouth, your grip getting a bit tighter around the base of his length. Your body worked in tandem with his, with every stroke of your lips and hand, your thighs tightened whilst his vibrated with the sensation. In a 45 zone he was going almost 90, causing the worry to bubble within your chest. Slamming your eyes shut you tried to relax your mouth, slipping down further onto him - feeling how he presses deliciously against the back of your throat. All it took was one little swallow, one little tense up of your throat for Cooper to string out curses.

"B-Baby, fuck...fuck princess!" Cooper yelled, spreading his cum across your tongue. You did not lay off your movements, still going at the same pace while he painted your mouth with his cum. The taste was something you have never taken in before, a sweet tang mixed with salt. It was more than his pre-cum slick could give you, yet no matter how much you moved, the man was never done. Cooper laced his fingers through your hair, balling it into a fist as he moved you languidly up and down. Teasing his balls was something you didn't think would cause him to cum more - but Jesus you were so happy about it. Each gentle roll caused his sack to pull up into himself - spreading more of his delicious seed over your tongue. You could feel his foot release from the gas easily, dropping down to the actual speed limit. Breathless moans cascaded from the opened area above, to the closed quarters below.

With a swift move, Cooper pulled you off of his cock by your hair - not giving you enough time to swallow his seed down. As the van started to slow down even further, you looked Cooper deep within his dark, gorgeous eyes - a sinister smirk playing across your glistening lips. Parting your mouth slightly you have him a first-row seat to the show, peaking your pink tongue through the milky substance. Cooper’s mouth fell completely open in shock, watching how you swallowed it down like it was nothing, moaning at the taste of him sliding down your throat. Small dribbles of his spent ran across your bottom lip, only to be followed up by your thumb, suckling off the excess. Leaning forth you placed a small kiss to Cooper’s cheek as the van stopped at the light. “Was that good, Mr. Butcher, sir?” You teased with a giggle, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

Cooper was dumbfounded, unable to process what had happened and your wording while he was coming down from his high. His now flaccid cock sat against the opening to his jeans, a sheen of sweat crossed his brow bone as his swept back hair was now disheveled. Swallowing down a moan, Cooper ran his long fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. Turning his head against the head rest, he smirked with glee – chuckling as he breathed out. “Oh, I am going to have fun with you.”

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starsinmylatte · 10 months ago

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How to (not) Study for an Anatomy Exam

Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Minors DNI

Length: 2.1k

You're in medical school with Shoko, but she's bailed on your group study session. Good thing an old friend turns up to help... Wait, what was the next chapter on, again?

Tags: Oral (m receiving), the awakening of a dom/sub dynamic, hair pulling, praise

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You pushed the eraser end of the pencil further into your brow, groaning as you forced yourself to read just one more page….. But, then again, this was also your fifth “last page” in a row. Shoko had abandoned your group study session hours ago to go out drinking, and your fatigue had finally set in.

“Ugh, maybe if I force myself to read it out loud,” you muttered, shifting restlessly.

“The amygdala is an integral part of the lim-” The door opened with a firm click, and you trailed off in surprise, dropping your head back against the couch pillow with an exasperated sigh.

“Satoru, I swear to god, if you interrupt me again, I will personally shove-”

A low chuckle interrupted your threat, “It’s just me. Please finish your sentence, though. That threat against Gojo did sound promising.”

You groaned, draping the heavy medical textbook over your face to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the sound. “Nanami, I thought you were working tonight.”

“I was,” he acknowledged. You could hear him walk across the room, and the couch cushion suddenly dipped with his additional weight. Nanami sighed and sat something down on the coffee table with an audible clink. You could hear the sound of a canned drink being opened, and the delicious, blessed scent of coffee filled the air.

Overly eager for the sweet, sweet hit of caffeine, you bolted upright fast enough to launch the textbook off your face. It fell and hit your thigh, drawing a slight whine from your lips as you snatched the coffee from Nanami’s outstretched hand. You raised it to your lips greedily, instantly downing most of it.

“I was working tonight, but I clocked out two hours ago,” he continued smoothly, “Do you know what time it is?”

You pressed the lip of the can to your chin, your expression mildly guilty as you purposefully avoided looking at your long-time friend. “I was only going to review one more chapter.”

Nanami simply picked his own can off the table and opened it. Your excuse had apparently fallen on deaf ears; he took a slow drink as you pouted, chuckling at the expression on your face. “Shoko texted me and asked me to come check on you. She hadn’t heard from you since she left.”

“We have an exam next week. I don’t know how she can be so carefree when there’s so much to learn,” you muttered. “I don’t need a babysitter just because I chose to study instead of going drinking.”

Slowly, Nanami reached out and placed his hand under your chin, tipping your head towards him. His expression was slightly cross, but you were preoccupied with much more important things. The dark suit your “long-time friend” wore fit him unfairly well, and seeing him dressed up only worsened the way you actually felt about him. You’d nursed a crush on him for years, and at this point, you were determined to take that secret to your grave.

The other glaringly obvious thing slipped out of your mouth before you could formulate a more intelligent sentence. “I… I can see your forehead now,” you stammered.

Nanami arched a single, golden eyebrow in mild amusement. “I got a haircut yesterday.”

You stared at him. The way his golden hair was swept back tugged at your already suffering heart; it was so mature, so achingly fitting for Nanami. It felt like a small eternity passed as your tired mind unraveled.

Were his shoulders always this broad? His eyes are such a beautiful color. Oh shit, his hand is under my chin still…. W-were they always this big? I wonder what they would feel like-

“One more chapter!” You squealed loudly, wishing you could trade your reverse curse technique in for the ability to phase through the floor. “One more chapter, and then I’ll take a break.”

“One more chapter, and then you’ll get some sleep,” Nanami corrected, removing his hand from your chin. You felt a small pang of disappointment at the loss of his touch, but you shrugged it off.

“Fine,” you conceded, mentally shoving the respectable, hard-working part of your brain back in charge.

Nanami settled back into his corner of the couch, taking another sip of his coffee. “Can I help you somehow? I have no idea how this type of studying works.”

He gestured vaguely at the stack of medical books, and you tried to stifle a giggle. “Here, you can quiz me using the pre-chapter questions.”

Nanami nodded, turning his focus to the textbook, and you flipped it open, happy to have him there to help you finish strong… until you were brutally reminded what the next chapter was. You blankly stared at the page titled “Male Reproductive Anatomy” until you closed the cover and stood without another word. Forget phasing through the floor; you wanted to teleport directly to the North Pole and never return.

“On second thought, I think I’ll just go to bed now,” You looked at the blank wall for moral support, face crimson red.

“I mean, I could still help you study… If you wanted..” He offered nonchalantly.

You whipped your head back around to look at Nanami, whose cheeks were dusted with pink. For a brief moment, he was blushing like the teenage boy you had once offered to share headphones with, but as he stood, his deep brown gaze locked into yours, and you could only see the calm, capable man he had grown into. “But I don’t think we will need the textbook.”

You nodded slowly, and Nanami wordlessly scooped all of your textbooks and study materials into his arms. The two of you made the trip up the stairs to your room in record time. He shoved everything onto your desk haphazardly, opting to take you into his arms instead.

“How long?” He murmured, his deep coffee-colored gaze full of warmth, a warmth you suddenly realized that Nanami had always reserved for you. “How long have we tip-toed around this?”

You shivered despite the heat of his body as the man you’d loved for years cradled you like a precious flower. His large hands gently rubbed your back, coaxing a sigh from your lips.

“Too long,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his. It was gentle, almost reverent at first, and Nanami sighed, deep and rumbling, as he pulled you even closer. Your lips parted briefly before meeting again, the embrace growing more passionate by the second.

Nanami kissed you like he was trying to commit your taste to his memory like he’d simply die without your lips against his. You were no less eager, reaching up to cup his jaw and pressing your other hand against the swell of his bicep.

Growing bolder, you maneuvered him back until the back of his knees hit your desk chair. Nanami took the hint, parting from the embrace to undo his suit jacket and sit. He gazed up at you, eyes half-lidded and hazy with lust, and grinned lazily. “C’mere then.”

He reached out to pull you onto his lap, but you sidestepped with a wink. Instead, you opted to sink onto your knees, silently delighted by the way his eyes widened in surprise. Ever so slowly, you nudged his legs apart and crawled between them to rest your cheek against his knee. You hummed playfully, tilting your head up to smile at him innocently, “I thought you wanted to help me study… I think I can do that better from here.”

Nanami dropped his head back against the chair, swearing under his breath. He looped a finger into his tie and quickly ripped it off. It fell to the side unceremoniously, and your grin grew at his usual composure beginning to crack.

You stroked the inside of his leg with your nails, using just enough pressure for Nanami to feel the touch through his suit pants. He shuddered, and a wicked thought popped into your mind. You grinned again, “Or, if you’ve changed your mind, I could always ask Gojo. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

It was an incredibly empty threat; you both knew that, but it still served its intended purpose. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Nanami sat up, his gaze dark and intense as he leaned down to caress your jaw. The touch would’ve been warm and affectionate at any other time, but this one was slow, controlled, and achingly possessive.

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking tease.” He growled, and the words shot straight to your core. Nanami slowly hooked his thumb over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, forcing them to part. You drew in a shaky breath, and it was his turn to smile.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was silken, dangerously quiet. Sparks of molten pleasure flooded your body, and your brain went fuzzy as you nodded. Nanami slipped the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue, slowly stroking it, toying with you as he thought for a moment. You whimpered involuntarily at the initial press of his thick finger, fighting off the urge to lave your tongue over it. He'd almost seem disinterested if you didn’t know him so well, but you could see his eyes glitter with a potent mix of approval and lust.

Nanami paused the movement of his thumb but left it in place to weigh down your tongue. He tenderly shushed your whine of protest and continued to speak, “If you’re good and finish your studying tonight, I’ll reward you….”

More white-hot pleasure coiled in your stomach, and your pussy throbbed in response. “Mmmmmhmmm,” you managed around his thumb, looking up at him with your best doe eyes.

He chuckled again, pulling his thumb out and smearing the leftover wetness across your lips. You eyed the obvious strain of his erection greedily, reaching forward to trace its outline. Nanami groaned, his cock twitching even with the slight pressure. “Eager for this, pretty girl?”

“You have no idea,” you murmured, quickly undoing his belt and pulling his clothing aside just enough to free his thick cock. You bit your lip as you watched the swollen, leaking tip brush against the material of his dress shirt, leaving a tiny smear of precum on the fabric. Nanami hissed at the sensation, tangling one of his large hands in your hair, partially to hold your hair back and partially desperate for something to ground him. You moved even closer to his lap, leaning down to lap at his cockhead.

He moaned outright at the first touch of your tongue; you began to explore every agonizingly beautiful inch of him, teasing his shaft with your fingers and plush lips. Nanami’s hand dug into your hair as you swirled your tongue around his tip and swiped it over the top to lap up his pre-cum. His hand clenched reflexively at the blinding pleasure, pulling your hair harshly without even meaning to.

Nanami froze, about to apologize profusely, but you moaned wantonly, plush lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock. He cursed and barked out a low laugh as the vibrations shot straight through him, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to…. Did you like that?”

You nodded as vigorously as you could manage, taking his cock even further into your mouth and nestling his swollen tip snugly into the pouch of your cheek. Drool fell from your lips, trailing down your chin as your tongue laved over his shaft, but you were far too gone to care. You cupped his heavy balls through the fabric of his expensive underwear, massaging them, and Nanami almost came on the spot.

He twitched and groaned, breath heavy and uneven as you utterly destroyed the normally stoic man. Nanami ran his other hand back through his hair, his breathing heavy as he took a minute to appreciate the sight of you drunk on his cock.

His balls tightened almost painfully, and Nanami moaned again, low and needy. “Need to stop…. Gonna cu-”

You shot him an incredibly devious, lust-filled look before pulling away and opening your mouth, sticking out your tongue to catch every drop. Nanami hissed at the sight, stroking his shaft furiously. It only took a few more seconds for him to fall apart with a strangled cry, his cum painting your mouth pearly white. His hands slowly pumped up and down, milking the remnants of his orgasm onto your pretty, pink tongue.

“You’re perfect…. gorgeous…. a goddess… mine now.” Nanami panted.

Your pussy fluttered as you watched him fall apart, and you ground your thighs together, desperate to find some relief from the ache in your core as you made a small show of swallowing. Nanami only took a few seconds to scoop you up from the floor and deposit you on the bed.

“Do I get my reward now?” You teased, voice slightly hoarse.

Nanami looked at you, his brown eyes filled with such sincerity that your heart fluttered. “I’m going to spoil you until you’re sick of me.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @belle-smith07 @orangecremepuff @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @Msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty

#nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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bangtanintotheroom · 7 months ago

Text

Make Me Water (M)(Teaser)

Can you blow my mind?

Set off my whole body

If I give you my time

Can you snatch my soul from me?

🔊 water - tyla; make me - britney spears, g-eazy; the look - ali gatie, kehlani; meeting in my bedroom - silk; tonight - dxvn., daniel di angelo; slidin' - kai and more... 🔊

• Pairing: Seonghwa x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Fluff

• Rating: 18+

• Words: (teaser) 433

• Summary: The most unexpected topic comes up during a drinking session with your friends, leading to one of them making a rather bold claim. You declare that they’re full of shit and unintentionally make them determined to prove you wrong.

• Warnings/themes: drinking, swearing, explicit sexual content, discussion about inappropriate topics, Seonghwa and his bedroom eyes 😶, Y/N is in for the ride of her life, bickering, making out, body worship, teasing, edging, praise, fingering, squirting (it’s gon be real wet up in here 🗣️💦), dirty talk, oral (f. and m. receiving), hints of come eating, multiple orgasms, creampie, multiple positions, unprotected sex (dooon’t do this), aftercare

• Notes: Well well well, looks like we've got another ATEEZ fic coming up 🤨 Seonghwa has been slowly inching his way into my second bias spot and I've been in the mood for something extra filthy, so here we go! The amount of research I've had to do for this topic is almost embarrassing jcbvosiovbs 💖

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO OR YOU WILL NOT BE TAGGED.

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @hyunjinsjeans @firesighgirl @swga-ficrecs

“Why bother telling you when I could just show you?”

Your fingers seemed to lose their grip on the plate, clattering into the sink loudly.

What? He did not just say that.

You turned to gawk at Seonghwa before stuttering, “H-Huh?”

He was nonplussed as he met your eyes, repeating, “I could just prove you wrong. Actions speak louder than words, no?”

Was he fucking serious? Seonghwa offering to show you how he could make you squirt?

“Hwa, you…you’re joking, right?”

“I’m not.”

Judging by the look on his face, he really wasn’t.

Feeling a heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, you tore your gaze away to grab the plate, picking it up and checking to see if it suffered any damage from your slip-up.

“Come on, be for real right now. I can’t do that.”

“You can’t let me touch you or you can’t squirt?”

You almost threw the abused dish back down as your head whipped up to fix him a flustered glare.

“Both! One, we’re friends. Two, I’ve never squirted and I never will.”

Seonghwa gave you an equally stern look, firing back, “We’re both single and it would just be between the two of us. And have you ever even tried?”

“N-No, but—”

“So how would you know?”

You pursed your lips, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with defeat overcoming you. He had a point. He could probably tell by the look on your face that you knew this, yet he didn’t gloat or prod you further. Seonghwa just kept watching you and waiting for your next defense to come out. But it didn’t come for a while as your mind raced with thoughts, coming up with one that threw you off-guard.

Would it really be so bad to say yes?

“There’s still a chance for you to back out, Y/N. It’s your call.”

Seonghwa’s body language was pretty clear in what answer he really wanted to hear. The way he continuously brushed his thumb over your knuckles and looked deep into your eyes let you know how much he was looking forward to this experience.

And yet he still gave you full control over it.

A grateful smile couldn’t help but stretch over your lips as you completely made up your mind. Your palm turned over to still his wandering thumb, scooting closer until your knee touched his own.

Leaning in, you whispered into his ear, “Show me what you can do.”

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dsireland86 · 6 months ago

Text

Sunburn

Warnings*** smut, language, a little angst below the cut

TAGS: @shilohrosechicken, @pathion, @philomenie

Sunburn

“Shit baby, that fucking hurts!” Noah yelled at me.

He writhed in pain as I applied the cool aloe to his shoulders that were burning red from days in direct sunlight. I told him to keep the black button-up shirt on the entire set so this wouldn't happen, but he didn’t listen. His ego was too loud and in the end he did what Noah wanted to do. Now he was suffering the consequences. I’ll admit that I did feel a bit sorry for him, especially when seeing the small sun blisters that were visible even through the ink of his tattoos, but now I'd had enough of his whining and piss-poor attitude. “Just shut-up,” I chided, nudging the side of his head with my elbow. “And quit whining. It's just aloe.”

I squeezed more of the sticky clear stuff out of the aloe leaf and lathered Noah’s burnt skin with it.

“God- fucking- bless, woman! Gentle!”

Sighing, I lowered one hand and placed the back of the other one on my forehead, giving him my best death glare.

“You’re making this so freaking impossible, Noah!”

He crossed his arms and threw his head back with closed eyes.

“It fucking hurts, Y/N,” he seethed.

“I know it does, baby, but that’s not my fault. I told you,”

His head flew up, eyes wide. “Don’t you dare say “I told you so”.”

Hiding my grin, I lowered my head, closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath.

“Whatever you say, Noah.”

I was over this already. I was so tired, drained from all the heat, the running around, the back and forth, and the constant bickering between me and Noah in the past three days. I wanted to pass out and sleep until Christmas.

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose then took my hand, and placed a soft kiss on the top of it.

“I’m sorry, okay. Can you please try to be more gentle?”

His big brown eyes pleaded with me.

“That's more like it,” raising an eyebrow as I kissed his forehead. He wrapped his arms around one of my thighs and placed a soft kiss on my belly, making my insides flutter.

“You’re too sweet to him, Y/N. I'd lather that shit up and slap it on him,“ Jolly admitted over my shoulder as he walked by. “He’s being a fucking pussy about it.”

“Fuck you, Jolly,” Noah barked.

“Whatever Noah,” Jolly chuckled, sitting down in the chair across from his best friend, staring heavily at him.

“You should have kept the shirt on like Y/N said. She knows these kinds of things, Noah.”

Matt slipped his opinion in, giving me a wink. I smiled, tucking the loose hair that had fallen behind my ear.

Biting my tongue to keep myself from saying how I was really feeling, I continued to gently apply the aloe to Noah’s skin. But the more I thought about how he was acting and how he'd been making me feel the last few days, I was going to let the truth spill out.

“You know what, it’s fine Matt.” I wiped my hands on my pants, throwing the aloe leaf in the trash.

“We all know how Noah can be a stubborn, hard headed ass sometimes. He deserves what he gets.”

I leaned back against the counter next to the trash can and folded my arms over my chest, staring hard at the floor. I knew I crossed a line with Noah, but I didn't care anymore. I was done feeling hurt. Quickly glancing over at Noah, I found him watching me, eyes glued to my face with a look of shock. His hands, still wrapped in tape, gripped the sides of his chair and he was still as stone.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

I could tell what I'd said caught him off guard because the tone of his voice was sheer surprise.

“You heard me, I know you did.”

“No, I'm sorry, no, I didn't. I'm a little hard of hearing in this ear,” he lied, pointing to his left ear and rising out of his chair. He started unwrapping his hands, balling up the tape, and tossing it in the trash as he walked over to me. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw so hard his cheeks hollowed.

Noah could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, with his 6 '3, monstrously toned body, but I knew he’d never, ever hurt me. He was just in a mood; a picking, fighting mood that I was trying really hard to overlook.

With a deadpan expression, Noah and I had a stare down, waiting to see who would look away first.

“If you don’t tell me what you said, Princess, I might just have to take you somewhere quiet and fuck that pretty mouth of yours until I get it to come out,” Noah threatened, engulfing my entire body in deep arousal that went right between my legs. His lips brushed against my jaw line, sending chills down my spine the moment he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“And when I fill it with my cum, making you drink every bit of me, maybe you’ll think twice before using it for something else other than me.” His eyes were dark with lust and drinking me shamelessly. Holy fuck. I was so turned on. The smug look on his face made my knees buckle and the ache between my thighs burned like a raging fire, bringing me closer to the edge. All Noah needed to do was take me to that quiet place he spoke of and do whatever he had to do to push me over.

His long tattooed fingers wrapped around my chin forcing me to look at him.

“Is that what you want, Y/N? You want me to make you pay for all the sass that pretty mouth of yours likes to spill? You want me in your mouth?”

His voice was low and deep, the raspiness from all the yelling and screaming on stage still present and I was quivering from his touch alone.

“Answer me,” he demanded. His penetrating gaze was slowly undressing me and I was gladly letting him do it.

I nodded. Slowly.

His fingers gripped my chin tighter and thankfully I had enough leverage to look down and see just how turned on he was by our little exchange. He was so hard for me and just as ready as I was.

“Fuck me,” he breathed as a wide grin spread over his lips.

I was probably going to pay for what I was about to say because it would be the force to drive Noah over the edge, but that’s what I wanted.

“Gladly,” I whispered, watching his fixed stare melt away.

A deep rumbling growl fell from his lips and before I knew what was happening, Noah picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, the pain and discomfort of the sunburn quickly forgotten. I squealed and kicked my feet, demanding he put me down with slaps to his back.

“I swear to God if you don’t put me down Noah, I’ll,”

“You’ll what, Princess?”

“I will pinch you! Everywhere my fingers can reach!”

That got his attention and he lowered me down faster than he’d picked me up.

He was breathless and I was losing my composure over how fucking hot he looked right now. All my defenses were down; he knew that.

“Why are you such an ass?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

My eyebrows arched.

“You started this!”

He smirked.

“Did I? Are you sure about that,” he questioned, making perfectly good eye contact with me.

My brows furrowed in confusion.

“You know you did!”

“Are you sure?”

The way Noah's body moved closer, barely brushing against mine but making the tender flesh around my nipples and entrance tingle, pleading for him to touch me, was making me lose sight of my frustration and how irritating he'd been.

“You sure it wasn’t you and the way you were standing off to the side of that stage, all fucking hot and sweaty, soaking wet for me between those fucking thighs of yours?” Noah cocked his head to the side, reaching over and running a finger down between my breasts, hooking its tip over the front of my shirt and pulling me closer. “Those thick, warm thighs that hold me so well and let me kiss and bite them until I can taste the sweet juices that start to drip down the second I do this.” Noah slipped his hand down the front of my leggings so fast, placing his fingers between the warmth of my folds and slid his finger inside me as he shoved me up against the wall. “Fuck Noah!” I snapped when the back of my head hit the wall. But I could no longer feel anything other than the erotic way his finger was working me up to that edge I was so desperately wanting. “Look at you panting and needy already. Look what I can do to you just by a few words,” Noah teased, inserting another finger in me, knuckle deep, and moving in and out of me faster. “You're so filthy wet for me, Princess,” pushing my legs further apart with his knee before planting sloppy nibbled kisses on my neck. His word choices made unsubtle moans fall from my lips and I threw my head back, locking eyes with Noah, watching his face as he worked to bring me to that sweet release I'd been hungry for all day. Shamelessly, I grinded on his fingers that pushed further in me each time he pulled them back and back in. And then when he found that spot I couldn't hold back the scream that filled my throat.

“Uh, fuck Noah,” clenching my teeth and hitting him in the shoulder as my one hand clamped down on his arm while the other one covered his hand that had his fingers up in me. “God I fucking hate you sometimes,” I claimed, between a cry and a moan. “No you don't, you just like to think you do, Princess,” grinning and breathing a quick laugh before sinking his lips into mine and shoving his tongue in my mouth. It was wet and sloppy, but I welcomed it. I wanted all of Noah. Every last drop. “I hate you Noah,” I said again, his name coming out more as a moan than anything. His laughter echoed off the walls of the hallway as did my cries of pleasure. “I love you, baby, every fucking part of you.” I took his face in between my hands and frantically kissed him like I was terrified he might just slip away. The muscles in my stomach began to tighten and the all too familiar heat pooling in my back and between my thighs was the only warning I needed. It never failed; Noah knew exactly how to use his fingers to make me forget ever being mad or upset with him. “Right there, baby oh fuck don't stop,” I begged him, grabbing his arms again. Noah worked me faster and harder until my orgasm hit me so hard he had to throw his hand over my mouth to keep my quiet. Noah was laughing. ‘I love how loud you get. It lets me know I'm doing my job correctly.” I was completely out of breath, and once my body relaxed, I was able to fully look at Noah. He slid his fingers slowly out of me and brought them to his face, smelling them before slipping them into his mouth sucking. “Mmm, I fucking love how you smell, how you taste.” He pushed his body into me, pinning me between him and the wall. We slowly kissed, tongues slipping and sliding together, and fingers and hands entwined.

“You had me pretty worked up on stage earlier. All I could think about was you and the way you fuck, the way you cum for me.” Noah slipped his hand behind my head and brought our faces closer together nudging our noses together. I ran my hands down his neck and chest, over the ink written stories his body told.

“You really wanna fuck me, don't you,” he chuckled in between our kisses.

“Yes, I do,” mumbling while gripping his shoulders with no regards to the sunburn and if I was hurting him.

“I want to drink you like you threatened me. I want you in my mouth,” admitting fearlessly. I gazed up at him only to find him staring as if he was ready to consume me.

Noah lowered his forehead to mine, placing a soft kiss on my nose.

Suddenly I was being yanked down the hall and tossed to a room at the far end of the hall where Noah was sure we’d be entirely alone. He slammed the door closed and locked it, before turning to look at me. I couldn't wait for him to move. I needed him to know how badly I wanted him. Closing the gap between us, I grabbed Noah by the front of his pants and quickly undid the tie knot. “Slow down, Princess, I'm not going anywhere.” I smiled at him as his pants fell to the floor, revealing his hard cock that was ready and waiting for me to taste. My mouth was watering already from just the thought.

“Are you ready? I have no intention fucking your mouth softly.”

The muscles in my stomach tightened as the coiling tension continued to build up.

“I don't want you too,” I replied. I gave him a smirk as he pulled me into him, kissing me so hard that it took my breath away. My hands found the waistband of his boxer-briefs, yanking them down until his cock sprang free, revealing its beautiful self to me. I groaned the second I saw it and instantly took the long, thick, hard shaft into my hand and began to stimulate it more than it already was.

“Oh God, Baby,” Noah moaned, sucking air through his teeth and throwing his head back. “Fuck, that feels so fucking good,” he whispered under his breath. I gripped him harder, working him up the faster I moved my hand back and forth. “Is this what my boy needed,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb over. his tip. Noah let out a loud moan, throwing his hands on my arms and squeezing them. “Fuck yeah it is,” he breathed try to keep himself together. “You want to cum already, don't you?’

Noah released a slight whine, looking down at me.

“I wanna cum in your mouth,” he stated unapologetically.

I grinned and began to lower myself, feeling the pressure of his hinds pushing me quicker to my knees. Noah’s cock was beautiful and having it in my mouth always made me feel prideful; like I owned him. I did just like he owned me, and didn't want it any other way.

Slowly, I dragged my tongue up his long shaft, feeling the ridges and crevices that were the culprits of my many orgasims and wrapped my mouth around the thickest part of him to satisfy the hunger I'd had for days. I could hear Noah's breathing grow louder and heavier, and when I gathered him in my hands to keep him still, his hands found the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair. I sucked him harder, tasting the saltiness of his precum on the tip of my tongue as he pushed my head further into him until the tip hit the back of my throat, making me gag.

Noah, lightly laughed, pulling me back by my hair.

“That's it Princess, gag on it, let me fuck your mouth until your eyes water.”

He moaned loudly, no longer caring who could hear as I swirled my tongue around him, letting my spit spill out all over him.

“That's it, fuck me baby, fuck my cock with that pretty mouth of yours.” His grunts and growls grew louder as he continued to buck his hips into my mouth. It pleased me knowing I could bring this kind of pleasure to Noah. He deserved it; despite how much he whined and pouted and was a pain in my ass. I loved him and would do anything he asked me to do.

“You suck me like a damn dream, Y/N,” he grunted. “So fucking greedy for this dick down your throat, Princess. I'm so fucking gone for you,” he moaned louder, tugging at the roots of my hair.

I let Noah continue to fuck my mouth at an erratic speed. I gripped his thighs with as much strength as I could manage, holding him still so he wouldn't gag me anymore. I was engulfed in the sensual wet heat that was a combination of pleasure and pain, lost in the feeling of him surrounding me.

“That's it, Princess, fuck yes, right there, use your tongue, oh god!”

Noah’s praises fell from his lips like rain, hydrating every part of my body, my mind, even my very soul. “Look how you're fucking taking every inch of my me like a goddess, holy fuck Y/N!” Noah's voice was getting louder and his thrusts were getting sloppier. I couldn't see his expression but I imagined he had his hands up in his own hair, watching me work his cock until he came. “Shit, baby I'm close!”

Noah's breathing increased, his hips were starting to go limp, and with the consistent twitching of his cock against my tongue, I knew he was close.

“God- dammit Y/N you're making it, I fucking can't, shit baby I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm cum,” and without anymore warning, Noah let go, spilling his warm salty seed in my mouth. It hit the back of my throat like a bullet, forcing me to swallow most of it, while some spilled down my chin.

I collapsed, my jaws sore and I was out of breath, sitting on my knees and letting the taste and feeling of him pass before I could do anything else. Noah sat down next to me, looking just as worn out as I felt. But we weren't finished. In fact we were just getting started.

“I don't know where the hell that came from, but I feel like I should get you mad at me more often.” We looked at each other and chuckled. His sweetness was back, and it made me want to climb up in his lap and wrap my legs around him. I brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed him slowly.

“When are you going to stop being so mean to me?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he smirked, slipping his hands under my shirt and running them up my back.

“Yeah, I figured.” I lowered my head into his chest and breathed in his scent of what smelled like the ocean and salt.

“I'm sorry. I do get mean when I get stressed out don't I?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

We sat in a brief silence.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” His fingers had already undone the clasp to my bra, but was waiting for permission to continue.

“You already have. I’m good now.”

He lifted my face.

Noah’s eyes shifted to my lips, making him lean in and take my bottom one between his teeth, sucking it lightly. Then our mouths met and for a few seconds we kissed, relishing in the feeling.

“Sugar, I've developed a taste for you, now,” he began to softly sing.

“Are you seriously singing Sleep Token to me right now?” I laughed, pushing Noah on the chest.”

“My arms keep you in the room, barely let you move, show me what to do.” His voice rang out in my ear as he lifted my shirt and pulled off, then removed his own.

“Do you wanna see how far it goes? Do you wanna test me now my Love?”

Noah’s brown eyes bore into mine, releasing the feral intentions he'd been hiding.

“Well do you,” pulling down the straps to my red laced bra and planting soft kisses on my collar bone, with his warm breath gliding over my skin. His hands ran up my neck, gently pushing my head back and his lips found their target; sucking, biting, and sliding all over.

“I need to cum inside you Y/N. I want to see me spill out of you and down these fucking hot thighs of yours,” gripping my legs and tugging me into him until I felt his swollen cock against my entrance.

“I want you to, too,” I breathed, running my hands through his hair and grabbing it at its end. He seethed as he reached behind me and pulled my leggings and underwear completely off.

“Hang on.” Noah paused, sliding me off him, but staying on his knees. “I just want a taste,” he admitted, grinning up at me before forcing my legs apart and lowering his mouth to my wet core. Out of impulse, I tilted my pelvis up towards him as an invitation and heard a deep, subtle growl escape him. He swiped his finger through my wetness, coating his finger with it, and then dived in, licking and lapping up every drop he’s made me create for him. His warm breath and the feeling of his tongue and lips circling my clit made me shamelessly moan his name louder than before.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he mumbled, and I almost came for him then, but he pulled away, leaving me empty and whimpering.

“Don’t worry, Princess, I’m not finished yet,” Noah promised, removing his pants entirely this time then sitting back down.

“Come here,” he demanded, pulling me into his lap and lining himself up with my opening. We both looked down and watched him enter me, the feeling of immediate fullness engulfing all my senses. Noah held me as close to his chest as possible as we slowly but savagely fucked eachother, knowing this was out of pure lust and desire.

We went faster, Noah grabbing my hips and pushing my clit down harder on his rigid cock. I could feel his pulsing veins, naked inside me, filling me to the point of making me cum again. I clenched tightly around him, digging my nails into his shoulders and biting him.

“Not yet, Baby. I’m not finished with you yet,” he growled, moments after the noises coming out of him were so intoxicating me that I never wanted him to stop.

He pulled out, flipping me over onto my knees, pushing my face and chest down to the floor, but lifting my ass up closer to his dick.

“You know I love you right, Princess,” he grunted, pressing his large hand to the middle of my back.

“Yes, Noah, I know you love me,” anxiously waiting for what he was about to do next.

“Good, because I’m going to fuck you like I don’t,” and with those words, he slammed into me, grabbing my hips and pulling me and pushing himself deeper and deeper into me with each aggressive thrust.

“God, fucking,” I tried to catch my breath, but it was impossible.

“Noah!” I cried the harder he fucked himself in and out of me digging nails into my hips.

“I want to ruin you, Princess,” Noah barked through gritted teeth, rutting against me at an relentless pace, stretching me with a hint of pain. “I want to damage you until all you know inside you is the shape of my dick inside the walls of your pussy that’s mine.” I didn’t hold back my screams for more or cris of how good it felt. I wanted everyone to know I was Noah’s and how well he could satisfy me and my needs.

I wasn’t going to last much longer; I told Noah that. My knees and elbows were sore, and I was losing all composure.

“Tighten around me then, baby, let me feel you,” Noah said, leaning down and letting his thumb find my clit. He wasn't gentle either as he encircled it, hips still thrusting in and out of me. “Cum for me Y/N. I know you want to. Cum so I can fill you up!” He hit my spot with the perfect rhythm, pulling a string of cures from me.

“Don’t fight me, Baby. Don’t fight how much you fucking want to.” Noah was right. For some reason I was fighting, but with his last words and the pressure of his hand wrapped tightly around the back of my neck, pressing me hard into the floor, I let go and almost instantly, after my legs pressed tighter around him, I came with a sharp cry, my entire body shuddering around him. Noah followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me until we were both spent and gasping for air.

“Holy fucking shit,” Noah said, breathlessly. I collapsed to the floor, my entire body flat. I was shaking, overstimulated by what I’d just experienced and couldn’t form a functioning thought for anything.

A loud knock on the door startled us both, and I jolted up, running into Noah’s chest. He threw his black tank to me quickly, and I slipped it on right after slipping on my undies.

“Yeah, what is it,” Noah called out, voice raspy and dry.

“Hey, uh if you two are done making your porno, Matt wants us all together for a quick update before we head out.”

Noah and I could hear the amusement in Jolly’s tone and also the other two voices right outside the door. I was instantly embarrassed. Noah caressed my cheek with his finger, ensuring me he wasn’t.

“Yeah, give us a few minutes and we’ll be out,” Noah answered, staring into my eyes before kissing me deeply.

“Alright. Hey, how’s the sunburn now?”

“Fuck you, Jolly,” Noah yelled.”

A roar of laughter filled the outside, shaking my head as I finished dressing.

“You sounded really good too, Y/N. At least Noah knows what he’s doing,” Jolly cackled, knowingly getting under Noah’s skin.

“Oh my, will you all just quit already!” Noah yelled again.

He looked at me and I shrugged, realizing there was no point in denying anything. Noah always knew what he was doing. Especially when it came to me.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fanfiction

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