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onlyswan · 2 months

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summary: in which there is never enough time to be in love but jungkook is a 24/7 lover. (part one)

idol!jk x afab!reader / fluffy fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 3.6k

warnings/content: jungkook takes a day off and surprises oc <3 ; he's veryyy touchy; he gives oc's boobie a lil bite lol this guy ; s*xual innuendos; one (1) spank; oc comforts him :(; bam is home too!!; family is complete

→ in which masterlist!

note: smth short and sweet so i can recover from dreamboat loool missed my babies sm <3 as always reblog and/or feedback is very much appreciated! <3

p.s. i'm also redoing my iw taglist so pls comment/send an ask if you want to be (re)/added!

—

“baby? i’m home.”

you’re confident to say that you’d never mistake jungkook’s voice for anyone else’s. and on that note, you must be dreaming of him— the voice of an angel, the calloused palms cupping your cheeks… the audible and damp kisses delicately being peppered all over your face. everything feels so real. too real. just like how it used to be.

it hasn’t been long since you last saw him. you communicate and meet whenever it’s possible, no matter how short the time he is allowed to dedicate. still, you miss him all the time, everyday. you keep telling yourself it’s not that bad. time is passing by faster than you feared. but this whole set-up is foreign and daunting. and you miss him. you miss him all the time. that must be why you’re dreaming.

when you open your eyes in the morning, you’ve come to expect nothing more than the view of the plain white ceiling, or the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains.

so why are you gawking at jungkook’s face?

he smiles from ear-to-ear, bunny teeth and crinkles around his eyes— you can’t be mistaken. it’s him. it feels as though your heart has been shocked and revived.

“jungkook!” you gasp.

you startle your own self when you abruptly throw your arms around him. he tries to hold you up, but you’re far too ecstatic for your own good, inexplicable joy thrumming in your veins and fireworks bursting in your ribcage. you squeal and jump up and down on the bed like a little kid on christmas morning; jungkook hugs you back tighter than he has ever done before, protecting you from the fall and crash.

“oh my god, you’re here! you’re here!”

“yes, i’m here-” he laughs in amusement. “ow shit, settle down- wow, it’s so early. why are you so energetic-”

“i missed you!” you briefly pause for oxygen. “so much! i’m never letting go of you again!”

“wow!” he makes a dramatic wheezing sound. “that much, baby? you missed me that much?”

“that much!”

you draw back with a pout, just enough so you can look at each other, nodding your head probably too fast— you’re almost dizzy. adrenaline tide calming into waves, you’re catching your breath.

are you certain that this is not your imagination playing tricks on you?

“you’re here…” you slowly say. it’s only registering to your whiplashed brain. there is barely any feeling in your arms as you touch his face, an attempt at separating wishful thinking and reality. “why are you here?”

“why else?” he grins toothily. “because you said you were missing me.”

your attempt at forming words is rudely interrupted. he steals a kiss, this thief… hard and hungry, keeping you in place by his palm cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

he pulls away with a satisfied hum, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “and because i was missing you more.”

for a moment, you gaze at each other in silence. you’re still neck deep in disbelief and euphoria. that kiss took your breath away. under the circumstances, you shall yield and admit that he misses you more. he requests for developed photos of you when you come visit. that’s something you never imagined you’d have to do.

he tries to tame your messy hair, smoothing it down until he’s holding your cheeks lovingly. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? i miss waking up to this pretty face everyday.”

you pucker your lips in response, demanding for a kiss. this earns a chuckle from him before he grants your wish. an unintelligible noise of joy escapes your mouth as you jump and hug him again. it is shortly followed by a yelp when he whisks you off the bed without warning, spinning you ‘round and ‘round… ‘round… and ‘round… and…

your laughter soon transforms into horror.

“jungkook!” you scream with your eyes squeezed shut and your legs curled around his waist. “okay! stop it! i’m getting dizzy!”

the crazy bastard keeps on giggling as if he doesn’t hear a thing. you always expect these reunions to be so emotional, but when jungkook is here, it feels as though he never left.

“jungkook!”

you hook your leg around his, causing the two of you to collapse on the soft mattress. you land on top of him with a whimper. you breathe out a sigh, relieved that the nausea-inducing ride is over.

“that was fun.” he speaks next to your ear; the sensation makes you squirm.

“it was,” you push yourself up to search for more air, a little sweaty after yours and jungkook’s hyperness took control of your bodies. “for the first five seconds.”

you’re now properly straddling him, ass on his crotch. it’s accidental, but nothing new. nay, comfortable. this level of proximity won’t feel like intimacy with somebody else. goddamn, you missed your boyfriend so much.

a big, sleepy yawn zaps your attention from him. you cover your face with both hands, wandering into the darkness for a little while. you find that your mind is devoid of any thought. perhaps you’re more overwhelmed than you let on.

“missed this view too…” he reveals amidst the haze, a distinct change in the tone of his voice.

there they are— the butterflies in his stomach, slaves to you and only you. he breathes through his parted lips as he caresses your thighs with tenderness bleeding from his fingertips, your skin so smooth and soft in contrast to his calloused palms. his lips curve into a drunken smile when you graze his greedy hands, as though granting them permission, before they slip inside the magenta velvet of your night dress. the material bunches over his forearms as he reaches for your hips. it leaves almost nothing to the imagination (in his case: memory). his attention is stolen by your cotton panties. light taupe. decorated by white polka dots.

“this one’s new.” he comments.

you peer down to figure out what he meant. right, he’s never seen this before. “surprise! you like it?”

“yes, it’s cute.” he toys with the little ribbon at the center of the waistband. “you rarely get this color.”

“thanks. i think my taste is changing.”

“really?”

“mhmm…”

his hands venture up to your waist, kneading at the flesh and reacquainting with the feel of you. he’s been pissed off at the thought of forgetting what it feels like to touch you, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he hasn’t been away from you for extended periods of time since their last tour. that was years ago.

for maximum comfort, he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. “let’s move here.” he carries you with him, back comfortable leaning against the headboard, while you remain sitting pretty on his lap. “bam was sleeping on my side of the bed when i arrived.”

“huh…?” you blink.

“you didn’t know?”

you shake your head innocently, a tad distracted by your eyes roaming his naked torso. he looks absolutely ravishing as ever. did something already change from the last time you saw him?

“i tucked him into his bed last night.”

you visited bam at the training facility after work yesterday, but he kept trying to follow you as you were leaving. your fragile heart caved and you brought him home for the weekend. you texted jungkook about it but he didn’t respond; as much as that made you sad, you figured he was just tired or he used his phone time to talk to his family.

you spent the whole night playing with bam and watching his favorite dog entertainment channel on youtube. the house wasn’t dead silent for once. you fell asleep together on the couch until you woke up at 2am and tucked him and yourself into your respective beds. it was easy to fall back to sleep after, but it felt weird that you didn’t need an audiobook or hours of calming sounds of nature.

you’re not whining. there have been a lot of sunny and happy days. you have wonderful people in your life who act as your support system in their own unique ways, but jungkook and bam… they’re your family. you made your peace with no longer having one, but now that you’ve built your own, having to be apart from them makes your heart ache.

“did he sneak in to sleep next to you? he does that now?” he makes a surprised face. “what’s this? i’m so jealous of him!”

a pinch in your heart.

you try your best to conceal a frown, but your poor choice of words paints your disappointment. “you’re not-” you avoid his eyes. “staying the night?”

“yah, you don’t have to look so sad. i can stay, baby.”

“you can?” your face lights up.

“for you, i’ll make it happen.” he cheeses, affectionately tapping the tip of your nose like it’s a button to make you smile. “i’m only working hard in there to earn more days off, you know that?”

that makes you frown.

“babe, don’t do that…” you whine, shaking his shoulders. “you don’t need to work so hard. only do what is required of you. i just want you to be healthy.”

“no… just let me.” he replies with finality. “i need… i need a reason. you’re the reason why i’m still hanging in there, and i don’t want to miss another anniversary.”

he bats his eyelashes.

“being your boyfriend is my favorite job in the whole world.”

and how are you supposed to argue with one of his most heart-fluttering, most wholesome lines yet?

you sigh in defeat. “then you can rest when you’re with me.”

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

you lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted when he yawns. your forehead ends up resting against his as you giggle uncontrollably at the unexpected and hilarious view of his open mouth.

“sleepy?”

he bows his head in embarrassment, body vibrating with laughter. “i couldn’t sleep because i was so excited. i wanted to talk to you last night but i was so sure i’d spoil the surprise.”

“of course you couldn’t.” you giggle, removing yourself from his lap while tugging at the collar of his shirt. “come here. let’s sleep some more.”

you lie down on the bed facing each other. jungkook moans in contentment as you engulf him in your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. he can smell your body wash, sweet and clean. that— that isn’t new. every muscle in his body decompresses. he needed this, needed you. desperately. tremendously. you pull the thick and warm blanket over yourselves and he melts. while he wishes he was taller, he knows he is still of considerable height. he’s been bulking up, getting stronger than before too. but he doesn’t give a fuck about those at the moment. he’s not even aware. his body fits perfectly with yours— that’s all he knows. oh… he’s melting. but it doesn’t feel like he’s being reduced. he has everything to gain. this is heaven on earth.

he opens his eyes into an awful squint, faced by your cleavage spilling out from the neckline of your night dress. there’s this urge he can’t ignore. it’s not spelt out in his mind, he rather feels like his body is having a fit. next thing he knows, he’s carefully sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the swell of your boob. he stays still for a few seconds, and then pulls away once he deems himself satisfied. he wipes your skin with his thumb incase he left some saliva, innocent eyes peeking up at you huffing out a quiet laugh.

“you sure that’s all you needed?”

“i’ll devour you later.” he smirks, blinking sluggishly. “i’m tired but just you wait. i’ll go all night!”

“not if i beat you to it…” you tease, having plans of your own. you want to make him feel good. you’ve been going insane thinking about it. “missed you.”

“alright then, let’s do it at the same time.” he says suggestively.

“you know i have a hard time focusing when we do that.” you huff.

“eh, so? not me.” he chuckles. “i think you do a really great job, though?”

“…still! go easy on me a little bit so i can do better.”

“it’s not a competition, baby.” he squeezes your waist affectionately. “plus, i don’t think i’d be able to control myself once i get a taste.”

“jungkook!” you whine, growing flustered.

he laughs out loud, giving your ass a quick spank that resounds through the walls of the bedroom.

it becomes silent again after that.

the tip of your nails graze his scalp with repeated movements, more so for your amusement, but he is practically purring. you can’t imagine your arm being a comfortable pillow either, but he is doing great at making it appear so.

“i realized something.”

“what is it?”

“i really can’t live without you.” he confesses earnestly, then looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “don’t say anything. i know you’ll say something like ‘yes, you can!’”

“i was not. i liked hearing you say it.” you stifle a giggle. “but i’m not going anywhere. you know that.”

“i don’t doubt that.” he sighs with a heavy chest. “sometimes i just get a bit worried that you’d get tired of waiting.”

this isn’t the first time in your relationship that he’s voicing out this fear, but the difference between then and now is stark. with the disconnection, there was a part of you that expected it to resurface.

“babe,” you gently tilt up his face, locking your sincere and love-filled eyes with his. “we’re okay. i’ve loved you since i was 18. this? this is nothing. you’re a part of me, so you’re always with me. and i know you keep me with you too.”

you wear a brave face. you hope that he believes your words as much as you do, because no matter how many boulders the universe throws down your path, all you ever think about is how you and jungkook will surmount them. together. he is your partner after all.

“we’ll get through it like we always do, baby boy.”

jungkook nods and smiles, doe eyes glittering. you love making that happen. “sorry, i think i scared myself when i read stories on the internet.”

“our story is different!”

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, seriously-” he cackles, a little breathless.

“we’re one of a kind!” you keep the joke running. you want to keep making him laugh, even if it’s only for a few seconds longer.

“we’ve gone through so much bullshit. not everyone would fight as hard as we did!” jungkook passionately agrees with the same intensity. “you’re right, we always make it work. we’ll get through it like we always do.”

“trust me,” you charmingly implore him. “when was i ever wrong?”

“never!” he immediately shakes his head. “…atleast not about the things that matter.”

“okay,” you shrug. “i’ll take it.”

“goodnight kiss, please.” he cutely pleads.

wild guess: he went home to be babied. not that you’re complaining. this is miles better than having to wrestle him over who gets to be the big spoon. you love giving love. when your heart stops beating, it would be great to celebrate how much you were loved, but you also wish to be remembered as a person who gave love until their last breath.

“goodnight, my love.” you coo, well aware that the sun has risen.

you plant a tender kiss on his forehead. the complaint bubbling in his throat is swallowed when you lean in closer to reach his lips. with his wish fulfilled, he flutters his eyes closed and snuggles as close to you as possible, real and proper rest finally within his grasp. he basks in your warmth and the tranquilizing silence— his breathing steady and his heart at its calmest. beautiful things enter his mind. you are the sun on the first spring day; the clouds that go with him no matter the distance; the waves that kiss the shore and never fail to come back. he heals in places he didn’t know he was hurting.

“hold on, where is bam then?”

“his house. i gave him some treats then he slept again…” his voice comes out muffled. he sniffles jokingly. “the reaction was kind of underwhelming. i think he didn’t miss me as much.”

“of course he’d choose that over a human.”

“i bribed him too early.” he laments.

“wait…” he feels you come to a still. “i think he’s coming.”

he opens his eyes and copies you in focusing on the familiar sound of bam’s paws clicking against the floor. the mattress quakes and he lifts his head to find the dog climbing over your bodies.

he’s seriously a large and tall dog.

“bam, what are you doing here?!”

bam tilts his head and stares back at jungkook, tail wagging as his dad laughs and pets him on the head down to his back.

“he’s so adorable.” you squeal quietly, joining in and scratching under his chin. “i love you, bam.”

bam’s eyes switch to you. he slowly lowers his head, giving your hand a tentative lick as if to show appreciation but he’s also worried that it would prompt you to stop.

“he’s gotten real heavy, huh?”

“he’s got some big muscles like you.”

“of course! he got it from me.”

jungkook’s proud smile drops a little. it morphs into pure fondness once bam starts sniffing at him. he yelps and dramatically falls back, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand, but it’s game over once bam pants with excitement. bam chases his face to attack him with his love language.

you watch the scene from the sidelines, laughing so hard that your sides are beginning to hurt. you wish you were recording. you wish that you never forget this.

“okay, okay! you’re happy to see me! i see that now!” jungkook laughs, squeezing bam in a tight hug for a moment.

the dog still refuses to relent, however. they almost look like they’re fighting to the death but the truth is they’re just smothering each other with affection. unbeknownst to them, you make a pained face when one of them accidentally hits your arm multiple times. nevermind, they were definitely both culprits.

“____! save me!” your boyfriend cries out.

he bulldozes through bam and shoves himself into the tiny space he previously, and peacefully, occupied minutes before. he’s squeezing you so tight, nearly crushing you as he laughs with tears in his eyes. they affectionately call it his elmo laugh, the fans, which you adore just as much.

you see it before you hear it. bam makes that face when he’s about to bark. your hush comes out at the same exact second as his barking.

“this is so chaotic!” you try to project your voice louder than everybody else’s.

jungkook’s laughs quieter but harder, if that makes any sense.

you have an arm around jungkook that holds him taut and protected, while the other is busy with getting bam to settle down. you slide your palm across his fur in repeated motions, focusing on the spots that cause his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“shhh, bam. it’s still too early. let daddy rest first. we can tire him out again later, okay?”

he settles on top of your bodies again. he has stopped moving around, but then he makes that face again, and you really love your healthy sense of hearing.

“behave, bam-” you playfully squeeze his cheeks together before scratching under his chin. “my cutie bam. you can do that for me, right? you’re a good boy! i’m sure you understand.”

he abandons the urge to bark, suddenly fixing his position so you can also scratch at his chest. you almost snort at how funny he looked obeying you on accident because he is begging to be petted.

“that’s right. good job, bam.” you coo, sending him a pleased smile. “you’re so smart. you listen so well.”

you whisper to jungkook. “it’s so cute when it looks like he really understands what i’m saying.”

“it’s the way you talk to him.” he answers quietly, placing tiny kisses along your collarbone. “you’re so sweet.” he almost forgot how good you are with bam. he just fell in love with you all over again.

“but it’d be cooler if he does understand me.” you hum, moving your hand on bam’s head. he finally decides to flop down then. he rests his head over your waist, eyes seemingly inching closer to sleepiness. you sigh in relief. “go to sleep too, baby.”

jungkook breaks the silence a moment later.

“…did you mean me or bam?”

“you!” you chuckle.

“oh-” he laughs at his own foolishness. his arm that is supposed to be hooked around your waist rests over bam’s body instead. he ruffles the dog’s fur softly. “let’s all go to sleep.”

you let out a yawn in response to that. you sniffle, murmuring tiredly. “i love you, baby… your surprise made me so happy. i’ll make it up to you too.”

“i love you more…”

jungkook lifts his head and finds that you have closed your eyes. your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. bam is closely following you into dreamland.

heavens, what he wouldn’t give so he could stay here forever and never leave again.

his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, hot with sleepy tears, but he fights his own body to stay awake. with all his might, he gazes in awe at the beauty of a life with you. he wants to always remember what is waiting for him at home.

#jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction

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entitled-fangirl · 2 months

Text

In time.

Cregan Stark x reader

Summary: Cregan learns to be a father.

Warnings: childbirth, pain, talk of blood, mentions of sex

A/n: This one is so short and sweet!

Masterlist

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Cregan couldn't take the sounds of her screams anymore, so he thanked the gods when the door to their chambers opened.

"How is she?" He immediately asked the maester.

"She's doing well, my lord-"

"Is she?" He smiled, focused on the man as he spoke every word.

"Yes, and congratulations. It's a girl."

His eyes widened and his hand came up to his forehead, "A g… a girl?"

The maester nodded, "And quite healthy."

"Thank the gods," he smiled. "Can I…?"

"Of course, my lord. She's still weak, but awake."

Creagn wasted no time, moving into the room and searching for her.

She laid on the bed in her own sweat, still panting as a midwife took the bloody sheets away.

Cregan moved to her with a smile.

She smiled as well when she saw him, "Cregan."

"Hello, my love." He sat on the bed, taking her hand in his.

"I did it, Cregan."

"You fought hard. Like a northerner." he cooed at her. He reached up and brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her head.

She relaxed at his touch, "A girl."

"So I've heard. Probably beautiful like her mum."

"Why don't you find out?"

Cregan followed her gaze to the small bundle of blankets in the midwife's arms. He held out his arms hesitantly.

The midwife corrected his arms and placed the baby in his grasp.

He let out a soft breath at the sight of the girl's eyes. A deep blue like his.

"Let me see, please."

Cregan moved back to her side, light tears falling down his cheeks.

She cooed at him, wiping a tear from his face.

"You did so well, my girl." He cried. "Thank you."

…

The days passed, but Cregan stayed as excited two weeks later as he had on the first day.

He spent his days either at his wife's side, or by the cradle, putting every other worry of the north on hold.

He held his wife close in bed deep into the night when a cry woke the two.

He murmured groggily, "Keep sleeping. I'll get her."

He neared the crib, pulling the babe up and against his broad chest.

The babe relaxed at the warm feeling of Cregan, forgetting why she had begun to cry in the first place.

He rocked her slowly, cooing into the babe's ear.

She wife got up quietly, pulling her arms around the man's waist and resting against his back.

He grinned, "Sleep. It's only the hour of the wolf."

"Can't sleep when you do that."

He tilted his head, "Do what?"

She hummed, "When you're so natural with her."

"That keeps you awake?"

"Keeps my thoughts going."

He smirked as he turned to look at her, "To where?"

"Places they should not go."

He let out a light chuckle, "It's only been two weeks."

"There are more ways than one to find pleasure, is there not?"

"You're playing with fire."

She teased, "Then I hope to get burned."

A low growl sounded from him, "Oh, you will."

The growl caused the babe to wail out.

She reached forward instinctively, taking the babe from his arms and into her own. She rocked the girl back and forth.

Cregan watched with a light fascination. So natural.

She shifted uncomfortably, "She must need fed. Perhaps we'll have to reschedule that, Cregan."

He smiled, "That's alright."

"I'm sorry."

He leaned forward to brush a kiss to the crown of her head, "Don't be. I have a lifetime with you, and only a small amount with the babe this small."

She nodded. "In time."

"In time, my girl."

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I'm making a Cregan Stark tag list! Comment if you want on it!

Cregan Stark taglist: @nyxbranwenn

#cregan stark x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x female reader #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon

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coffeeshopguest · 5 months

Note

please i need stardew valley bachelors in a kinky gangbang with gender neutral or female farmer!

I loved this suggestion but please have mercy, I didn't know which ones you wanted so I did all 6 which was VERY difficult for me to incorporate so I made it sort of cheap in the end to save having to write a whole night of sex with them all 😭 pls enjoy! I'm sorry if it's a little shitty, I've never written or read group sex stuff 😭

The Bachelor's and the Farmer's Night

Word Count: 1569

Pairing: F!Reader x Sebastian, Harvey, Sam, Alex, Shane & Elliott

Warning: 18+, group sex, rope kink, handcuffs, swearing, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, anal mention, oral mention, cum swallowing, light bdsm (choking, spanking), all of it is pretty vague and quickly mentioned except the fingering & vaginal sex

It was Sam's idea. Not that he was gonna openly parade that around to anyone at first. It started as a pathetic fantasy that he would get off on at night, thin walls making him cover his own mouth as he imagined the farmer laying on a bed, tied down, taking it from him and Sebastian over and over. He was ashamed to even incorporate his friend in a fantasy, but the idea of a threesome with the farmer and Sebastian was just...so fucking hot. The idea of watching her get fucked, then fucking her - Sam was a simple man and he nearly came on the spot every single time he imagined it.

What's worse? He began incorporating the idea of Alex in the mix. He was friendly with Alex - and Sam had seen the farmer interacting with Alex a lot recently. Even throwing around a football with him the other day. Sam didn't immediately think anything of it, until he woke up sweating and hard, having dreamt the farmer and Alex going at it while Sam jacked off and waited for his turn patiently. Slowly, Sam began to think about...what if more people got involved? And oh, god. He finally let it slip to Sebastian.

"What do you think of that new farmer?" Sam asked as he took a shot for one of the striped balls on the pool table. His voice was even, but his heart was racing a pathetic amount.

Sebastian leaned on his stick, watching Sam's shot. "She's cute," Sebastian answered. The two made slow eye contact and Sam debated just leaving the whole conversation at that. But something about the way Sebastian stared him down made him crack.

"Yeah, yeah, she is...uh- you like her?"

Sebastian took a swig of his drink, nodded a little. "Sure," he said, "why?"

"How...how do you like her?" Sam gently rested his stick down on the wall, watching his friend. "Like," he began, "sexually...or...?"

Eyes widening a little, Sebastian tilted his head. "I- we don't usually talk about that kinda stuff," he dismissed, turning his attention to the pool table and ignoring Sam for a moment.

Sam nodded slightly, before he finally whispered, "I know but I want to...uh..." he glanced around the Saloon to see if anyone was looking towards them. No one was. "I kinda want to...have...some group sex with them."

Sebastian took a shot, perhaps out of shock, the cue ball launched across the table and sunk a striped ball. He stared down at the table. Quiet. "Just us three or?"

"Uhm...I was thinking maybe Alex..."

Sebastian raised his head up, hair falling over his left eye. "The farmer? Did you talk to her?"

Sam shook his head and Sebastian slowly turned to the table where he'd set his drink aside, grabbing it and gently taking a sip. "Ask her. Tell me when you do."

"You...you're in?"

Sebastian gave a short nod, and the two acted as though the conversation never even happened.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

When presented with the idea, albeit from a terrified Sam, you agreed immediately. With a condition. You wanted Sam to invite Elliott, Shane, and Harvey. His eyes widened.

"Six....you want six guys-" you nodded. Sam had to awkwardly adjust his pants, at the mere suggestion of that many guys fucking you he got hard. Just the idea of watching it was too much for him. "I- I'll see what they say."

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

To Sam's shock, every single person agreed. He was expecting a sharp no from Shane, but he said yes without a second thought. Harvey stuttered out a "Oh...holy shit...uh- at the farm-?" and blushed madly. Elliott tried to maintain some sort of dignity but by the immediate bulge in his pants Sam guessed his answer before Elliott could recover words and agree. Alex tried to act disgusted at first. But then he mumbled a "can I bring handcuffs and rope?" (Sam asked "dude you live with your grandparents in a small town, why do you even have those?" and was met with a glare).

So it was arranged, a day and time was set. The six made their way down to the farm, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Sam was hard basically half the day before this, eagerly awaiting the nighttime - when his fantasy would become reality. The farmer answered the door, smiling softly at the six men. "Boys, come on in," she smiled. Sam nearly choked, they were wearing a flannel, opened up, only a bra underneath. Fuck. Fucking christ. She was good at this.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Upon being brought to the bedroom, Sam gently guided you to lay down, Harvey quickly mumbled "she needs a safe word-" and the rest agreed. Turning their attention to you. Six flushed, eager faces. You felt like prey laying in the bed, flannel opened to expose your bra. A safe word definitely was needed. As much as you wanted to take all six repeatedly you weren't entirely sure how much you could take before you were too used.

"Red light," you murmured out. "Yellow light means give me a break, but I want to keep going."

And so it began. Sam quickly ripped off the flannel and tossed it aside, then tore the bra off and threw it aside, his hands wandered to your jeans, slowly unzipping them. Your panties exposed, he gently moved his hand down, rubbing softly against the wet spot. You bit your lip, about to moan. Quickly, Sam backed up, Sebastian took one side of the bed and Alex the other. Hands launched to your chest, as Sam gently finished pulling off your pants. A hand on each breast, gently running your ripples through their fingers, you began moaning out loud. Sam got off the bed.

"Who wants to go first?" he asked, Elliott stepped forward. He gently undid his pants, erection springing out. He gently lined up.

You bit your lip, before he backed away, "did...anyone bring lube?" Elliott's voice gently asked. It was Harvey who had, gently digging it out of his jacket pocket and handing it over. Elliott gently poured some into his hand, gliding it across your pussy causing you to moan out. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sam, eagerly jacking off as he watched. Sebastian was still by your side, but his hands had left your body. Elliott gently shoved a finger in. "I'll start slow, you're about to have a hell of a night," he said reassuringly.

You looked up into his eyes, nodding softly. He smiled, gently leaning down, placing a kiss on your forehead, before be pulled his finger out. "Did that hurt at all?" you shook your head, and he gently shoved two fingers in, letting your body adjust to the feeling, he slowly began pumping them in and out of you. All eyes were on you and you whimpered softly, meeting eyes with Shane who was still fully dressed.

"Sha- shane-" you mumbled, gasping as Elliott's fingers expertly worked you. "Can- you- strip?"

A hand gently laced around your neck, "use manners, baby, what do we say?" it was Sebastian's hand, tight grip but just light enough not to hurt. Elliott's fingers effortlessly kept time.

"Please?" you whimpered, the hand left your neck and Shane slowly began to undo his belt. As soon as he was stripped, Elliott's hands left you, for only a second you had a miserable feeling of emptiness before Shane swapped with Elliott.

He postioned himself, hands gently gripping your hips as he found where to line up. "Ready?" you nodded, and with one swift thrust he was in you. Lips found your neck, Shane was focused on fucking you. It was Harvey who had knelt beside you, hand gently gliding down your body to your tit's. Lips on your neck, sucking and leaving a hickey.

Shane grunted, speeding up more. "Fuck- tight...gonna-"

"Not in her," Sam whimpered, you had forgotten Sam was still here, in the corner of the events jacking off. "We can't all...not in her."

To describe the events would be tiring and long and endless. They took turns, spilling themselves over your naked body, in your ass, in your mouth. Alex was partial to rough sex, Sam into watching, Harvey wanted to pleasure you however you asked, Shane was focused solely on his own quick finish, Sebastian wanted to tie you down with Alex's ropes when he fucked you and choke you out, Elliott was gentle and soft and sweet and placed kisses on your forehead as you took their dicks over and over and over.

In the end, the sun rose when you guys finally ended the session. You had given several sessions of head. Taken fingers, fists, and dicks. Been tied down, choked, spanked, had your hair pulled. And each of them had asked for something the others hadn't. Sam begged to finish by jacking off onto your naked body. Sebastian wanted your lips wrapped around his cock when he finished. Alex, he was the one who dug out a condom so he could feel your pussy tighten around him as he came inside you.

When the session ended, you simply told all of them. "We're doing this again."

#stardew valley x reader #sdv smut #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv x reader #farmer x sebastian #farmer x shane #farmer x harvey #farmer x sam #farmer x alex #farmer x elliott #stardew valley smut #female farmer #x female reader

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somejazzinthemorning · 1 year

Text

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

#Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz Jr #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Carlos Sainz x You #Carlos Sainz Smut #Carlos Sainz Fanfic #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Formula 1 x Reader #Formula 1 x You #F1 x Reader #F1 x You #F1 Imagine #F1 One Shot #Driver x Reader #F1 Driver x Reader #Driver x You #F1 Driver x You #F1 Fanfic #FanF1ction

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mondaymelon · 10 months

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₊˚ෆ 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄! | sagau lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: theme of obsessiveness, yandere (big surprise!!) lyney + wrio's part mentions past abuse, all the stuff that comes as a side to this au !! ngl neuvillette's part is pretty tame he's literally. just a guy (otter)

⤷ [ you, the heavenly being who created celestia itself, has descended upon teyvat in an earthly form. a god, or at least, theirs. ]

— sagau!lyney has always lived to be beheld by the eye.

Displays of extravagance, bouquets of flowers and pairs of white doves fluttering from his finger tips. Yes, that was where he belonged, standing on his place at the center of the stage, bright lights fixed on his form as he swept in his arm in a wide bow towards his beloved audience. Listening to their adoring cheers and drinking it all in - their support, the fame, their fanatic attention.

Attention was always something he had yearned for. Cold days exist in his memory, where he wandered the street aimlessly, pale skin littered with growing purple bruises, his only refuge the light tug of Lynette's soot-stained hands clinging onto what rags he wore. In those times, he remembers, a faint voice from above, angelic and holy, soft and compassionate.

A voice that was, in fact, yours. You had stared with wide eyes at your device as the cutscene began, instantly overcome with emotion. "Lyney, Lynette... was this how you had been living? Goddamn, I know every character in this game has a tragic backstory, but look at them!! They're... they're precious!! Wahhh, I want to take you in... Lyney, you better come home..." They were merely throwaway comments that you had blurted out in the shelter of your room, absolutely fixated on their pretty character designs and the dwindling number of primogems your inventory held. Not only had you lost the 50/50 to Qiqi herself, you were now nearing hard pity, and the charming magician was still nowhere in sight. You shut your eyes "Ah... Lyney, how come you-"

Light flickered before your closed eyelids, and you felt the wind tug at your body. Your stomach lurched, oh shit, were you falling..?

"-won't..."

Someone caught you with ease, swift and capable arms holding you, one supporting your back and the other hefting both your legs. Twinkling purple eyes met yours. "Ah, are you alright?" You quickly shook your head, too shaken to speak words at the moment. Surveying your surroundings only brought another wave of confusion - strange buildings, glittering blue lakes and trees, an unfamiliar landscape... Your gaze shifted, and you caught the sight of uncanny ash blond hair, and the hat that sat atop it. Lyney?

He hummed in acknowledgement. "So, you've just fallen from the sky." There was no way in mistaking his voice. "Is there an explanation behind that, or...?"

"I...I- I don't know why I'm here...!" You stuttered, and he visibly flinched at your voice, eyes widening. Shit, had you done something wrong? You trembled in his arms, attempting to stand by yourself, but he wouldn't let you move from his grasp.

"I see." His voice was quiet, now, and came in a single breath. His pupils shook as he closed his eyes in a smile. "Then, shall I bring you somewhere where you'll be safe?"

His heart was racing, pounding against his chest, and he could hardly breath, instead taking in short, desperate little gasps that did little to keep him standing. You.

It was a voice he swore he'd never let escape his recollection, and now there was a face, and touch to pair it with. He smile widened, and his eyes shined with pure ecstasy. It was you, in the flesh, his archon, his god, the highest being. Your body was holy, and he longed to praise it, his dark heart being cleansed just by bathing in your presence. Yet you seemed so fragile in his arms, how cute... it wouldn't be fair to keep you to himself, but being selfish is what allowed him to get this far. Like a songbird in a cage, he'd trap you, admire you, worship you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you could feel his smile's sweet grow more sickening every beat of silence that passed. "No, What? I-"

His hand struck the back of your neck. Your voice died as your eyes fluttered shut. And in that moment Lyney pressed a kiss to both of your closed lids, a tender touch that one might describe as "loving", but what truly lie beneath it was far more twisted. His heart beat only for you, and red flushed across his cheeks.

"There's no need to worry, my eminence. I'll put on a show, just for your delight." ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!neuvillette has always yearned for warmth.

A warmth is not present in the courts of Fontaine. There, it is cold, sharp, the biting frigidness numbing the hearts of people - those who stand before him in trial, and those who watch with glee in the crowd, awaiting his final verdict with bated breaths.

Neuvillette was most renowned for his judgement. But it was his own that was a critical flaw. For what truly was judgement? Had he been justified in casting a murderer, in some eyes, but a hero in others, into the Fortress of Meropide? A mere child, who just sought for warmth, just as he had? He fears his heart has also grown cold and indifferent to the world, and he despises himself for it.

Was it not your warm hand that stroked him lovingly so back then, a quiet, soothing touch that swept away the tears and the salt that clung to his cheeks? Was it not your voice who called out to him on those ever so lonely nights, humming an otherworldly tune as your ghostly visage wiped the sorrow that flowed his downcast eyes? Yes, truly. It was your warmth that caused his eyes to glow anew, your warmth that allowed his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears to flush with contentment.

"Oh, wise ludex! This man is a murder! He stole not only my mother's assets, but my mother's life!" The crowd gasped at the dramatic declaration, their gazes shifting back and forth, from the perpetrator to the "witness." "I will dearly miss her... this man, no, this monster, took my mother away by hitting her over the head with none other than a bludgeon!"

Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Mr... Lucas."

"Y-Yes, ludex?"

"It was never disclosed to the public of what weapon the killer used."

The crowd erupted into a series of sharp inhales, surprised noises muffled by a hand over the mouth, round eyes as large as dinner plates, and frantic head turning. Journalists scribbled frantically in their notebooks, sweat pouring from their faces as they stumbled upon their newest cash cow.

"The verdict. Mr. Lucas is found to be guilty."

And they cheered. For what? Neuvillette narrowed his eyes just a fraction, his displeasure rising. They knew nothing. They were just mindless puppets, willing themselves to follow the sway of the crowd, praising and applauding something that naught needed its praise.

A sensation came over him, like the soft caress and flutter of an angel's wings or a soft, sweet sigh escaping from pouting, half-opened lips. The man snapped his head up, hearing the glass behind him shatter and plummet downwards like crystal raindrops, but what verily sent his heart apounding was the sight of a figure, dressed in heavenly silks, bathed in golden light, and descending into the courtroom. He drank it all in with a bated breath, hearing that for once, the crowd was silence.

You landed in his arms. Beautiful. He almost didn't dare move with you in his arms, in fear of his legs giving way underneath him. Your head lulled into his chest, eyes shut, and your pure, unbridled warmth finally met him, finally doused him in its prescence.

"Your... your eminence..." His voice was a mere echo, quiet, containing little sound at all. "I..."

"To you who has granted me such the blessing of warmth, I shall repay with all of my heart." ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!wriothesley has always wanted... someone to hold him.

It's a selfish thing to long for, and a silent one. Who would pay any heed to a duke's ramblings? Love's a thought that he's never quite fully digested, almost as if he can't truly believe it exists. Of course, he's seen Fontaine's couples, strolling up and down the street, hand-in-hand, yet questions himself in what makes them able to love each other. Perhaps it wasn't his problem with them, but more so a problem with himself.

Ah, that was it.

His heart already belonged to someone, someone he had heard once and never witnessed again. Like the softest breath of the wind, or a joyful child's laughter, it brushed through his soul and soothed it, held it in its arms, and fussed over his messy hair and bruised skin. At times, Wriothesley wondered if it was all a dream, for only something that angelic, mesmerizing could not stem from reality. However, as young as he was in those years, he cannot deny the fact that in his dark days - it was your mysterious voice that carried him into the life, your presence that gave him the wings to continue living.

Yes, since that day, his every breath, every flutter of his eyes and every pump of blood that rushed anew into his veins from his heart was solely for the purpose of meeting you once more.

Another typical day at the Fortress of Meropide - paperwork strewn all over his once-organized desk, a cooled cup of tea sitting next to where his hand lie, the other furiously writing away on the said paper. He ran a hand through his hair, grumbling into his palm as he briefly shut his eyes... only to shoot them back upon in a start as he heard the sound of something crashing against the walls, and the sound of paper, flying everywhere akin to a bird.

There was someone, lying, or rather, sprawled across his desk. Dizzy-eyed and muttering something intelligible, a growing red spot on their forehead gradually becoming increasingly more visible. "How did you get in here?" He's immediately put up his defenses, readying his gloves as he steps over - with quiet remorse - the papers that now blanket the ground.

"...Wh...Where am I?"

That. That voice.

Has he stopped breathing? He can feel all the blood rush to his head, and he can hardly think a single coherent thought, only focusing on the rush in his ears, the shaking of his hands, and the sight of you before him, dressed simply in sleepware and glancing around frantically. Gorgeous. Ethereal. The mere sight of you before him had spurred his heart into an erratic, fanatic pace, beating within his body like he'd die if it slowed down.

"Is... Is something wrong?" He was taken aback at the hand waving over his eyes, before settling back into position, realizing that you had been trying to speak with him for the past half-minute in his zoned-out state. Could you see it? The sin that was clearly displayed in his every breath, in his every inch of being?

"No, nothing's wrong." You seemed to have calmed down somewhat, and while your eyes were still filled with confusion, you tilted your head at his words. How come he was smiling...?

"Ah, then about that question-"

"Home. You're home. And this is where you'll be staying, forever." ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) ugh i swear to god i hate every single thing ive ever written for wriothesley he seems so yucky and out of character WJODJKFLJDSMF>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

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xhoneygirlxx · 1 year

Text

Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader

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destiny-fics · 10 months

Text

[7:30 am] - Choi San

Warnings: morning sex, riding, reader takes on a more dominant role, San has a big dick, reader gets called baby and sweetheart, San gets “used” for the reader's pleasure and he likes it.

Masterlist

A/N: in my San feels, going feral over the video of him dancing with his shirt off, this very self indulgent little fic was born.

18+ Only. Minors DNI

“Shhh, we might wake up Mingi or Seonghwa.”

“Fuck them,” San laughed softly, continuing to press soft ticklish kisses to your neck and cheeks. “Who cares if we wake them up?”

“You do,” you giggled, gasping as San's morning wood pressed into your thigh. “Because you don't want to get scolded.”

“I'd get scolded if it was for you,” he mumbled into your neck, grinding his erection into your thigh.

“That's sweet Sannie,” you hummed softly, sliding your hands into his hair and tugging gently, making the man hovering above you moan.

“That's me,” your boyfriend hummed, kissing your cheek as he flipped the both of you over so you were sat atop him. “Your sweet, sexy boyfriend.”

“Now I didn't say sexy,” you giggled at San's scoff, rolling your hips on top of his. His eyelids fluttered and he gripped your hips tightly.

“Oh? So you're grinding up on me because you think I'm not sexy?”

“I didn't say that either,” you smiled, pulling your sleep shirt, which was actually just one of San's shirts, over your head, shivering as the cool morning air hit your bare skin. San grinned, letting his hands smooth up the sides of your torso and up to your breasts, thumbing your pebbled nipples.

“But, for the record,” you sighed dreamily as San gently flicked your nipple. “I think you're very sexy.”

“Yeah? So what're you going to do about it?”

San raised a challenging eyebrow, one hand sliding down your body and into your sleep shorts to swipe his fingers through your wet folds.

“I…” you rolled your hips into his hand, sliding your own up San's defined abs, fingers dipping into the valleys between each one. “Am going to ride your big, fat, sexy cock. If you'll let me, of course?”

“If I'll let you?” San repeated back to you, a laugh in his voice as he circled your clit with his fingers. “Baby,” he drawled, “I'll let you do whatever you want to me.”

San thought you looked ethereal like this. Early morning sunlight cascading in through his bedroom window to paint your skin with a warm glow. Your hands were planted on his chest, thumbs caressing his nipples as you bounced on top of him, soft, sweet moans falling from your lips.

“Fuck Sannie,” you sighed, clenching around San's cock as you sat yourself fully on top of him. You threw your head back, eyelids fluttering closed and lip tucked between your teeth. “So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” San grinned, rolling his hips up into you.

“Yeah…” you sighed out again before resuming your slow grinds on top of him. You smoothed your hands down San's torso and then up your own, tweaking your own nipples, making yourself whimper out in pleasure. San groaned watching you, smoothing his own hands over your thighs, squeezing the flesh gently. He could watch you forever when you were like this, so full of pleasure, bathed in sunlight and using his cock, using him to make you feel good.

“Fuck that's it sweetheart,” he moaned, pressing his thumbs hard into your thighs. “Ride me…use me.”

You raised an eyebrow as the words slipped from San's mouth, the man below you having the decency to look shocked at himself. He shivered as a small smirk made its way onto your face. You threw your head back with a soft laugh before looking at your now blushing boyfriend. You planted your hands back on his chest. “That…is so fucking hot Sannie. You want me to use you? Use you for my pleasure?”

“God yes…baby please.”

You laughed again, leaning down to capture San's lips in a filthy kiss. He whimpered into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours. He whined again when you pulled away, blinking up at you with hooded eyes. You smirked down at him again, biting your lip. “Well then,” your voice had taken on a tone which made San shiver. “Your wish is my command.”

Taglist: @hiseu @yeosayang @avyskai @whatudowhennooneseesyou @foxdaisy @maskedmochii

#kpop smut #ateez smut #choi san smut #san smut #hard thoughts with rose #kpop hard hours #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #san hard thoughts #san hard hours

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he-calls-me-kitten · 7 months

Note

Recently got busy and haven't had time to be around at all .. I just skimmed through whatever I have missed while I was away and I realized how badly I missed your writing style... It's just so ue2ge8eh27db❤️❤️⁉️⁉️ I can't really explain it.. its scrumptious, very very yummy... So I come with a little request... We know the obey men are quite and as a short girlie that's just like so fucking attractive like?????????? Sirrrr???? 😖😖

Imaginee... getting picked up by them and quite literally hanging off their cock as they just dangle you in the air, your feet not touching the ground as they just fuck yiu silly, watching your writhe and sob as their cock leaves a bulge on your stomach as you claw at their arms. They don't even gotta be trying, your just go dumb on their cock, crying how it's too big and having them bully themselves in you...

Basically that prompt with barbatos, Simeon and beel

I'm a very horny Tumblr user as you can tell LMAO

Love you though, take rests, eat, drink, stay healthy, darling. Mwah 💋

-M. 🪭🪷

Oh my god look who's back?!!! Hey M!!! Missed you loads, hopefully life eases up on you, busy little thing! Thank you for checking in, it means the world ❤️

And your ideas...just *chef's kiss*. Here's another treat for the short AFAB folks with size kink out there!!!

Little Body Big Heat

Afab! MC x Barbatos, Simeon, Beelzebub

Barbatos mock apologizes as you pant and plead him to stop. But he's barely even doing anything really. All he's doing is just standing there, carrying you in his arms, holding you so close.

You're the one struggling and twitching to take him in more or push him out. The way you are writhing - he genuinely cannot tell but he sure is enjoying the show.

"MC, use your words, won't you? I'm sorry I can't understand you when you're like this, my love." He coos, brushing hair away from your face.

"Mhhmm- B-Barb please.... please it's too much. Please ....just... help me move..." You struggled to string a sentence together.

And he finally the gracious butler takes pity on you. You're asking so nicely after all.

"Is this better?" He moves so painfully slow, you whine into his ears. "Oh? Would you like me to be... faster?" He kisses your neck, feeling the vibrations of your delightful complains, which soon would turn into delightful screams. And he wants everyone to hear them too.

Simeon's angelic side simply ceases to exist when it comes to his desire for you. Honestly what were you thinking falling asleep, sitting on his lap. Don't you know he already has a hard time behaving himself around you?

"Did you have a good sleep, MC?" He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you closer for a kiss. "As you can see...I've run into quite the problem. I can't go home to Luke while I'm like this now, can I?"

You take some time to come to your senses. After all, it's not every day you wake up with Simeon's erection between your legs.

"Would you like to use me...to calm it down?" You gingerly try to hold him down there, it took both of your hands yet he was still much too big for you. He made a low groan at the contact.

"Really, you wouldn't mind?" He asks even as his fingers are already touching your waist, slowly pulling off your top.

"Your sense of duty is really admirable, MC." He chuckles as he pulls off your shorts, now undoing his own pants. "Now then, where would you like me?"

"You...can choose." You let him feast on you with his eyes and hands, enciting soft whimpers and moans. His fingers delight at the wetness pooled between your legs, toying with you before pressing his erection against your puffy clit.

He pushes into your hole, stretching you out but before you can't even let out a sound. His tongue is inside your mouth devouring your screams. You've taken him in so well. He can feel himself bulge out your stomach. "Does that feel good, my little lamb?"

You nod even tears collect at the corner of your eyes. "So good..so... full... It's toobiigg... you'resooo big S-Simeon... please..." Oh how he loves doing this to you.

Beelzebub's length is only the second most dangerous thing about him. The first is his stamina. You realise this now as you have been pressed against his lockers for what feels like hours. Your feet haven't touched the ground in so long.

"Beel...a-are you still.. not done..." You watched him pant, looking at you with a frenzied look in his eyes. When you told him you'd help him get his mind off food, this is not how he thought it would go.

"Beel! I-I know you're really famished ..but ...but you can't... keep...doing this...ahhhmn..mnhn Beel I'm about to...cum again...stop please..." He kept sucking your slick up, right through your orgasm. Talk about overstimulation.

He already tormented you with his tongue down there till you were leaking through your underwear. And now that he was too aroused to calm down, you simply had to let him fuck you. "Just...one last time, MC. I promise."

Yeah sure. He said that two rounds ago. Seriously you wondered how you had not passed out yet. But then again, everytime he moved - you swear he kept discovering a new pleasure point inside you.

"MC your face right now...you look so cute...I'm sorry I couldn't stop myself...and you feel so warm..." He plunged in and out of you again, bouncing you on his dick effortlessly. Of course he hasn't thought about food, he's been too busy devouring you.

#obey me smut #obey me barbatos #obey me beel #obey me Simeon #obey me x reader smut #obey me asks

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

i imagine eddie working out in his room like doing push-ups, pulls ups, AND he’s shirtless😭😭but he’s doing it secretly and reader walk into his room and he gets all flustered and embarrassed but reader thinks it’s the hottest things she’s ever seen GOD

this post is 18+, minors dni.

If you had to guess, you'd say that Eddie is a little bit insecure. Not that he should be, you like him just the way he is, but you're friends with some of Hawkins' athletes, and at times Lucas seems to have bigger arms than your boyfriend does.

It doesn't bother you, but you think it might bother him a little. He starts wearing longer sleeves instead of his worn out muscle tanks, and you miss being able to stick your greedy fingers through the gaped sleeves to grab at his stomach. He's also started dissuading you from looking under his bed, which you think is suspicious because you already know about the porn magazines under there. Whatever he's hiding must be worse, and you're a little nervous to tell the truth. You have half a mind to ask Wayne if he's noticed anything odd lately, but you don't get the chance to because he's already gone for work by the time you get to Eddie's trailer for the day.

Eddie had said he was busy with work, so you assume he's halfway across town with sixteen pizzas in the back of his van to deliver. You decide to check beneath his bed, at the risk of ruining a possible birthday surprise, and you trek towards his bedroom with worry set low in your stomach.

His door is closed; that's an even worse sign. He doesn't have anything to hide from you or Wayne, you both know about his less-than-conventional 'side job'. When you twist the knob it opens, but slams into something hard, and you hear a familiar voice hiss 'ouch!'.

You rush into the small gap that you'd made with the door, finding Eddie on his hands and knees on the carpet. He's wearing a tank and his gym shorts, showing off his slightly trembling arms as he stumbles to his feet.

"What-" He grunts, eyes blown wide in panic, cheeks colored from exhaustion, "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" You counter, eyeing him up and piecing clues together, "Were you working out?"

"No!" He snaps, chest heaving with both adrenaline from being caught, and fatigue from his exercise, "I'm- I was just cleaning my room."

There's something undeniably attractive about his look right now. Frizzy hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, red cheeks, shaky limbs, and chest heaving.

"On the floor," You narrow your eyes, "Sweaty and shaking?"

"I- That's not... yes." He doubles down with a huff, "I'm trying to get gum off of my carpet. It's hard work."

"Gum," You repeat, and he nods stiffly, "Oh, shut up."

He rears his head backwards in slight shock at your tone, but you don't give him the chance to process it before you're lunging for him. You feel like jumping him, and maybe that's what you're doing as you push him back towards his bed, your mouth firmly over his own. He lets out a muffled cry into the kiss as he falls backwards, bouncing on the mattress while you kick a foot beneath the bed.

The arch of your foot hits weights, and everything makes sense.

"Fuck," You hiss, crawling over top of him on the bed. He's looking half bewildered and half aroused, already chubbing up in his workout gear, "You've been working out?"

"Yeah," He finally admits, voice and breath shaky together, "I- I just thought that it might be nice to get a little bigger. Like- my arms, my- my muscles."

He seems mortified admitting it, but your thumb is already slipping beneath the hem of his tank top, brushing along his bare stomach. He shivers at the contact, and you dip down to kiss him again.

"That's hot," You decide, both thumbs now stroking at his waistline. His hips stutter, jerking up into your grip when you hit a particularly sensitive spot, and his breath hitches into the kiss that you press to his lips.

"Really?" He asks, lips already spit-slicked.

You nod, kissing his jaw, "Totally. Can I watch?"

He laughs, a sharp, breathy sound, "Babe- mm, fuck," You nip lightly at his neck, kissing the mark after, "You can watch me work out every day if you're gonna maul me like this."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson hcs #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson dialogue #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

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atlasmoonglade · 4 months

Text

University AU Enemies to lovers

Joost Klein x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, PiV (protected), 18+ only

It's a Friday evening, soft music is playing through the speakers on Max's desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone is sitting in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on Max's bed, you and Olivia rest on Max's roommate’s bed. Red solo cups of beer are scattered amongst the room. It was calm and then the door swung open.

"Yooo!!" The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Max, who hops off his bed and heads towards the entrance.

“Joost!” Max exclaims, arms open wide to embrace his friend. “Where the hell you have been, man?”

"Consider my good time ruined" you mutter.

"Be nice" Olivia pats your knee.

"I am always nice. It's him who always starts shit. That di-"

"Hey, Y/N" Joost greets, taking a seat on the opposite bed. "Hey, Olivia."

"Hey, Joost" Olivia smiles. When you don't say anything, she nudges her elbow into your side.

You roll your eyes. "Hi, Joost"

"C'mon, that's all I get?" he teases. "What's wrong? You tired?"

"You have no idea" you say, finally looking at him. He is wearing a green long sleeve polo shirt and a hat, his blond messy hair sticking out the front it.

"Aw, is it past your bed time?"

"And the day is just starting for you? Let me guess, you just rolled out of bed."

"Oh, God" someone says "Here they go again."

"Max invited me here. I am more fun than someone who sits with a sour face all the time."

"Why are you talking to me? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You know" Max says. "if you two just - I'm gonna say it - fucked one good time. You would get over this rivalry already."

Your jaw drops, you look at Olivia, who just shrugs.

"Don't ever say that again, Max. Ew" you say disgusted at the thought.

"Ew?" Joost says offended. "You would be lucky if I even considered it."

Your jaw drops even lower. "You arrogant asshole" you sit down straight. "And this is who you all want around?"

"Stop it you two." someone says.

You can't see yourself ever getting along with him. This "rivalry" as your friends call it has started a long time ago. During the first week of introductions, he asked you to speak louder, which completely messed up your track of thought and earned some laughs from the auditory. So, after the first homework tasks, you called his presentation uninspiring and poorly structured. He took the last internship place, which he knew you wanted. So, you assigned to write the final paper with the professor, he was planning to ask. You showed his old embarrassing Youtube videos to a girl he wanted to ask out, which lead to her blocking his number. So, he fucked your roommate, while you were still in the room. He calls you short tack, princess, anything but your name, making fun of the fact that he is taller than you. List of insults you call him is too long.

"I'm gonna head out" you stand up to leave.

"I'll come with you" Olivia left with you.

You take your favorite seat in the auditorium, noise of chatting students around you as you take out your laptop. The professor walks in, prepared to start the lecture. The room falling into gradual silence, then the door opens and Joost walks in. You watch him take his place further up, he notices you looking and flips you off. You mock him and flip him off back.

At the end of the lecture professor announces "As you all know the final paper consists of a group presentation. I took liberty and divided you into pairs. I will also email you the list." he pulls up the list on the projector screen. You search for your name. As soon you see it, the color drains from your face.

No. No, this must be a mistake.

A groan is heard from the back of the auditorium. "Professor, I am not working with her." Joost says annoyance clear in his voice. "Switch me to be with someone else."

You are sat in disbelief that you got assigned to write the final paper with Joost.

"This is a final list." Professor looks at the whole class. "Drop this attitude and act like grownups."

As the lecture ends, you hurry to the professors desk. "Sir, this is not going to work. He is going to sabotage my results. Can I just switch with someone?" you look at him with pleading eyes. "Anyone else."

"I assigned pairs randomly, so everyone has equal chances. You have to learn to work with everyone." he says. "This is final."

Joost rushes past us towards the exit. You roll your eyes. This can't be happening.

You meet with Olivia and tell her everything. She laughs in shock at first, but then insists you'll be fine, that you are adults and both want this done one way or another. You knew it’d be a miracle if Joost and you made it through 15 minutes of working on something together.

You and Joost still haven't talked about it, as if pushing it to the last minute would solve the problem. It is halloween night, you are getting ready for the party, your costume is inspired by Britney Spears in her music video Baby one more time. You finish braiding your hair into two braids, fix your skirt, wait for Olivia and you head out to the party.

Loud music, neon lights, you already had a couple of drinks, feeling a nice buzz. Someone from the group of your friends suggests to play Spin the bottle.

"Hell yeah, let's do it." Max puts his hand around you. "C'mon grumps, you joining us?"

You push his hand away. "I am" you make kissing face at him. "Always dreamt of kissing you" your voice full of sarcasm. You and Max burst out laughing.

Your usual group of friends and a few people you met at the party find space in the house to set up the game, music still loud around you. Olivia brings the bottle, as you are all sitting in a circle, ready to start.

"Is there still space for me?" a voice behind you asks. You turn around to see Joost, his face painted to resemble a skull, he is wearing a black suit, which doesn't properly fit him and a red tie.

"Sure, man! We've been looking for you." Max makes room for Joost to sit next to him, opposite of you.

"I was a little busy with this girl I met." he says as he sits down. "Glad I found you guys just in time." his eyes find yours and he smirks.

"We are so lucky" you say contemplating if you should just leave. Olivia looks at you shaking her head as if trying to tell you "don't start it again", you roll your eyes.

For the past 15 minutes there was a lot of cheering as people kiss. Some give just a little peck, others fully commit, tongue and all. Max is currently making out with a girl from an acting class. Her hands are in his hair as they deepen the kiss.

"Okay okay. I am afraid you will start fucking soon." someone says. "I am not drunk enough to see that."

Everyone laughs and they pull apart, going back to their places.

It is your turn to spin the bottle, you down your drink and reach for the bottle. You give it a good spin, watching it, already knowing you will just give a little peck to whoever it lands on. The bottle slows and comes to a stop. You follow the neck of the bottle, it points to Joost. Everyone erupts into loud cheering and whistling.

"Finally!" someone says.

You look at Joost. Universe must be punishing you for something.

"Bring it on, princess." he messes up his hair. "Hope it's not gonna be your first kiss." he licks his lips.

"Pass." you say with a smile and cross your arms against your chess.

"No, that's not how this works" Max chimes in. "No skipping your turn."

You groan and look at the ceiling hoping you can just die on the spot.

Joost stands up and offers you his hand. "We will go somewhere private. Won't give you all a show. It is her first time, has to be special."

"Oh, shut up" you say. "Let's just move on, everyone"

"Just trust me." he kneels down next to you. "Can you do that for once?" he says looking into your eyes.

You stand up without his help and head towards the first room you see, you can hear his footsteps behind you.

You walk in and close the door behind you as he walks towards the window.

"I am not kissing you." you say.

"I wasn't planning on that" he replies and opens the window, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, puts one in between his lips and reaches for a lighter.

"You should quit that." you point at the cigarette in between his fingers.

He chuckles and takes a drag of a cigarette as you stand in silence.

"About that presentation.. " you start.

"I emailed the head of the department asking to let us switch partners." he looks down at his shoes. "He said no"

You look at him with your eyes wide.

"You would hate to work with me that much?" you ask shocked he went that far.

"I was doing it for the both of us. You know it would be a disaster. But since we are stuck together, promise me you won't fuck this up for us." he lifts his head up to look at you.

All of your anger returns. You can't believe you were about to offer him to put your differences behind you.

"Fuck you, Joost. Why do you think I would be the one to fuck this up? You are the unreliable one. Always gone somewhere doing fuckall with whoever." your hands ball into fists. "Fuck you" you say again and storm out of the room.

You leave the party without saying bye to anyone, you just need to go back to your room to calm down.

The street you walk back to the dorm is silent, lit up only by sporadic streetlights. It's late enough that everyone is already asleep or partying. Your head clears from the alcohol. You are deep in your thoughts, and suddenly you hear fast approaching footsteps behind you. You don't have enough time to realise what is happening, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. A flight or fight response kicks in and you scream, turn around and throw a punch, not risking waisting time to think about it.

Your fist connects with something.

"Ouch. You fucking bitch" you open your eyes to see Joost holding his cheek. It's not until you smell a familiar scent, cigarettes with cologne, your panic subsides a little. You think of how stupid your argument over the presentation was. The fear of being robbed or worse, has made you realise that Joost is not the enemy and never has been. Your hands start to shake and you burst into tears.

And then you hug him, your arms tight around his middle, he tenses but then wraps an arm around you, feeling you tremble.

"Hey, hey" his voice getting soft. "What's wrong with you" his other hand is still holding his cheek.

"I thought you were a murderer." you let go of him, still shaking.

"I called your name, you didn't hear?"

"No" you say "What are you doing here anyway?"

"No one knew where you disappeared to. I went looking for you." he says letting go of his cheek. The paint of a skull on his face has rubbed off from sweat throughout the night and you can see hints of red from where you hit. You start to feel sorry and embarrassed that you reacted that way. You reach out to him, but drop your hand before it reaches to touch his cheek.

"Let's not tell anyone about this." he suggests. "We can't give them the satisfaction of knowing you hit me"

It draws a laugh out of you and it makes him grin.

"It's the least I can do. I really am sorry, Joost."

"You are nuts for reacting like this...but I really didn't mean to scare you." he says. "Let me walk you home."

You walk together in silence.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier at the party." he says suddenly. "I realise I was kind of an asshole"

"Kind of?"

"Ok, yeah, I overreacted. I guess what i'm trying to say is.. Let's just do that presentation and not kill each other. I already felt your knuckles on my face, don't want that again"

You look at him, seeing the red mark again. "My room. 7pm tomorrow. Let's at least start it"

Olivia left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into comfortable pants and a cropped sweater. You sit at your desk, and wait. You’d told Joost to come at 7.

There is a knock at 7:14.

"Come in" you say slight annoyance in your voice.

"I'm sorry, short stack"

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna come" you turn in your chair to face him.

"I'm here now" he says taking a seat next to you, smell of cigarettes filling the space.

"I started writing a rough plan." you show him what you wrote on your laptop.

After 30 minutes of you two working out an agenda for the presentation, Joost leans back on his chair. "Wow"

It makes you look at him. "What?"

"Look at us. Not arguing"

"It's only been like half an hour" you look at your watch. "The night is young"

Maybe he has brain damage from the punch, but he can’t lie to himself, that night after the party shifted things. Seeing you so terrified caused a change in him. Feeling your arms around him, clinging to him and trembling so hard, softened him towards you.

He catches himself thinking you look so good all wrapped up in your shared work. He hooks his foot around the leg of your chair and pushes you closer to him.

"What are you doing?" you push yourself back.

"Why are you so far away from me?"

"I am not. I am an appropriate distance from you." you look at him as if he is crazy.

He pushes you closer again and leans in. He acts on an instinct, closes the distance between you and crashes his lips against yours. You press your hands against his chest and push away.

"What the hell was that?" you ask touching your lips.

He is just as speechless as you are. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grab onto the hem of his shirt and pull him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Joost's hands grip your waist and he urges you to straddle him. Without breaking the kiss you put your legs on each side of his and sit on top of his thighs. He grips your hair and deepens the kiss, earning a moan from you, which makes him push up into your clothed core. You feel him hardening.

Joosts hands slide down to your thighs, he scoops you up in his arms, standing up and lifting you up with him. Your legs are wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supports your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth. He carries you over to the bed, dropping you on top of the mattress. He looks down at you with a grin.

"These fuckers were right." he laughs. "We needed this" he leans back to you, his hands sneaking beneath your sweater, pushing it up until your bra is revealed. He looks into your eyes. "Is this okay?"

"Yes" you moan, "Please".

His pushes your bra down, enough to reveal your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you grip onto his hair. He can't stop himself from smiling. He sucks harder, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise.

You rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Joost noticed this and proceeded to stick his hand down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirks at how soaked you were already and rubs your clit as he licks a trail up to your neck. You tighten your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets. His cock is pressed against the zipper of his jeans, getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your clit, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

"Do you want to do this?" he looks at you.

"Yes." you reply with no hesitation. "Condoms are in the drawer."

He gets off the bed, finds the pack of condoms, tears the foil with his teeth, and watches you as he rolls the condom on himself. You’re absolutely gorgeous, better than he could have ever imagined.

"How do you want me, princess?” The nickname finally getting a new meaning.

"However you want it.”

"We are doing acrobatics then"

It startles a laugh out of you, and Joost thinks he might love that—the way he makes you laugh.

He takes off your pants together with the underwear, bends your leg, pushes it away from him, closer to you, which reveals your slick core to him.

“Gotta tell me how you want me, and fucking quick.” he groans, just the view of you makes him do mathematics in his head to stop from cumming on the spot.

"Missionary works me." you prop yourself on your elbows.

So he climbs onto you. He kneels between your legs, then pushes them apart obscenely wide. You stay propped up on your elbows, watching him, but when he settles between your thighs, you fall back against your pillow.

“Good?” he asks.

"You haven’t done much,” you point out.

"Smart-ass.” He reaches down and grasps his cock at the base, and drags the tip through your folds. He coats himself in your arousal, feels the heat of your pussy even through the latex, then notches himself at your entrance. He looks down and pushes into you. He goes slow but steady, and he hears a small gasp fall from your lips.

He remembers the way you clung to him that night, and he wants to capture that feeling again.

He picks up a steady pace, holding your legs apart, kissing your neck. One of his hands makes its way to your clit again, you arch your back as he starts to draw circles around it.

He feels you clench around him. "Joost. I'm so close" you moan and he watches you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he hides his face in your neck, and releases himself into the condom.

You want to remember this forever. Him panting, moaning in your ear. He taps the side of your thigh, pulls out and throws out the condom. You watch him pull up his jeans and sit down at the desk again.

"Let's do this thing"

You and Joost are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria. Max and Olivia join you.

"Look, both are still alive!" Max jokes.

"How did it go yesterday?" Olivia asks looking between the two of you.

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

"Wait." Max looks at you, then at Joost. "Did you two...?"

"No way!" Olivia gasps.

"Ok, shut up guys." Joost says

"You owe me 20 bucks" Max says to Olivia.

"Fuck!" Olivia exclaims

"You bet on us?"

"Last year!" Max takes the money from Olivia.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #my writing

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woozyvee · 1 month

Text

fried eggs and pillow talk

felix x female reader

wc: ~5400

content: coworkers au, smut, fluff

synopsis: it's not like you meant to fall for the charms of the office flirt and follow him home after a night out with your coworkers. either way, you are now left to deal with the consequences.

an: domestic lixie. hyunjin is felix's roommate. this is surprisingly soft, mayhaps i have a big fat crush on yongbok. stayed up past 4am to finish this bitch because fuck sleeping, amirite? (i'm not). anyway, enjoy!!

⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊

Pounding, piercing, disorienting pain.

For a good few seconds, that is all there is. You realize that this sensation is concentrated to your head. No, actually, your stomach, too.

After a few moments more, you remember that you have other senses, as well, which allow you to feel your sweat dampening the sheets embracing you and to hear the melodic songs of birds outside.

Lastly, you're struck with the idea that you possess the ability to open your eyes. It kind of makes the ache sizzling within you a little angrier and so you have to struggle some to pry your lids apart, but you eventually succeed. Though, as soon as you do, an expanding part of you wishes you hadn't.

Because you're met with a familiar mess of blond, frizzy hair.

In the same way that the early morning sunrays sting your eyes, memories from the previous evening come pouring in to sting your brain. You drown in flashing impressions of Felix's toothy smile as he buys you a drink, his hand holding yours as you stumble through the bar and past the prying eyes of your coworkers, his breath against your mouth as he swallows your moans while he fucks you into his sticky sheets.

Oh god. No no no.

You feel yourself freefall into awareness, stomach turning as you fully awaken into your grueling hangover, head pounding in time with your heartbeat and room spinning slightly. Or maybe you're still drunk, you can't tell. It doesn't help to sit up but it's an instinct, as you dizzily try to assess your surroundings.

Clothes are scattered messily across the floor - you're naked, he's naked. Felix's shoulders rise and fall steadily where he lies with his back facing you - he's asleep. The sun is bright outside, casting the room in a white, blinding glow - the busses have definitely started their schedule for the day. You remember Felix telling you his roommate is out of town - you could make your escape unnoticed. Your stomach grumbles, bubbling uncomfortably - you need to use the bathroom.

Having determined your first quest in the escape plan, you slowly uncover yourself from the duvet, standing up on unsteady feet. Your hands shoot upward to cradle your throbbing headache, eyes squinting to find your way into the bathroom as you try to ignore waves of nausea that threaten to pull you under with every other step you take.

It takes a distressing amount of time to settle your upset stomach, eyes closed to concentrate on not throwing up and feet planted firmly against the floor to prevent yourself from falling off the toilet and onto the cold, tiled floor. As you stand up, you swear gravity shifts and you grip the toilet to maintain your balance. For a moment, you seriously consider not flushing to decrease the risk of Felix waking up from the sound but quickly realize that it's a ridiculous thought and press the button, your headache pulsing in time with the loud noise.

What meets you in the mirror is nothing short of a walking, talking, swollen monstrosity and you quickly look away, cringing. After washing your hands and splashing your face with some cool water to counter the beads of sweat traveling down your forehead, you make your way back into the bedroom.

You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you see Felix, still unmoving atop his bed. Your narrow glare jumps between the articles of clothing spread around the floor. It is time to let the second quest in your escape plan commence.

It is certainly easier said than done to crouch down and pick your strewn-about clothes up when your sense of balance is thrown completely out of whack, let alone to stay standing on one foot at a time as you try to dress yourself while simultaneously keeping bile from rising from the pits of your stomach. It only takes a few times of bending down and standing back up before your ears are ringing and your headache is creeping its way forward to probe at the sides of your eyeballs, feet stumbling clumsily across the floor. And all you can think about is how the hell you are going to make it all the way back home like this.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when a hand lands on your shoulder and a disorienting jolt shoots through your body at the surprise.

"Wha-"

The only reason you don't fall over is because another hand comes up to steady you, holding you firmly until you've regained some semblance of balance. The hands have a sturdy grip on your upper arms and you can feel your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest when the hands slowly turn you around to face their owner.

Felix's eyes are barely open, eyebrows deeply furrowed and yellowish hair closely resembling a bird's nest atop his head once you face him. Somewhere far, far back within the tangled knots that are your mind, you resent the fact that despite looking like he was clubbed across the head, Felix looks nothing short of unarguably attractive.

Those swollen, pink lips were busy kissing you last night, you annoyingly remember.

He says nothing and neither do you, unsure of what to tell him in your half-dressed state, shirt still hanging from your fingertips and zipper still wide open over your crotch. Gently, almost blindly, Felix's one hand travels down your arm to take your shirt from your hold and drop it on the floor again. You can't protest through the tightened walls of your throat. With one hand on each of your elbows, he begins walking and steering you toward his bed. In order to not fall over as you stumble backward, your hands instinctively shoot up to grip his elbows as well.

"Felix," you rasp, finally finding your ability to verbally object.

"Shhh," is all you get as a response.

Just as the backs of your legs reach his mattress, Felix stops before slowly pushing you down, making you sit. He doesn't stop there, completing his task by guiding you back to lay on his bed again and pulling the covers over you before standing back up, fingers rubbing across his eyelid.

"Felix-"

"Sleep," he orders, his already deep voice even deeper now that it's laced with leftover fatigue. It makes something tingle beneath your skin.

When you seemingly give up on protesting, Felix stumbles away, probably toward the bathroom and you can't help but watch his bare butt as he does.

You'll resume your escape plan once the opportunity arises again, you think, determined to not stay here and prolong the embarrassment of your careless, drunken decisions. So, when you hear the distinct sound of water spraying from a showerhead on the other side of the wall, you inwardly pump your fist in triumph. Your chance to sneak out came easier than you thought.

But your eyelids are pretty heavy, you realize. And Felix's mattress is really soft. And the sound of him showering is kind of soothing. And before you know it, you're being swept back into an ocean of slumber.

* * *

Waking up again is slow, it's comfortable, it doesn't feel like suffocating in dizzying pain. You turn, hug the sheets tighter against you, head weighty where it sinks into the pillow. Sleep beckons you back into its grasp, to pull you far away from the reality of Felix's bedroom.

Shit.

You jolt upright, eyes darting around the room. Felix's room. Which you were supposed to escape from.

He is nowhere to be found. The sound of showering that lulled you to sleep is long gone, replaced with a heavy silence. The light swimming around in the room has turned a shade warmer, telling you that the morning has passed and long since turned into day. Your headache has nearly vanished and you no longer feel faint or nauseous. How long were you asleep for?

Your shirt and socks are not discarded on the floor anymore, now neatly folded on the bed beside you, next to a stack of seemingly clean clothes from, you assume, Felix's wardrobe. There's a sticky note on top of the pile and you reach over, grabbing it.

'Drink the glass of water, take a hot shower and put these on.' There's a smiley face at the end.

You look around and, indeed, a tall glass of water stands on the bedside table. Your heartbeat picks up in your chest and you feel somehow flustered, a bit overwhelmed by his kind gesture, even though it's small. It's still thoughtful.

The water isn't as cold as it probably was when Felix poured it up but it feels nice on its way down your throat, nonetheless. You don't hesitate to follow the instructions you were given, obviously abandoning your previous plan of making an escape. A shower sounds too nice, right now.

You take your time washing up, pleased to find that Felix has conditioner on his shower caddy. Less pleased when you unintentionally wonder if he only has it there for girls that he brings over, it being almost halfway emptied. You swat the thought away before the bitter taste of it can spread its way too far down your throat.

Felix's fresh, baggy clothes feel nice against your clean, moisturized skin. Much nicer than you think your clothes from last night would have felt; tight and smelly.

After hesitating for a moment, you fold the rest of your clothes and place them next to your shirt and socks on the bed, making sure to hide your panties on the bottom, in case Felix were to see. Which is admittedly a bit silly, considering that he has not only seen you naked, but been inside you. Still, you insist.

It's nerve-wracking to walk up to his bedroom door, especially when you start hearing that sounds are actually emitting from the other side of it, suggesting that he is very much there. But this makes you realize that he probably heard you showering, which means he already knows you're awake. You think that is what gives you the courage to open the door, hand slightly shaky around the handle.

You have an uninterrupted view into the open-plan kitchen from the gap formed by his door, where you quickly see Felix hard at work, engulfed by the sounds of something frying atop the stove as his back faces you. His hair looks washed now, closer to how you're used to seeing it every day at work.

Cautiously you move into the living space, feeling your heart jumping its way up toward you throat, climbing further with every barefooted step you take. You hate how you feel your hands trembling at your sides.

It's when you reach the closest counter that Felix happens to turn his head and see you. He's surprised for a second, before a warm smile spreads across his face, bright eyes looking you over. Your heart stutters in its climb up your trachea.

"Good morning, love. Sleep well?"

Love. Why does he think he can just call you that now?

You swallow, lick your teeth. "Um-" Your voice catches in your throat and you clear it. "Er. Fine?"

Felix's eyebrows arch skyward and you watch him purse his lips to hide his amusement, before turning to the jar in his hands. You chew your cheek, provoked.

"Hungry?" He glances your way.

You nod tentatively, noticing that eggs are what he is cooking on his frying pan.

"Coffee? Tea?" he asks, observing you expectantly.

"Um... tea?"

Again, he tries to prevent a smirk from forming across his lips, sort of failing. You think the insides of your cheeks might start to bruise from how you're chewing them.

"What's funny?" you dare asking, somehow riled by his amusement.

He cannot help but to break into a grin this time, snickering some. "Nah, it's just- You're so... I'm not used to seeing you this shy. You're usually so feisty."

You stutter in your stance, feeling your wide eyes blinking at him.

He takes in your form once more, where you're stood rigid against the corner of his counter, something fond swimming around in his eyes. "It's cute."

A blazing blush blooms across your face and your eyes turn to dart across the tiled floors, avoiding his stare at all costs. Another deep chuckle tickles your eardrums. "Shut up," you manage, but there isn't much bite in your tone.

"Yes, ma'am." You can hear the grin in his voice.

For the next five minutes or so, you watch in silence as Felix moves around his kitchen, preparing two cups of roasted green tea and plating the eggs from the frying pan. After one pinch of salt atop each egg, he places one of the plates next to you on the counter, followed by a fork and your cup of tea.

"Watch the tea, though. It's still hot. Might be best to give it a minute."

You follow his advice and reach for the fork. The two of you take your first bites in tandem. He watches you chew, then swallow. Your eyebrow twists at his shameless stare.

"Is it... edible?" he asks.

You blink, puzzled. "Yes? I- like eggs."

He nods, suddenly sheepish. "It's just- I'm not the best cook, so- Aside from the brownies I bring to the office sometimes, I- really don't make much else..." He chuckles at his own expense.

The corner of your lip twitches. "It's fine, Felix. The eggs're good," you reassure him, scolding yourself for finding his timid smile endearing.

You proceed to eat wordlessly, forks clinking against your plates as you do. You keep catching Felix looking you over, though, yet he seems unbothered by it as he doesn't stop. After about the tenth time or so, you arch another eyebrow in his direction.

"Why do- Is- What is it?"

He simply shrugs, plump lips curling upward. "Nothing. My clothes look nice on you, is all. I like it." He grins.

You feel your throat tighten and look away, unable to stop yourself from considering how many other times he has told somebody the same thing. Shaking your head, you shove the last big bite of eggs in your mouth, chewing silently with a deep crease between your brows.

"You okay?" You can hear the questioning arch of his brow in the way he asks the question.

"Fine," you mumble around the food in your cheeks.

"You sure?"

Your eyes turn to glare in his direction, meeting the slightly puzzled look on his face reluctantly. As you chew, you cannot really help the words that bubble their way up your chest, something inconvenient having formed them from somewhere in the backrooms of your mind.

Right after you swallow your bite, your mouth speaks of its own accord. "You had conditioner in your shower."

Felix blinks. "Yeah." He smiles. "It smells nice, right?"

You lick your teeth. "Is it yours?"

His head tilts sideways, making him look like a puppy. "Yeah?"

A sigh. "Is it- Was it- Ugh, never mind." You turn to your empty plate, fiddling with your fork, embarrassment catching up to you and effectively shutting you up.

"Huh? I don't get it."

Trying not to roll your eyes, you face him again, finding genuine curiosity there. It takes a while to structure the words in your head and even longer to make yourself utter them out loud.

"It's just- Usually guys don't use conditioner, especially floral ones and so... It just made me wonder. That's all."

For several long seconds, Felix simply watches you, no less confused. "If I have a girlfriend?!" He sounds mildly bewildered.

You cringe. "Not exactly..."

Silently, you watch him dissect your words in his head, turning them over, examining them closely. It's when you see a light of understanding flicker in his eyes, a delighted twitch catching at the side of his mouth, that you quickly turn away, not waiting to see the entertained smile growing on his face.

"I used to have longer hair, remember? Used bucketloads of conditioner back then. Just have some left over, now." You can hear the amusement in his voice and feel a shame-fueled heat crawling its way up to settle in your cheeks, finding that his words are making sense. "So, who'd you think I'd have it there for?"

You turn to shoot him a glare, provoked by the obvious glee shining across his features.

"Felix," you warn.

"Yes, love?"

Your heart seizes at the familiar pet name and you hate how he seems to notice, grin stretching further between his prettily freckled cheeks.

"Just- drop it," you grumble.

His head tilts to the side. "But I don't want to. I'm curious."

Your eyes narrow at him. He's unperturbed. "You know," you relent. "Just... girls."

He hums, unyielding. "Yeah, I know, but like, why'd you think that?"

Your head jerks back some, quizzically, considering the prodding look on his face. "Well, y'know, you're flirty. It just made sense for you."

It's Felix's turn to jerk his head away, seemingly taken aback. "Huh?"

You scoff dramatically, not suppressing an eyeroll this time. "Oh, come on. You flirt more than you actually work at the office. Especially with Sabae."

Felix's brows twitch. "Sabae?"

"Uh, yeah," you assert, as though it's obvious. "Literally every day. Even last night! Sometimes Laura, too. Since her desk's beside yours, I guess..."

"Laura?" He questions, but he no longer looks confused, a smirk slowly finding its way back onto his face.

"Yep. Not to mention Becky. You think it's a coincidence she always gets her coffee at the same time as you?" you ask, a bit incredulous.

"Becky," he repeats, grinning down at you.

"Yes, Becky," you confirm, unamused. "What? Are you denying it? That you're a flirt?"

"Am I not allowed to be?"

You frown, feeling somewhat caught with your pants down. "I- I didn't say that."

"Not directly, but sometimes one can say things without saying them, y'know what I mean?"

"You didn't answer," you steer the conversation back. "Are you denying that you're a flirt?"

"Are you denying that you're bothered by it?"

"You didn't even ask."

"Are you bothered by it?"

You huff and Felix keeps smiling, looking much too amused for your liking.

"I asked first."

"Will you answer if I do?"

"Fine."

"I'm not denying I'm a flirt, then."

The words catch in your throat at Felix's knowing expression. "I guess, I'm not denying it either, then."

"Denying what?"

You all but groan and he only giggles. "That it- peeves me, a little," you mumble, humiliation creeping up on you as you eye the floor beneath your curling toes.

As the delicate touch of steady fingers brush hair back behind your ear, you flinch, looking up to see Felix standing closer.

"You forgot to mention yourself, though," he points out, something soft in the way he beholds your face.

"Hm?" you question, feeling your heart skip within your rib cage.

"I flirt with you too. All the time. You haven't noticed?" He smiles, fondly.

You avert your stare again, fiddling with the soft material of the shirt draped around you. "Of course I noticed. But you flirt with everyone, so..." you shrug.

Felix mulls this over as his hand moves to hold the side of your neck, gaze shifting between your eyes before landing on your throat. His thumb brushes softly across the skin there and he watches the movement as you swallow, humming. Your mind inevitably floods with blurry images from the night before, his hands roaming your body, holding you against him, lips kissing you with a sloppy tenderness that feels too sweet as you're reminded of it. You wouldn't be able to move right now even if you wanted to, body completely frozen. But you don't want to.

"You're the one who's here, aren't you? Not them," he doesn't drop the topic, voice lower now than it was before.

"That- doesn't mean they haven't been."

"They haven't," he asserts without hesitating and by the way he says it, you're convinced he's telling the truth. The admission makes your lungs clench.

Saying nothing, he seems to await your response.

"O-kay," you give, voice small.

His sunny grin comes back, slightly lopsided, fingertips gliding gently along your skin as he lets go of you and steps back, grabbing his plate to turn toward the dishwasher.

Only once he pulls away do you realize that you're breathing heavier, and quickly force yourself into action, taking your own plate with one hand and the mug of tea with the other.

Following behind him, you watch him place his plate in the dishwasher before turning around and grabbing yours, winking at you as he does. You back away, situating yourself where the counters form a corner and take the first sip of your tea. It's nice, soothing. You think your nerves desperately need it.

Felix reaches for his own mug then, leaning sideways against the counter to face you, mirroring you as he takes a sip of his own.

"D'you like it?" he asks.

"The tea?"

"Yeah."

"Mm-hmm," you nod, honest.

He taps the side of his mug with his nails, scrutinizing you. You curl and uncurl your toes, chew your lip, anticipating what he is about to say.

"For how long has it bothered you?"

You suck in a breath, startled. "Felix," you scold.

He cannot help but smile wide. "C'mon. Humor me."

"No."

"You shoulda told me."

Your eyebrows contort. "Really? Why?"

He looks away, smile wiggling on his face. "I'd have liked to've known."

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "Of course you would've. Which is why I should've never told you, at all."

"Hey," he pouts.

Genuine unease seems to bubble somewhere in your stomach and you find yourself turning around, facing the countertop instead of the man now behind you. You feel exposed, in a way you rather would not and start doubting yourself. Even if everything Felix has said is true, it doesn't mean that your night together meant anything to him. It doesn't mean that girls from outside of the office don't frequent his place in a similar fashion to how you are now. And quite frankly, you feel a bit pathetic for even caring. You slept with a really handsome man who has got heaps of charisma, what did you expect?

"Hey," he repeats, voice smoother now, close to your ear. You stiffen as his hands find their way around your waist, underneath the fabric of his shirt, splaying themselves across your stomach. His front meets your back and you gasp quietly, shivering at his warm breath on the side of your neck. "I'm sorry," he nearly whispers, voice deeper than you knew it could be. Your nerves tingle.

His hand travels upward to hold your breast, testing the weight of it gently, squeezing it with care. Air hitches in your throat, almost making you choke.

"I'll stop," he says, fingertips teasing your perked nipple delicately. A wave of arousal shoots down between your legs and you unintentionally squeeze your thighs together.

"Wh-wha-" you question, unable to focus, to understand.

"I won't do it anymore," he clarifies, starts to leave faint kisses against your pulse, the hand not on your breast sliding downward to probe at the edge of his sweatpants hanging around your hips, his boxers. You try not to flinch but fail. He sighs into your neck.

The hand holding your mug comes down on the counter, spilling some tea over your fingers while placing it there, uncaring of it as your palms plant themselves atop the marble in an attempt to steady yourself. You sigh, sinking into Felix's frame behind you, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic of his boxers.

"W-won't do what?" you somehow remember to ask, nearly vibrating with anticipation as soft fingers weave between the short hairs surrounding your sex.

"I won't flirt with them anymore," he declares, his one hand rising past your breast to slip through the neckline of his t-shirt, digits widening to wrap around your throat, holding it gently. "I do it 'cause it's fun but I'll stop. Only you, from now on."

You can't decipher whether he means what he says or not through the fog of pleasure clouding your judgment, biting back a moan as he applies gentle pressure against your throat to make you lean your head over his shoulder. You comply, easily, putty in his hands. More warmth pools between your legs and you squirm.

"I-I'm getting your underwear all wet," you tell him, somehow apologetic despite everything. You remotely realize that Felix's manhood twitches against your ass, then.

He exhales a muted laugh into your warm skin. "Good girl."

You huff, equally unamused and aroused. "Sh-shut up." Your backtalk morphs into a whine, Felix's fingers teasing at the swollen lips surrounding your slit.

"Mmm," he hums, kissing your jaw and you shudder in his arms, needing him to touch you properly. "Want me to touch you, hm?" he asks as if he can read your thoughts, voice low over your cheek.

"Y-yeah."

Another peck against your skin. "Alright. Since you're so pretty, I will."

Finally, his fingers dip past your lips, gathering the results of your arousal before gliding gently across your clit. You jerk in his arms at the contact, enjoying the way he tightens his hold around your throat to keep you still, thighs involuntarily tightening around his hand.

"Spread your legs for me, love," he requests, fingers unmoving against your pulsing clit. "I'll make you feel good, I promise."

Shakily, you oblige. "Okay," you sigh, throat bobbing against the palm of Felix's hand as you swallow.

His digits resume their movement, tentative as they slide across your swollen nub and you can't help the tremble in your heavy breaths.

"You really are wet. And warm," Felix marvels, circling your clit softly, steadying you as you mewl in his embrace. "Uhh, I really wanna bury myself in there again," he confesses, fingers sliding down to gather more of your wetness before resuming his movements against you.

You can feel your pleasure building, burning and twisting somewhere deep within your abdomen, heavy and tangible.

"How does it feel, love?"

"G-good," you moan, helplessly grinding your cunt against the pads of his fingers as he touches you. "Fuck, uhh..."

"I know," he reassures you, trying a gentle squeeze with his grip around your throat. You whimper, overwhelmed. "You're doing so good, sweetie. Just relax, I've got you."

Your cheeks burn, likely searing against Felix's skin, heart growing with warmth at his gentle words. In the delirium of your pleasure, you find courage that you don't expect to, hidden words crawling their way up your tongue.

"Felix," you huff, breathy and needy.

"Mm?"

"I- uh, I like you."

You unmistakably feel a grin forming against your skin, Felix's arms squeezing to hold you tighter against him. "I know, my love."

His circles over your clit don't let up and before you know it, you're hurdling toward your release, muscles tightening all throughout your body.

"Oh- uh- I'm-"

"Let go, just let go. I'm here, I've got you."

And you do, seizing within his arms, eyes rolling up past your eyelids, throat tightening around a strained cry of pleasure under the firm hold of Felix's hand, heart beating aggressively in your chest as your nerves tingle euphorically. Your sex pulses against Felix's digits as he helps you ride your way through your orgasm, slowing his pace gradually into a gentle motion until your mind comes back down into reality.

Your chest heaves, body slumping helplessly into the one behind you. As your legs squeeze together and your hips jerk away, Felix lets up, slipping his hand back out of his boxers to hold you over your hip.

"How was it?" he asks, voice thick and gruff.

"M-my ears are ringing. Fingertips're tingling."

"Pretty good then." He's smiling into you still.

You sigh. "Yeah, pretty good."

Not releasing his grip, Felix grinds against your ass and you let him, still jelly in his hold. He carries what is at least a semi within the pants he's wearing, sighing a warm breath over your neck. "God, I wanna fuck you. Bend you over this counter, come inside you."

"Y-you should," you egg him on.

He only manages to groan before the sound of keys jingling catches your joint attention. You freeze together, waiting and assessing the threat before daring to make another move. And as you hear the keys being inserted in the lock of the front door, the two of you fly apart like repelling magnets. You catch yourself against the counter in front of you and Felix backs away toward the dishwasher, picking his now lukewarm mug of tea back up.

Your eyes lock across the kitchen area and yours widen, panicked. You try to ask him what to do by simply gesturing with your hands but all he can do is shrug, taking a shaky sip from the mug in his hands. You sigh, bewildered.

"It's only Hyunjin," he tries to console.

Your jaw slackens in perplexity.

You hear the front door open down the hallway, then slamming shut as you lean back to grip the counter behind you.

"Hey, Felix," comes a greeting.

You watch Felix shoot a strained smile toward his friend, who's in his line of sight but hidden from yours. It takes some effort to swallow the saliva pooling in your throat. "Hey! You're back. Didn't realize it's already two o'clock."

"What? Got up late?"

Felix shoots you a wary glance. "Eh, yeah. A little."

"Hey, everything good?" Hyunjin asks as his footsteps pad down the hallway and before you know it, his figure appears around the corner.

You freeze, as does he when he sees you. His eyes widen and you can only hope that he can't tell that your breathing is a little too ragged, cheeks a little too flushed, and you're thankful that he can't know that your ears are still kind of ringing.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi," you answer, voice meek.

His inquisitive stare shoots toward his roommate, raising a questioning brow before eyeing you again.

"Had a good trip?" Felix asks, gulping around big swigs of tea.

"Uh, yeah," Hyunjin hesitantly answers and you find yourself fidgeting under his eyes that keep jumping between you and the man that just made you come on his fingers, in their shared kitchen.

You can't for the life of you come up with something to say, stomach turning and head spinning at how somehow relaxed Felix seems already, maybe a little sheepish but not nearly as uneasy as you are, as if he already knows what is about to unfold. The cogs turning in Hyunjin's head might as well be visible as he assesses the scene before him, taking in all of your form stood in his apartment. You chew your cheek, squirming in your place in the corner.

"Ah," he finally sighs, something akin to realization dawning across his features as he smiles. He eyes his friend knowingly, hands landing on his hips. "This is the girl from work that you can't shut up about, isn't it?"

Your body goes rigid, only your eyes moving as you cast a quizzical glance in Felix's direction. There's a somewhat bashful grin on his face as he shrugs before hiding behind the lip of his mug. "Well, when you say it like that..." he mumbles, eyes averting down toward the floor.

You don't know what to call the feeling that pops and spreads in your chest, ticklish and exhilarating, a whole new wave of heat flushing on your cheeks.

Hyunjin laughs before turning to you, fully. "Well, it's good to finally meet you."

"Er, y-you too."

"M'guessing I'll be seeing a lot more of you around here, so we'll have time to get to know each other later. I'll leave you guys to it," he says, beaming as he turns and walks toward his bedroom, sharing a secret look with his friend before he disappears behind his door.

Sheepishly, Felix turns to meet your eyes and you raise an inquisitive brow at him. He simply shrugs, mouth blooming into a bright grin. You can't help but be infected, your own lips curving into a matching smile, warmth spreading from your chest and throughout the rest of your body.

Maybe your drunken mistake wasn't so much of a mistake after all.

⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊ ⁺⋆ ˖⁺₊⋆ ⊹₊

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

Note

I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?

The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.

Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.

They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."

Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.

That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.

They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.

Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.

She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?

Like a child waiting to open a present.

That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.

A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.

A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.

A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.

"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."

"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."

"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."

"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."

Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?

Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.

"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."

Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.

But it would make her sad.

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"

A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.

"Y-you!"

Danny tilts her head. "Me?"

"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"

"I came to ask Cass if-"

"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"

What.

"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"

"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"

"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"

Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"

Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"

A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."

"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."

Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."

"Yeah, that's fair."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Ghost King summon Dare Au #Cass and Danny know eachother on the streets #The al Ghul be running from the ghost IRS #Danny is gender fluid #Cass bought them the pin #Alfred is so done with his kids #They stress him out

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annwrites · 2 months

Text

sons & daughters. part eight.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & your husband share your bodies with one another, but your contentment turns to rage when you receive an unexpected correspondence. you fall more into your role as cregan's lady-wife, but joy is short-lived as dark words arrive upon dark wings.

— word count: 2,686

— tagging list: @beebeechaos @crypticlxrsh @amindfullofmonsters @yeolsbubbles @icefrye19

You rock your hips against Cregan's, your hands planted firmly on his chest, his own gripping your hips as you squeeze tightly against the length of him, a shiver running up your spine at the feeling of pure pleasure which overtakes you.

"Gods," you whisper, throwing your head back, his hands then moving to your breasts, grasping at them.

"You are breathtaking," he whispers, arching his hips slightly and you bite your lip at the feel of him pushing even more deeply into your soaking core, humming in contentment.

You smile lightly, his own lip twitching.

And then there is an interrupting knock at the door.

Your head jerks in that direction, hips still undulating against him, curls falling over your naked shoulders.

"Who is that?" You say each word between panted breaths.

He groans, not caring.

He quickly wraps a muscled arm around your waist, lying you flat on your back as he bends one of your legs at the knee—lying your thigh flat against your chest, positioning your other over his back as he begins to pound away inside of you.

"Oh, Cre—ah, mm."

He crushes his lips to yours, his hot, wet tongue exploring your mouth, you eventually sucking on it as he reaches down with a callused thumb, rubbing it against your clit, your body jerking in response.

He then moves his lips to your neck, sucking against the skin and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his brown hair.

Another knock.

"Gods be good," he curses. "I'm nearly there, they'll have to wait."

You look up at him from under hooded lids, your cheeks a lovely shade of rosy pink.

You circle your hips, contracting your vaginal muscles, and his hips spasm at the feel.

He suckles at one of your breasts and you press a soft kiss to the top of his head as he trails his tongue along, taking the opposite nipple into his waiting mouth.

You throw your head back, staring into the fire as your neck hangs off the edge of the bed.

"Gods, please," you plead, feeling yourself growing closer along with him.

He flips you over again, grabbing you by the hips while you slump down onto the mattress, practically drooling into the furs piled atop it.

One arm tugs against your waist, pulling you up, your back flush against his chest as that same hand moves lower, and lower, until he begins to rub feverishly against your clit.

Your pants grow unsteady and you hold onto his other hand that grips your hip—nails digging into the back of it—as you beg the Gods mentally for mercy while his long, throbbing member pumps into you over and over again at a dizzying pace.

Another knock. "My Lord? Princess? There has been a raven."

And then you hear a word he does not use often. "Fuck," he mutters, his hips speeding up in rhythm.

"Nearly—" he begins, and then quickly bites down on his lower lip in concentration, fingers continuing to strum against your pulsating, swollen clit.

"Please, Cregan. Don't—mm, don't stop."

He places his lips next to your ear. "I don't intend to until I have filled you to the very brim."

It's then that you begin to hear your wetness between your legs, squelching loudly, which only spurns him on further. "Oh, my sweet girl," he says, panting loudly. "You are so close now."

You close your eyes, his hand from your hip sliding higher, gently wrapping around your throat, holding you against him.

And then he begins to twitch inside of you repeatedly and you contract your muscles again, desperate to help him in any way you possibly can.

And then it happens.

He groans, calling out your name, his seed spurting into you in thick ropes, pouring out from between your legs where his member continues to push in and out of you.

Your eyes open, widening, breaths coming in deep and anticipatory as you gasp and gasp, and then, "Cre-Cregan! Ah! Mm, yes!"

You slump over, his fingers continuing on until you reach down, grabbing his hand, forcing him to stop, a pleasant pulse now going steadily between your legs.

Once he finally removes himself from inside of you, it is inch-by-inch and oh so slowly. And then he is dripping out of you, onto the sheets, and you ease your fingers inside of yourself once, twice, thrice, before collapsing onto the mattress.

He merely chuckles, throwing a blanket atop you before pressing a kiss to your head as he stands, retrieving his robe and slipping it on before finally opening the door.

You listen idly as the servant on the other side speaks to him. "Apologies, m'lord, but there's been a raven. The sigil, however—"

Cregan interrupts. "I am not familiar with it either."

A beat of silence, then, "thank you".

There is a shuffle of feet, and then the door shutting once more.

You don't even bother to raise your head.

"What is it?" You mumble into the mattress.

He shakes his head. "Have you see this heraldry before?"

He holds the scroll down toward you and you finally pop an eye open.

And then you shoot up in bed, quickly snatching it away from him, standing, his seed slipping down both your legs as you do. "He dares send a raven here?"

You begin to tremble from rage.

You had finally moved past your grief. You still felt it, yes, every day, but not like it had been. You were able to eat now, sleep without being woken by nightmares of Luke being trapped inside Vhagar's intestines, screaming for you or your mother or Jace to help him. And your wrath toward Aemond had finally turned, instead, to cold contempt.

But now the bleeding wound is cut open once more.

You step over to the fire, holding the parchment over it, your hand shaking as angry tears sting your eyes. "I curse him. I want...I still want him dead. How—how could he think to—"

You let out a guttural sound and break the seal—dark blue wax, a sapphire imprinted in the middle—and read.

Two sentences.

That is all.

I did not mean to. Please, forgive me. —A

Your eyes fill with tears, your teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurts.

Cregan comes to stand beside you, placing a large palm against the small of your back, his brows furrowing as he plucks the small object which lies inside the scroll with his fingers.

A ribbon.

He looks at you, clutching the silk within his fist. "What did the traitorous kinslayer have to say?"

You hand him the letter then.

He watches as you begin to pace the other side of the room, both your hands clutching your stomach protectively.

"The ribbon?" He asks lowly.

You walk swiftly over to him, taking it from his grip and throwing both items into the fire, watching as they burn to ash before you answer.

"He told me he would return it to me when I returned to him."

You meet your husband's eyes then. "He knows that will never happen now. This is a sin I cannot forgive. At least he has the sense to know we are now lost to one another. Forever."

You then take Cregan's hand in both your own and settle it over your stomach. "Not that I had not been lost to him long before."

You stand on tiptoes, kissing him. "I would not have it any other way."

He wraps you in his arms. "I trust in the Gods to, in time, bestow upon him the fate which he deserves."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, you lying your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"I would place his head at your feet in retribution." He leans your head back. "But Lucerys is not mine to avenge. Nor is it my war to truly begin."

You throw yourself into your role as Lady of Winterfell before long.

Cregan and his advisors tend to most duties—from the protection of not just the castle, but fortifying the North's forces, especially now, to keeping the granaries and larders well-stocked, and containing unnecessary expenditures to a minimum, so funds can be preserved not just for war, but for your people. Not that the list stops there. It seems to be ever-endless.

You, however, visit often into Winter Town—at times with Rickon either on your hip, or clutching your hand firmly—to not only convey to your people that you are approachable at all times, for whatever they may need, but to also assure them that they are—and will continue to be—well looked-after by their lord and lady.

You take on the duty of running your household—not that it is not already a 'well-oiled machine', but it is a responsibility befitting your station.

And you send out and reply to correspondences daily, far and wide, from frightened families residing within bordering kingdoms, who seek safety and refuge in the North from the pending war.

But when you are alone, you always seek solace either seated upon the plush settee situated before the hearth in your room as you read or sew, in the library tower, the Godswood, or quite often, by spending time with your son, Rickon.

When you and Cregan are alone together, however?

He is near-always buried deep inside of you, or has his head between your thighs.

Such as tonight.

Cregan looms over you, your legs spread wide, his own as well as his cock eases in and out of your wet heat. Sweat has gathered at his brow, sliding down his back, despite the doors to the balcony being cracked to allow cool air in.

You lull your head to the side, one of your hands resting back against your pillow, the other slowly circling the bundle of nerves between your legs.

He dives down, kissing your neck, then your lips before whispering "I am a man of patience, but how I long to see your body change as our child grows".

You feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You look up at him, enjoying yourself as you grin. "I fear you may not allow me to leave this bed, Lord Husband."

His lip twitches. "You will not wish to," he replies, moving his hips back, then slamming back inside of you and you cry out, lifting your own to meet him, your fingers slipping from yourself before settling back into place.

"Gods, if only you knew what it is like to make love to you."

You squeeze around him purposefully. "I know what it is to have you inside of me. I imagine naught else could compare."

He shakes his head, grinning, then bucking his hips against you again.

You gasp, spreading your legs impossibly wider.

"Are you near, my love?" He asks huskily.

Your clit twitches beneath your fingertips and you swallow thickly, nodding.

He rears back once more, slamming inside of you again and you let out a garbled version of his name.

He continues his ministrations, circling his hips, which causes you to curse quietly.

He raises a brow. "I did not know my princess was capable of such language."

"Perhaps I learned it from another," you reply, dragging your palm down his warm, bare chest.

He circles his hips again, enjoying the sound of your arousal. "Along with a great many other things."

You bite your lip, eyes rolling back.

Your fingers begin to rub more diligently then, as his slick member continues such pleasing work.

You sigh, arching your back. "Mm, I love you."

He kisses you, your tongue plunging inside his mouth at the first opportunity.

He quickens his pace then to something more brutal, but not at all punishing.

Gods, how you never wish for this pleasure to end.

"And I you," he whispers against your skin, licking your nipples, your neck, between your breasts.

There is a particular sound you make, he has noticed, when you are close and tonight is no different.

It is then that Cregan feels his own body tightening, ready to loose on you—rather, inside of you—his finish.

You sigh and whimper and whine beneath him, bed practically shaking from his punishing pace, your body slick with sweat, between your legs squelching loudly, Cregan groaning atop you and finally your clit twitches under your fingers one final time and you squeeze your eyes shut as your walls begin contracting tightly around him, urging him to come along with you.

"Gods be good, my sweet girl," he says as his cock jolts inside of you, giving you his seed aplenty.

And then he collapses, lying his body atop yours, exhausted, but humming with satisfaction in your loving arms.

"I wish to expand our family tenfold," he whispers.

You laugh lightly. "Mayhaps one child at a time."

He lifts his head. "It may come more quickly than either of us anticipate."

He settles his palm over your stomach. "After all, you yourself are a twin."

The next morn, as you and Cregan break your fasts, Rickon seated next to you as you feed him porridge, smiling at the absolute mess he is making of himself, a servant greets the two of you with a nervous look about him.

He extends his hand toward Cregan, a scroll clutched within it. "News from King's Landing, M'lord."

Your husband's brow furrows as he takes it from him, nodding.

You thank him quietly, watching as Cregan breaks the seal.

You pull Rickon closer to your side then, caring naught if he ruins your dress with his sticky hands.

"Gods be good," Cregan says, breathless.

You lean over, looking it over, your free hand that is not wrapped around Rickon's small shoulders coming to cover your mouth in horror.

He looks at you. "This is what this war shall become, then. The butchering of innocents. Children."

You pick up Rickon, settling him atop your lap, holding him close, acutely aware of a fluttering in your lower stomach.

Cregan shakes his head. "Do you truly believe she would—"

You shake your head fervently. "No."

"Not even in retribution for—"

"This is not my mother's work, but instead Daemon's. He has been eager from that first day to wage anarchy against the enemy. Now he shall have his war." You nod toward the scroll, feeling sick at the thought of that poor little boy...

No child deserves such a thing. None.

And Helaena. Gods, poor Helaena.

Even Aegon you have sympathy for.

They will be in your prayers today. For awhile, you are sure.

"This has my great-uncle written all over it. He cares naught for his own children. What would he care, then, for those of others? Those who he sees as having taken something from him? It is not Luke which I speak of, but the throne."

Tears sting your eyes as you press a kiss to Rickon's forehead while he babbles in your lap contentedly.

"I believe it is half the reason why he married my mother: to bring himself ever-closer to it."

Cregan slides his arm around you.

"And my grandsire had believed unseating him as heir would prevent bloodshed."

You look at your beloved husband. "He underestimated his cunning."

You keep Rickon in bed between the two of you that night, gently running your fingers through his hair as he rests atop your breast, Cregan merely staring into your eyes as you do so into his.

"I had considered briefly returning home, simply to visit one last time. As I had been unknowing that the last would be as much."

You clutch your stomach then, your other hand cupping Cregan's cheek. "But I know that will never happen now. My place is here. At your side, and caring for our son. Our home. Our people."

He slides his hand atop yours. "With more to come," he says, placing a kiss to your lips.

#fic: hotd (cregan stark x reader)#cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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